THERE is no accounting for tastes. Why, therefore, the author of this amusing book should have thought proper to land at Vera Cruz in August, 1846, and proceed thence through Mexico, Querataro, Zacatecas, Durango, Chihuahua and Santa Fé, to the valley of Taos, and spend last winter "camping out" among the wolves and hostile Arapahos, in the region about the head waters of the Arkansas river, it is not necessary to inquire. He has left the question so open, however, that one can hardly avoid an opinion upon it. In his preface he very coolly remarks: "It is hardly necessary to explain the cause of my visiting Mexico at such an unsettled period; and I fear that circumstances will prevent my gratifying the curiosity of the reader, should he feel any on that point." We suspect he had no other motive than the national instinct for getting himself into a "scrape;" or if he had, it must have been the charitable purpose, in which he has been eminently successful, of entertaining us with a volume of spirited sketches of adventures.

The first is the more probable supposition, for the John Bull character in its best phase was never more unmistakably developed than it is in these pages. We see all his vanity, his weaknesses, his wonderful stomach, his hearty enjoyment, his invincible pugnacious courage. The spirit with which his book is written may be judged by the following extracts from his preface :

"With a solitary exception, I have avoided touching upon American subjects; not only because much abler pens than mine have done that country and people more or less justice or injustice, and I wished to attempt to describe nothing that other English travellers have written upon before, and to give a rough sketch of a very rough journey through comparatively new ground; but, more than all, for the reason that I have, on this and previous visits to the United States, met with such genuine kindness

The suspicion crossed our mind, as we read this, that it was but an ingenious paragraph designed to promote the sale of these sketches among us Jonathans; but it was unworthy of our better discernment. There is no counterfeiting Mr. Bull's manner when he undertakes to praise his prodigious son; it is so kind and patronizing, and comes with such weight, that actually it almost makes one fancy that we are somebody" after all! Moreover, our author goes still further, even to the extent of taking our view of the character of our neighbors :—

"From south to north I traversed the whole

of the Republic of Mexico, a distance of nearly two thousand miles, and was thrown among the people of every rank, class, and station; and I regret to have to say that I cannot remember to have observed one single commendable trait in the character of the Mexican; always excepting from this sweeping clause the women of the country, who, for kindness of heart and many sterling qualities, are an ornament to their sex, and to any nation.

as

"If the Mexican possesses one single virtue, I hope he does, he must keep it so closely hidden in some secret fold of his sarape as to have escaped my humble sight, although I travelled througli his country with eyes wide open, and for conviction ripe and ready. I trust, for his sake, that he will speedily withdraw from the bushel the solitary light of this concealed virtue, lest before long it be absorbed in the more potent flame which the Anglo-Saxon seems just now disposed to shed over benighted Mexico."

All he has to say, that bears upon the war, is merely incidental; and hence, as well as from the manner in which it is said, and the candor, good sense, and good humor manifested in all the rest of the book, one feels an inclination to listen to it with attention, and where it includes statements of things actually seen, to receive them with the degree of confidence they naturally inspire.

Thus we have faith that Vera Cruz was feebly defended when he was there, making allowance for the dashy coloring of a writer of sketches; but that General Scott would have gone to trouble and expense, and waste of life, in order to accomplish in showy and popular manner what might have been done with comparative ease, without bravado, bloodshed, and bulletins, is not to be believed except on better authority than an Englishman's prejudice. Whether also a writer, who in his very preface informs us that he does not believe the Mexicans (excepting the women) possess "one single commendable trait of character," ought not to be fairly suspected of unconsciously underrating the efficiency of their troops, is also questionable. All their muskets are certainly not "condemned Tower muskets," or if they are, such arms can be used with some effect; for they have managed to kill off a good many stout fellows and some officers, here and there, at Cerro Gordo and Churubusco, whom their country did not wish to spare quite so soon, and we have no doubt they will pop down a few more before our national honor is satiated. Still there is probably much truth in Mr. Ruxton's observations.

His journey from Vera Cruz to the Capital, was through Jalapa, Perote, and Puebla. Beyond Perote the country was infested with robbers, and he travelled in the diligencia armed with a double-barrel rifle, a ditto carbine, two brace of pistols, and a blunderbuss. Every now and then the driver would look into the window and say, "Ahora mal punto, muy mal punto" -now we are in a very bad place "look to your arms." At Puebla the coach and its contents were minutely inspected by a robber spy, in the face of the authorities, who took no notice of him. The road from Puebla is very picturesque :—

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"We left Puebla early in the morning, and, as day broke, a scene of surpassing beauty The sun, rising behind the upon us. mountains, covered the sky with a cold, silvery light, against which the peaks stood in bold relief, while the bases were still veiled in gloom. The snow-clad peak of Orizaba, the lofty Popocatepetl (the hill that smokes) and Iztaccihuatl (the white woman) lifted their The heads now bright with the morning sun. beautiful plain of Cuitlaxcoapan, covered with golden corn and green waving maize, stretched away to the mountains, which rise in a gradual undulating line, from which in the distance shot out isolated peaks and cones, all clear and well defined."

At length the dangerous part of the road is passed.

mountain, and, descending a winding road, "We soon after crested the ridge of the turned an abrupt hill, and just as I was settling myself in the corner for a good sleep, my arm was seized convulsively by my opposite neighbor, who, with half his body out of the window, vociferated: Ii esta, hi esta, mire, por Dios, mire!'-Look out, for God's sake! there it is. Thinking a ladron was in sight, I seized drew in his head, saying, No, no, Mejico, Memy gun; but my friend, seeing my mistake, jico, la ciudad!'

