American filling the narrow pavements, gives constant variety to the swaying crowd. Anywhere along the curbstone, native men or women sit down to rest with basket or bundle; and some of the groups thus made are exceedingly picturesque. Each long vista, gay with color and life, is closed at last by some towering mountain height, which frowns or smiles as sun or shadow rests upon it. There are fewer burros, those pariahs among civilized beasts of burden, but more horses and elaborately equipped private carriages. A host of hacks, marked by small red, green, or white flags for convenience in hiring, are in the plazas and at street-corners; and a much larger proportion of people use them than in American cities. Small wonder, when a carriage for four people need cost but fifty cents an hour.
The Iturbide is a good specimen of the best Mexican hotels, — larger and finer than most, on account of its original use as the palace of the old emperor, but following the same general plan. Entered from the street by a large archway, the house rises around a fine courtyard, upon which each of the four stories opens in a succession of galleries, supported by arches and pillars of stone.
