a good library, astronomical and meteorological apparatus, educated professors, trained assistants, and some of the most charming young men as students that it has been my fortune ever to meet. One of them, I remember, who bore the name of Cortés, having been detailed by his teacher to show me over the building, displayed such tact, courtesy, and intelligence that I shall never forget him. This treatment of a stranger is universal, and one's heart warms at the recollection of attentions received from these gentlemen of the educational institution of Mexico. In this connection, I should not fail to mention the officers in charge of the meteorological observatory in the Palace. Educated in every detail of their profession, maintaining a leading position among the scientific men of the day, they are making the influence of their observations felt, especially in the United States. But, though busied with their duties night and day, I never found them so much engaged as not to have time to answer questions, or give the greatest consideration to my requests.
The principal street of Mexico, on or near which are its largest hotels, its finest stores and restaurants, and some of its richest private dwellings, is the Calle de San Francisco, known also as Calle de los Plateros, or Street of the Silversmiths, and by various other names. The vexatious plan, formerly pursued, of giving every different block of a street a different name, is now being abandoned; a more improved system is about to be adopted; and in a few years, it is hoped, one may be able to find the number he is in search of in any particular street without spending hours about it, as now is necessary. In San Francisco Street are some of the most richly-stocked stores in Mexico, where, despite the almost prohibitory duties on foreign goods, articles from every land on earth are accumulated. Half-way down this street is the grand Hotel Iturbide (pronounced Eé-tur-bé-dee), once the palace of the first emperor after Mexico became independent.
This hotel is patronized by such American visitors as worship all things smacking of royalty; not because it is comfortable, not because it is cheerful even,—for it is scarcely less gloomy than
