On the way to these islands by the Paseo de la Viga, we pass through an out-door vegetable market, which is remarkable for the size of some of the specimens offered for sale; radishes were displayed which were as large as beets, also plethoric turnips, overgrown potatoes, ambitious carrots, and broad spread heads of lettuce as big as a Mexican sombrero. There were many sorts of greens for making salads, of which the average Mexican is very fond, besides flowers mingled with tempting fruits, such as oranges, lemons, melons, and pineapples. The latter, we suspect, must have come from as far south as Cordova. Young Indian girls, with garlands of various-colored poppies about their necks, like the natives of Hawaii, offered us for a trifle tiny bouquets made of rosebuds, pansies, violets, tube-roses, and scarlet geraniums, all grown close at hand on these misnamed floating islands. One low, thatched adobe cabin, between the roadway and the canals, in Santa Anita, was covered with a mammoth blooming vine, known here as the _copa de oro_. Its great yellow flowers were indeed like cups of gold, inviting our attention above all the other floral emblems for which the little Indian village is famous. Great quantities come daily from this suburb to supply the city demand, and especially on the occasion of the floral festivals, which have their headquarters in the plaza and the alameda, as elsewhere described.
There is much to be seen and enjoyed in these brief excursions by tramway into the environs of the city. One should not forget to take the cars which start from the west side of the Plaza Mayor, and which pass through the Riviera de San Cosme out to the village of Popotla, where the famous "Noche-triste" tree is to be seen. It is situated about three miles from the plaza. Cortez is said to have sat down under its branches and wept over his misfortunes when he was obliged to retreat from the capital, on the night of July 1, 1520, still known as the "Dismal Night." Whether this story be true or otherwise, it matters very little. Suffice it that this big gnarled tree is held sacred and historic by the citizens, and is always visited by strangers who come to the capital. It is of the cedar family, and its dilapidated condition, together with the size of the trunk, shows its great antiquity. At present it measures ten feet in diameter at the base, with a height exceeding forty feet. Although broken and decayed in many of its parts, it is sufficiently alive to bear foliage. The gray, drooping moss hangs from its decaying branches, like a mourner's veil shrouding face and neck, emblematic of the tears which the daring adventurer is said to have wept in its shadow. An iron railing protects the tree from careless usage and from the knives of ruthless relic hunters. A party of so-called ladies and gentlemen--we are sorry to say they were Americans--broke off some of the twigs of the tree, in 1885, to bring away with them. For this vandalism they were promptly arrested, and very properly fined by a Mexican court. Close by this interesting tree of the "Dismal Night" stands the ancient church of San Esteban.