Although the town of San Miguel de Tucuman is not very ancient, and its construction dates scarcely two centuries back, nevertheless – thanks, perhaps, to the calm and studious population which inhabit it – it has a certain middle age odour which is profusely exhaled from the old cloisters of its convents, and from the thick and gloomy walls of its churches. The grass in the low quarters of the town freely grows in the nearly always deserted streets; and here and there some wretched old house crumbling with age, leaning over the river which washes its foundations, incomprehensible miracle of equilibrium – presents to the curious look of the artistic traveller the most picturesque effects.
The Callejón de las Cruces, especially – a narrow and tortuous street, lined with low and sombre houses – which at one end abuts on the river, and at the other on the street de las Mercaderes, is, without doubt, one of the most singularly picturesque in the town.
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"I have told you – I walk; I admire the works of God – which, between ourselves, I find much superior to those of men – and I am happy."
