"As a contrast to the señoras, with their over-dressed beauties, were the poor Indian women, trotting across the square, their black hair plaited with dirty red ribbon, a piece of woollen cloth wrapped round them, and a little mahogany baby hanging behind, its face upturned to the sky, and its head jerking along, somehow, without its neck being dislocated. The most resigned expression on earth is that of an Indian baby. All these groups are collected by hundreds, the women of the shop-keeper class in their small white embroidered gowns, with white satin shoes and neat feet and ankles, _rebozos_, or bright shawls, thrown over their heads; the peasants and countrywomen, with short petticoats of two colors, generally scarlet and yellow, thin satin shoes and lace-trimmed chemises, or bronze-colored damsels, all crowned with flowers, strolling along, tingling light guitars. "Add to this motley crowd, men dressed _à la Mexicaine_, with large ornamented hats and _serapes_, or embroidered jackets, sauntering along, smoking their cigars; _léperos_, in rags, Indians in blankets, officers in uniform, priests in their shovel hats, monks of every order; Frenchmen exercising their wit upon the passers-by; Englishmen looking on, cold and philosophical; Germans gazing through their spectacles, mild and mystical; Spaniards, seeming pretty much at home, abstaining from remarks; and it may be conceived that the scene, at least, presents variety. "Suddenly the tinkling of a bell announces the approach of _Nuestro Amo_ (the Host). Instantly the whole crowd are on their knees, crossing themselves devoutly. Disputes are hushed, flirtations arrested, and to the busy hum of voices succeeds a profound silence, filled only by the rolling of coach-wheels and the sound of the little bell." This scene is almost the same to-day in the public square on Good-Friday. The costumes of the higher class have now surrendered to conventional Paris models, but there is a tendency to gaudiness and display, defying fashion, which makes a Mexican crowd bright with variegated color. Madame Calderon's accounts of the unsettled state of the country are comforting, as showing the immense advance in this respect, in the forty years since she was in Mexico. Describing an hacienda not far from the capital, she says: "It is under the charge of an _administrador_, who receives from its owner a large annual sum, and whose place is by no means a sinecure, as he lives in perpetual danger from robbers. He is captain of a troop of soldiers, and as his life has been spent in persecuting robbers, he is an object of intense hatred to that free and independent body. He gave us a terrible account of night attacks from these men and of his ineffectual attempts to bring them to justice. He lately told the President that he thought of joining the robbers himself, as they were the only persons in the Republic protected by government."