A part of the space once covered by this gruesome but majestic pile, is now occupied by the Monte de Piedad, or “mountain of mercy,” one of the most unique charities in the world. It is nothing more or less than a gigantic pawn-shop, but it is one of the most beneficient institutions in the country. The Count of Regla, a noted personage in Mexico, founded this institution by a gift of three hundred thousand dollars. He did this in order that the poor and needy, and the impoverished members of families once genteel, might secure small sums upon personal property at low rates of interest, instead of becoming involved in the meshes of the blood-sucking vampires who prey upon this class of unfortunates. About three-fourths of the actual value of the property pledged as fixed by appraisers, will be loaned. If the interest is not paid, the property is kept for seven months, when it is offered for sale at a fixed price. If not disposed of in another five months it is sold at auction.

The truly remarkable feature of this establishment is, that if a greater sum is realized than the amount of the loan and interest, the excess is placed to the credit of the owner, or his heirs, and will be kept for one hundred years, after which time it reverts to the institution. Many old heirlooms of former grandees, Aztec curios, diamonds, gold ornaments and even family gods have passed through this organization of charity. For more than a century it has existed, having survived all the civil wars, revolutions and changes of government. The original capital has been more than doubled by the forfeitures, and many branches of this parent institution are operated in the capital and in several of the large cities of the republic. It is an example that might be suggested to some of our multi-millionaires who do not know what to do with their vast accumulations of wealth.

Even the funerals are conducted in a strange way. With the exception of funerals among the wealthy, the street cars are universally used. The enterprising owner of the street car system some years ago acting on the trust idea, bought up all the hearses and introduced funeral cars. After a short time the people became accustomed to the new plan, which seemed to give satisfaction. Now, trolley funeral cars of the first, second and third class are furnished at a price varying from five dollars for the cheapest class, to a hundred dollars or more for a first-class car. Some of the poor rent coffins which are returned after the burial. The very poor may be seen carrying their dead on their shoulders to the Campo Santo, or holy ground. Graves are usually sold only for a certain number of years, after which, unless the relatives pay the prescribed fee, the bones are taken up and the ground made ready for a new occupant. The dead are soon forgotten. A pile of bones in a corner of the cemetery represents all that is mortal of the generations who passed away not many years ago. There is an entire lack of reverence for the mortal remains of the departed, such as one is accustomed to find in our own country. One is reminded of the couplet

The City of Mexico is not the healthiest city in the world. On the contrary the death rate is unusually high. The average duration of life is said to be only twenty-six years. This is due in a great measure to infant mortality. Typhoid and malarial fevers are prevalent because of the accumulated drainage of centuries, which lies just a few feet beneath the surface. Pneumonia is common and regarded as very dangerous because of the rarefied air, and patients suffering from this disease are immediately transported to lower altitudes for treatment. The entire lack of hygiene and sanitary conditions among the peon classes is in a great measure responsible for the unusual percentage of mortality. Few other cities in the world have such a high rate of deaths compared with the population.

Strange it is that the capital was ever built on this low, marshy soil when higher land was available and near at hand. It was one of the great blunders of Cortez, for Mexico might have been made a healthy city. No exigency of commerce dictated its selection, for it is far from the sea coast on either side and was difficult of access before the day of railroads. The new city was built on the site of the old, and the temples of the Christian religion were raised on the sites of the old pagan altars wherever possible. A plan of moving the city to higher ground was strongly agitated at one time but the vested interests succeeded in killing this project. It is hoped and believed that when the plans for sewerage are completed, the health conditions will be placed on a par with that of most cities. The authorities are making an honest and earnest effort to carry out these commendable projects.

Thus sings the lower class Mexican to whom this liquor has become a curse. To it is due much of his poverty and many of his crimes. For it he will neglect his family and steal from his employer. It does not contain a large percentage of alcohol, but, taken in large quantities, as is customary among these people, it puts them in a dopy condition which they sleep off. One railroad brings in a train-load each day, and, besides, large quantities are brought in by other lines. There are sixteen hundred pulque saloons in the capital, but they are all closed at six o’clock by a law which is strictly enforced. The pulque-shop betrays itself by its odour, as well as by the crowds of poorly dressed and even filthy men and women who surround its doors and press around the counter. It is a gaily decorated affair and is oftentimes adorned in flaring colours inside and out, with reds, blues, greens and yellows predominating, and frequently with a huge, rude painting on the outside walls. In some of the shops you will find a curious string knotted in a peculiar manner or strung with shells. This is a survival of the Aztec method of counting by means of beads, or shells, strung together.

