Introduction and Preface of Life in Mexico This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Life in Mexico by Frances Calderon de la Barca. Introduction by Manuel Romero de Tereros Marque de San Francisco. Every man I will go with thee and be thy guide, to thy most need to go by thy side. Frances Calderon de la Barca. Born in Edinburgh, 1804, the daughter of William Anglis. After her father's death she settled in America, where she married the Spanish diplomat, Don Angel Calderon de la Barca. She accompanied him on his various appointments to Mexico, Washington, and finally to Madrid, where she was created Marqueza de Calderon de la Barca by Alfonso XII and died in 1882. In the year 1843 two new books took the American public by storm. One was Prescott's History of the Conquest of Mexico, and the other Life in Mexico by Madame Calderon de la Barca. William Hickling Prescott was already known as an able historian on account of his scholarly reign of Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain, which had appeared four years before, and elicited praise from all quarters, but his new work outran the former in that the author had succeeded in depicting one of the most stirring episodes of history, with a grandeur of an epic in the interest of a novel. It was therefore natural that a book with Prescott's endorsement should be favourably received by the general public, but Life in Mexico immediately attained wide circulation on its own merits, and was received with unbounded enthusiasm. Soon the slight veil that pretended to hide the author's name was drawn aside, and Madame Calderon de la Barca became famous in literary and social circles. Francis Erskine Anglis was born in Edinburgh in the year 1804. Her father William Anglis belonged to a distinguished Scottish family related to the Earl's of Buchan, and was a grandson of a gallant Colonel Gardner who fell in the battle of Prestonpence, while her mother, a Miss Stern, before her marriage was a celebrated beauty of her time. Fanny, as Francis was familiarly called, was still very young when her father found himself in financial difficulties and decided to retire with his family to Normandy, where living was supposed to be cheaper. But William Anglis died a few years later, and his widow determined to settle in America. In the United States, Mrs. Anglis established a private school, first in Boston, later in Staten Island, and finally in Baltimore, and her daughter was a great help, for she immediately revealed herself as an excellent teacher. Besides, Fanny became a great friend of Tick-Nor, Lowell, Longfellow, and especially of Prescott, who thought her ever-lively and spiritual. In 1836 a special diplomatic mission from Spain arrived at Washington, and at its head came Don Anghel, Calderón de la Barca, a gentleman of high social standing and an accomplished man of letters, who naturally enough soon established literary relations with William Prescott, then at work on his history of the reign of Ferdinand de Nisabella. In this connection he became acquainted with many of Prescott's friends, the English ladies among others, and the result was that he fell in love with the accomplished Fanny, and married her in 1838. Shortly afterwards Don Anghel was appointed Isabel II's minister to Mexico, the first Spanish envoy to the young republic that had formerly been the kingdom of New Spain. The newly married couple accordingly started on their journey to Mexico, which was destined to be a long one, even for those days, for they left New York on October 27th, and did not reach their destination until the 26th of the following December. Calderón's mission to Mexico lasted somewhat more than two years, during which time he and his wife, says Prescott, lived much at their ease and were regaled in prints. In spite of Don Anghel's delicate diplomatic duties and her own frequent social engagements and strenuous excursions, Fanny English Calderón found time to write almost daily letters, most of them of considerable length, to relatives and friends. These letters constituted the basis of the present book when they were collected and published with certain necessary omissions, simultaneously, in London and Boston in 1843, under the title of Life in Mexico, during a residence of two years in that country. The book was provided with a short but substantial preface by Prescott. That same year saw Don Anghel Calderón de la Barca transferred to Washington as Spanish minister, a post in which he not only discharged his diplomatic duties with much ability, but also frequented the literary circles and even found time to translate several works into Spanish. In 1853 Calderón was recalled to Spain by his government and arrived at Madrid on September 17th with his wife, who had recently become a Catholic. A year later he was appointed Minister of State in the Cabinet of the Condé de San Luis, and thus became an actor in the troubled drama of that period of Isabel II's reign. When finally the unpopularity of the government culminated in a general rebellion, Calderón managed to escape the unjust fury of the rabble by hiding first in the Austrian and later in the Danish legation, until he was able to cross the frontier and take refuge in France. The events that Madame Calderón had witnessed in Spain moved her to write that entertaining book, The Attache, in Madrid, which pretending to be a translation from the German appeared in New York in 1856. The Calderons were able to retire to Spain after an absence of two years, but in 1861 Don Anghel died at San Sebastian, just when he was expecting to move to a small villa which was being built for him nearby in picturesque Zaraz. Hard upon this event, Madame Calderón retired a convent across the Pyrenees, but shortly afterwards Queen Isabel asked her to come back and take charge of the education of her eldest daughter, the Infanta Isabel, a request which, though at first respectfully declined, was finally accepted by her. From that time on Madame Calderón became the constant companion of the Infanta Isabel, until the latter's marriage to the Count of Gerhenti in 1868. She then returned to the United States, but only for a comparatively short time, for as soon as Alfonso XII came to the throne, Madame Calderón went back to Spain and was created by him Marquesa de Calderón de la Barca. Thenceforward she led a very quiet life until her death in the Royal Palace of Madrid on, on February the 3rd, 1882. A new radical change in the form of government is liable to be accompanied by disorders, and this is even more likely to be true in a country like Mexico, which has become famous for its frequent political troubles, and has been aptly called a land of unrest. In the 1840s the country witnessed many plans, pronunciamentos, and revolutions, which could not escape the vigilant mind of Madame Calderón, who often referenced to them with a spice of delicate satire and irony which is not unkindly. After the long period of peaceful, if unexciting, visceral rule, the government of the New Republic had become the prey of political groups, headed by men who coveted the presidency chiefly impelled by a vaulting ambition, which in most cases overlapped itself. Madame Calderón drew faithful portraits of many of the politicians of those days, not stinting her praise to such men of honour as Pustamante, nor hiding her sympathy towards the much-reviled Santa Ana. Naturally as the wife of the Spanish minister she feels occasionally bound to dwell somewhat disparagingly upon the existing state of things, as compared with the excellencies of the former visceral regime. Thus, on visiting the older cities and establishments, she lays stress on the great benefits that the mother country had bestowed on her colonies, an opinion that she states was shared by the most distinguished persons in Mexico, who missed the advantages of the days of yore. I fear we'll live in a paradise lost, she exclaims, which will not be regained in our days. But this does not mean to say that she withholds praise where praises do. On more than one occasion she extols the valor of a soldier, the talent of a minister like Cuevas, or the honesty and clearsightedness of a politician like Cucheres de Estrada, and when she refers to the rivalry that arose between the different parties, she has unbounded praises for the cadets of the military school, for their patriotic conduct and their loyalty to the legally established government. In Madame Calderón's time the mejican upper classes were an extension, so to speak, of the old visceral society. Only the very young had not seen the Spanish flag flying over the public buildings or had not been more or less acquainted with the last visroys. The presidential receptions of a Pustamante or the Santa Ana in the National Palace, just as during the short reign of Augustine I, de Torbid, were blazed with brilliant uniforms, glittering decorations, fine dresses, and rich jewels, while at private parties the old family names and titles continued to be born with a prestige of former colonial days. On the other hand the relations between lord and servant are faithfully portrayed by Madame Calderón de la Barca. Speaking of life in a hacienda, she describes how the lady of the house sat at the piano, while the employees and servants performed the typical dances of the country for the benefit of guests and relatives, without suggesting any ideas of equality or disrespect, more or less in the fashion of the Middle Ages when the lord and the lady of the manor sat at table with their servants, though the latter remained rigorously below the salt. With regard to the lower classes, Madame Calderón always sees the picturesque side of things which she describes vividly and colorfully. It is to be regretted, particularly from a Mexican point of view, that Fanny Inglés, or editor, should have thought it expedient only to give the first and last letters of the names of the more prominent persons of whom she speaks, a system which makes it difficult for a reader of later days to identify them, except in one or two cases. Many were the intimate friends of the Calderons, but especially the Conde de la Cortina, a well-known figure in society and