In gloomy grandeur, on the Ottoman throne Sat proud Mustapha. Kerim Khan was great Amid fair Persia's sons; his sword was one That served a friend, but crush'd a rival's hate: O'er ancient China, and her countless throng, Reign'd the bold Tartar mighty Kian Long. America then held a common horde Of strange adventurers; with bloody blade The Frenchman ruled--the Englishman was lord-- The haughty Spaniard, o'er his conquests sway'd-- While the wild Indian, driven from his home, Ranged far and lawless, in the forest's gloom. Thus was the world when last yon Comet blazed Above our earth. On its celestial light Proudly the free American may gaze: Nations that last beheld its rapid flight Are fading fast; the rest no more are known, While his has risen to a mighty one. EXTRACTS FROM MY MEXICAN JOURNAL. Mexico--Procession of Nuestra Señora de los Remedios--Visit to the Country--Society and Manners in Mexico--Climate. 20th June, 1825. Since our arrival on the 25th May, my occupations have been such as to prevent my seeing many of the _lions_ of Mexico. I have, however, walked through the principal streets, and visited most of the churches, of which some are very rich and splendid--some are ancient and venerable--others are fine and gaudy--while a few of the more modern are extremely neat and handsome. The churches are numerous: these, with the convents, occupy almost every alternate square of the city; but with all this show of religion, there is a proportionate degree of vice among its population. The city is, indeed, magnificent; many of the buildings are spacious. The streets are not wide, but well paved--clean in the most frequented, but excessively filthy in the more remote parts, and thronged with dirty, diseased, deformed, and half naked creatures. Disgusting sights every moment present themselves. At the corners of every street--each square is called a street, and bears a distinct name,--at the doors of the churches which you must be passing constantly in your walks--and sometimes in the areas of the private residences, you are importuned by miserable beggars, some of whom, not satisfied with a modest refusal, chase you into charity, which you are not assured is well bestowed. We meet in the streets very few well dressed people; the ladies seldom walk, except to mass early in the morning, when some pretty faces are seen. Such is the character of the street-population of Mexico. So much filth, so much vice, so much ignorance are rarely found elsewhere combined. Those who have seen the lazzaroni of Naples, may form a faint idea of the _leperos_ of Mexico. The _leperos_ are most dexterous thieves--none can be more expert in relieving you of your pocket handkerchief; it is unsafe to trust them within your doors. I knew an American who had his hat stolen from under the bench on which he was seated in the Cathedral listening to a sermon![1]