As one writer says, “the pulque shop, notwithstanding its evil influence upon the life of the people, presents a very picturesque appearance to the tourist who has never seen anything like it before. The dress of the people, the curious, vivid colours of the walls of the building, the semi-barbaric appearance of the decorations within, the curious semi-symbolic pictures upon the walls, the unaccustomed groupings of the people, all combine to attract the attention of the stranger in Mexico.”

In the naming of the pulque-dens the imagination is allowed full play. I quote from a Mexican periodical the names of some of these resorts: A place in the suburbs of Mexico is termed the “Delight of Bacchus.” One is called “The Seventh Heaven,” another “The Food of the Gods,” while still another bears the euphonious title of “The Land of the Lotus.” “A Night of Delight” is another place near “The Heart’s Desire.” The above names are commonplace by the side of the following: “The Hang-out of John the Baptist,” “The Retreat of the Holy Ghost,” “The Delight of the Apostle,” “The Retreat of the Holy Virgin,” “The Mecca of Delight,” and “The Fountain of the Angels.” Nothing disrespectful is intended by these appellations but they sound very sacrilegious to us.

There is, however, a brighter side to the Indian life in the City of Mexico. In one corner of the Zocalo, and covering a part of the site formerly occupied by the great sacrificial altar, is the flower-market. This flower-market is always attractive and a never-ending source of interest to the tourist. Immense bouquets of the choicest flowers are sold so cheap that the price seems almost absurd. By judicious bargaining a few cents will purchase a large and varied supply of roses, violets and heliotrope, which only dollars could buy from a New York florist. No hot-houses are needed here at any season, for in this climate flowers bloom all the year round, and one crop succeeds another in a never-ending succession. The Mexican Indian is a lover of flowers. It is one of the redeeming traits of his character. He is not always particular as to his personal appearance; he may be unkempt and untidy to look upon; but he loves flowers, is prodigal in his use of them and shows good taste in their arrangement. This taste is innate, is no doubt inherited from his Aztec ancestors, and has survived the oppressions and exactions of the succeeding centuries. This love for flowers finds expression even in his worship, and it is no uncommon thing to find flowers before the image of the Virgin, and such an offering is one of the expressions of his good will. When we consider that our forefathers were taught to worship God with the first fruits of their husbandry, it is not surprising that this primitive and ignorant race should still find use in their worship for these beautiful products of a prodigal nature.

The gardens and parks of the City of Mexico attain a luxuriant growth that cannot be equalled in our northern cities. These breathing-places where one can sit amid scenes of tropical verdure, and admire the bright tints of the flowers while shielded from the hot sun by the broad-leafed foliage of the plants, are truly delightful spots for an American to visit. They contrast so strongly with the cheerless appearance of the streets. In the centre of the large Plaza Mayor lies the Zocalo, a little green oasis in the great paved waste. It is in the very heart of the city’s throbbing life, and everything either has its beginning or ending on this imposing square.

On one side of the Plaza lies the Palacio Nacional which has stood there for more than two centuries. It covers the site of the ancient palace of Montezuma, and has an imposing façade of nearly seven hundred feet. Over the main entrance hangs the Liberty Bell of Mexico which was rung by Hidalgo on the first call to independence at Dolores, where it had so often summoned the people to mass. The immense windows which look out upon the Plaza open into the various rooms where the official business of the executive department of the republic is transacted. Other parts of this immense structure, for it is almost a square building enclosing an open court, are occupied by the legislative chambers and barrack rooms for several regiments of soldiers.

A few blocks away from the Plaza lies the Alameda, which is the park of the better classes. Every city has an alameda, as the visitor soon learns, but this is the alameda of Mexico. It is a pretty place, and, with its beautiful trees, flowers and fountains, forms a resort for the fashionable people, who congregate here on Sundays and feast days to listen to the military bands. The visitor can almost lose himself in this part, for the view is circumscribed on every hand by the dense shrubbery.

It is on the subject of the Paseo de la Reforma that the Mexican becomes enthusiastic. This beautiful boulevard extends for a distance of two miles from a place near the Alameda to Chapultepec. It is a smooth thoroughfare averaging five hundred feet in width, with promenades on each side shaded by trees under which are stone seats, and with paved driveways in the centre. Here and there the Paseo widens into circles, called glorietas, in the centre of which are placed statues. Those already erected include statues to Charles IV of Spain, Columbus and Cuautemoc, the Aztec warrior and emperor. To Maximilian is due the credit for the Paseo, and a more beautiful boulevard cannot be found in Europe or America.

