114 MEXICO. 
diem, according to the emergency of the matter, and the faculty of the m- 
nabitants to pay. Disease being the most selfish of all demands upon a 
man's purse, he will more readily rid himself of its attacks by a fee and 
a prayer, than by a doctor and a nauseous dose. A piece of painted 
wood and an opportune ejaculation, are much more palatable than the 
nostrum and long face of even the kindest physician. 
After passing through the village of Tacuba, (now only remarkable 
for a few Indian remains, among which are part of a Mexican pyramid, in 
the rear of a fine church erected by Cortez, and a noble cypress, doubt- 
less of the days of Montezuma,) we ascended the hill among the increas- 
ing crowd of people on foot, in carts, on mules and horses. The church 
is surrounded by a few miserable huts of adobe, which scarcely merit the 
name of a village ; and as we approached the edifice we were forced to 
leave our carriage, on account of the dense crowd of leperos and Indians. 
I am confident, that not less than seven thousand were then upon the spot. 
There was but a narrow path to the church-gate, and on each side 
of it were stalls, tables, and mats of the humbler classes, covered with 
fruits, dried meats, and pulque — the latter of which, from the glibness of 
the tongue and the incessant hum of voices around, must have been pretty 
freely circulated. Gamblers, too, were not wanting : there was one fel- 
low with his dice, and a dozen with monte, — balls rolling ; cards shuffling ; 
venders crying their merchandise ; Indians chattering in the Mexican 
and Ottomy dialects ; the yell of a thousand squalling babies — and the 
bells tolling ! All combined to make a perfect Babel of noise, yet I am 
in considerable doubt whether my ears suffered more than my olfactories. 
I shouldered my way through the crowd, and entered the large court- 
yard in front of the church, which has once been a tasteful edifice, sur- 
rounded by a corridor, with a roof supported by stout columns, inclosing a 
beautiful garden. All is now in ruins, and the pillars of half the corridor 
lie in heaps in the corners, filled with filth and rubbish, with gigantic 
aloes growing in their crannies. 
From the steeple of the church to the top of the gateway, five ropes 
were stretched, and a large flower made of silk, in the shape of a pome- 
granate, was ascending and descending on each of them, drawn up and let 
down by men stationed on the azotea of the edifice. Among these flow- 
ers was an image of Juan Diego, the virtuous Indian to whom the Virgin 
presented the miraculous picture, which is now in the Sanctuary of 
Guadalupe. Juan, I imagine, was a sort of invited guest from one Virgin 
to the other, and seemed to enjoy himself vastly as he was jerked up and 
down on the rope by the Indians, who varied their task by an occasional 
pull at the bells. 
When we entered the church mass had not yet begun, and the edifice 
was comparatively empty. Indeed, 1 did not find it (except once during 
the day) very crowded with Indians, who seemed better satisfied with 
their goat-meat and pulque in the fresh air out of doors. 
