Only one more of the viceroys need be mentioned, the Conde de Revillagigedo, Don Juan Vicente de Güemes Pacheco de Padilla, whose deeds are worth remembering. He found the city in 1787 in a wretched condition, unlighted, undrained, unpaved. Even a part of the viceregal palace was useless, being occupied by the stalls of Indian women selling things to eat, such as tortillas, and _mole_. The viceroy corrected all these disorders, both in the accounts and the morality of the metropolis. Revillagigedo was honored for his justice, renowned for his energy, and feared for his severity; at the same time he was extremely eccentric, and many anecdotes survive of his day. It is said he had the habit, like Montezuma and Haroun al Raschid, of going about incognito, with one or two aides-de-camp, to detect abuses in order to correct them. Walking one evening in the Calle San Francisco, he met a monk taking his pleasure much after the hour permitted for monks to be abroad. The viceroy went directly to the convent, where, on making himself known, he was received by the abbot with all due respect. "How many monks, father, have you in your convent?" he asked. "Fifty, your Excellency." "There are now only forty-nine. Call them over and see which is the missing brother, that his name may be struck out." The list was produced, the roll was called, and only forty-five monks presented themselves. By the order of the viceroy, when the five appeared they were refused admission to the convent, and never permitted to return. A poor Indian came to the viceroy and told him he was in difficulty, reproached with stealing some money. He said he had found a bag full of golden ounces in the street, and seeing an advertisement containing the promise of a handsome reward for the finder, he carried them to the person therein mentioned as the owner. The Don received the bag, and counted the ounces. In doing so, not unobserved by the Indian, he slipped two into his pocket, and then accused the poor man of having stolen a part of the money, and turned him out of the house as a thief and a rascal. The viceroy kept the Indian while he immediately sent for the Don, and asked him to relate the circumstances. "May it please your Excellency, I lost a bag of gold. This Indian brought it to me in hopes of a reward, but he first stole part of the contents, and I drove him from my house." "Stay," said the viceroy, "there is some mistake here. How many ounces did you have in your bag?" "Twenty-eight." "And how many are there here?" "Twenty-six." "Count them down. I see it is as you say. The case is clear, we have all been mistaken. Had the Indian been a thief he would never have brought back the bag and kept two ounces; he would have kept the whole. It is evident this is not your bag, but another which this poor man has found. Continue to search for yours. Good-morning." And sweeping up the gold pieces he gave them to the Indian to keep for himself.