I have purposely described the old features of the city and the unique characteristics before touching upon the more modern innovations. The average visitor would follow that plan, for he would be more interested in the unusual than in that with which he is more or less familiar. Like all capitals and large cities affected by commercialism, the City of Mexico is fast becoming cosmopolitan. The traveller who visited it ten, or even five, years ago would be astonished at the changes wrought by improvements. The fine system of electric lights, the excellent electric traction lines with modern, cars, the asphalted streets and the attractive new suburbs of an entirely foreign architecture, link the old with the new, the sixteenth with the twentieth century. A city hindered by a racial conservatism, and obstructed at every turn by tradition, does not become entirely modern in a decade, but the trend is there and its progress has been really remarkable. It will never be a city of skyscrapers for a hard stratum is not encountered until a depth of a hundred and forty feet is reached.

A new and modern hotel is more needed than anything else. There are plenty of hotels of the Mexican kind, where it is almost impossible to find a room with an outside window. All the rooms simply have an opening on the patio which answers for both door and window. In cool weather which is sometimes experienced here, there is no means of heating these rooms except by an open pan of coals, which is not very satisfactory to one accustomed to modern steam-heated hotels or a good stove.

The national government controls the federal district within which is situated the City of Mexico, much the same as the District of Columbia, in our own land, and is assisted by a city council. Plans have been drawn for fifty million dollars’ worth of public buildings, many of which are already under way. The fine new post-office which has been building for several years is now occupied by that department. It is a beautiful structure of the medieval Spanish style, and is a striking departure from the other public buildings. It is four stories high, equipped with every convenience and is finished within and without in elaborate style.

A new legislative palace is under construction, which is the most pretentious building yet planned. Its estimated cost is $20,000,000. Opposite the post-office a national theatre is being erected to cater to the amusement lovers, which is designed to be the finest theatre in the new world. An entire block is being razed to make room for the Panteon Nacional—a resting place for Mexico’s illustrious dead. Within the marble walls of this unique memorial will rest all that is mortal of her heroes. An army and navy building, a museum of art and a department of public works are among the other improvements planned for the capital. These buildings are being scattered over the city instead of following the group plan as designed at Washington. The reason for this has been a desire to have every section of the city benefited and beautified by these public structures. The year 1910 marked the centennial of Mexican independence. The month of September was almost wholly given up to celebrations of this event in the capital. A number of public buildings were dedicated during the celebrations. Among these were a new insane asylum and several fine new public school buildings, which greatly added to the educational facilities of the city. A magnificent new monument to independence, recently erected on the Paseo, was dedicated with great ceremony. A number of gifts were made by foreign colonies and governments. Not the least of these was a monument to Washington, which was presented by the resident Americans. The ceremonies and functions of the centennial celebration were very elaborate, and the capital has been beautified in many ways as a result.

CHAPTER IV
THE VALLEY OF ANAHUAC

The dim traditionary history of Mexico shows us shadowy tribes flitting across the stage, each acting its part like the different performers in a vaudeville show, and then making way for other actors. The Valley of Mexico, or Anahuac, meaning “near the water,” seems to have been the centre of the civilization of these early tribes. It is a beautiful valley nearly sixty miles in length and thirty in breadth, and is enclosed by a wall of mountains which circumscribe the view in every direction. Six shallow lakes lie in this hollow: Texcoco, Xochimilco, San Cristobal, Xaltocan, Zumpango and Chalco, of which the first named is the nearest to the city and lies distant about three miles. It is easy to believe that the waters of these lakes at one time entirely surrounded the ancient city of Tenochtitlan, for within historic times their shores have greatly receded.

The history of these early races rests mostly upon tradition; yet a diversity of architectural ruins, and the few meagre records that remain, present certain general facts. These positive proofs leave no doubt that this valley was inhabited from a very early period by tribes or nations which made distinct advances in civilization. These tribes had developed certain of the useful arts and had evolved a social system that exhibited some refinement. The first of these races of whom we have reliable record are the Toltecs, who appeared in the Valley of Mexico in the seventh century at almost the same time that Mohammed was spreading his religion over Asia and Africa. Their sway lasted about five centuries, when they disappeared as silently and mysteriously as they came.

