When out only for promenade, none of these linger long in the street of the silversmiths. They but pass through it on their way to the _Alameda_, a sort of half-park, half-garden, devoted to the public use, and tastefully laid out in walks, terraces, and parterres with flowers, and fountains; grand old evergreen trees overshadowing all. For in that summery clime shade, not sun, is the desideratum. Here the _jovenes dorados_ spent part of the afternoons sauntering along the arcaded walks, or seated around the great fountain watching the play of its crystal waters. But with an eye to something besides--the senoritas, who are there, too, flirting the fans with a dexterity which speaks of much practice--speaks of something more. Not every movement made by these rustling segments of circles is intended to create currents of air and cool the heated skin. Many a twist and turn, watched with anxious eyes, conveys intelligence interesting as words never spoken. In Mexico many a love tale is told, passion declared, jealous pang caused or alleviated, by the mute languages of fans and fingers. Though the Calle de Plateros terminates at the gate of the Alameda, the same line of street is continued half a mile further on, to the fashionable drive of the _Pasco Nuevo_, sometimes called Pasco de Buccareli, from the Viceroy who ruled New Spain when it was laid out. It is the Rotten Row of Mexico, for it is a ride as well as a drive; and at a certain hour of the afternoon a stream of carriages, with strings of horsemen, may be seen tending towards it, the carriages drawn, some of them by mules, others by the small native horses, and a distinguished few by large English or American animals, there known as _frisones_. It is the top thing to have a pair of "_frisones_." In the carriages, the senoras and senoritas are seen attired in their richest robes--full evening dress--bare-armed and bareheaded, their hair, usually black, ablaze with jewels or entwined with flowers fresh picked--the sweet-scented suchil, the white star-like jasmine, and crimson grenadine. Alongside ride the cavaliers, in high-peaked, stump-leather saddles, their steeds capering and prancing; each rider, to all appearance, requiring the full strength of his arms to control his mount, while insidiously using his spurs to render the animal uncontrollable. The more it pitches and plunges the better he is pleased, provided the occupants of the carriages have their eyes on him. Every day in the year--except during the week of _Guaresma_ (Lent), when capricious fashion takes him to the Paseo Viejo, or _Lav Vigas_, on the opposite side of the city--can this brilliant procession be seen moving along the Calle de Plateros, and its continuation, the Calle de San Francisco.