·

"To stop the coach and jump on the box was the work of a moment; and, looking down from the same spot where probably Cortez stood and valley of Mexico, bathed by the soft floodthree hundred years ago, before me lay the city ing light of the setting sun.

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"He must be insensible, indeed, a clod of clay, who does not feel the blood thrill in his veins at the first sight of this beautiful scene. What must have been the feelings of Cortez, when, with his handful of followers, he looked down upon the smiling prospect at his feet, the land of promise which was to repay them for all the toil and dangers they had encountered! The first impression which struck me on seeing the valley of Mexico was the perfect, almost unnatural, tranquillity of the scene. The valley, which is about sixty miles long by forty in breadth, is on all sides inclosed by the southern side; in the distance are the volcanoes of Popocatepetl and Iztaccihuatl, and numerous peaks of different elevation. lakes of Tezcuco and Chalco glitter in the sun like burnished silver, or, shaded by the vapors which often rise from them, lie cold and tranquil on the plain. The distant view of the city, with its white buildings and numerous churches, its regular streets and shaded paseos, greatly augments the beauty of the scene, over which floats a solemn, delightful tranquillity."

mountains, the most elevated of which are on

The

Alas! this beautiful valley has seen another sight since it was thus looked upon, and its green turf is now the sepulchre of many a brave soldier.

The character of the mass of the city population has not probably improved under the refining influence of a victorious army; and if the following account be not greatly exaggerated, we ought to feel almost as much compassion for our brave occupying troops, many of whom, doubtless, were in early life accustomed to different society, as though they were engaged in actual conflict:

"On entering the town, one is struck with the regularity of the streets, the chaste architecture of the buildings, the miserable appearance of the population, the downcast look of the men, the absence of ostentatious display of wealth, and the prevalence of filth which everywhere mect the eye. On every side the passenger is importuned for charity. Disgusting lepers whine for clacos; maimed and mutilated wretches, mounted on the backs of porters, thrust out their distorted limbs and expose their sores, urging their human steeds to increase their pace as their victim increases his to avoid them. Rows of cripples are brought into the street the first thing in the morning, and deposited against a wall, whence their infernal whine is heard the live-long day. * * * Mexico is the head quarters of dirt. The streets are dirty, the houses are dirty, the men are dirty and the women dirtier; and everything you eat and drink is dirty. **Observe every countenance; with hardly an exception a physiognomist will detect the expression of vice and crime and conscious guilt in each. No one looks you in the face, but all slouch past with downcast eyes and hang-dog look, intent upon thoughts that will not bear the light. The shops are poor and ill-supplied, the markets filthy in the extreme. Let no fastidious stomach look into the shops where pastry is made.”

*

For the manners of the better society of the city, Mr. Ruxton refers the reader to the work of Madame Calderon de la Barca; he confines his own observations to the worst classes, which seem to offer a sufficiently strong excitement to please the most adventurous; he having witnessed two stabbings, one of which was mortal, among the pulquerias and fandangos, in a single night.

He left the capital on the 14th of September, while the artillery was announcing Santa Anna's entrance. On the road toards Querataro, three days out, his party

were menaced by some robbers, who retired on perceiving a foreigner. They were superbly mounted, and well armed with carbine, sword, and pistols; and each had a lasso hanging on the horn of his highpeaked saddle. The leader inquired if the diligencia had many passengers. The two companies parted, wishing each other 'buen viage" and "y buena fortuna!"

At Leon, a large town on the borders of Guanaxato, the author had, what he styles a "little affair that was nearly proving disagreeable to him:"

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Returning from the plaza through a dark, narrow street, I was detected as a stranger by a knot of idle rascals standing at the door of a pulque-shop, who immediately saluted me with cries of Texano, Texano, que meura'—let's kill him, the Yankee dog. Wishing to avoid a rencounter with such odds, and with no other means of defence than a bowie-knife, I thought on this occasion that discretion would be much the better part of valor, so I turned off into another dark street, but was instantly pursued by the crowd, who followed, yelling at my heels. Luckily, an opportune and dark doorway offered me a shelter, and I crouched in it as my pursuers passed with loud cries and knives in hand. The instant that they all, as I imagined, had passed me, I emerged from my hiding-place, and ran almost into the very arms of three who were bringing up the rear. "Hi esta, hi esta!' they shouted, baring their knives and rushing at me. Maten le, maten le!'-here he is, here he is: kill him, kill the jackass. The darkness was in my favor. As the foremost one rushed at me with uplifted blade I stepped quickly to one side, and at the same moment thrust at him with my knife. He stumbled forward on his knees with a cry of 'Dios! me ha matado'--he has killed me--and fell on his face. One of the remaining two ran to his assistance, the other made toward me; but, finding that I was inclined to compare notes with him and waited his attack, he slackened his pace and declined encounter. I returned to the meson, and, without telling the Spaniard what had occurred, gave directions for the animals to in the saddle and on the road." be ready at midnight, and shortly after we were

After passing Zacatecas on the 3d of October, the road lay through a volcanic tract, or Mal Pais- -an evil land, as such regions are termed by the Mexicans :

is completely filled up to nearly a level with "The valley, between two ridges or sierras. the sierra itself; it is, therefore, impossible to judge of the height of the tract of ground