These peaceful and agricultural people were succeeded by the Chichimecs, a more barbarous race, who came from the north. They in turn were followed by the Nahuals. Lastly came the Aztecs, who entered the valley about 1196, and reached a higher state of civilization than any of their predecessors. War was their choicest profession, for they considered that warriors slain in battle were immediately transported to scenes of ineffable bliss. They offered human sacrifices to their gods. Prescott tells us of a procession of captives two miles long, and numbering seventy thousand persons who were sacrificed at one time. This is incredible, for at that rate the population would soon have been exhausted even in this prolific land. Furthermore we know that the Aztecs were not always successful in war, and may have furnished victims from their own numbers, for sacrifice to the gods of the other nations in the same land.

The Aztecs were clever workers in gold and silver, and were acquainted with a number of arts that are lost to-day. Their picture writings bear witness to a clever fancy and fertile invention of symbols. The numerous idols show their skill in carving and a true artistic instinct. Many antiquities have been exhumed from the swampy soil on which the capital city is built, in making excavations for improvements. The National Museum is a treasure house of these relics and it would take a volume to describe them. The huge Sacrificial Stone, which is generally supposed to have been placed on the top of the great altar, is preserved there. It also houses the horrible image of the god Huitzilopochtli, and a varied assortment of inferior gods, goddesses, and other objects of worship. But the most celebrated antiquity—the one showing the greatest advancement—is the Calendar Stone. This stone was buried for centuries, and when resurrected was placed in the west tower of the cathedral. From this place it was removed a few years ago and placed in the museum. It is a mighty stone, eleven feet and eight inches in diameter, and weighs more than twenty tons. The Aztecs divided the year into eighteen months of twenty days each, and then arbitrarily added five days to complete the year.

“Let us follow the cross, and if we have faith we will conquer,” was the motto on the banner of Cortez. It was with this spirit that he led his little band over the mountains and into the heart of the empire of Montezuma, late in the fall of 1519. He was met by that sovereign, tradition says, on the site of the present Hospital of Jesus, with every manifestation of friendliness. For several months they were the honoured guests of the Aztec chief, but at length the aggressions of the Spaniards changed friendship to hate and the Aztecs, rising in their wrath, chased the invaders from the city. Driven before the infuriated natives like sheep, they fled over the present road to the suburban village of Tacuba, and many were those who fell. This rout of the Spaniards has been painted with wonderful vividness by Gen. Lew Wallace in “The Fair God.”

It was an awful night of despair, that first day of July, 1520, and the Spaniards who escaped named it La Noche Triste, “the sorrowful night.” The pursuit stopped at the little town of Popotla. In this village is a great cypress tree whose branches are blasted by the storms of centuries. For a moment the strong will of Cortez gave way and he sat down upon a stone under the spreading branches of this tree and wept. Whether he wept most for his fallen soldiers or disappointment over his ignominious defeat, we are not told by the chroniclers. This tree is now noted as el arbol de la noche triste, or “the tree of the sorrowful night.” A high iron fence protects the ancient relic from the souvenir vandals.

The Spaniards retreated beyond the valley to their allies, the Tlaxcalans, at Cholula. Reinforcements and supplies arriving, they returned a few months later and began the memorable siege of Tenochtitlan, and made a triumphal entry into that city on the 13th of August, 1521. Then Guatemotzin, the last of the Aztec emperors, wept in his turn, because the sacred fires of the temple had for ever gone out, and his people would henceforth be slaves. “Take that dagger,” he said, “and free this spirit.” But, no, torture must come before death, for Cortez fain would learn where the gold was hidden that had so suddenly disappeared. To-day, in the City of Mexico, a statue stands in one of the circles of the famous Paseo, which commemorates this great warrior and his torture by the Spanish chieftain. This monument is greatly cherished by the Indians, who hold annual festivals in his honour and decorate it with a profusion of flowers and wreaths.

