The crater of Popocatepetl—being an extinct volcano—is now a valuable sulphur mine. To obtain this product, it is necessary to descend into the crater by means of a rope, one of great length being required for the purpose; and when a certain quantity is secured, it is packed in mats before being hoisted to the mouth of the crater. The Indians tie these packages together; then, making a cushion of their serapes, they slide down the mountain as far as the snow extends, dragging the mats after them. On the north side of the volcano, near the limit of tree growth, the sulphur is distilled in iron retorts, and is then ready for the market. The crater's mouth is huge in dimensions, being half a mile in diameter, and the amount of native sulphur deposited there is enormous,—practically inexhaustible. This profitable sulphur mine is owned, or was, a few months since, by General Ochoa, a resident of the capital. It is said that when Cortez had expended his supply of gunpowder, he resorted to the crater of Popocatepetl for sulphur to make a fresh supply, and that the natives had never ascended the mountain until the Spaniards showed them the way. Earthquakes are not uncommon, even to-day, near the base of this monarch mountain; but no eruption has taken place since 1692. Earthquakes have always been more or less common in Mexico, but never very serious in the capital; otherwise, with its insecure foundations, it must have suffered seriously. Smoke is reported to have been seen bursting forth from the crater of Popocatepetl several times at long intervals, but no positive volcanic action has taken place since the date named. Its actual height is given by the best authorities as being but about two hundred feet less than eighteen thousand.

One is apt to speculate mentally, while gazing upon it, as to the possibility of this sleeping volcano one day awaking to destructive action. That it still lives is clearly seen by the smoke and sulphurous breath which it exhales, and the occasional significant earthquakes which occur about its widespread base. There are seventeen or eighteen mountains in the republic which rise more than ten thousand feet above the level of the sea, four of which are over fifteen thousand feet in height, Popocatepetl being the loftiest of them all. Parties ascend on horseback to the snow line, and from thence the distance to the summit is accomplished on foot. Some adventurous people make the descent into the crater by means of the bucket and windlass used by the sulphur-gatherers, but the most inquisitive can see all that they desire from the northerly edge of the cone. The expeditions for the ascent are made up at Amecameca. The time necessarily occupied is about three days, and the cost is twenty-five dollars for each person. It is a very exhausting excursion, and few persons undertake it.

