house is a small flower garden filled with roses and peculiarly fine dahlias, pomegranate trees and violets, which, though single, have a delicious fragrance. This stretches out into an immense vegetable garden and orchard, terminating in a shrubbery, through which walks are cut, impervious to the sun at noon-day. There is also a large reservoir of water, and the garden, which covers a great space of ground, is kept in good order. There are beautiful walks in the neighborhood, leading to Indian villages, old churches and farms; and all the lanes are bordered with fruit trees.
Tlanapantla, which means in Indian between lands, its church having been built by the Indians of two districts, is a small village, with an old church, ruined remains of a convent, where the curate now lives, a few shops, and a square where the Indians hold market, (tangis they call it) on Fridays. All along the lanes are small Indian huts, with their usual mud floor, small altar, earthen vessels, and collection of daubs on the walls; especially of the Virgin of Guadalupe; with a few blest palm-leaves in the corner; occupied when the men are at work, by the Indian woman herself, her sturdy, scantily clothed progeny, and plenty of yelping dogs. Mrs. Ward's sketch of the interior of an Indian hut, is perfect, as all her Mexican sketches are. When the women are also out at their work, they are frequently tenanted by the little children alone. Taking refuge from a shower of rain yesterday, in one of these mud huts, we found no one there but a little bronze-colored child, about three years old, sleeping all alone on the