in literary and scientific circles, the Marquis and Marquesa de Vivanco, and the Guerra Rodriguez, the Fair Rodriguez, a celebrated beauty of her time, who is said to have been greatly admired by no less a person than Alexandre von Humboldt himself. Naturally enough, Madame Calderón was a competent judge of her own sex and was alert to the good qualities as well as to the foibles of the ladies of Mexico, whose excessive fondness for diamonds and, in some cases, two showy dresses elicit her mild criticism. Monastic life was one of the features of Mexico at that time. Most cities, large and small, were full of churches, monasteries, and convents, and Madame Calderón, who became a Catholic three years later, was not then well acquainted with the ceremonies and liturgy of the church, and consequently falls into many errors on the subject, but when she describes her visit to a convent and the ceremony of the veiling of a nun, she writes some of her most picturesque and touching pages. Madame Calderón does not stint her admiration for the great buildings of the country, both civil and religious, though her descriptions betray only too often the influence of the romantic age in which she lived. Beautiful indeed, as is her description of a garden in Tolansino, she rises to real eloquence before some of nature's pageants, admiring a sunset over the monastery of San Fernando, walking under the shade of the centennial trees of Chalputtepec, or wandering within the gigantic caverns of Caca Humilpa, the recollection of which she says rests upon the mind like a marble dream, and where an unfortunate traveler, years before, had lost his way and met a tragic death. Prescott's statement that Madame Calderón's letters were not intended originally for publication seems hardly credible, but on the other hand there is no proof for the suggestion that she had the letters of Madame Dolnoy in mind. Be that as it may, the fact is that just as the French countess has left us a living picture of Spain in the late 17th century. In the same way the wife of the Spanish minister drew a most faithful pen-portrait of the social, political, and even economic order in Mexico in the early 19th. As to Madame Calderón de la Barca's personal appearance since a portrait of her, which is said to exist in the possession of a relative, has never been published, the reader is free to imagine that lively lady as it may best suit his or her individual fancy, that she was clever, well-read, and an excellent judge of character, as well as a true love of nature, and a keen observer of manners and customs, is evident in her letters, which constitute by common consent a most entertaining and truly delectable narrative, which even the lapse of more than a century has not been able to mar. The present work is the result of observations majoring a two years residence in Mexico by a lady whose position there made her intimately acquainted with its society, and open to her the best sources of information in regard to whatever could interest an enlightened foreigner. It consists of letters, written to the members of her own family, and really not intended originally however incredible the assertion for publication, feeling a regret that such rich stores of instruction and amusement, from which I have so much profit in myself, should be reserved for the eyes of a few friends only, I strongly recommended that they should be given to the world. This is now done with a few such alterations and omissions as were necessary in a private correspondence, and although the work should derive more credit from the author's own name, then from anything which I can say, yet as she declines prefixing it, I feel much pleasure in making the statement by way of introduction to the public. Glossary of Spanish or Mexican words which occur in the course of the work, which are generally explained when first used, but which being repeated, the reader might forget and wish to refer to, of life in Mexico. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. with trees. Aquador. Water Carrier. Alacran. Scorpion. Anquera. Coating of stamped gilt leather, edged with little bells, which covers the back of the horses. Arriero. Multir. Arroba. Spanish weight of twenty-five pounds. Azotea. The flat roof of a house. Baranca. Ravine. Boteca. A pot-carry shop. Calle. Street. Cargadores. Men who carry loads. Cignirito. Spirit made from sugarcane. Chile. Hot peppers. Compadre and comadre. Godfather and godmother. Names by which two persons address each other, who have held the same child at the baptismal font, or have been sponsors together at a marriage, etc. Canonigo. Canon or Preventary. Comiscos. Actors. Camarista. Lady of Honor. Dia de años. Birthday. Dulces. Sweetmeats. Diario. Daily newspapers. Frisones. Large horses from the north. Funcion. Solemnity. Festival. Frijoles. Brown beans. Galopina. Kitchen girl. Garbanzos. Chickpeas. Gachupin. Name given to the Spaniards in Mexico. Garita. City gate. Goleta. Schooner. Gentusa. Rebel. Honras. Funeral honors. Hacienda. Country place. Ingenio de azucar. Sugar plantation. Invalidos. Disabled soldiers. Harrow. Earthen jar. Ladrones. Robbers. Leperos. Beggars. Low persons. Lutera. Litter. Montepillo. Office where money is lent on security. Mezgal. Brandy distilled from polquet. Manja. Cloak made of cloth with a hole in the middle for putting the head through. Novios. Betrothed persons. Nuestro amo. Our master used in speaking of the host. Ojo de agua. Spring of water. Portales. Covered with portico. Supported by columns. Pulqueria. Shop where polquet is sold. Paseo. Public walk. Paso. Pace. Pacing. Padrino. Godfather. Plaza. Square. Patio. Courtyard. Petate. Madding. Poblana. Woman of Puebla. Pronunciamiento. A revolution in Mexico. Pronunciados. Those who revolt. Rancho. A farm. Ranchero. Farmer. Rebozo.  Sopilote. Species of carrion vulture. Sarape. A woollen blanket more or less fine with a hole for the head to go through. Traspaso. Conveience. Transfer. Tilma. Indian cloak. Tierra caliente. The hot land. Tertulia. An evening party. Toriador. Bullfighter. Tortilla. Species of thin cake. Tortillera. Woman who bakes tortillas. Vaca. Joint stock in gambling. Vomito. Name given to the yellow fever. Venta. Inn. End of glossary. Of Spanish or Mexican words which occur in the course of the work, which are generally explained when first used, but which being repeated, the reader might forget and wish to refer to. Letter the first of Life in Mexico. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Life in Mexico by Francis Calderón de la Barca. Letter the first. Departure of the Norma. Last look of New York Bay. Fellow passengers. Contrary winds. Deceitful appearances. Sunset in southern latitudes. Seas passed over by Columbus. Varied occupations on shipboard. Berry Islands. Bahama Banks. Evening in a tropical sea. L. E. L. Pan of Montanzas. Morro Castle. Bay of Havana. Arrival. Handsome house in Havana. Sights and sounds. Packet ship Norma. October 27th, 1839. This morning at ten o'clock we stepped on board the steamboat Hercules, destined to convey us to our packet with its musical name. The day was foggy and gloomy, as if refusing to be comforted, even by an occasional smile from the sun. All prognosticated that the Norma would not sail today, but where there is a will, etc. Several of our friends accompanied us to the wharf, the Russian minister, the minister Buenos Aires, Mr. Blanc, who tried hard to look sentimental and even brought tears into his eyes by some curious process, Judge Blanc, Mr. Blanc, and others from whom we were truly sorry to part. The Norma was anchored at one of the most beautiful points of the bay, and the steamboat towed us five miles until we had passed the Narrows. The wind was contrary, but the day began to clear up, and the sun to scatter the watery clouds. Still there is nothing so sad as a retreating view. It is as if time were visibly, in motion, and as here we had to part from Blanc. We could only distinguish, as through a misty veil, the beauties of the bay, the shores covered to the water's edge with trees rich in their autumnal colouring, the white houses on Staten Island, the whole gradually growing fainter, till, like a dream, they faded away. The pilot has left us, breaking our last link with the land. We still see the mountains of Neversink and the lighthouse of Sandy Hook. The sun is setting, and in a few minutes we must take our leave, probably for years, of places long familiar to us. Our fellow passengers do not appear very remarkable. There is Madame A., returning from being prima donna in Mexico, in a packet called after the opera in which she was there a favourite, with her husband Señor V., and her child. There is M., B., with moustaches like a bird's nest, a pretty widow in deep affliction, at least in deep morning, a maiden lady going out as a governess, and every variety of Spaniard and Havanero. So now we are alone, sea and eye. And my French femme de Chambre, with her air of doué to touches, and moreover seasick. Twenty-eighth. When I said I liked a sea life, I did not mean to be understood as liking a merchant ship, with an airless cabin, and with every variety of disagreeable odour, as a French woman on board with the air of an afflicted porpoise, and with more truth and elegance expresses it, tout devant pointe, mais mal eu des colons. The wind is still contrary, and the norma beating up and down makes but little way. We have gone seventy-four miles, and of these advanced, but forty. Everyone being seasick today, the deck is nearly deserted.  The infant air of the house of Blanc has shown his good taste by passing the day in squalling. Mr. B., pale, dirty and much resembling a brigand out of employ, has traversed the deck with uneasy footsteps, and a cigar appearing from out his moustaches, like a light in a tangled forest, or a jack-o-lantern in a marshy thicket.  