The city of Mexico is famous for its large numbers of scientific, literary, and charitable institutions, its many schools, primary and advanced, and its several well-appointed hospitals. The national palace covers the whole eastern side of the Plaza Mayor, having a frontage of nearly seven hundred feet, and occupies the site of the royal residence of the Montezumas, if we may credit tradition. The present edifice was erected in 1693, in place of one which Cortez and the Spanish viceroys had occupied until it was destroyed by fire in 1692. Though the palace is only two stories in height, yet the central tower over the main entrance and the finish on each side of it give it all necessary prominence. It contains the President's suite of rooms, and those devoted to the various departments of the state officials. The hall of ambassadors, a very long, narrow apartment, is interesting on account of its life-size portraits of Mexican rulers from the period of independence, a majority of whom either endured exile or public execution! At the extreme end of this hall is a very good full-length portrait of our Washington. Here, also, is a pretentious battle-piece by a native artist, representing the battle of Puebla, when the French were so completely defeated. The picture is entitled "Cinco de Mayo," the date of the conflict. It is not a fine specimen of art, but it is certainly a very effective picture. This battle of the 5th of May was another Waterloo for the French. An apartment known as Maximilian's room is shown to the visitor, situated in the corner of the palace, having two windows at right angles and thus commanding a view in two directions, one window overlooking the plaza, the other the business streets leading to the market. A room called the hall of Iturbide is hung in rich crimson damask, displaying the eagle and serpent, which form the arms of Mexico. The edifice contains also the General Post-office and the National Museum. In the armory of the palace there was pointed out to us the stand of arms with which the Archduke Maximilian and his two faithful officers were shot at Queretaro. In the grounds which form the patio of the palace, a small botanical garden is maintained, containing many exotics, choice trees and plants, besides a collection of those indigenous to the country. The curiosities in the department of antiquity of the museum are of intense interest. In an historical point of view they are invaluable. A great amount of money and intelligent labor has been expended upon the collection with highly satisfactory results. It is of engaging interest to the merest museum frequenter, but to the archÆologist it is valuable beyond expression. Here are also deposited the extensive solid silver table-service imported for his own use by Maximilian, and also the ridiculously gilded and bedizened state carriage brought hither from Europe, built after the English style of the seventeenth century. The body of the vehicle is painted red, the wheels are gilded, and the interior is lined with white silk brocade, heavily trimmed with silver and gold thread. It surpasses in elegance and cost any royal vehicle to be seen in Europe, not excepting the magnificent carriages in the royal stables of Vienna and St. Petersburg. Among the personal relics seen in the museum is the coat of mail worn by Cortez during his battles from Vera Cruz to the capital, also the silk banner which was borne in all his fights. This small flag bears a remarkably lovely face of the Madonna, which must have been the work of a master hand. The shield of Montezuma is also exhibited, with many arms, jewels, and picture writings, these last relating to historic matters, both Toltec and Aztec. The great sacrificial stone of the aborigines, placed on the ground floor of the museum, is, in all its detail, a study to occupy one for days. It is of basalt, elaborately chiseled, measuring nine feet in diameter and three feet in height. On this stone the lives of thousands of human beings, we are told, were offered up annually. The municipal palace is on the south side of the plaza, nearly opposite to which is a block of buildings resting upon arcades like those of the Rue Rivoli in Paris. Let us not forget to mention that in the garden of the national palace the visitor is shown a remarkable floral curiosity called the hand-tree, covered with bright scarlet flowers, almost exactly in the shape of the human hand. This is the Cheirostemon platanifolium of the botanists, an extremely rare plant, three specimens of which only are known to exist in Mexico.

In the rear of the national palace is the Academy of Fine Arts, generally spoken of as the Academy of San Carlos,—named in honor of Carlos III. of Spain,—which contains three or four well-filled apartments of paintings, with one and, in some instances, two pictures each of such masters as Leonardo da Vinci, Velasquez, Titian, Van Dyck, Rubens, Perugino, and others. There is also a large hall of sculpture attached, which presents casts of many well-known and classic originals. This department, however, does not compare well with the rest of the institution. The art gallery will be sure to greatly interest the stranger, as being the foundation of an institution evidently destined in time to reach a high degree of excellence. Besides possessing several priceless examples by the old masters, there are many admirable pictures, the result of native talent, which are remarkable for their conception and execution. Two large canvases by JosÉ Maria Velasco, representing the Valley of Mexico, form fine and striking landscapes which few modern painters can equal. These two paintings were exhibited at the Philadelphia Exposition, and won high encomiums. In our estimation, the gem of the galleries is, unquestionably, the large canvas by Felix Parra, a native artist. It is entitled "Las Casas protecting the Aztecs from slaughter by the Spaniards." This young artist, not yet much over thirty years of age, has given us in this picture an original conception most perfectly carried out, which has already made him famous. It was painted before Parra had ever seen any other country except Mexico, but it won for him the first prize at the Academy of Rome. The original painting was exhibited at the New Orleans Exposition not long since, eliciting the highest praise from art critics. It is worthy of being placed in the Louvre or the Uffizi. One canvas, entitled "The Dead Monk," attracted us as being singularly effective. The scene represents several monks, with tapers in their hands, surrounding the dead body of a brother of their order. The dim light illumines the scared faces of the group, as it falls upon the calm, white features of the dead. The masterly handling of color in this picture has rarely been excelled.