The great Valley of Mexico is without a natural outlet, and this fact has caused seven inundations of the capital during exceptionally rainy seasons. One of the lakes, Zumpango, is twenty-five feet higher than the city and drains into Texcoco, from which the waters spread over the city. When the first serious inundations came in 1553, 1580 and 1604, the project of removing the city to a higher level was strongly agitated. It was only the loss of millions of dollars of property that prevented this action. Then the idea of draining this valley was definitely adopted and the work was begun in 1607. A tunnel was decided upon and fifteen thousand Indians were set at work sinking shafts and driving the tunnel in both directions. Within a year a tunnel four miles long had been completed. This tunnel eventually caved in, so that very little good was realized from it and efforts were made to convert it into an open cut. But this undertaking was not finished until two centuries later. It is a great trench, however, with an average depth of from one hundred and fifty to two hundred feet, and from three hundred to seven hundred feet in width at the top. It is called the Tajo de Nochistongo, or Nochistongo cut, and its only use now is as an entrance for the Mexican Central railway. Even this waterway did not drain the valley, remarkable engineering feat as it was, but a new canal was constructed by American engineers a few years ago which successfully accomplishes the work of draining these shallow lakes and carrying off the sewerage of the city.

The first Aztecs who settled in this valley lived almost entirely in the marshes and lakes, we are told, because of the hostility of their fierce neighbours. They were thus obliged to depend almost wholly upon the products of these watered lands for their sustenance, and they acquired some strange and—we would say—depraved tastes. A reminder of those days is seen in the cakes made of the eggs of a curious marsh-fly, which are sold in the market of the City of Mexico to-day. The flies themselves are pounded into a paste and sold after being boiled, but the eggs are preferred. The Indians collect the eggs in a systematic manner. Bundles of a certain kind of sedge are planted in Lake Texcoco and the insects deposit their eggs thereon in great quantities. These bundles as soon as covered are shaken over pieces of cloth and replaced for another supply. The eggs thus collected are made into a paste and form a favourite article of food, especially during Lent.

It is interesting to learn what different races regard as toothsome dainties. In Southern Mexico I have seen bushels of common grasshoppers sold in the markets as a delicacy, reminding one of the locusts and wild honey used as food in Biblical times. In other parts of Mexico the honey-ant is greatly sought after for food. The natives of Central America are partial to the iguana, a large lizard sometimes reaching a length of three or four feet, and prefer it to beef. After all there is no accounting for tastes. A man who eats snails might criticize another who relishes oysters. And perhaps the man who want his cheese “ripe” should not criticize the poor Indian who has inherited a taste for the eggs of the fly.

There are many places of interest round about the City of Mexico which are easily reached. One should not fail to visit the famous jardines flotandos or “floating gardens” where the beautiful flowers sold in the market are grown. These gardens, called by the Aztecs chinampas, are reached by the Viga Canal. The inquirer is told to take a gondola and float down to them. The name gondola excites pleasant anticipations of a delightful trip. Entering a mule-car at the Plaza Mayor the canal is soon reached after traversing a number of narrow streets which would not especially delight the fastidious traveller. The gondoliers take the stranger almost by force and urge him into one of the flea-infested boats that abound at the landing, and which more resemble a collection of mud-scows than any other kind of floating fleet. Instead of using oars these queer gondoliers with the picture hats pole the boat through the muddy waters of La Viga, stirring up odours which cause the passenger to wish that he was not gifted with the sense of smell, or that he could temporarily dispense with breathing. However, there is life in the stream and on the banks that is typically Mexican, for boats are constantly passing up and down. Occasionally a load of Indians will float by playing native airs on guitars and other string instruments, with the light-heartedness and gaiety peculiar to this race. On the bank are scattered many native thatch huts around which idle natives group. Along the road pass men and women going to and from the city with loads on their heads or on their backs. The “floating gardens” are always just beyond. They are first at Santa Anita but, when this place is reached, they are at Mexicalcingo. Arrived there the visitor is sent to Ixtacalco, and then he is forwarded to Xochimilco, and so the real floating gardens are never reached. The fact is that they do not float and perhaps never did. This characteristic only exists in the imagination, for it sounds romantic to speak of gardens that can be moved around and anchored at will.

Disembarking at an unattractive mud and thatch village bearing the charming name of Santa Anita, self constituted guides are waiting to conduct you to the object of your visit, something which does not literally exist. Yet the “floating gardens” are all about you at this place. They are simply marsh lands with canals leading in and out and crossways by means of which the gardener can reach all parts in his boat. The earth may yield somewhat if you step upon it, but they do not float. It is possible, and historians so assert, that floating gardens did exist in reality during the Aztec invasion. These people were frequently driven to dire extremities to secure food. They may have adopted the plan of making floating gardens which could be moved about as necessity compelled. This was done by culling masses of vegetation with its thick entwined stems and pouring upon this mat the rich mud dredged from the bottom of the lake. Then, as the masses settled, more mud was put on until the whole anchored upon the bottom of the lake and became immovable. The gardens look beautiful, covered as they are with the many-coloured blossoms. By means of the canals the roots are kept thoroughly moist at all times, and the plants thrive luxuriantly.