Outrest we are slowly pursuing our way, and at this rate might reach Cuba in three months. And the stars are shining, quiet and silvery. All without is soft and beautiful, and no doubt the norma herself looks all in unison with a scene balancing herself like a lazy swan, white and graciously. So it is without and within. There is miserable seasickness, belge water, and all the unavoidable disagreeables of a small packet. Thirty first. Three days have passed without anything worthy of notice having occurred, except that we already feel the difference of temperature. The passengers are still enduring seasickness in all its phases. This morning opened with an angry dispute between two of the gentlemen on the subject of Cuban lotteries, and they ended up applying to each other epithets, which, however much they might be deserved, were certainly rather strong. But by dinner time they were amicably engaged in concocting together an enormous terrine of gaspachos. A sort of salad composed of bread-oil vinegar, sliced onion and garlic. And the fattest one declares that in warm weather a dish of gaspachos with plenty of garlic in it makes him feel as fresh as a rose. He must indeed be a perfect bouquet. The opening of morning is dramatic in our narrow cabin. About twenty voices in Spanish, German, Italian, and broken English strike up by degrees. From a neighbouring stateroom, Dindozzo puts forth his head, Stuart, a tumlar, there is no water. Come in, sir, come in. Caramba, Stuart. Come in, sir, come in. Stuart? Vasarotul. Here, sir. Amigo, how is the wind?  Oh, Stuart, Stuart! Yes, miss, come here and look at this. I'll fix it, miss, etc. First of November. A fair wind after a stifling night, and strong hopes of seeing the Bahama banks on Sunday. Most people are now gradually ascending from the lower regions and dragging themselves on deck with pale and ejected countenances. Madame A has such a sweet-toned voice in speaking, especially in her accents of her Bella Italia, that it is refreshing to listen to her. I have passed all day in reading, after a desultory fashion, Le Infantes d'Orde, by Casimir de Lavigne, Washington Irving, the Israeli's Creosities of Literature, etc., and it is rather singular that while there is a very tolerable supply of English and French books here, I see but one or two odd volumes in Spanish, although these packets are constantly filled with people of that nation going and coming. Is it that they do not care for reading, or that less attention is paid to them than to the French or American passengers? One would think, Cervantes, Lope de Vega, Calderon or Moratín, better worth buying than many commonplace novels which I find here. Third. Yesterday the wind blew soft as on a summer morning. A land bird flew into the ship. Today the wind has veered round, but the weather continues charming. The sea is covered with multitudes of small flying fish. An infantile waterspout appeared and died in its berth. Mr. Blanc, the consul, has been giving me an account of the agreeable society in the Sandwich Islands. A magnificent sunset, the sight of which compensates for all the inconveniences of the voyage. The sky was covered with black clouds lined with silver and surrounded by every variety of colour. Deep blue, fleecy, rose, violet and orange. The heavens are now thickly studded with stars, numbers shooting across the blue expanse like messengers of light, glancing and disappearing as if extinguished. It is well to read the history of Columbus at sea, but especially in these waters where he wandered in suspense, high wrought expectation and firm faith. And to watch the signs which the noble mariner observed in these latitudes, the soft serenity of the breezes, the clear blue of the heavens, the brilliancy and number of the stars, the seaweeds of the gulf which always drift in the direction of the wind, the little land birds that come like harbingers of good tidings, the frequency of the shooting stars and the multitude of flying fish. As the shades of evening close around and the tropical sky glitters with the light of innumerable stars, imagination transports us back to that century which stands out in bold relief amidst other ages rolling by comparatively undistinguished, and we see as in a vision the discoverer of a world standing on the deck of his caravall as it bounded over the unknown and mysterious waste of waters, his vigilant eyes fixed on the west like a Persian intently watching the rising of his god, though his star was to arise from whence the day god sets. We see him bending his gaze on the first dark line that separated the watery sea from the blue of the heavens, striving to penetrate the gloom of night, yet waiting with patient faith until the dawn of day should bring the long wished foreshores in sight. 6. For three days, three very long and uncomfortable days, the wind with surprising constancy has continued to blow dead ahead. In ancient days what altars might have smoked to Aeolus. Now, except in the increased puffing of consolitary cigar smoke, no propitiatory offerings are made to unseen powers. There are indeed many mourning signs amongst the passengers.  Beards are unshaven, a black stubble covering the lemon-coloured countenance which occasionally bears a look of sulky defiance as if its owner were, like Juliet, past hope, past cure, past help. 7. This morning the monotony of fine weather was relieved by a hearty squall accompanied by torrents of rain, much thunder and forked lightning. The ship reeled to and fro like a drunken man, and the passengers, as usual in such cases, performed various involuntary evolutions, cutting right angles, sliding, spinning around, and rolling over, as if operons magic horn were playing an occasional blast amidst the roaring winds, whilst the stewards alone, like Horus's good man, walked serene amidst the wreck of crockery in the fall of plates. Driven from our stronghold on deck, indiscriminately crammed in below like figs in a drum, weltering as Carlyle has it, like an Egyptian picture of tamed vipers, the cabin windows all shut in, we tried to take it coolly in spite of the suffocating heat.  Should he escape being thrown overboard, it will show a wonderful degree of forbearance on the part of the passengers. Eighth. The weather is perfect, but the wind inexorable, and the passengers with their heads tied up look more gloomy than ever. Some sit dejected in corners, and some quarrel with their neighbours, thus finding a safety valve by which their wrath may escape. Ninth. There is no change in the wind, yet the gentlemen have all brightened up, taken off their handkerchiefs and shaved, as if ashamed of their six days' impatience and making up their minds to a sea-life. This morning we saw land, a long low ridge of hills on the island of Elutera, where they make salt and where there are many negroes. Neither salt nor negroes visible to the naked eye, nothing but the gray outline of the hills, melting into the sea and sky, and having tacked about all day, we found ourselves in the evening precisely opposite to the same island. There are Job's comforters on board who assure us that they have been thirty-six days between New York and La Joya más preciosa de la corona de España. Footnote one, the most precious jewel in the Spanish crown, the name given to Cuba. For my part I feel no impatience, having rather a dislike to changing my position when tolerable, and the air is so fresh and laden with balm that it seems to blow over some paradise of sweets, some land of fragrant spices. The sea also is a mirror, and I have read Mariat's pirate for the first time. Thus then we stand at eight o'clock, p.m., wind ahead, and little of it, performing a zigzag march between elucera and abaco. On deck the pretty widow lies in an easy chair surrounded by her countrymen who discourse about sugar, molasses, chocolate, and other local topics, together with the relative merits of Cuba as compared with the rest of the known world. Madame A. is studying her part of Elizabeth in the opera of Roberto de Frue, which she is to bring out in Havana, but the creaking of the Norma is sadly at variance with harmony. A pale German youth in dressing gown and slippers is studying Schiller. An ingenious youngster is carefully conning a well-thumbed note, which looks like a milliner's girl's last beledue. The little Poseri is burning brown paper within an inch of the curtains of a state room while the steward is dragging it from him. Others are gradually dropping into their berths, like ripe nuts from a tree. Thus we are all pursuing our vocations. Ninth. Wind dead ahead. I console myself with Sinc Mars and Jacob Faithful, but the weather is lovely.  Towards evening the long-wished four lighthouse of Abaco, built by the English, showed her charitable and revolving radiance. But our ship, Penelope-like, undoes by night what she has performed by day, and her course is backward and crabbish.  Tenth. A fair wind. The good tidings communicated by the A. A fair wind in a bright blue sea, cool and refreshing breezes, the waves sparkling the ship going gallantly over the waters. So far our voyage may have been tedious, but the most determined landsmen must allow that the weather has been charming. Sunday at sea, and though no bells are tolling and no hymns are chanted, the blue sky above and the blue ocean beneath us form one vast temple, where since the foundations of the earth and sea were laid, day and day uttered the speech, and night unto night showeth knowledge. This morning we neared the berry islands, unproductive and rocky as the geography books would say. One of these islands belongs to a colored man who bought it for fifty dollars, a cheaply purchased sovereignty. He, his wife and children, with their negro slaves, live there and cultivate vegetables to sell it New York, or to the different ships that pass that way. Had the wind been favorable they would probably have sent us out a boat with fresh vegetables, fish and fruit, which would have been very acceptable. We saw not far from the shore the wreck of a two-masted vessel, a sad sight to those who pass over the same waters to sea. A brave vessel who had no doubt some noble creatures in her dashed all to pieces. Who had at least some of God's creatures in her? Anything but that.  