The Academy of San Carlos contains an art school free to the youth of the city, and is subsidized by government to the amount of thirty-five thousand dollars per annum. As we passed through the galleries, a large class of intelligent-looking boys, whose age might have ranged from twelve to fifteen years, were busily engaged with their pencils and drawing-paper in copying models placed before them, under the supervision of a competent instructor. It was pleasant to see the democratic character of this assemblage of pupils. All classes were represented. The school is as free to the son of a peon as to him with the richest of parents. Prizes are given for meritorious work by the students; one annual prize is especially sought for, namely, an allowance of six hundred dollars a year for six years, to enable the recipient to study art abroad. The institution is in a reasonably flourishing condition, but it lacks the stimulus of an appreciative community to foster its growth and to incite emulation among its pupils. Strangers visit, admire, and applaud, but native residents exhibit little or no enthusiasm for this nucleus of the fine arts in the national capital. The encouragement offered to artists in any line in Mexico is extremely small. There can hardly be said to be any home demand for their products. There is one other canvas, seen in the galleries, which comes back to memory, and of which it is a pleasure to speak in commendation. The artist's name has escaped us, but the admirable and effective picture represented "Columbus contemplating the Sea."

Art should certainly be at home in Mexico, where it has found expression in various forms for hundreds of years. What were the picture-writings of the aborigines but early examples of art? There are numerous specimens of Aztec paintings illustrative of the early history of Mexico, which were produced long before the arrival of the conquering Spaniards. Some of these on deerskin, and some on a sort of parchment, or papyrus, which the Toltecs and Aztecs made from the leaves of the maguey plant, may be seen in European museums. They show that the arts of metal casting and the manufacture of cotton and of jewelry were derived from the Toltecs by the Aztecs. There are plenty of examples to be seen showing that these aborigines were admirable workers in silver and gold. So eager was Cortez to send large sums of gold to his sovereign, and thus to win royal forgiveness and countenance as regarded his gross insubordination in stealing away from Cuba, and in boldly taking upon himself all the prerogatives of a viceroy, that he not only extorted every ounce of gold dust he could possibly obtain from the natives of the conquered provinces, but he melted many of their beautiful and precious ornaments into more available shape for his purpose. Some of these he transmitted to Spain, where, in course of time, they also shared the same fate. The aggregate sum thus sent by him to Spain, as given in the records of the period, was so large as to provoke our incredulity. Were specimens of those golden ornaments, the product of Toltec and Aztec art, now extant, they would be worth fifty times their weight in gold, and form tangible links of history connecting the present with the far past. This native art has been handed down from generation to generation; and there is nothing of the sort made in the world superior to Mexican silver filigree work, which recalls the lace-like texture of similar ornaments manufactured at Genoa. Again, illustrative of this natural instinct for art in the aborigines, let us not forget to speak of the colored straw pictures produced by the Indian women, representing natural scenery and prominent buildings, done with wonderful fidelity, even in the matter of perspective. Statuettes or wax figures are also made by them, representing the native laboring classes and street scenes to the very life. This is a sort of specialty in Naples; but we have never seen one of these small Italian figures superior to those which one can buy in the stores on San Francisco Street in Mexico, all of which are the work of untaught native Indians. While we are writing these lines, there stands upon our library table a specimen of Mexican pottery which we brought from Guadalajara. It is of an antique pattern, made by hand in an Indian mud cabin, beautifully decorated and glazed, combining colors which mingle in perfect harmony. This is not an organized industry here. Each family produces its own ware for sale; and no two pieces can be exactly similar. No people, unless possessed of a high degree of artistic instinct and appreciation, could produce pottery, either in shape or finish, such as the traveler sees at Guadalajara.

