The prompter's box is fixed in front of the stage, and his voice is not only heard continually above that of the actors, but his candle and hands are always visible, and he often takes time to peep out and take a survey of the audience; but the Mexicans do not notice him any more than the footlights. A bell, which sounds as heavy as a church bell, rings and the curtain falls. Well, it is a sight! The managers farm out the drop-curtain to business men by the square. The enterprising advertiser has painted on a piece of cloth his place of business and curious signs. One shows a man riding a fat pig, and from out the man's mouth comes the word "Carne" (beef). How they make beef out of pork is unknown. Saloons take up the most prominent place. A house bearing the sign "Pulque" had the side knocked out, displaying a barrel which filled the building from floor to roof. Cupid was astride a barrel, sipping pulque from an immense schooner, forgetting in his enjoyment his usual occupation of softening other people's brains with love's wine. One fat, bald-headed old fellow had gone to sleep with a generous smile on his open countenance, while from a large glass which he held in his hand the drink was running down his coat sleeve. Another fellow, equally fat and equally bald, was gazing at a full champagne glass in drunken adoration. These are a few of the curious inducements for people to patronize certain stores. The signs are only pinned on, and as the curtain comes tumbling down they fly, work and twist in the most comical style. Naturally the spectators would grow tired gazing at such a thing, so between acts the ladies visit one another, and the men rise in their seats, put on their hats, turn their backs toward the stage, and survey the people, English fashion. They smoke their cigarettes, chat to one another, and discuss the women. The cow-bell rings again, people commence to embrace and kiss, and when the third bell rings, hats are off, cigarettes extinguished, and every one in place in time to see the curtain, after being down for thirty minutes, rise. Theaters close anywhere between 12.30 and three o'clock. The audience applaud very little, unless some one is murdered artistically. If a few feel like applauding other fine points, they are quickly silenced by the thousands of hisses which issue from all quarters of the house, and a Mexican hiss has no equal in the world. Ladies do not applaud, never look pleased or interested, but sit like so many statues, calmly and stupidly indifferent. After the play every one who can afford it goes to some restaurant for refreshments. Mexicans are not easily pleased with plays; and the only time they enjoy themselves is when they have a "Zarzuela"--a cross between a comic opera and a drama. Then they forget to hiss, and enter into the spirit of the play with as much vim as an American.