all going on unceasingly, day and
night together. My friends called these pandemoniums the hells of
Montezuma. Whether such scenes will be of future benefit to the
thousands of young men whom the war had called to Mexico will be a
matter for future speculation.

One afternoon, accompanied by a navy friend, we rode to Chapultepec. I
had already visited the battle-grounds of the valley, but the last
presented claims of greater interest. The Indian definition of the
height is Grasshopper Hill. It rises very strangely from the heart of
the great plain, within half a league of the city--on all sides steep
and precipitous, to the elevation of about two hundred feet--and with
Molino del Rey, forms a long parallelogram, completely walled around.
The former position is nearest the city, the King's windmill occupying
the opposite space, with a noble grove of giant cypresses between the
two points.

The road runs parallel with the arches of the aqueduct, and terminates
at the base of Chapultepec. A gateway opens upon a broad causeway,
leading with but one angle to the esplanade of the castle. It had been
occupied of late years as a military college; and, though strongly
manned by artillery and infantry, was still not susceptible of using
cannon to advantage, when the assailing parties had approached the base
of the hill. The walls and defences were of no great strength, and not
capable of resisting round shot.

I had the pleasure of being made known to the Colonel commanding the
fortress, who went with me over the works, and courteously explained the
nature of the different battles in the neighborhood. The flat roof of
the castle commands a fine and extensive view of the valley, city, and
sierras. There were many marks of the bloody business still
visible--shot holes, broken balconies, fractured butments, shattered
casements, and a precipice near the western angle, from which, when the
castle had been stormed and taken, numbers of the Mexican garrison had
thrown themselves, and were crushed to death.

The grand aqueduct draws its aliment at the foot of the hill, from a
large, square tank of spring water--so pure, so very pure, that in
looking down its almost unfathomable depths, one is apt to mistake the
calm, clear fluid for the very air he breathes. It was near this spot
where is shown a noble cypress "that circles in the grain five hundred
rings of years," beneath whose "giant hole" "the slight she slips of
loyal blood" we