We are told that the ancient Aztecs excelled in one branch of art above all others; namely, in the production of scenes and various ornamentations in feather work, the effect of which is similar to Florentine mosaic. The gorgeous plumage of the humming-bird and of parrots was especially devoted to this object. The feathers, glued upon a cotton web, were made into dresses for the wealthy to wear on festal occasions. The gradations and brilliancy of these feather pictures are said to have been marvelous. There is preserved in the museum at the national capital a vestment of this character, said to have been worn by Montezuma II. Antonio de Solis, royal historiographer, speaks of "a quantity of plumes and other curiosities made from feathers," by the Aztecs, "whose beauty and natural variety of colors, found on the native birds of the country, were placed and combined with wonderful art, distributing the several colors and shadowing the light with the dark so exactly, that, without making use of artificial colors or of the pencil, they could draw pictures, and would undertake to imitate nature." One is constantly importuned, in the patio of the Iturbide Hotel, to purchase figures and small landscapes newly made of these brilliant feathers, offered at a very moderate price. Indeed, their production forms quite an industry among a certain class of Indians. So it seems that this art has been inherited; there being no present market for such elaborate examples as used to be produced, the fine artistic ability of centuries past is neither demanded, nor does it exist. According to one Spanish authority (Clavigero), so abundant were sculptured images that the foundation of the cathedral on the Plaza Mayor is entirely composed of them! Another writer of the same nationality (Gama) says that a new cellar cannot be dug in the capital without turning up some of the mouldering relics of barbaric art. As cellars cannot be dug at all on account of the mere crust of earth existing above the water, this veracious historian could not have written from personal knowledge, or have visited the country. It is these irresponsible writers who have made "history" to suit their own purposes. Father Torquemada surpasses Baron Munchausen when he tells us that, at the dedication of a certain aboriginal temple, a procession of persons two miles long, numbering seventy-two thousand, perished on the sacrificial stone, which is now exhibited in the National Museum of Mexico. This stone, by the way, is to our mind clearly Toltec, not Aztec. Examination shows it to be identical with the stone relics of Tula, the original capital of the Toltecs. The same may be said of the "Calendar Stone," placed in the outer walls of the cathedral.

The National Conservatory of Music, dating from January 25, 1553, is near at hand; so also is the National Library, where the admirable collection of books numbers nearly two hundred thousand. The confiscated convent of Saint Augustine serves as an appropriate building for this library of choice books. We say of choice books, not only because they are many of them unique, but because all books are choice, being sources from which the careful student and historian can cull true history and philosophy. He does not accept each and all of the statements which are here presented, but from the collated mass culls the truthful deductions. These books very largely and very naturally relate to religious subjects, as they are mostly made up from the confiscated convent libraries heretofore existing in Mexico. Valuable modern and secular books have been added to these collections from time to time. Our attention was called to a volume bearing the date of 1472, and to one still older which was printed in two colors. There is here an atlas of England which was printed in Amsterdam in 1659, with steel plates, and in colors which are as bright and fresh as though just from the press. A Spanish and Mexican dictionary, printed in Mexico in 1571, showed how early the printing-press followed the period of the conquest. A book of autographs bearing the names of Cortez's notable soldiers was interesting. This, we understood, was one of the much-coveted prizes which has been sought by foreign collectors. The manuscripts are of great antiquity and interest. One was in the form of a large volume, done with the pen in old English letters; another, very highly prized, is of painted pictures, which purports to be original dispatches from Montezuma to his allies, and which was captured by Cortez. This last is on a roll of prepared deerskin. The richly-carved front of the library is a profound study in itself, and is the work of a native artist. The fence which incloses the edifice is ornamented with marble busts of famous scientists, orators, and authors, while beautiful flowers grace the small plot in front, the whole made refreshingly cool by the playing of a small fountain. This library contains books in all languages, and bearing dates of four hundred years since. Some of these books are almost priceless in value, very old, and believed to be unique. We were told that an agent of the British Museum, who came thousands of miles for the purpose, had offered a fabulous price for some half a dozen volumes on the shelves of the National Library of Mexico; but he offered the princely sum in vain,—a fact which speaks well for those in authority. The library has no systematic arrangement and no catalogue.