This canal of La Viga was formerly a great trade route, for a large part of the natives came to the City of Mexico by this way. It leads back into regions where dwell full blooded Aztecs who speak a language that is said to be almost the pure ancient tongue. These natives can be distinguished from all others on the street and in the market by their features and peculiar dress. They are clannish and keep by themselves, except in the intercourse made necessary by barter and trade. They are proud of their lineage and rejoice in the fact that they have not mingled with the other native races.

Tacuba, distant only a few miles, is an interesting little village, and has many gardens and a fine old church. It is a good place to study the people and get snap-shots of quaint life. Its principal distinction is that it was a proud city when Tetlepanquetzaltzin was king once upon a time. Texcoco at the time of the conquest was the capital of the Tezcucans, who were a race in alliance with the Aztecs, but it is now principally in ruins, for its glory has passed away. El Desierto was once the home of the Carmelite monks and is frequently visited now in its decay. Coyoacan was the first capital of Mexico, for Cortez established the seat of government there for a time while the new city was being built.

Tacubaya is the home of the wealthy as well as the sporting element. It has beautiful gardens within the adobe walls surrounding the homes of the opulent. It is on higher ground and should have been the site of the capital city itself. It is also called the Monte Carlo of Mexico, for gamblers of all sorts and conditions congregate here in booths or under umbrellas, and you can lose any sum at games of chance as at that famous resort along the shores of the blue Mediterranean. Games, music, dancing, cock-fights, and bull-fights are a few of the attractions to amuse and entertain the visitor, and relieve him from the burden of carrying around the weighty silver pesos.

In all this beautiful and historic Valley of Mexico there is no more beautiful spot, or none around which so many memories cling, as Chapultepec, the Hill of the Grasshoppers. Historic and beautiful Chapultepec! A great grove of noble cypresses draped with masses of Spanish moss surrounds this rock, and between the trees and along the shores of a pretty little lake wind enchanting walks. One grand old cypress called Montezuma’s tree rises to a height of one hundred and seventy feet. It is a magnificent breathing spot—with which no park that I have ever seen in America compares. Legend says that on the top of this rock was situated the palace of Montezuma, and it is probably only legend. No doubt that emperor often rested himself under the friendly shade of the great ahuehuete, and reflected on the glory of his empire before the disturbing foreigners came. The present Castle of Chapultepec dates from 1783 when it was begun by one of the viceroys. Later viceroys, presidents and an emperor added to the original building until now it is a palace indeed but not a beautiful structure. Ill-fated Maximilian made this his home and added greatly to the beauty of the grounds. It is now the White House of Mexico although occupied only a part of the year by the president.

Perhaps nowhere in the world does there exist a more beautiful scene than that which unfolds to the view from this rock. All around is the great sweep of plain with its wealth of cultivated fields; the distant mountain range with its ever varying outline; the snow-capped twin peaks, Popocatapetl (seventeen thousand, seven hundred and eighty-two feet) and Ixtaccihuatl (sixteen thousand and sixty feet), standing like silent sentinels and dominating the horizon; the silver line of the lakes; and beneath us the fair City of Mexico, the ancient Tenochtitlan. Legend says that Popocatepetl, “the smoking mountain,” and Ixtaccihuatl, “the woman in white,” were once living giants but that having displeased the Almighty they were changed to mountains. The woman died and the contour of her body covered with snow can be traced on the summit of the smaller peak. The man was doomed to live for ever and gaze on the sleeping form of his beloved. At times when his grief becomes uncontrollable he shakes with his great sobs and pours forth tears of fire.

As I stood on that historic rock I thought of the New World Venice described by Prescott, “with its shining cities and flowering islets rocking, as it were, at anchor on the fair bosom of the waters.” Rising above all was the great sacrificial altar upon which the sacred fires were ever kept burning. Beneath this rock under the friendly branches of the giant cypress Montezuma has no doubt sheltered himself from the hot sun. Cortez here rested himself after his severe marches. French zouaves in their quaint uniforms have bivouacked in the grove. American blue-coats stacked their arms here after the victory of Molino-del-Ray. And Mexicans now take their siestas under the same friendly shade while other races are robbing them of their wealth.

