the end of the aqueduct of Chapultepec, the
Salto del Agua; and--crowded round it--a thoroughly characteristic
group of women and water-carriers, filling their great earthen jars
with water, which they carry about from house to house. The women are
simply and cheaply dressed, and though not generally pretty, are very
graceful in their movements. Their dress consists of a white cotton
under-dress, a coloured cotton skirt, generally blue, brown, or grey,
with some small pattern upon it, but never brilliant in colour, and a
rebozo, which is a small sober-coloured cotton shawl, long and narrow.
This rebozo passes over the back of the head, where it is somehow fixed
to a back hair-comb, and the two ends hang down over the shoulders in
front; or, more often, one end is thrown over the opposite shoulder, so
that the young lady's face is set in it, like a picture in a frame. Add
to this a springy step, the peculiarly unconstrained movement in
walking which comes of living in the open air and wearing a loose
dress, a pleasant pale face, small features, bright eyes, small hands
and feet, little slippers and no stockings, and you have as good a
picture of a Mexican half-caste girl as I can give. A book of Mexican
engravings, however, will give a much better idea of her. Then we went
past the great prison, the Acordada, and out at the gate (we had
purposely gone out of our way to see more of the city), and so into the
great promenade, the Pased or Alameda. The latter is the Spanish name
for this necessary appendage to every town. It comes from _alamo_,
which means a poplar. Imagine a long wide level road, a mile or so
long, generally so chosen as to have a fine view, with footpaths on
each side, lines of poplar trees, a fountain at each end and a statue
in the middle, and this description will stand pretty nearly for almost
every promenade of the kind I have seen in Spain or Spanish America.

[Illustration: WATER-CARRIER AND A MEXICAN WOMAN, AT THE FOUNTAIN.]

Tacubaya is a pleasant place on the ride of the first hills that begin
to rise towards the mountain-wall of the valley. Here rich Mexicans
have country-houses in large gardens, which are interesting from the
immense variety of plants which grow there, though badly kept up, and
systematically stripped by the gardeners of the fruit as it gets
ripe--for their own benefit, of course. From Tacubaya we go to
Chapultepec (Grasshopper Mountain), which is a volcanic hill of
porphyry