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22 , this would be the last lesson the lépero would ever give me; and, with this thought in my mind, I could not help pitying the poor wretch. I was wrong, however, as will be seen in the sequel, in thinking that I would have no more dealings with my master Perico.



The Alameda. —The Paseo of Bucareli.

are few towns in Mexico which can not boast of having an Alameda; and, as generally happens in the capital city, that of Mexico is decidedly the finest. There is no promenade of this sort in Paris. Hyde Park in London most nearly resembles it. The Alameda of Mexico forms a long square, surrounded by a wall breast high, at the bottom of which runs a deep ditch, whose muddy waters and offensive exhalation mar the appearance of this almost earthly paradise. An iron gate at each of its corners affords admission to carriages, horsemen, and pedestrians. Poplars, ash-trees, and willows bend their branches over the principal drive, and afford a leafy shade to the occupants of the carriages and equestrians for whom this beautifully level road is appropriated. Alleys, converging into large common centres, ornamented with fountains and jets d'eau, interpose their clumps of myrtles, roses, and jasmines between the carriages and the pedestrians, whose eyes can follow, through the openings in those odoriferous bushes, the luxurious equipages and prancing steeds caracoling round the Alameda. The 