Such is the story of the “Old New House.” The child of whom we spoke at the opening was Margaret’s grandchild. Her father grew in that house, lived there married and single, and died there. Simon never would suffer it to be finished further than absolute necessity required; and people, as we have already stated, said he was crazed. He was solitary and heart-broken; and if it were a strange fantasy that he should rear Margaret’s child, there was a method in such madness, which we all would do well to imitate in behalf of the orphan and the destitute. * * * * * THE WOUNDED GUERILLA. A SKETCH OF THE LATE CAMPAIGN. BY MAYNE REID. [SEE ENGRAVING.] The city of Puebla lies in the centre of an immense _plateau_, seven thousand feet above sea level, and bordered by mountains of more than twice this altitude. Malinchi, rendered classic in the history of the first conquest, rises on the north; the Piñal bars up the eastern passes, while the great Cordillera of the Rio Frio forms its western boundary, thus separating the two great valleys of Puebla and Mexico by an almost impassible barrier. In this ridge lie the great snow mountains of Popocatepec and the “White Woman,” (_la muger blanca_,) known poetically as the “Twin Sisters.” These mountains soar far above the regions of eternal snow. Popocatepec is a cone, and the gray fringe that marks the blending of the white glacier and the dark pines of the mountain forest, forms the circumference of a horizontal circle. On the White Woman this snow line is more irregular. On both mountains its altitude is variable, according to the season and the heat of the sun. Thus the melting of the snows in the sultry months of summer throws the gray fringe higher up the sides of Popocatepec and Ixticihuath, and irrigates the broad plains of Puebla and Tlaxcalla. But for these snow-crowned mountains the _plateau_ of Puebla would be a barren desert. As it is, the western segment of this plain may be termed the garden spot of Mexico. As the traveler emerges from the western gate of Puebla, he beholds one of the loveliest pictures in the world. The delighted eye roams over broad fields of corn and wheat, and “frijoles,” bordered by fence rows of the picturesque maguey—here and there the cupolas of rich haciendas—the turrets of a flourishing village, and the spires of a rural church variegate the green landscape, while in the distance rises the dark Cordilleras of the Mexican Andes, over whose gloomy forests and frowning chasms the snowy crests of the “Twin Sisters” glisten with a dazzling whiteness.