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Show JOURNEY TO THE RIO GRANDE. 221 making shut alleys or narrow streets, and other openings show the interior of these mud- walled squares to be a sort of stamping ground in common, for pigs, chickens, jackasses, children, ugly old women and " Greasers." Reaching the plaza, things look a little better. There at least is a patch of green, a tract grown up in alfalfa, or Spanish clover. We stop at the Exchange, the only hotel in the city for white men, or rather Americans, the other ' distinction, though perfectly accurate, not being well relished here. The Exchange is a one- story square, like all the rest; but across the middle of the square is a line of buildings containing the dining- room and kitchen, and dividing the stable- yard and poultry run from the open court for human use. An arched way between the kitchen and dining- room connects the two courts; on the human side women and children take their recreation, and men of quiet or literary tastes can sit and read ; while the stable side is sacred to dog- fights, cock- fights, wrestling- matches, pitching Mexican dol-lars and other exclusively manly pursuits. The people of Santa Fe evidently do not take in their philosophy the statement that '' Man was made to mourn." But I have little time to note these facts, for soon after leaving the coach my head is rolling as in a fit of sea- sickness; and I soon take to bed, where I remain for fourteen hours. Rising refreshed, I see the city in a fairer light. The streets are dreary in themselves, but the wayfarers are picturesque. Here comes a mountaineer with a cabaUardo of donkeys, each bearing his little load of wood or hay piled high on his back and strapped as only a Mexican can strap it. Next is a well- to- do citizen always fairer than the common people with all the pride of the gente fina ; then a Pueblo Indian with redder complexion than his wild congener, and curiously striped and col-ored blanket wrapping his stocky form. White soldiers in blue are numerous, for this is military headquarters for a large district; stylish officers with American wives brighten the principal street or saunter in the plaza, while heavily loaded army wagons drag slowly through the dust. The local traders, mostly Jews, add not a little to the com-fort of the place ; they speak all the languages used here, and are all things to all men to make it pleasant for visitors. The sun shines from a sky of dazzling purity, but the air is cool ; fires are necessary in the hotel parlor except for a few hours of midday, and I wear my overcoat on the streets. The city has a summer climate like that of Quebec, and a winter atmosphere much like that of Tennessee. All this is a surprise, as I had somehow got the idea |