Save through these gates there is no access to, or egress from, the Mexican capital; and at each, besides the official having charge of the revenue matters, a soldier-guard is stationed, with a guard-house provided; their duties being of a mixed, three-cornered kind--customs, police, and military. Five or six such posts there are, on the five or six roads leading out from the city, like the radiating limbs of a star-fish; and one of these is the _garita_ El Nino Perdido--literally, the gate of the "Lost Child." It is, however, one through which the traffic is of secondary importance; since it is not on any of the main routes of travel. That which it bars is but a country road, communicating with the villages of Mixcoac, Coyoacan, and San Angel. Still, these being places of rural residence, where some of the _familiares principes_ have country houses, a carriage passing through the gate of the Lost Child is no rarity. Besides, from the gate itself runs a _Calzada_, or causeway, wide and straight for nearly two miles, with a double row of grand old trees along each side, whose pleasant shade invites, and often receives, visits from city excursionists out for a stroll, ride, or drive. Near the end of the second mile it angles abruptly to the right, in the direction of San Angel--a sharp corner the writer has good reason to remember, having been shot at by _salteadores_, luckily missed, while passing round it on his way from country quarters to the city. A horse of best blood saved _his_ blood there, or this tale would never have been told. Asking the reader's pardon for a personal digression--with the excuse that it may throw light on the scene to follow--it will be understood how easily the guard on duty at the gate might be "thrown off guard" by a carriage passing through it; especially on that day when there were so many, by reason of the grand doings in the city. Several had just passed, going country-wards; for it was the season of rural sojourn among the "ricos." So, when another appeared, heading in the same direction, the guard-sergeant at Nino Perdido saw nothing amiss, or to be suspicious of; instead, something to inspire him with respect. He had been on guard at the Palace scores of times; and by appearance knew all who were accustomed to pass in and out, more especially those holding authority. Liveries he could distinguish at any distance; and when he saw a carriage approaching along the street, with a coachman in sky-blue and silver, cockaded, he did not need its being near to recognise the equipage of one of the Cabinet Ministers.