We are now on the Bahama banks, the water very clear and blue, with a creamy froth, looking as if it flowed over pearls and turquoises. An English schooner, men of war, a boy of war in size, made all sail towards us, doubtless hoping we were a slaver, but on putting us to the test of his spy-glass the captain, we presume, perceived that the general tinge of countenance was lemon rather than negro and so abandoned his pursuit. This evening on the banks it would be difficult to imagine a more placid and lovely scene. Everything perfectly calm, all sail set, and the heavens becoming gradually sprinkled with silver stars. The sky blue, and without a cloud except where the sun has just set, the last crimson point sinking in the calm sea, and leaving a long-wretten new of rainbow-colored clouds, deep crimson tinged with bright silver, and melting away into gray pale vapor. On goes the vessel, stately and swan-like, the water of the same turquoise blue, covered with a light pearly froth, and so clear that we see the large sponges at the bottom. Every minute they heave the lead, by the mark three, by the mark three less a quarter, by the mark twain and a half, fifteen feet the vessel drawing thirteen, two feet between us and the bottom. The sailor sings it out like the first line of a hymn in short meter, doled out by the parish clerk. I wish Madame A were singing it instead of he. By the mark three less a quarter, to this tune the only sound breaking the stillness of the night, I dropped to sleep. The captain passed the night anxiously, now looking out for lights on the banks, now at the helm, or himself sounding the lead. For some must watch whilst others sleep, thus wags the world away. 11. Beautiful morning and fair wind. About eight we left the banks. Just then we observed that the sailor who sounded, having sung out five, then six, then in a few minutes seven, suddenly found no bottom, as if we had fallen off all at once from the brink of the bank into an abyss. A fellow captain and passenger of our captains told me this morning that he spoke the ship, which carried out Governor and Mrs. McLean, to Cape Coast Castle, the unfortunate L.E.L. It does not seem to me at all astonishing that the remedies which she took in England without injury should have proved fatal to her in that wretched climate. We have been accompanied all the morning by a fine, large ship, going full sail, the Orleans, captain Sears bound for New Orleans, a long semi-circular line of black rocks in sight, some of a round form, one of which is called the Death's Head, another of the shape of a turtle, and some two or three miles long. At the extremity of one of these the English are building a lighthouse. 12. We are opposite the pan of Montanzas, about sixty miles from Havana. Impatience becomes general, but the breeze rocks up and down and we gain little. This day, like all last days on board, has been remarkably tedious, though the country gradually becomes more interesting. There is a universal brushing up amongst the passengers, some shaving, some with their heads plunged into tubs of cold water, so may have appeared Noah's Ark when the dove did not return and the passengers prepared for Tierra Furma after a forty days voyage. Our mount Ararat was the Morrow Castle, which dark and frowning presented itself to our eyes at six o'clock p.m. Nothing can be more striking than the first appearance of this fortress, starting up from the solid rock with its towers and battlements, while here to remind us of our latitude we see a few feathery cocos growing amidst the herbage that covers the banks near the castle. By its side, covering a considerable extent of ground, is the fortress called the Cabana, painted rose-colour with angles of its bastions white. But there is too much to look at now, I must finish my letter in Havana. Havana, 13th November. Last evening as we entered the beautiful bay, everything struck us as strange and picturesque. The soldiers of the garrison, the prison built by General Tacoln, the irregular houses with their fronts painted red or pale blue, and with a cool but uninhabited look produced by the absence of glass windows, the merchant ships and large men of war, vessels from every port in the commercial world, the little boats gliding amongst them with their snow-white sails, the negroes on the wharf, nothing European. The heat was great, that of a July day, without any freshness in the air. As we approached the wharf, the noise and bustle increased. The passengers all crowded upon deck, and we had scarcely anchored when various little boats were seen making for the Norma. First boat brought an officer with the salutations of the Captain General to his Excellency, with every polite offer of service. A second boat brought the administrator of the Yintendente, the Count de Villanueva, with the same civilities. The third, the master of the house, where we now are, and whence I indict these facts. The fourth, the Italian opera, which rushed simultaneously into the arms of the A. The fifth, prosaic, custom house officers. The sixth, a Havana Count and Marquis. The seventh, the family of General M. Finally we were hoisted over the ship's side in a chair into the government boat and rode to the shore. As it was rather dark when we arrived, and we were driven to our destination in a volante, we did not see much of the city.  The house in which, by the hospitality of the age, a family we were installed, has from its windows which front the bay the most varied and interesting view imaginable. As it is the first house, Spanish fashion, which I have entered, I must describe it to you before I sleep. The house forms a grid square, and you enter the court, round which are the offices, the rooms for the negroes, coal house, bathroom, etc., and in the middle of which stands the volantes. Proceed upstairs and enter a large gallery which runs all around the house. Pass into the sala, a large cool apartment with marble floors and tables, and chase lounges with elastic cushions, chairs and armchairs of cane. A drapery of white muslin and blue silk divides this from a second in smaller drawing room, now serving as my dressing room, and beautifully fitted up with a gothic toilet table in late Mahogany bureau, marble center inside tables, fine mirrors, cane sofas and chairs, green and gold paper.  French beds with blue silk, coverlets and clear mosquito curtains and fine lace. A drapery divides this on one side from the gallery, and this room opens into others which run all around the house. The floors are marble or stucco, the roofs, beams of pale blue wood placed transversely, and the whole has an air of agreeable coolness. Everything is handsome without being gaudy and admirably adapted for the climate. The sleeping apartments have no windows and are dark and cool, while the drawing rooms have larger windows down to the floor, with green shutters kept closed till the evening. The mosquitoes have now commenced their evening song, a signal that it is time to put out the lights. The moon is shining on the bay, and a faint sound of military music is heard in the distance, while the sea moans with a sad but not unpleasing monotony. To all these sounds I retire to rest. The Countess D. V. A. Dinner at Aches. Southerly Winds. View from the balcony. Quinta of Count V. A. San Cristobal. Mass at San Felipe. Erard Harp. Dinner at General M. O.'s. A Dessert at Havana. Queen of Spain's Birthday. Dinner at the Intendencia. La Pantani. Theatre of Tacón. A Railroad. Cure by Lightning. Shops. Ball at the Countess F. A.'s. Last visit. Souvenirs. Fifteenth. We expected hospitality and a good reception, but certainly all our expectations have been surpassed, and the last few days have been spent in such a round of festivity that not a moment has been left for writing. At home we have held a levée to all that is most distinguished in Havana. Counts, marqueses, and generals with stars and crosses have poured in and poured out ever since our arrival. I do not pretend to form any judgment of Havana. We have seen it too much and bow. Last evening we found time to go to the theatre. The opera was Lucia de la Mirmore. The prima donna, La Rosi, has a voice of much sweetness, sings correctly and with taste, is graceful in her movements, but sadly deficient in strength. Still she suits the character represented, and comes exactly up to my idea of poor Lucia, devoted and brokenhearted, physically and morally weak. Though the stories altered and the interest weakened, how graceful the music is, how lovely and full of melody, the orchestra is good and composed of blacks and whites, like the notes of a piano, mingled in harmonious confusion. The theatre is remarkably pretty and airy, and the pit struck us as being particularly clean and respectable. All the seats are red leather, armchairs, and all occupied by well-dressed people. At the end of the first act we went round to the Countess F.A.'s box to return a visit which she had made me in the morning. We found her extremely agreeable and full of intelligence, also, with a very decided air of fashion. She was dressed in fawn-coloured satin with large pearls. At the end of the second act Lucia was taken ill, her last aria missed out, and her monument driven on the stage without further ceremony. Montressor, the raven's wood of the piece, came in, sung and stabbed himself with immense enthusiasm. It is a pity that his voice is deserting him, while his taste and feeling remain. The house has altogether a French look. The boxes are private, that is, the property of individuals, but are not shut in, which in this climate would be suffocating. We passed out through a long file of soldiers. The sudden transition from Yankee land to this military Spanish negro land is dreamy. The General de la Marina, anglis, admiral of the station, called some days ago and informed us that there is a brig of war distinct to convey us to Vera Cruz. Amongst the ladies who have called on me I find none more charming than the Countess de V.A. Her voice is agreeable, her manners cordial and easy, her expression beautiful from goodness, with animated eyes and fine teeth, her dress quiet and rich. She is universally beloved here. I received from her nearly every morning a bouquet of the loveliest flowers from her quinta, roses, carnations, heliotrope, etc. The dinner at H.A.'s today was a perfect feast. I sat between the Count de F.A. and the Count