THE ALAMEDA. 45 
Turning westward from the square we reach the Alameda, by a very 
short walk through the Calle Plateros, a street filled with the shops of 
goldsmiths, watchmakers, French hairdressers, French cooks, French 
milliners, French carvers and gilders, and French print-sellers ; and we 
pass on our way the rich Convent of the Professa or ex-Jesuits — and the 
more splendid one of the blue-robed Monks of St. Francis. The Ala- 
meda is a beautiful grove of forest-trees, planted on about ten acres of 
moist and luxuriant soil. The wood, which is walled and protected by 
gates closed every evening as the bells toll for Oracion, is intersected 
with walks and surrounded by a carriage road. Fountains fling up their 
waters where the paths cross each other, and the ground beneath the full- 
grown trees is filled with flowers and shrubbery. The great centre 
fountain is surmounted by a gilded figure of Liberty, and gilded lions 
spout forth the water at its feet. This, and the other smaller jets, in 
pleasanter and more secluded nooks, are circled with stone seats. It is 
the fashion to come here in carriages and on horseback every evening, 
(except during Lent,) and to drive round and round the inclosure, on the 
soft roads in the dense shade, until the vesper bell — or, to draw up in 
line on the side of one of the highways, while the cavaliers pass up and 
down in review, or prattle av/ay half an hour at the coach-window of 
some renowned belle. 
But there can be nothing more delightful than a walk here during the 
early morning. There is a freshness then in the air, a quiet and peace- 
fulness, that are found at no other time of the day. The student comes 
with his book ; the priest, from his early mass ; the nurse, with her baby ; 
the sentimental miss, to sigh for her lover, (and perhaps to see him ;) the 
dyspeptic, to earn an appetite for his breakfast ; the monk, the lounger, 
and even the laborer, stop for a moment beneath the refreshing shades, 
to take breath for the coming day. It is almost druidical in the solemn 
stillness of its groves, placed in the midst of a population of two hundred 
thousand. Even the birds seem to have been made sacred; scared from 
the plains, they are here in sanctuary, and no profane hand dares touch 
them. They have consequently planted, as if by consent of each other, 
distinct colonies in different parts of the wood ; the owl, sitting on her 
branch, in one place ; the doves, making love the business of their lives in 
another ; the mocking-birds, making a third spot a perfect choir ; and in- 
numerable sparrows and wrens, like so many Paul Prys, chattering and 
pottering about with an intrusive pertness through the dominions of all 
the rest. 
Directly west of the Alameda, and on the same street, is the Passeo 
Nuevo, another delightful drive of a mile in length, bordered with paths 
and trees, and divided by fountains adorned with statuary and sculpture. 
Passing out of the western gate of the Alameda, the fashionables 
every evening take a turn or two along this d'i'ive. On festivals it is 
crowded. All the equipages of the city must ie there, and it is the 
mode for every person of consideration, or who desires consideration, to 
4 