Yes, historic scenes and tragedies have taken place on this plain. Nations have come and gone. Victors have themselves been led away captives, and taskmasters have in turn become slaves. How finite is man or his works in the presence of this great panorama of nature! Races have come and gone but the mountains endure. Human tragedies have been enacted here but the sky is just as blue and the sun just as bright, as when Cortez looked with envious eyes upon this beautiful valley. The mimic play of men, and women and races upon this amphitheatre has scarcely left its imprint. The only occasions when the calm serenity of nature has been disturbed were when the giant Popocatapetl, overcome with grief at the loss of his beloved, has shaken this whole valley with his sobs and poured forth plenteous tears of fire over its fair surface.

CHAPTER V
THE TROPICS

In no country in the world is it possible to move from one extreme of climate to the other in so short a time as in Mexico. Within less than twenty-four hours one can travel from the sun-baked sands of the Gulf coast to the snow-covered, conical peak of one of the great extinct volcanoes, thus traversing every zone of vegetable life from the dense tropical growth of the former to the stunted pines of the latter. By railway it is a journey of only a few hours from the plateaus, at an altitude of eight thousand feet, to the sea level, and a most interesting ride it is. The Mexican Railway, which is the oldest railway in the republic, runs from the capital to Vera Cruz and is the best route, for its wonderful engineering feats and beautiful scenery have drawn tourists from all parts of the world. Leaving the capital, the road skirts the bank of Lake Texcoco, through a pass in the mountains surrounding the Valley of Mexico, and across the Plains of Apam, the home of the maguey, for a hundred and fifty miles before the exciting part of the trip is reached.

The descent begins at Esperanza, which lies at the very foot of Mt. Orizaba. Esperanza means “hope” and it is well named for the traveller can “hope” for better things as the train approaches the coast. Noah’s Ark rests near here, for I saw it with my own eyes labelled in plain letters, Arc de Noe, but it is now—sad to tell—devoted to the sale of pulque. Esperanza is eight thousand and forty-four feet above the sea and one hundred and twelve miles from Vera Cruz as the track runs, but much nearer as the crow would fly. There is a drop of four thousand, one hundred feet in the next twenty-nine miles and it is one of the grandest rides in the world. In places the road seems like a little shelf on the side of a towering mountain while a yawning chasm awaits the coach below. As soon as Boca del Monte (Mouth of the Mountain) is reached, only a few miles from Esperanza, the downward impetus is felt and all the energy of the curious double-ended English engines is devoted to holding back the heavy train with its human cargo.

Passing through a tunnel here, the scene bursts upon the traveller without any warning or prelude, in all its grandeur and magnificence. The engine accommodatingly stops for water so that the passengers have an opportunity to view this wonderful panorama. Maltrata nestles in the hollow, a dozen miles away by rail, yet the red tiles of the roofs, a red-domed church and the ever-present plaza gleam in the sunshine two thousand feet directly underneath. The valley is almost flat and is divided into squares by hedges and walls and, reflecting every shade of green, looks like a checker-board arrangement of nature. Beyond the valley, hill succeeds hill until they are lost in the purple haze of the horizon, or are overtopped by snow-capped Orizaba. Indians appear here with beautiful bouquets of roses, tulips and orchids, with their yellow, pink and red centres, for sale. The train passes on over a narrow bridge spanning a deep chasm and down the mountain until Maltrata is reached, where the same Indians will greet you with the same bouquets, for they have climbed down the two thousand feet in less time than it took the train to reach the same level.

Leaving Maltrata the road enters a cañon called El Infernillo, the Little Hell, goes through a tunnel and another beautiful valley, running through fertile fields and by wooded hills, until Orizaba, the border-land of the tropics, is reached.

This city at an altitude of four thousand feet is in the tierra templada, the temperate region. This zone is as near paradise in the matter of climate as any location on earth could well be. It retains most of the beauties and few of the annoying insects and tropical fevers of the hot zone. It has the moisture of the lowlands with the cool breezes of the uplands and is well named “temperate zone” because of its fine climate and equable temperature.