de S.V. a millionaire. Everything was served in French white and gold porcelain, which looks particularly cool and pretty in this climate. The Count de P.R. was there and his brother, the latter a gentlemanly and intelligent man with a great taste for music, and whose daughter is a first-rate singer and a charming person. After dinner we rose, according to the custom, and went into an adjoining room while they arranged the dessert, consisting of every imaginable and unimaginable sweet-meat with fruit, ices, etc. The fruits I have not yet learned to like. They are certainly wonderful and delicious productions of nature, but to eat eggs and custards and butter of the trees seems unnatural. The heat today is terrible, with a suffocating south wind blowing, and where the house is not built as they are would be unbearable. The dinner is served in the gallery, which is spacious and cool. After dinner, S.D. P.O. H.A. rose, and addressing C.N., pronounced a poetical impromptu, commemorating the late victory of Espartero, and congratulating C.N. on his mission to the Mexican Republic, with an adjourned to the balcony where the air was delightful, a cool evening breeze having suddenly sprung up. A large ship, full sale, and various barks passed the view from the balcony moro. There were negroes with bare legs walking on the wall, carrying parcels, etc., volantes passing by with their black-eyed occupants, in full dress, short sleeves and flowers in their hair, well-dressed, martial-looking Spanish soldiers marching by and making tolerably free remarks on the ladies in the volantes. We had a visit from the capitán general. In the evening we went out to see the Countess de V.A. at her party Quinta, a short way out of town and walked in the garden by moonlight, amongst flowers and fountains. The little Count is already one of the chamberlains to the Queen, and a diamond key has been sent him by Queen Cristina in token of her approbation of his father's services. These country retreats are delightful, ah, with the narrow streets and impure air of the city. We saw there a good engraving of Queen Victoria, with the Duchess of Sutherland and Lady Norman B. 17. Yesterday we went to see the procession of the patron saint, San Cristobal, from the balconies of the Yentendencia. It is a fine, spacious building, and together with the captain general's palace stands in the Plaza de Armas, which was crowded with negroes and negroses, all dressed in white, with white muslin and blond mantillas, framing and showing off their dusky visiognomies. Two regiments with excellent bands of music conducted the procession composed of monks and priests. San Cristobal, a large figure with thick gold legs, surrounded by gold angels with gold wings, was carried by to the music of Suonilatromba, to which were adapted the words of a hymn in praise of liberty. We attended Mass in the morning in the Church of San Felipe, and entered, preceded, according to custom, by a little negro footman carrying a piece of carpet. There were few people in church, but the grouping was picturesque.  Found on my return in excellent Ehrhard Harp, sent me by the Marquesa de Aes, a pretty woman and female cruisers. A splendid entertainment was given us today by General M.O. His house is large and cool, the dinner as usual in the gallery, and although there were ninety-seven guests and as many negroes in waiting, the heat was not oppressive. The jewels of the ladies were superb, especially the diamonds of the M. family, sprays, necklaces, earrings, really beautiful. The Marquesa de Aes wore a set of emeralds the size of small eggs. She had a pretty graceful looking daughter with her, with beautiful eyes. Even the men were well sprinkled with diamonds and rubies. The dessert, from variety and quantity, was a real curiosity. Immense vases and candelabras of alabaster were placed at different distances on the table, and hundreds of porcelain dishes were filled with sweet meats and fruits, sweet meats of every description, from the little merengue called mouthful for queen to the blank monger made of supreme de volel and milk. After dinner our health was drunk, and another poetical address pronounced, the evening concluded with music and the Havana country dances. Twentieth. Yesterday, being the queen of Spain's birthday, a dinner was given to us at the Yentendencia. The house in size is a palace, and the apartments innumerable. The dinner, very elegant, and the dessert arranged in another room a curiosity as usual, for profusion and variety. Her Majesty's health was proposed by Don B. H., and so well timed that all the guns of the forts fired a salute, it being sunset, just as the toast was concluded, which was drank with real enthusiasm and hearty goodwill. According to Spanish custom, the aristocracy generally said to jaunt and call each other by their Christian names. Indeed they are almost all connected by intermarriages. You may guess at an inferior in rank only by their increased respect towards him. We stood on the balcony in the evening. The scene was beautiful, the temperature rather warm, yet delicious, from the softness of the breeze. The moon rose so bright that she seemed like the sun shining through a silvery veil. Groups of figures were sauntering about in the square under the trees, and two bands, having stationed themselves with lamps and music, played alternately pieces for Mozart and Bellini. We regretted leaving so delightful a scene for the theatre, where we arrived in time to hear La Pantanile sing an aria, dressed in helmet and theatre of Tacontinic, and to see La Jota Aragonesa danced by two handsome Spanish girls in good style. One evening we went to the theatre of Tacontin, to the captain-general's box. It is certainly a splendid house, large, airy and handsome. The play was the Campanero de San Pablo, which though generally liked, appears to me a complicated and unnatural composition, with one or two interesting scenes. The best actor was he who represented the blind men.  Ebolero, danced afterwards by two Spanish damsels in black and silver, were very refreshing. 23. Tomorrow we sail in that jazen, should the wind not prove contrary. Visits, dinners and parties have so occupied our time that her ride has been next to impossible. Of the country we have, from the same reason seen little, and the people we are only acquainted with in full dress, which is not the way to judge of them truly. One morning indeed we dedicated to viewing the works of the Yentendente, the railroad and the water-filterers. He and the Countess and a party of friends accompanied us. The country through which the railroad passes is flat and rather monotonous. Nevertheless, the quantity of wild flowers, which appeared for the most part of the confolvulla species as we glanced past them, the orange trees, the clumps of palm and cocoa, the plantain with its gigantic leaves, the fresh green coffee plant, the fields of sugarcane of a still brighter green, the half-naked negroes, the low wooden huts and still more, the scorching sun in the month of November, all was new to us and sufficient to remind us of the leagues of ocean we had traversed, though this is but a halt on our voyage. At the village where the cars stopped we listened with much amusement to the story of a fat, comfortable-looking individual who was cured by lightning in the following manner. He was in the last stage of a decline when, one hot July morning, he was knocked down by a thunderbolt. A ball of fire which entered his side ran all through his body and came out at his arm. At the place where the ball made its exit, a large ulcer was formed and when it dispersed he fell himself in perfect health, in which he has continued ever since. In such cases the bottled lightning demanded by Mrs. Nicolby's admirer might be a valuable remedy. Of course I could not leave Havana without devoting one morning to shopping. The shops have most seducing names—hope, wonder, desire, etc. The French modists seems to be wisely improving their time by charging respectable prices for their work. The shopkeepers bring their goods out to the volante, it not being the fashion for ladies to enter the shops, though I took the privilege of a foreigner to infringe this rule occasionally. Silks and satins, very dear, lice and muslin very reasonable, was upon the whole the result of my investigation, but as it only lasted two hours and that my sole purchases of any consequences were an indispensable mantilla and a pair of earrings, I give my opinion for the present with due diffidence. I can speak with more decision on the subject of a great ball given us by the Countess F.A. last evening which was really superb. The whole house was thrown open, there was a splendid supper, quantities of refreshment, and the whole select aristocracy of Havana. Diamonds and all the women, jewels and orders and all the men, magnificent lustres and mirrors and a capital band of music in the gallery. The captain general was the only individual in a plain dress. He made himself very agreeable, in good French. About one hundred couples stood up in each country dance, but the rooms are so large and so judiciously lighted that we did not feel at all warm. Waltzes, cadrilles and these long Spanish dances succeeded each other. Almost all the girls have fine eyes and beautiful figures, but without color or much animation. The finest diamonds were those of the Countess F.A., particularly her necklace which was undeniable. Walking through the rooms after supper, we were amused to see the negroes and negroes helping themselves plentifully to the sweet meats on corking and drinking fresh bottles of champagne and devouring everything on the supper tables without the slightest concern for the presence either of their master or mistress, in fact behaving like a multitude of spoiled children who are sure of meeting with indulgence and presuming upon it. Towards morning we were led downstairs to a large souvenir suite of rooms containing a library of several thousand volumes where coffee, cakes, etc., were prepared in beautiful savers, porcelain and gold plate. We left the house at last to the music of the national hymn of Spain which struck up as we passed through the gallery. Should the north wind, the dreaded norte, not blow, we sail tomorrow and have spent the day in receiving farewell visits. We also went to the theatre where everyone predicts we shall not get off to-morrow. The play was Legamin de Paris, translated. After our return I paid a very late visit to the P.R. family who live close by us, and now at two in the morning I finished my letter sleepily. Many beautiful souvenirs have been sent us and amongst others the Count de S.V. has just sent C.N., a model of the Palace of Madrid, one of the most beautiful and ingenious pieces of workmanship possible. It is carved in wood with astonishing accuracy and delicacy. My next letter will be dated on board the Jason. End of letter the second. Balances. Fishing. Le Petit Tambor. Coconuts. A Norte. Spanish proverb. Peak of Orizaba. Theory and practice. Norte Chocolatero. Contrary winds. Chain of Mountains. Goleta. Jason. 