the attention. Gaunt dogs prowl about and lap the water of the open _acequias_, or ditch-gutters, between the road and the footpath, fighting for some stray morsel thrown into the street from the open doors of the shops aforesaid. Of stone or of adobe--generally the latter--according to the geology of the particular neighbourhood, the houses are whitened or tinted outside, with flat roofs, or _azoteas_. Through the wide entrance-door a glimpse is obtained of an interior paved _patio_, adorned, in the better-class homes, with tubs of palms and flowers; and before one of such a character we draw rein--the _meson_ or _fonda_, the hotel under whose roof temporary shelter shall be sought. This abode faces the _plaza_, and opposite rises the quaint church--or cathedral if it be a State capital city--which is the dominating note of the community. [Footnote 2: Mexican night owl.] [Illustration: ON THE GREAT PLATEAU: VIEW OF THE CITY OF DURANGO.] Exceedingly picturesque are the fine cities which form Mexico's chief centres of civilisation along the Great Plateau--Chihuahua, Durango, Guadalajara, Puebla, and many others. They have that quaint, old-world air ever characteristic of Spanish-America, unspoilt by the elements of manufacturing communities. Their shady _plazas_ are centres of recreation and social life, always in evidence, distinctive of Spanish-American civilisation, where music is a part of the government of the people; a feature far more prominent than in Britain or the United States. The cathedrals, the quaint architecture of the streets, the barred windows, and the picturesque dress of the working class, form an atmosphere of distinctive life and colour. Let us halt a moment in the _plaza_. The band is discoursing soft music, varied by some stirring martial air; the Mexican moon has risen, and now that the sunset colours pale, vies with the lamps of the well-lit promenade to illumine a happy but simple scene. Its rays shine through the feathery boughs of the palms, and glisten on the broad, elegant leaves of the _platanos_--which grow even in the upland valleys--whilst the scent of orange-blossoms falls softly through the balmy air, as in ceaseless promenade fair maidens and chatting youths, with coquetry and stolen glance, pass round the square untiringly. White dresses and black eyes and raven tresses--the olive-complexioned beauties of the Mexican uplands take their fill of passing joy. The moment is sweet, peaceful, even romantic; let us dally a moment, nor chafe our cold northern blood for more energetic scenes. Do we ask bright glances? Here are such. Shall we refuse to be their recipient? And moonlight, palms, and music, and evening breeze, and convent tolling bell, and happy crowd--no, it is not a scene from some dream of opera, but a phase of every-day life in Mexico.