The road, for the first sixteen miles, was over a low marshy country, partially Macadamized, and raised in the form of a causeway; rather rough, but smooth compared with very many of our own, even in the State of New York. The sides were filled in with brush-wood as far as Hunucuma, about sixteen miles from Sisal. We stopped here, at noon, two hours, to give our faithful mules an opportunity to refresh, after a sultry morning’s travel. This pleasant village stands about half way between Sisal and Merida, and is surrounded by beautiful shrubbery. From this town, which possesses little interest to the foreign tourist, the open country appears to advantage; but it is not under a high state of cultivation. The road hence to Merida is finished in a style that would have done credit to the imperial enterprise of Hadrian. We passed through several small villages, occupied principally by the huts of the Indians, and, at five o’clock in the afternoon of the 22d instant, arrived at the metropolis, thirty-six miles distance from the place of landing, and drove up to the door of the amiable Doña Michaelé, who keeps the only public house in the city—not for her own personal advantage, as she informs her guests, but solely for their accommodation. Blessings on her kind heart, although her professions of philanthropy “something smacked, something grew too,” yet we believed every word of them, and made ourselves perfectly at home in the shortest possible time. The residence of this lady stands in about the centre of the city, occupying a large space of ground, is one story high, with ranges of rooms and stables, forming a square, which is filled with fruit-trees of the tropics. The rooms are spacious and airy: they have large doors, and balconied windows, grated, but without glass. The floors are laid with stone, set in mortar. Of the Doña and her table, I may be permitted to say, that when I paid my bill I felt that I had cancelled all the obligations which her bounty had imposed upon me. Chocolate, with “panadulza,” a sweet bread made by the nuns, is served early in the morning, according to the general custom of the country; breakfast is ready at nine o’clock, made up of Spanish American dishes, composed of strips of meat, eggs, tortillas, and frejoles, (that is, corncake and black beans,) with coffee and wine. Her guests consisted of two Americans besides myself, who came here to trade, and remained, not to pray, but to be preyed upon by the most dismal prospects—three Mexican officers, who were exiled by Santa Ana; and three Spanish Jews, who were from Havana, with merchandise. Dinner was served at three o’clock. The Doña undoubtedly gave her boarders the best the market afforded, for she certainly exerted herself to render them satisfied with their fare. It would be absurd to enumerate dishes, and to object to the style of cooking because it did not happen to be in accordance with my own preferences or habits.