24th November. This morning at six o'clock we breakfasted together with Captain Estrada, the commander of the Jason, at the Casa H., and the wind being fair, repaired shortly after in Volantes to the wharf, accompanied by our hospitable host and several of our acquaintances, entered the boat, looked our last of the Palace and the Intendencia, end of Havana itself, where we had arrived as strangers and which now, in fifteen days, had begun to assume a familiar aspect, and to appear interesting in our eyes by the mere force of human sympathy, and were transported to the ship where a line of marines drawn up to receive us presented arms as we entered. The morning was beautiful, little wind but fair. We took leave of our friends, waved our handkerchiefs to the balconies in return for signals, from scarcely distinguishable figures, passed between the red-tinted cabana and the steadily motto, and were once more upon the deep, with a remembrance behind and a hope before us. Our bragantina is a handsome vessel with twenty-five guns, five officers, a doctor, chaplain, and purser, and one hundred and fifty men. We find the commander very attentive and a perfect gentleman, like almost all of his class, and though very young in appearance, he has been twenty-nine years in the service. Twenty-fifth. The weather delightful and the sheep going at the rate of five knots an hour. The accommodations in a brig not distinct for passengers are, of course, limited. There is a large cabin for the officers, separated by a smaller one, belonging to the captain which he has given up to us. At seven o'clock, sea-end rises, and at eight a marine sentinel, transformed into a lady's page, whom we are taking to Mexico as porter, brings us some very delicious chocolate. He is followed by the captain's familiar and unhappy-looking individual, pale, lank, and lean, with a physiognomy of a methodist parson, and in general like a weed that has grown up in one night. He, tremblingly, and with most rueful countenance, carries a small plate of sugar biscuits. These originals, having vacated the cabin, I proceed to dress an operation of some difficulty, which being performed, tant bien quimal, I repair upstairs, armed with book and fan, and sit on deck till ten o'clock, when the familiar lamentable announcement of breakfast takes us down again. The cook being French, comestibles are decidedly good, and were the artist a little less of an oil and more of a water painter, I individually would prefer his style. We have every variety of fish, meat, fowl, fruit, dulces, and wines. A very long interval has to be filled up by reading, writing, sitting, or walking upon deck, as suits the taste of the individual, or by drinking orangeade, or by sleeping, or by any other ingenious resource for killing time. At five, dinner, at which no one joins us but the captain and one officer, and after dinner on deck till bedtime, walking about or gazing on the sky or sea, or listening to the songs of the sailors. 26. Little Wind. But a day of such abominably cruel balances as they call them that one is tempted to find rest by jumping overboard.  28. We have had two days of perfect weather, though very warm. The sky blew without one cloud. Today we are on the sound and have lain to, about noon, to let the sailors fish, thereby losing an hour or so fair wind, and catching a preposterous number of fish of immense size. The water was so clear that we could see the fish rush and cease the bait as fast as it was thrown in. Sometimes a huge shark would bite the fish in, too, so that the poor, finite creature was between Silla and Cherubdis. These fish are called Cherni and Pargo, and at dinner were pronounced good. At length a shark, in its wholesome greediness, ceased the bait and feeling the hook in his horrid jaw tugged most fiercely to release himself but in vain. Two sailors hauled him in, when with distended jaws he seemed to look out for the legs of the men, whereupon they rammed the butt end of a harpoon down his throat, which put a stop to all further proceedings on his part. He was said to be quite young, perhaps a child of doting parents. The juvenile monster had, however, already cut three rows of teeth. We are sometimes amused in the evening when upon deck by a little drummer who invariably collects all the sailors around him and spins them long endless stories of his own invention to which they listen with intense interest. On he goes without a moment's hesitation, inventing everything most improbable and wonderful, of knights and giants and beautiful princesses and imprisoned damsels and poor peasants becoming great kings.  Amongst his axioms is the following verse, which he sings with great expression. Yotros para ser carbón, which may be translated so. Even the mountain trees have their allotted goal, for some are born for saints while others serve for coal. 29. Beautiful day, fair wind, great heat, and more fishing. At least thirty large fish were caught this morning, also an infant shark, a grandchild who had wandered forth to nibble and met an untimely grave. We have seen several alakrans or scorpions on board, but these are said not to be poisonous. The ship is the perfection of cleanliness. No disagreeable odor affects the olfactory nerves, in which it has a singular advantage over all packets. This and having it all to ourselves and the officers being such perfect gentlemen and also kind and attentive makes our voyage so far a mere pleasure trip. 30. We had some of the Countess de Viz, coconuts, of which she sent us a great supply, pierced this morning, each containing three tumblers of fresh and delicious water. 31. First December. We are now about thirty leagues from Veracruz, and if the wind blows a little fresher, may reach it to-morrow. This is Sunday, but the chaplain is too sick to say mass, and the heat is intense. 2. An unpleasant variety. A norte. I knew it was coming on only by the face of the first lieutenant when he looked at the barometer. His countenance fell as many degrees as the instrument. It is very slight, but our entry into port will be delayed, for on the coast these winds are most devoutly dreaded. It has rained all day, and notwithstanding the rolling of the ship we attempted a game at chess, but after having tried two games, abandoned it in despair, a balance having, at the most interesting period of each, overturned the board, and left the victory undecided, somewhat after the fashion of Homer's goddess when she enveloped the contending armies in a cloud. 4. Yesterday evening a south wind, and the Spanish proverb says truly, surduro norte seguro, a south wind strong, the northern air long. 5. This morning the sky is covered with watery clouds, yet we can see the cofre de Perote and the peak of Orizava, which are thirty leagues inland. The latter, called by the Mexicans, Sitlal de Pedro, or the mountain of the star, from the fire which used to burn on its lofty summit, rises nineteen thousand five hundred and fifty-one feet above the level of the sea. Covered with perpetual snows and rising far above clouds and tempests, it is the first mountain which the navigator discovers as he approaches these shores. But the south wind continues, and we are obliged to turn our back to the coast. There is much impatience on board. A was taken ill and declared she had got the yellow fever. The doctor was sent for who, very sick himself, and holding by the table to keep himself from falling, told her, without looking at her very particularly, that there was nothing the matter. Only to keep yourself quite quiet and still, and the ship rolling at the same moment, he pitched head foremost out of the cabin, showing practically how much easier preset is than example. As we shall no doubt have a norther after this, which may last three days, our promised land is still at some distance. 5. The weather is charming, but the south west wind holds most implacably, and the barometer has fallen five or six degrees, which, added to other signs at the times known to navigators, causes all hands to prepare for the dreaded enemy. 6. Job never was on board a ship. A norther, not a very severe one, but what they call a Norte Chocolatero, that is, its shock tore a sail in two as I tear this sheet of paper. The most ingenious person I see is the master of the sails. He sows most excessively quick and well. Towards evening the wind calmed, but the ship, tossed upon a horribly swelled sea, became a mortal purgatory. Still the wind is lulled, though humboldt and others say Norte must last forty-eight hours, and we have only had it for twenty-four. We shall see. 7. A most horrible night. My hammock, which I had foolishly preferred to a bed, not having room to swing in, threw me furiously against the wall, till fearing a broken head I jumped out and lay on the floor. Today there is a comparative calm, a faint continuation of the Norte, which is an air with variations. Everything now seems melancholy and monotonous. We have been tossed about during four days in sight of Veracruz, and are now further from it than before. The officers begin to look miserable, even the cook with difficulty preserves his equilibrium. Sunday 8. A Norte. The sky is watery, and covered with shapeless masses of reddish clouds. This is a great day amongst all Spanish Catholics, la Vergin de la Concepción, the patroness of Spain and the Indies, but no mass today. The Padre is sick and the Norte blowing. What a succession of long faces, walking barometers. 