e dress of the populace. Silk
stove-pipe hats and Derbys are crowding hard upon the cumbersome
sombrero; the dainty Parisian bonnet is replacing the black lace
mantilla; broadcloth is found to be more acceptable clothing than
leather jackets and pantaloons; close-fitting calico and merino goods
are driving out the rebosas, while woolen garments render the serapes
needless. This, of course, is a city view. Small country communities
still adhere to the simpler and cheaper national costume of the past,
and will probably continue to do so for years to come.

In strolling about the better part of the city, one sees through the
broad, arched entrances to the courtyards of the finest private
residences in Mexico, upon the first or street floor, the stable, the
kitchen, and the coach house, with hostlers grooming the animals, or
washing the harnesses and vehicles, while the family live directly over
all these arrangements, up one flight of broad stone steps. This is a
Spanish custom, which is observable in Havana and continental Spain, as
well as in all the cities of Mexico. Other patios, whose occupants do
not keep private vehicles, adorn these areas with charming plants, small
tropical trees, blooming flowers, statuary, and fountains. Here and
there hang cages containing bright-colored singing birds, parrots, and
paroquets, not forgetting to mention the clear, shrill-voiced
mocking-bird, which is a universal favorite. The Mexican macaw is pretty
sure to be represented by a fine member of his species in these
ornamental patios. He is a gaudy, noisy fellow. The head, breast, and
back are of a deep red, the wings yellow, blue, and green. The tail is
composed of a dozen feathers, six of which are stout, short, and
tapering, while the rest are fourteen inches in length. He passes his
time in screaming, and scrambling about with the aid of his claws and
hooked beak combined, going as far as the tiny chain which is attached
to one foot and fastened to the perch will permit. His favorite attitude
seems to be hanging head downward from his perch like an acrobat, often
remaining thus a distressingly long time, until one would fain coax him
into a normal position with some favorite tidbit of cake, sugar, or
fruit.

Officials and merchants often combine their dwellings and places of
business, so that here and there a patio will exhibit various samples of
merchandise, or the sign of a government official over a room devoted to
office pu