104 



RUBBER PLANTING ON THE 



There were, for example, first, second, and third class cars, with no Pull- 

 mans. The first class car might have been a baggage car for all the 

 luggage that the passengers had, and it might have been a smoking car 

 for the way in which both sexes smoked cigarettes ; indeed, it might 

 have been a barroom for the way that the train boy served native cognac 

 and beer. My seatmate, a powerful Swede, appreciated some of these 

 Providences more than I did. As he was interested in rubber planting, 

 and particularly as he understood Spanish, we became quite friendly, and 

 before I knew it he was taking my trip right out of my hands. He ver- 

 bally hustled me through Mexico, and by this time would have had me 

 in Patagonia, had I not put on the brakes. 



The first part of my journey from the city, the road ran through 

 enormous maguey plantations, from which Mexico's national drink, the 



STREET SCENE IN CORDOBA 



pulque, is drawn. Then, after miles of dusty plain, the road (near Esper- 

 anza) runs close to the mountain side, disclosing, some four thousand 

 feet below, the little native village of Maltrata. Zigzagging round the 

 mountain, tunneling through projecting rocks, clinging to the edge of 

 awful precipices, the train curves and slides, until it finally gets down to 

 the plain, and the powerful double-headed locomotive which held it back 

 stops with a veritable sigh of relief. 



Leaving Maltrata, the course still contiues down hill, following the 

 windings of a mountain stream some hundreds of feet below, until we 

 finally sight Orizaba/ clothed in eternal snow, lifting its head high above 

 all surrounding peaks, and to my mind far more beautiful and impressive 

 than Popocatepetl or its sister summit, over which tourists rave. After 



