When We Were There, A Few Native Huts And
Two Or Three Stone Buildings At The Edge Of The Jungle
Constituted The 'town.' We Bought Some Horses, And Hired Two
Men - A Mexican And A Yankee - For Our Ride To The City Of
Mexico.
There was at that time nothing but a mule-track, and
no public conveyance of any kind.
Nothing could exceed the
beauty of the scenery. Within 160 miles, as the crow flies,
one rises up to the city of Mexico some 12,000 feet, with
Popocatepetl overhanging it 17,500 feet high. In this short
space one passes from intense tropical heat and vegetation to
pines and laurels and the proximity of perpetual snows. The
path in places winds along the brink of precipitous
declivities, from the top of which one sees the climatic
gradations blending one into another. So narrow are some of
the mountain paths that a mule laden with ore has often one
panier overhanging the valley a thousand feet below it.
Constantly in the long trains of animals descending to the
coast, a slip of the foot or a charge from behind, for they
all come down the steep track with a jolting shuffle, sends
mule and its load over the ledge. We found it very difficult
in places to get out of the way in time to let the trains
pass. Flocks of parrots and great macaws screeching and
flying about added to the novelty of the scene.
The villages, inhabited by a cross between the original
Indians and the Spaniards, are about twenty miles apart.
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