tunately, the Don had insisted on my assuming the
orthodox Mexican riding-costume: cool linen drawers, cut Turkish
fashion; over these, and with just sufficient buttons in their
respective holes to swear by, the leathern _chapareros_ or overalls;
morocco slippers, to which were strapped the Catharine-wheel spurs; no
vest; no neckerchief; a round jacket, with quarter doubloons for
buttons; and a low-crowned felt hat, with an enormous brim, a brim which
might have made a Quaker envious, and have stricken mortification to the
soul of a Chinese mandarin. This brim kept the sun out of your eyes; and
then, by way of hatband, there was a narrow, but thick turban or
"pudding," which prevented the rays of Sol from piercing through your
skull, and boiling your brains into batter. The fact of the whole of
this costume, and the accoutrements of your horse to boot, being
embroidered with silver and embellished with golden bosses, thus
affording a thousand tangents for Phoebus to fly off from, rather
detracted from the coolness of your array; but one must not expect
perfection here below. In a stove-pipe hat, a shooting-coat, and
riding-cords, I should have suffered much more from the heat. As it was,
I confess, that, when I reached home, in the Calle San Francisco,
Mexico, I was exceedingly thankful. I am not used to riding twenty-four
miles in one day. I think I had a warm bath in the interval between
doffing the _chapareros_ and donning the pantaloons of every-day life. I
think I went to sleep on a sofa for about an hour, and, waking up,
called for a cocktail as a restorative. Yes, Madam, there are cocktails
in Mexico, and our Don's body-servant made them most scientifically. I
think also that I declined, with thanks, the Don's customary invitation
to a drive before dinner in the Paseo. Nor barouche, nor mail-phaeton,
nay, nor soft-cushioned brougham delighted me. I felt very lazy and
thoroughly knocked up.

The Don, however, went out for his drive, smiling at my woful plight. Is
it only after hard riding that remorse succeeds enjoyment? I was left
alone in his great caravansary of a mansion. I wandered from room to
room, from corridor to corridor,--now glancing through the
window-_jalousies_, and peeping at the _chinas_ in their _ribosos_, and
the shovel-hatted priests in the street below creeping along on the
shady side of the way,--now hanging over the gallery in the inner
court-yard, listening to the horses stamping in their s