In Tacuba was Cortés With his most valiant squadron. Very sad and much distressed, Very sad and greatly anxious, One hand against his cheek The other at his side. As we got out of the city a white sun, the glory of these windless mornings of the rainy season, was shining on what seemed a world of crystal objects set in blue and green and lilac. I was so proud of my Mexico that the general said I acted as if I had "taken over" the country. The little grayish, yellowish adobe huts reminded him of Chinese vistas in color and outline; but to me it was Mexico only, unique, endlessly beautiful. The road was once the great highway to the north; but the deep ruts, almost morasses, made us suspect that many a _jefe político_ has sent his wife to Paris or gone there himself instead of repairing it. All along were milestones bearing half-obliterated inscriptions and arms of forgotten viceroys, who used to keep the road up for the crown or themselves--rather a contrast to the deep ruts of the now neglected highway. Since the railway was built even Cuautitlan, the once famous _primera posta_ from Mexico City to the north, has been abandoned, and our motor was the only vehicle in the broad, deserted streets, which, however, filled with Indians, as if by magic, at the sound of our horn. For nearly an hour we could see the delicate belfry of Tepozotlan flattened against a gray-green background of hill, while the sun was touching everything near us with a sort of white incandescence, the maguey-fields seeming like rows of stacked silver spears. One thing about the Mexican vistas--they do not lose their charm as you approach; and as we got into the square of the little village we found a beautiful old church, inclosed with its _patio_ by a luscious pink, low-scalloped wall. These _patios_ are a feature of every old Spanish church. The friars used them as school-rooms, as courts of judgment, as medical dispensaries. Indeed, all that had to do with the temporal and spiritual needs of the Indians was transacted in them. The Tepozotlan _patio_ is grass-grown, shaded with pepper and palm trees, paved with sunken grave-slabs, bits of cactus growing about them, and there is a lovely cypress alley leading to the door of the small _parroquía_. From this we passed into the great church, built with the adjoining seminary by the Jesuits toward the end of the sixteenth century, and restored nearly a hundred years ago, in Iturbide's time. As reminder of his brief imperial career we found the Mexican eagle painted in profile on the old wooden benches.