If the previous letter was unusually private talk from a governor, in this one we have pronouncedly public correspondence. The general tone of official letters from governors to the crown is simply described: hysteria. Eternal emergency reigns. In don Luis de Velasco's picture, Spaniards may not be able to maintain a presence in Mexico; all elements of the population are on the verge of rebellion; the mines will soon be abandoned for lack of labor; the food supply situation is likened to a state of siege. Can this be the most peaceful and populous Spanish American colony at the time when discoveries of great silver mines are revolutionizing its economy, a land so plentiful in food and supplies that never an immigrant fails to comment on it? Don Luis is merely using the rhetoric of the genre, which had become so high pitched that only screams were worthy of attention. Both writers and recipients of such letters were perfectly capable of translating the shrieks into exclamation marks, and today's readers must also learn the art. The best way would be to read ten examples of governors’ letters from ten different times and places, observing how little the tone, vocabulary and content vary. For that we lack space, but it would be easy to find numerous letters in the best-known documentary collections which are close to this one in substance.

Other standard items here are the crude social stereotypes. Everyone is always idle, Spaniards as well as Indians, and the worst are always the blacks, mulattoes and mestizos. The solution proposed is always the same, mass deportation. (Needless to say, this was never carried out anywhere, nor immigration restricted meaningfully, though it is true that in the very early days expeditions into unpromising areas served as a safety valve with considerable effect.) The viceroy always feels that the Audiencia is insolent, that is, he would rather see it fully subordinated to him than have it act as a countervailing force, as it was meant to.