9. Yesterday evening the wind held out false hopes, and everyone brightened up with caution, for the wind, though faintly, blew from the right quarter. The rain seized, the weather cleared, and hope the charmers smiled upon us. The greater was our disappointment, when the breeze died away, when the wind veered to the north, and when once more the most horrible rolling seized the unfortunate Jason as if it were possessed by a demon. 9. Finding it impossible to lie in my hammock, I stretched myself on the floor, where during a night that seemed interminable we were tossed up and down, knocked against the furniture, and otherwise maltreated. This morning there is a little wind, but that little from the north, so that the termination of our voyage appears as far off now as it did eight days ago. The faces of all on board are calmly lugubrious. Little said, a few Spanish shrugs interchanged with ominous significance. 10. As there is only one particular wind during which it is not dangerous to approach the coast, namely La Brisa, the breeze which usually follows the northern, we may spend our Christmas here. The weather is beautiful, though very sultry, especially during the calms which intervene between the nortes. With books one might take patience, but I read and reread backwards and forwards everything I possess, or can find. Reviews, magazines, a volume of humboldt, even an old volume of the Barber of Paris, Turkish letters purporting to be the translation of a continuation of the Montesquieu's letters Parzanes, and in which the hero disguised as a gardener brings the Vizier's Daughter a bouquet which he condescendingly receives, lying in bed alais bagnol. I am now reduced to a very serious Spanish work on the truth of Christianity. This evening, to the joy of all on board, arose a long desired breeze. The ship went slowly and steadily on her course at first four, then eight knots an hour. The captain, however, looked doubtingly, and indeed towards morning the wind changed to the south, and our hopes died away. 11. Contrary wind, a south expected to be followed by a norte seguro. But now at 11 a.m. it is quite calm and very sultry, whilst, to increase if possible our weariness, a long range of lofty mountains stretches along the horizon, from Punta del Gada to the Coffre de Perote, and on till they seem to sink in the ocean. Behind the Coffre rises Orisava, now like a white cloud, but this morning tinged with a rosy light by the rays of the rising sun. The sea's tranquil, and the horizon clear, nevertheless the enemies looked for. There are a few white and feathery clouds flickering about in the sky, and there is an uneasy swell in the waves. At three o'clock outbursts the norther, which, like the flaming sword guarding the issues of paradise, waved over by that flaming brand, the gate with dreadful faces thronged in fiery arms. Seems to warn of all vessels from approaching these iron-bound shores. Eleven days within a few hours' distance of the coast. 16. Five days more past with a continuation of contrary winds and constant rolling. We are further from hope than we were fourteen days ago. Captain, officers, sailors all seem nearly disheartened. This morning they caught the most beautiful fish I ever beheld of the dolphin species, the Cleopatra of the ocean, about four feet long apparently composed of gold and studded with turquoise. It changed color in dying. There is a proverb which the sailors are repeating to each other, not very encouraging. Este es el viaje del oronoco, que el que no se murió se volvió loco. This is the voyage of the oronoco, in which he who did not die became crazy. 17.  The wind continues contrary, I shall fold up this sea scroll and write no more till we reach Veracruz. End of letter the third. Letter the fourth of Life in Mexico. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Life in Mexico by Frances Calderón de la Barca. Letter the fourth. Distant view of Veracruz. Pilots. Boat from the city. Mutual salutes. Approach to Veracruz. Crowd on the wharf. House of Dionysio. Fee. Guard of honor. German piano. Supper. Madonna. Aspect of the city. Sopilotes. Deliberations. General Guadalupe Victoria. Two-headed eagle. Delapidated saint. Harp. Theater. Dona inocencia Martinez. Invitation from General Santa Ana. Veracruz. 18th. This morning the sanguine hoped, and the desponding feared, for the wind, though inclined to la brisa, seemed unlikely to prove sufficiently strong to enable us to reach Veracruz, this being the twenty-fifth day since we left Havana. A voyage to that, with a steamer, might be performed, in three days, and with a sailing vessel and a fair wind, is made in six or seven. About noon the aspect of things became more favorable. The breeze grew stronger, and with it our hopes. At last appeared in view faintly certain spires beside the low sandy land, which for some time went anxiously watched, and at length we could distinguish houses and churches, and the fort of San Juan de Ullua, a war-like memory. By slow but sure degrees we've neared the shore, until Veracruz, in all its ugliness, became visible to our much wearied eyes. We had brought a pilot from Havana to guide us to these dangerous coasts, but though a native of these parts, it seemed that a lapse of years had blunted his memory, for we had nearly run upon the rocks. A gun was therefore fired, and another pilot came out, who at sight of the Spanish flag waxed enthusiastic, and pointing at the castle, our ignorant friend exclaimed, alluding to the desperate struggle made by the Spaniards to defend this their last stronghold at the end of the war. We, although but a handful of men, defended for years like soldiers, and now these Frenchmen took it in three days. And, walking about in a transport of patriotic despair, he seemed to forget his actual duty in the tide of remembrances, which at the sight of Spanish colours, and a Spanish crew had called forth. Anything more melancholy, delabre and forlorn, than the whole appearance of things as we drew near cannot well be imagined. On one side the fort, with its black and red walls, on the other the miserable black-looking city, with hordes of large black birds, called sopilotes, hovering over some dead carcass, or flying heavily along in search of carrion. Still as the goal of our voyage, even its dreary aspect was welcome, and the very hills of red sand by which it is surrounded, and which look like the deserts of Arabia, appeared inviting. A boat full of cocked hats was now seen approaching from the city, containing the console in full uniform and other authorities, C.N. having sent for and obtained permission from the Governor to permit the Jason, contrary to established usages to anchor beneath the castle, a salute of twenty guns was fired from our ship.  A salute of the same manner of cannon was then fired from the castle, in honour of the first Spanish men of war that has appeared in this port since the Revolution. And now we prepared, before the sun went down, to leave our watery prison, and the captain's boat being manned and having taken leave of the officers, we, that is, C.N., the commander, and I and my French mate and her French poodle, got into it. Then came a salute of twenty guns from the Jason in our honour, and we rode off amidst clouds of smoke. Then the fort gave us welcome with the same number of guns, and amidst all this cannonating we relented at the wharf. A singular spectacle the wharf presented, a crowd as far as the eye could reach of all ages and sexes of Veracruzians, and a very curious set they seemed to be, were assembled to witness his excellence's arrival. Some had no pantaloons, and others to make up for their neighbours's deficiencies had two pair, the upper slit up the side of the leg, Mexican fashion. All had large hats, with silver or bead rolls, and every tinge of dark complexion from the pure Indian upwards. Some dresses were entirely composed of rags, clinging, together by the attraction of cohesion, others had only a few holes to let in the air. All were crowding, jostling, and nearly throwing each other into the water, and gazing with faces of intense curiosity. But a plume of coloured feathers was seen towering above the copper-coloured crowd, and immediate passage was made for an eddy camp from the governor, General Guadalupe Victoria. He was an immensely tall man, in a show uniform all covered with gold, with colossal epaulettes, and a towering plume of rainbow-coloured feathers. He brought to sea end the welcome and congratulations of the General, and those Spanish officers of service and devotion which sound agreeably, whatever be their true value. We now began to move through the crowd, which formed a line on either side to let us pass, and enter the streets of Veracruz, which were crowded, balconies and all, and even roofs with curious faces. The guard formed as we passed, and struck up a march. The principal street is wide and clean, and we reached the house of Señor V, a rich merchant, formerly Consul, where we are to reside, followed to the door by the whole population. We were received with great hospitality, and found excellent rooms prepared for us. The house is immensely large and airy, built in a square as they all are, but with that unfurnished melancholy look which as yet this style of house has to me, though admirably adapted, to the climate. A guard of honour, sent by General Victoria, trotted into the courtyard, whose attendance sea-end declined with thanks, observing that his mission had for object to terminate the coolness hitherto existing between two families of brothers, that between members of the same family there was nothing to fear, and all complaints were unnecessary. I found a German piano in the drawing room, on which I was glad to put my fingers, after a month's abstinence. A number of gentlemen came in the evening to visit sea-end. We were received by this family with so much real kindness, that we soon found ourselves perfectly at home. We had a plentiful supper, fish, meat, wine, and chocolate, fruit and sweet meats, the cookery Spanish Vera crucified. A taste of the style was enough for me, garlic and oil enveloping meat, fish and fowl, with pimentos and plantains, and all kinds of curious fruit which I cannot yet endure. Bed was not unwelcome, and most comfortable beds we had, with mosquito curtains and sheets and pillows all trimmed with rich lace, so universal in Spanish houses, that it is not as with us a luxury. But the mosquitoes had entered in some unguarded moment, and then the heat were inimical to sleep. 