Orizaba is a town of thirty-five thousand people and a very beautiful and interesting place with its palm-shaded streets and low Moorish buildings. Its Alameda is a quaint, shady park with an abundance of flowers and blooming trees. Along the street the orange trees thrust their laden branches out into the highway over the low adobe walls. On the banks of the stream the washerwomen beat their clothes to a snowy white upon the smooth round stones. Life moves along in smooth, easy channels with these people. And it is not to be wondered at, for there is

Between Orizaba and Cordoba, a distance of sixteen miles, is perhaps the best cultivated section in Mexico. The products of all the zones are mingled and corn and coffee grow side by side as well as peach trees and the banana. Cordoba is just on the border of the tierra caliente, or hot country proper, and is a much smaller city than Orizaba. It is a very old town and was founded as a place of refuge from the malarial fevers of the coast lands. This region is noted for its fine coffee, and there are numberless coffee plantations as well as many sugar haciendas. The Mexican of the tropics can be seen here dressed in immaculate white. Leaving Cordoba dense tropical forests of palm and palmetto begin to appear. These alternate with groves of coffee and bananas, gardens of mangoes, fields of pineapples and other tropical fruits. Nature begins to manifest herself in her grandest productions. Birds of brilliant plumage are seen. The towering trees, rocks and entire surface of the soil are covered with bright flowers such as orchids, oleanders and honeysuckles and luxuriant vines. These and the dense jungles are all reminders that the tropics have been reached at last. Soon the train enters Vera Cruz, the city without cabs, the landing-place of the great conquistador and his cohorts.

The principal port now, as it has always been since the landing of Cortez on the twenty-first day of April, 1519, is Vera Cruz, or, as he named it, La Villa Rica de Vera Cruz—the Rich City of the True Cross. Most Americans who pass through here leave by the very first train or boat for fear of pestilence. I met one fellow-countryman there who was almost beside himself because the boat he had expected to take was delayed a couple of days. This city is reputed to be the favourite loafing-place of the stegomyia fasciata whose bite results in the vomito, or yellow fever. If all the sensational reports sent out concerning this city were true then “Pandora’s box was not a circumstance to the evils which Vera Cruz contains.” I had read in Mr. Ober’s excellent work on Mexico of an American consul who died here just thirteen days after reaching the port that his ambition had led him to; and of the terrible ravages of the scourge when deaths were averaging forty per day. I arrived there after night had set in. Eating a light supper and seeing that my name was duly posted on the big blackboard bulletin according to the custom prevailing there, I retired to my room, and only breathed freely after securely drawing the mosquito netting around my bed so that it would be impossible for a stegomyia to get through.

It was almost a surprise on the following morning to find able-bodied Americans and husky Englishmen pursuing their avocations in an unconcerned way as though such things as yellow fever or smallpox were not to be thought of. Then, again, I was alarmed at the numerous red flags hanging out, which I took to be quarantine flags, for everything is different here. Upon investigation this alarm was dispelled, for those places proved to be pulque-shops and the flag meant that a fresh supply of the “liquor divine” had just been received. It is probably true that Vera Cruz was a hot-bed for the vomito a few years ago, but Mexican statistics report only twelve deaths in 1904 and one hundred and twenty-two in 1905 from this disease, which is not bad for a city of thirty thousand people, where a large proportion of the population cannot be made to obey the ordinary laws of sanitation. I doubt whether the death rate is much greater than in our own cities on the Gulf coast. This change is due to the better situation that has been brought about by the authorities.

An adequate supply of pure water was the first important step in this move for improved conditions. This was secured by utilizing the water of the Jamapa River at a point about twelve miles distant and passing this water through several filtering beds before turning it into the mains which supply the city. A sewerage system has been constructed, by means of which the sewerage is carried out and discharged into deep water so that the harbour will not be contaminated. Disinfecting stations have been established and a plant for the disposition of garbage. Then in addition to the regular force of health officers, there is a large volunteer street cleaning brigade. These volunteer forces are not on the pay-roll and yet they do their work in a thorough manner even if their methods cannot be approved. Their only reward is the enforcement of a fine of five dollars for the protection of their lives. By the natives these street cleaners are called zopilotes but to an American they are plain, every-day buzzards. Hundreds of these birds can be seen perched on the roof-tops or waddling through the streets.

For centuries the port of Vera Cruz was the bane of vessel owners for there was no protection from the severe “Northers” so prevalent on the Gulf and it was one of the most inconvenient and dangerous harbours on that coast. It was for this reason that Cortez destroyed the vessels which had brought his forces over from Cuba. An excellent harbour has been constructed at great cost and ocean-going vessels can now anchor alongside of the main pier and unload. A large new union station will at once be erected by the four railways entering this city on a site adjoining the pier, which will further increase the facilities of this port.