The Congress of Yucatan is now in session. It is held in two rooms, connected with each other by double doors. These rooms are neatly and plainly fitted up for the purpose, having a small gallery or platform at the sides, for the accommodation of spectators. These apartments comprise a portion of a convent once belonging to the Jesuits, who formerly exercised a powerful sway in this province. In 1825 their property was confiscated to the government; when this and other orders of monasteries and nunneries were dissolved by the prevailing voice of the people. Small remains now only exist of this once potent and dreaded class. The whole building, with the exception of the part mentioned, and the church, is in a ruinous condition, with broken walls and ragged casements. Birds of prey, fluttering about and resting upon the trees that overtop the seat of this once proud, but now fallen society, present a lesson that others of a similar cast might profit by; yet now, in the nineteenth century, there are those living in Mexico, who not only strenuously advocate the maintenance of the order of Loyola, but are exerting their influence to have it reinstated to all its pristine wealth, power, and ancient privileges. To revert to the business before Congress—the houses were discussing the propriety of appointing commissioners to Vera Cruz, for the purpose of arranging for a secession from the great plan of independence that had been proclaimed, and again to return “to their first love,” under the control of the Mexican confederacy. The members were good-looking, well dressed, and of gentlemanly behavior—and the system of duelling and bullying practised so extensively in many of our own legislative assemblies, is unknown to the unsophisticated individuals who constitute this body. They probably have not arrived to that state of civilization, which requires such physical agencies to illustrate and to enforce their arguments. A temptation to visit the most extensive of the modern ruins of this province could not be resisted. The Monastery of St. Francisco, which is situated nearly in the centre of Merida, was erected upon a mound or foundation that, probably, was the former site of some important structure belonging to the original inhabitants of the place, which fell under the destroying hand of the conqueror. The caciques and their people were driven out, or perished by the ruthless sword; and the church, following fast upon their footsteps, divided the spoils. Where are they now? The vanquished and the vanquisher are numbered with the things that were! and we now stand upon the dilapidated memorial that indistinctly marks the greatness of the one, and the downfall of the other.