hens, perched amongst a lot of boys, in the trees, frightened at this unusual scene, cackled with equal vigor. The ground within the court was covered with muchachos, and nurses with children, who were wrought up to an alarming state of impatience, and only kept within the bounds of propriety by the canes of the vigilant alcaldes. After an interval, a messenger approached the Director, and inquired if it was his pleasure the performance should begin; to which an affirmative response was given. The manager of the “Funámbulos” then came forward and announced the “hermosissima Jovena Catalina,” who would exhibit her dexterity on the tight rope. The next moment the Jovena advanced, and was, as the newspapers say, “rapturously received.” She was dressed quite after the fashion of similar performers at home, in skirts equally brief, and seemed to me quite as dexterous. But she had monstrous ankles, and a foot none of the smallest, and was unmercifully criticised, particularly by the female spectators. “Mira!” exclaimed a belle by my side, who lifted her tiny hands in astonishment, “_Valgame Dios! es una pateza Inglesa!_” “See! Good Heavens! it is an English paw!” I glanced cautiously down at the little slippered feet at my side—they were really very small. My fair friend saw the movement, but nothing abashed, thrust them out the further, and rogueishly inquired, “How do you like them?” I professed to be looking for a fallen cigarito, but the dodge wouldn’t answer. The Jovena, in a country where hardly any one who has his peculiarity escapes a nick-name, went afterwards by the unpoetical designation of “Tobillos gruesos”—“Big ankles!” The Jovena had a sister, who was beautiful, and while she remained in the city, the reigning toast of the young officers and of the gallants generally. She however did not possess the skill of “Tobillos gruesos,” but danced passably, and was very well in pantomime. The “eccentric clown, Simon,” seemed to be the most popular feature of the exhibition; and although he was not always over-delicate, seldom failed to “bring down the house” by his hits. I was not long in discovering that the entire people had a keen appreciation of drollery, and what would perhaps be called “serious joking;” and have often witnessed impromptu scenes amongst the _mozos_ by the roadside, or in the little villages, which were irresistibly comic, and saving time and place, might have been the originals from which Cervantes drew his immortal pictures.