small reboso was bought by a native for a dollar. A few minutes after a similar one was delivered to a tourist for four. Articles of every description are sold on the street, and fruits, dulces, vegetables, wood. and charcoal, are arranged in one-cent piles.

Policemen are everywhere, and arrests are made on the slightest pretext, so anxious is the governor to gain for his State a reputation for being peaceable. There is an excellent public-school system, but not yet sufficiently advanced to do away with the old ear-splitting method of studying aloud. At the door of one of the smaller schools we asked permission to rest, and were cordially invited to enter by the handsome young señorita, who calmly puffed a cigarette as she drew lines in the copy-books of her dozen small pupils. Smoking in school, and by the teacher, was a most novel sight! On the sidewalk was an iron railing, from which a small blackeyed urchin swung himself round and round, as he gayly whistled or sang, evidently having a very jolly time, and was regarded with envious eyes by the boys in the schoolroom. When I asked the teacher why the playful little fellow was not compelled to go to school, she replied,

"Oh, señora, he is one of my pupils who is in disgrace for having come late, and is made to stay outside to show passers-by that he is a bad boy."

And the bad boy, who certainly enjoyed being in disgrace, shied a stone at a passing dog, whistled to a boy across the street, matched centavos for dulces, the bad boy winning, and ate the sweets with much glee as he cast sly glances at his envious mates within.

The mule tram took us to the presa, or city water-works, where the street is broad and lined with beautiful houses, many of which are built of varicolored stone, quarried in the mountains above the reservoirs. Every house has a beautiful patio in the center, where the family virtually live, and Moorish columns, bright flowers, tropical plants, and singing birds. The odor of orange-blossoms floats out on the warm. air; the merry laughter of children as they romp up and down the colonnades, and the soft humming to the tinkling of guitar or mandolin, attest the happiness of the dwellers in these stately homes, as

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well as in the humble mud huts, where care seems to have no existence. As we rested in the pretty plaza near the reservoir, our attention was attracted by the peculiar actions of a good-looking young man, who was standing on the edge of the sidewalk opposite a handsome residence. He threw up his arms, as if in the act of embracing some one, hugged himself, sighed, and rolled his eyes as if in mortal pain. None of the passers-by seemed to pay any attention to him, and our guide said in explanation:

That is the son of a wealthy mineowner, and he is playing bear to the señorita at the window in the third story. It is the custom for a man to demean himself thus for several weeks before asking the consent of the parents in marriage, and one of these bear-playing young men will often stand thus on the sidewalk all night. It is so common that we pay no attention to their antics. In the City of Mexico playing bear' is now prohibited by law."

In a spot where level ground is at a premium, and where the living are so closely crowded together, the disposition

one enters the semi-darkness after descending the spiral stairs from the area above. Many of the fleshless faces are horribly contorted, others mirthful, thoughtful, or sad, but all inexpressibly loathsome.

From the Pantheon walls a magnificent view is obtained of the strange, Moorishlooking city, seemingly swimming in the golden light of the setting sun. The church domes rise far above the humble mud huts, like a watching mother, from

now occupied as a city hall and jail. It is a massive square building with walls. twelve feet thick, and has played a great part in Mexican history. In 1810, Hidalgo, the patriotic priest, who the year before had taken the fortress by storm and cruelly put to the sword its inmates, was captured and killed by the Spaniards at Chihuahua, and his head and those of three of his lieutenants were brought to Guanajuato and hung on the four corners of the fortress as a warning to all who re

the cradle to the grave. Away in the distance, crowning an elevation, is the magnificent Church of Valenciana, built by a tax on the wages of the employees of the great mine of that name, the richest silverproducer in the world. The official statistics of the district show that this mine has produced almost one billion dollars during the past three hundred years. It is now flooded with water, and employs only three hundred men, whereas, in its prime, five thousand were required to handle its vast product. A prominent object in the center of the city is the Castle of Grenaditas, originally built as a granary and place of refuge during the revolutionary days, and

sisted the cruel tyranny of the conquerors. But it was not for long that Grenaditas belonged to the Spaniards; for the close of 1810 saw the liberation of from seven to ten millions of Indians, Juarez, afterwards President of the republic, being one of the emancipated slaves. Of the cruelty of the Iberians in relation to the aborigines, Las Casas as early as 1560 wrote:

We dare assert without fear that in the space of forty years in which the Spaniards exercised their intolerable tyranny in the New World, they unjustly put to death over twelve millions of people, counting men, women, and children; and it may be affirmed without injury to the truth, upon a just calculation, that during this space of time

riance with its humble surroundings. It is constructed of beautifully colored stone, was ten years in building, and cost considerably over a million dollars. It has never been used, and was erected under the necessity of providing work for the poor of Guanajuato. The practical tourist cannot help wondering why that amount of money was not expended in making roads and improving the streets, which are paved with cobble-stones, worn smooth and slippery from the passage of many feet. Almost all traffic is done by mules and burros, and the tram-cars and electric light are about the only signs of nineteenth-century progress one may see in this strange and rarely picturesque city of the "Hill of the Frogs.'