19. I opened my eyes this morning on the painting of a very lovely Madonna, which hung unvalued and ill-framed in one corner of the apartment. At eight, rose and dressed, and went to breakfast. Here, when there are two guests whom they wish to distinguish, the gentleman is placed at the head of the table, and his lady beside him. To me nothing can exceed the sadness of the aspect of the city, and of its environs, mountains of moving sand formed by the violence of the north winds, and which by the reflection of the sun's rays must greatly increase the suffocating heat of the atmosphere. The scene may resemble the ruins of Jerusalem, though without its sublimity. The houses seemed blackened by fire. There is not a carriage on the streets, nothing but the men with the wide trousers, slit up the side of the leg, immense hats and blankets, or sarapes, merely a closed blanket, more or less fine, with a hole for the head to go through, and the women with riboses, long-colored cotton scarves, or pieces of ragged stuff, thrown over the head and crossing over the left shoulder. Add to this the sopilotes, cleaning the streets, disgusting but useful scavengers.  They fly in troops and at night perch upon the trees. They are not republican, nor do they appear inclined to declare their independence, having kings to whom it is said they pay so much respect, that if one of the royal species arrives at the same time with a plebian sopilote inside of a dead body, the latter humbly waits till the sovereign has devoured his share before adventures to approach. A few ladies in black gowns and mantillas call this morning and various men. We find the weather sultry. In summer, with greater heat and addition of the vomito, it must be a chosen city. The principal street where we live is very long and wide, and seems to have many good houses in it. Nearly opposite is one of which seems particularly well kept and handsome, and where we saw beautiful flowers as we passed, I find it belongs to an English merchant. There is much deliberation as to the mode in which we are to travel to Mexico. Some propose a coach, others a litera, others advise us to take their diligence. While in this indecision we had a visit this morning from a remarkable looking character, Don Miguel S., agent for the Diligence Office in Mexico, a tall, dark, energetic looking person. He recommends the Diligence and offers by accompanying us to ensure our safety from accidents. He appears right. The Diligence goes in four days if it does not break down. The coach takes any time we choose over that, the litera's nine or ten days going slowly on mules with a sedan chair motion. The Diligence has food and beds provided for it at the inns, the others nothing. I am in favour of the Diligence. The couple from Havana whom we passed in the Goleta have very coolly requested permission to accompany us to Mexico, under the protection of the Embajador de España. We should set off in select company. CN called this morning on General Victoria. Found his excellency in a large hall without furniture or ornament of any sort, without even chairs and altogether in a style of more than republican simplicity, he has just returned the visit accompanied by his colossal aid to camp. General Guadalupe Victoria is perhaps the last man in a crowd whom one would fix upon as being the owner of the above-high-sounding Cognomin, which in fact is not his original, but his assumed name, Guadalupe, being adopted by him in honour of the renowned image of the virgin of that name, and Victoria, with less humility to commemorate his success in battle. He is an honest, plain-down-looking citizen, lame and tall, somewhat at a loss for conversation, apparently amiable and good-natured, but certainly neither courtier nor orator, a man of undeniable bravery, capable of supporting almost incredible hardships, humane and who has always proved himself a sincere lover of what he considered liberty without ever having been actuated by ambitious or interested motives. It is said that his defects were indolence, wanted resolution, and too much reliance on his own knowledge. He is the only Mexican president who finished as chief magistrate the term prescribed by the laws. It is alleged in proof of his simplicities, though I think it is too absurd to be true, but having received a dispatch with a two-headed eagle on the seal, he remarked to the astonished envoy who delivered it. Our arms are very much alike, only I see that his majesty's eagles have two heads. I have heard that some of the species exist here in Tierra Caliente, and shall have one sent for. The general is not married, but appears rather desirous of entering the United State. He strongly recommends us to avoid broken bones by going it literas, at least as far as Halapa. Having stumbled about for some time in search of his cocked hat, it was handed to him by his A.T. camp, and he took leave. We walked out in the evening to take a look of the environs with Tenorvi, the commander of the Jason, and several young ladies of the house. We walked in the direction of an old church where it is, or was, the custom for young ladies desirous of being married, to throw a stone at the saint, their fortune depending upon the stones hitting him, so that he is in a lapidated and dilapidated condition. Such environs, the surrounding houses black with smoke of powder or with fire, a view of bare red sand hills all round, not a tree or shrub or flower or bird, except the horrid black sopilote or police officer. All looks as if the prophet Jeremiah had passed through the city denouncing woe to the dwellers thereof. Such a melancholy, holy, deserted looking burial ground as we saw. War and revolutions have no doubt done their work, yet I find difficulty in believing those who speak of Veracruz as having been a gay and delightful residence in former days, though even now those who have resided here for any length of time, even foreigners almost invariably become attached to it, and as for those born here, they are the truest of patriots, holding up Veracruz as superior to all other parts of the world. The city was founded by the Viceroy, Count de Monterey, at the end of the 17th century, and ought not to be confounded as it sometimes is with either of the two colonies founded by the first Spaniards. Built in front of the island of San Juan de Ulua, it has one interesting recollection attached to it, since on the same arid shores Cortés disembarked more than three centuries ago. Unlike the green and fertile coast which gladdened the eyes of Columbus, the Spanish conqueror beheld a bleak and burning desert, whose cheerless aspect might well have deterred a feebler mind from going further in search of the paradise that existed behind. We returned to the house and heard some ladies play upon a harp, so-called a small, light instrument in that form, but without petals, so light that they can lift it with one hand, and yet the music they bring from it is surprising, one ere after another, a little monotonously, but with great ease and a certain execution, and with the additional merit of being self-taught. I imagined that there must be a great deal of musical taste thrown away here. There are pianos in almost every house, and one lady, who came to see me today and whose mother was English, had been extremely well taught and played with great taste, be attempted dancing, but having no masters can only learn by what they hear. On the balcony this evening it was delightful, and the moon is a universal beautifier. Twenty-first we walked about the city yesterday and returned visits, the streets are clean, and some few churches tolerably handsome. The Comicos came in the morning to offer us a center-box in the theater, it being the benefit-night of Dona Inocencia Martinez from Madrid, a favorite of the public and, in fact, a pretty woman and good comic actress. The theater is small, and they say generally deserted, but last night it was crowded. The drop-scene represents the fine arts who are so fat that their condition here must be flourishing. We were, however, agreeably disappointed in the performance, which was the Segunda Dama Duende, nearly a translation from the Domino Noor, and very amusing, full of excellent Cuda theater. Dona Inocencia, in her various characters as Domino, Servant Girl, Abes, etc., was very handsome and acted with great spirit. Moreover, she and her sister, with two Spaniards, danced the Jota Aragonesa in perfection so that we spent a pleasant evening upon the whole within the presence of the city of the True Cross. Tomorrow is the day fixed for our departure, and we shall not be sorry to leave this place, although this house is excellent, a whole suite of rooms given to us and neither ceremony nor gene of any sort. The weather is certainly beautiful. The heat may be a little oppressive in the middle of the day, but the evenings are cool and delightful. Departure from Veracruz We had a visit yesterday from the English and French consuls. M.D. Blanc prophesies broken arms and dislodged teeth if we persist in our plan of taking the diligence, but all things balanced we think it preferable to every other conveyance. General Victoria returned to see us this morning and was very civil and amiable, offering very cordially every service and assistance in his power. We are to rise tomorrow at two being invited to breakfast with General Santana at his country's seat, Manja de Clavo, a few leagues from this. We have been sitting on the balcony till very late, enjoying the moonlight and refreshing breeze from the sea, and as we rise before daybreak our rest will be but short. End of Letter IV