aseless struggle, Maximilian had grown
desperately weary, in a vain effort to reconcile the various political
factions of the country, so that to one in his condition of broken
health and disappointment, death must have been a relief from mental and
physical suffering. His body rests at last in the burial place of the
Hapsburgs, thousands of miles from the spot where he fell, while those
of Mejia and Miramon lie in the Campo Santo of San Fernando in the city
of Mexico. The broad view from this "Hill of the Bells" is very
beautiful, and it lives vividly in the memory, taking in the green
valley in every direction, spread with fields of undulating grain ready
for the reapers, ornamented with umbrageous trees, the city with its
mass of towers, domes, and stone dwellings forming the background. A
score of ancient churches, convents, and chapels may be counted from the
hill-top. The alameda lies on one side of the town, consisting of some
fifty or sixty acres nearly square, about which a broad driveway is
arranged, the whole charmingly laid out, with greensward and noble shade
trees. The Church of the Cross is on slightly elevated ground, and forms
a conspicuous architectural feature in the general view. It was in this
structure that Maximilian made his headquarters, which he partially
fortified, and where, after a protracted siege, he was betrayed into the
hands of his enemies; from this place he marched to execution on the
19th of June, 1867.

The Plaza Mayor of Queretaro is a beauty and a joy forever, with its
musical fountain uttering ceaseless and refreshing notes, its tropical
verdure, its tufted palms and flowering shrubs, its fruitful banana
trees, pomegranates, and fragrant roses. Here Maximilian was accustomed
to pass an hour daily, and here, we were told, he took his evening
recreation, his favorite seat being upon the curbstone of the capacious
fountain. The besiegers discovered the fact, directing shot and shell
accordingly at this special point, and though the emperor was unharmed
by the missiles, a monumental statue situated within a few feet of him
was shattered to pieces. In the sunny afternoons the pretty senoritas
come to the plaza with their heads and necks lightly shrouded in Spanish
veils, and otherwise clothed in diaphanous garments, short enough to
show their shapely ankles in white hose, and their small feet in
high-heeled, pointed slippers. He must be indeed calloused who can
withstand, unmoved, the