Loathsome as is this exhibition on the exterior of the Accordada, the interior of this edifice is scarcely less frightful. Like all large Spanish edifices it is quadrangular. A strong military guard watches the gate, and a gloomy stairway leads to the second story, whose entrance is guarded by a massive portal. Inside of this, a lofty room is filled with the prison officers and a crowd of subalterns engaged in writing, talking, smoking and walking, whilst the clank of chains, the shouts of prisoners and the constant din of a disorderly establishment, add to the disgusting sounds and demeanor within. Passing through several iron and wood barred gates, you enter a lofty corridor, running around a quadrangular court-yard, in the centre of which, below, is a fountain of troubled water. The whole of this area is filled with human beings,--the great congress of Mexican crime,--mixed and mingling, like a hill of busy ants swarming from their sandy caverns. Some are stripped and bathing in the fountain;--some are fighting in a corner;--some making baskets in another. In one place a crowd is gathered around a witty story-teller, relating the adventures of his rascally life. In another, a group is engaged in weaving with a handloom. Robbers, murderers, thieves, ravishers, felons of every description, and vagabonds of every grade or aspect, are crammed within this dismal court-yard; and, almost free from discipline or moral restraint, form, perhaps, the most splendid school of misdemeanor and villany on the American continent. Below,--within the corridor of the second story,--another class of criminals is kept; and yet, even here, men under sentence of death, are pointed out who are still permitted to go about without restraint. In one corner of the quadrangle is the chapel, where convicts for capital offences are condemned to solitude and penance, during the _three_ last days of their miserable life; and, at a certain hour, it is usual for all the prisoners to gather in front of the door and chant a hymn for the victim of the laws. It is a solemn service of crime for crime. The women are not generally seen in the Accordada, but their condition is but little better than that of the males. About one hundred of the men, chained in pairs like galley slaves, are driven daily, under a strong guard, into the streets as scavengers; and it seems to be the chief idea of the utility of prisons in Mexico, to support this class of coerced laborers.