estimable man, and one who will do his duty to the best of his ability,
though whether he has severity and energy sufficient for those evil days in
which it is his lot to govern, may be problematical.

Having made a sufficiently long visit to his Excellency, we went to return
that of the Countess C----, who has a magnificent house, with suites of
large rooms, of which the drawing-room is particularly handsome, of immense
size, the walls beautifully painted, the subjects religious, and where I
found one of Broadwood's finest grand pianos. But although there are
cabinets inlaid with gold, fine paintings, and hundreds of rich and curious
things, our European eyes are struck with numerous inconsistencies in
dress, servants, etc., in all of which there is a want of keeping very
remarkable. Yet this house, and the one adjoining, which also belongs to
the family, are palaces in vastness, and the Countess receives me more as
if I were her daughter, than a person with whom she has been acquainted but
a few days.

There are an extraordinary number of street-cries in Mexico, which begin at
dawn and continue till night, performed by hundreds of discordant voices,
impossible to understand at first; but Senor ----- has been giving me an
explanation of them, until I begin to have some distinct idea of their
meaning. At dawn you are awakened by the shrill and desponding cry of the
Carbonero, the coalmen, "Carbon, Senor?" which, as he pronounces it, sounds
like "Carbosiu?" Then the grease-man takes up the song, "Mantequilla! lard!
lard! at one real and a half." "Salt beef! good salt beef!" ("Cecina
buena!") interrupts the butcher in a hoarse voice. "Hay cebo-o-o-o-o-o?"
This is the prolonged and melancholy note of the woman who buys kitchen-
stuff, and stops before the door. Then passes by the _cambista,_ a sort of
Indian she-trader or exchanger, who sings out, "Tejocotes por venas de
chile?" a small fruit which she proposes exchanging for hot peppers. No