The Plaza Mayor must be fully a thousand feet square. It was laid out and beautified under the personal direction of the youthful, handsome, and would-be empress, Carlotta, who exhibited exquisite taste in such matters, and hesitated at no cost to carry out her imperial will, freely expending from her private fortune for the purpose. In the centre of the plaza is the Zacalo, so called, screened with groups of orange-trees, choice shrubbery, and flowers. Here there is a music stand and fountain, where frequent out-of-door concerts are given by military bands, especially in the evenings. At the western side of the square, under the shadow of the cathedral, is the flower market, rendering the whole neighborhood fragrant in the early mornings with the perfume it exhales, while it delights the eye with hillocks of bright color. This market is in an iron pavilion covered in part with glass, the lovely goods presided over by nut-brown women and pretty Indian girls. Barbaric as the Aztecs were, they had a true love and tenderness for flowers, using them freely in their religious rites, a taste which three hundred years and more of oppression, together with foreign and civil wars, has not served to extinguish. The most abundant specimens of the floral kingdom one meets with here are red and white roses, very finely developed, pinks of all colors, violets, mignonette, heliotrope, scarlet and white poppies, pansies, and forget-me-nots. Such flowers were artistically mingled in large bouquets, with a delicate backing of maiden-hair fern, and sold for fifteen cents each. There is no fixed tariff of prices, strangers naturally paying much more than the residents, and the sum first demanded being usually double what will be finally received,—a manner of trade which is by no means confined to the Spanish-speaking races. It must be remembered that although, these are cultivated flowers, still they bloom out-of-doors all the year round. The women venders emulate their lovely wares in the colors they assume in their costumes. The dahlia, we are told, first came from the valley of Mexico. The universal love of flowers finds expression in the houses, not only of the rich, but in those of the very humble poor, all over the town and the environs.

It was interesting to note the special class of customers drawn in the early morning to this flower pagoda. These were the true lovers of Flora, bent upon securing their favorites while damp with dewy sweetness. There was the very humble but appreciative purchaser, who invested only a few centavos, but took away a choice collection of bright colors and of mingled fragrance. Here was an ardent lover, all eagerness, who would write his words of devotion to his idol in the alphabet of angels. Now and then an American tourist was seen to carry away an armful of bouquets to bestow with impartial hand among his lady friends. Looking on at the suggestive scene is a scantily-clad Indian girl, with a curious hungry expression upon her face. Is it flowers or food that she craves? She shall have both. How rich the color of her cheek; how eloquent the expression of her dark eyes; how grateful her hesitating smile, as she receives from the stranger a piece of silver and a cluster of flowers!

On the open space in front of the cathedral a sort of daily fair is held, where a most incongruous trade is carried on amid great confusion; but there are no more male and female slaves offered for sale here, as in the days of the Spanish victors. Slavery existed both under Aztec and Spanish rule; but it was abolished, as an institution, soon after the establishment of Mexican independence. The match boys, lottery-ticket venders, fruit men, ice-cream hawkers, cigar and cigarette dealers, and candy women (each with a baby tied to her back), rend the air with their harsh and varied cries, while the stranger is quickly discovered, and importuned to the verge of endurance. We were told that this army of hawkers and peddlers were allowed just in the shadow of the church by special permit, a percentage of the benefit derived from the sales accruing to the priests, who carry on their profession inside the walls of the grand and beautiful edifice, where a less noisy, but quite as commercial a performance is going on all the while, "indulgences" being bartered and sold to moneyed sinners nearly every hour of the day.

