Selecting a poor street, we started to make our way toward the mountains. On it we found a row of houses numbered in the following style: January 1, February 2, March 3, April 4, May 5, June 6, July 7, August 8, September 9, October 10, November 11, December 12. Still further down we saw one called "The place of Providence," each different door designated as "The place of Providence A, the place of Providence B," and so on throughout the alphabet. Next we came to a laundry which did not remind us in the least of those at home. The river was the tub, a porous stone the washboard, and the little bushes and green bank the clothesline. In this manner all the washing of the town is done. We admired the washwomen for quite a while as they rubbed the clothes on the stone and then doused them up and down in the stream. At last we concluded to jump across and go down on the other side, but we forgot we were women and that the dress of last fall was extremely narrow. We jumped from one washboard to another. We landed on it all right, but we did not stay long, but slipped back into the water, which was about three feet deep, much to our consternation. On our way home we stopped at the Tivoli, the bath-house and the main alameda, which is situated at the foot of an immense mountain, and is said to be one of the prettiest in the Republic. The walks and drives are wide and nicely paved, a great variety of trees furnish the shade and musical fountains are plentiful. A music stand is in the center and is occupied nightly by a good band. The water-carriers were getting their supply from one of the large basins; they were also different from others we have seen. They have a long pole across their shoulders, and suspended from each end is a bucket containing the water, after the style of the milkmaids in the States. It seems strange that though every city has its water-carriers and that every one in the same town carries exactly alike, yet in no two towns do they carry in the same manner.