Otherwise, Puebla might be termed a terrestrial paradise. Situated in the centre of an immense plain--whose fertility suggested to Cortez and his _conquistadores_ the title "La vega" (the farm)--surrounded by an amphitheatre of magnificent mountains, in grandeur unsurpassed upon earth--with a climate of ever-spring, truly might it be deemed an abiding place for _angels_; as truly as it is the home of a host of infamous men, and not less infamous women. Despite its moral character, there is a grand picturesqueness about _La Puebla de los Angeles_--both in its present aspect and its past history. Both are redolent of romance. Standing upon the site of an ancient Aztecan town, within view of Cholula, the Indian Athens--with Tlascala, their Sparta, on the other side of the mountain Malinche--what heart would not be touched by the historic souvenirs of such a spot? And though the sages of Cholula and the warriors of Tlascala are no longer to be recognised in their degenerate descendants, there, still, are the grand objects from which they must have drawn their inspirations. On all sides tower up the Cordilleras of the Andes. Sublime, against the eastern sky, rises the "Star mountain;" matched upon the west by the rival cone of Popocatepec. Still in solemn silence reclines the "White Sister" under her cold coverlet of snow. Well do I remember the impression produced on my own mind when, after passing through the _mal pais_ of Perote, I first came within view of the domes and spires of La Puebla. It was an impression, grand, mystical, romantic; in interest exceeding even that I afterwards experienced, when gazing for the first time on the valley of Tenochtitlan. It was a _coup de coeur_ never to be forgotten! As my entry into the "City of the Angels" was not of an ordinary kind,-- and, moreover, had much to do with the events about to be related--it will be necessary to give some account of it. I transcribe from the tablets of my memory, where it is recorded with a vividness that makes the transcript easy. I can answer for its being truthful. I was one of three thousand invaders; all travel stained; many footsore, from long marches over the lava rocks of Las Vigas, and the desert plains of Perote; some scathed in the skirmish with Santa Anna's lancers along the foot hills of the mountain Malinche; but all aweary unto death. Fatigue was forgotten, dust and scars disregarded, as we came within sight of the sanctified city, and with beating drums and braying bugles marched on to take possession of it. It needed no warlike ardour on our part. Outside the gates we were met by the _Alcalde Mayor_ and his magistrates; who, with fair speech on their lips, but foul thought in their hearts, reluctantly bestowed upon us the "freedom of the city!"