The principal market-place has always been near the plaza, at its southwest end, a single block away; but a new and more spacious one is in course of erection at this writing, progress being made in the usual maÑana style. Sunday morning is the great market day of the week, the same as in all Mexican cities, when there is here a confusion of tongues that would silence the hubbub of the Paris Bourse. How a legitimate business can be accomplished under such circumstances is a marvel. Each line of trade has its special location, but confusion reigns supreme.In passing through the Calle de San Francisco, we were struck with the difference of temperature between the sunny and the shady sides of the street. It must have been fully ten degrees. One becomes uncomfortably warm while walking in the sunshine, but upon crossing into the shade he is quickly chilled by the frostiness of the still, dry atmosphere and a realizing sense of dampness beneath his feet. "Only dogs and Americans walk on the sunny side," say the Mexicans. To this we can only answer by commending the discretion of both men and beasts. In the early evening, as soon as the sun sets, the natives begin to wrap up their throats and faces, even in midsummer. Yet they seem to avoid the sun while it shines in the middle of the day.

In New Zealand and Alaska, when two natives meet each other and desire to express pleasure at the circumstance, they rub their noses together. In Mexico, if two gentlemen meet upon the street or elsewhere after a considerable absence, they embrace cordially and pat each other on the back in the most demonstrative manner, just as two parties fall on each other's neck in a stage embrace. To a cool looker-on this seemed rather a waste of the raw material, taking place between two individuals of the same sex. In Japan, two persons on meeting in public begin bowing their bodies until the forehead nearly touches the ground, repeating this movement a score of times. In China, two gentlemen who meet greet each other by shaking their own left hand in their right. In Norway and Sweden, the greeting is made by taking off and replacing the hat half a dozen times; the greater number of times, the more cordial is the greeting considered; but in Mexico it is nothing more nor less than an embrace with both arms.

The carrying of concealed weapons is prohibited by law in the United States and some other countries, but in Mexico a statute is not permitted to be simply a dead letter. While we were at the Iturbide, the police of the capital were vigorously enforcing a new law, which forbids the carrying of any sort of deadly weapon except in open sight. The common people were being searched for knives, of which, when found, they were instantly deprived, so that at one of the police stations there was a pile of these articles six feet high and four wide. They were in all manner of shapes, short and long, sharp and dull, daggerlike or otherwise, but all worn for the purpose either of assault or defense. They came from the possession of the humble natives, who could not plead that they kept them for domestic uses or for eating purposes, since they use neither knife nor fork in that process. We were told that this wholesale seizure had been going on for a month or more, the police stopping any person whom they chose in order to search them in the street. Such a thing as resistance is not thought of by a peon; he knows that it is of no sort of use, and will be the cause of sending him to prison immediately. Quarrels at low drinking places are no longer followed by the use of knives. It was the frequency of these assaults which filled the hospitals with victims and caused the passage of a law which meets the exigencies of the case. The fine for carrying concealed weapons is heavy, besides involving the penalty of imprisonment. A certain class of persons coming from out of the city are permitted to carry revolvers, but they must be in a belt and in full sight. Probably no municipal law was ever more thoroughly enforced than this of disarming the common class of this city.

The tramway facilities are so complete in the city of Mexico that one has very little occasion to employ hackney coaches. Sometimes, however, these will be found, if not absolutely necessary, yet a great convenience. The legal charges are very moderate, and may well be so, for the entire turnout is usually of a most broken-down character,—poor horses, or mules, a stupid driver, and a dirty interior, with such a variety of offensive smells as to cause one to enter into an analysis to decide which predominates. One dollar an hour is the average charge made for these vehicles, the driver expecting, as in similar cases in Paris, Berlin, or elsewhere, a trifle as a pourboire at the end of the service for which he is engaged. Where these ruinous structures which pass for public carriages originally came from is a conundrum; but there can be no possible doubt as to their antiquity. Mexican fleas, like those of Naples and continental Spain, are both omnivorous and carnivorous, and these vehicles are apt to be itinerant asylums for this pest of the low latitudes. There are three grades of hackney coaches in the capital, those comparatively decent, another class one degree less desirable, and a third into which one will get when compelled to do so, not otherwise. Each of these grades is designated by a small metal sign in the shape of a flag, of a certain color, and the charges are graduated accordingly. As to the drivers, they are not such outright swindlers as those of their tribe in New York, nor by any means so tidy and intelligent as those of Boston.