are terrific in violence. It is not a straight out-and-out gale,
an honest tempest, such as one sometimes meets at sea, and with which an
experienced mariner knows how to cope. A norther is an erratic
succession of furious squalls with whirlwinds of sand, the wind blowing
from several points at the same time. When a norther blows, work is
suspended in the city, and the streets are deserted until the fury of
the blast has subsided. This wind, however, like most other serious
annoyances in life, has its bright side. Very true is the saying: "It's
an ill wind that blows nobody good." The norther drives away that fatal
enemy of the city, the yellow fever; and when it fairly sets in to blow,
that surely ends the disease for the season; its germs are swept away as
if by magic. The insect plague is only second to that of the vomito as
regards the danger and discomfort to be encountered in this "City of the
True Cross." But even mosquitoes succumb to the northers. The muslin
bars which surround the beds of the Hotel Diligencia, fronting the
plaza, are effectual, so that one can generally sleep during the two or
three nights that he is likely to stay in the city. A longer sojourn is
simply inviting disease, besides which there is no possible attraction
to keep one here any longer.

The only good harbor in the Gulf of Mexico within a hundred miles of
this point is that of Anton Lizardo, about fifteen miles to the
southward of Vera Cruz, which, in fact, should have been made the
commercial port. This position is now, doubtless to be filled by
Tampico, in connection with the Mexican Central Railroad branch running
from the main trunk of that road to the Gulf, by way of San Luis Potosi.
We heard of another element operating very seriously against the
interests of Vera Cruz. It seems that the sand of the Gulf shore, moved
by various currents, is gradually depositing itself in the shallow
roadstead in such quantities as to seriously imperil navigation. It is
admitted that should this continue for a few years it would close the
port to commerce. The railroad management are already talking of
extending the line southward to Anton Lizardo.

On an island, less than one mile off the shore of Vera Cruz, stands the
grim old fortress of San Juan d'Ulloa, a most conspicuous object with
its blackened and crumbling walls. It has often been declared to be
impregnable, and yet, curious to say, it has never been attacked by a
foe without being co