breakfast, at which was a young and beautiful Countess, lately married, and of very low birth. She looked very splendid, with all the diamonds, and a dress of rose-colored satin. After breakfast, we adjourned to another room, where I admired the beauty of a little child who was playing about on the floor, when this lady said, "Yes, she is very pretty—very like my little girl, who is just the same age." I was rather surprised, but concluded she had been a widow, and made the inquiry of an old French lady who was sitting near me. "Oh no! "said she—"she was never married before; she alludes to the children she had before the Count became acquainted with her!" And yet, the Señora de , the strictest woman in Mexico, was loading her with attentions and caresses. I must say, however, that this was a singular instance. . . .
There are no women more affectionate in their manners than those of Mexico. In fact, a foreigner, especially if he be an Englishman and a shy man, and accustomed to the coldness of his fair countrywomen, need only live a few years here, and understand the language, and become accustomed to the peculiar style of beauty, to find the Mexican Señoritas perfectly irresistible.
And that this is so, may be judged of by the many instances of Englishmen married to the women of this country, who invariably make them excellent wives. But when an Englishman marries here, he ought to settle here, for it is very rare that a Mexicaine can live out of her own country. They miss the climate—they miss that warmth of manner, that
