Ascent to the Summit of the Popocatepetl. 221 
the Cordilleras Mountains. Cn one side, the N.W., the forests of 
firs which surround it terminate at the foot of the valley, and the last 
trees are mingled with the wheat, Indian corn, and such other Ku- 
ropean plants, as grow at that height; but, towards the 8.E. the 
forests continue farther down. They, however, become gradually 
thinner, very soon disappear altogether, and are superseded by the 
sugar-cane, the cochineal-tree, and all the rich and varied vegetation 
of tropical regions. A traveller, by starting from the volcanic sands, 
a little above the boundary of vegetation, and coming down in a 
straight line into the valley of Cuautia-Amilpas, would ina few hours 
have gone through all climates, and could gather all the plants which 
grow between the Pole and the Equator. 
It follows from this, that the snow which is on the 8.E. side, must 
in certain cases be influenced by the breezes of warm air, which 
constantly rise up from the valley of Cuautia. The snow partly melts 
in the dry season, and whilst the north of the volcanic cone is per- 
petually covered with snow and ice down to the firs nearest to the 
top of the volcano, the lava porphyry on the south side are bare. 
This, therefore, is the side on which to look for a passage when 
wishing to ascend to the summit of this mountain, the highest in 
North America. [I tried it last year with a different result. 
You know how my first attempt proved unsuccessful. M. de 
Gerolt and myself were overtaken by one of those tropical storms, of 
which in Europe you can form no idea. It became indispensable 
to pass the night amongst the wet firs which grow on the brink of the 
‘sands ; we had but a cloth stretched with cords over a tree half thrown 
down, to shelter us from the rain, the hail, and the snow, and we 
considered ourselves fortunate in having thought of wrapping up our 
clothes, for a change, in the cloth which was destined to be so useful 
‘tous. You have probably not forgotten the storm over our heads, 
and that which rent the trees below us, and those horizontal flashes 
of lightning which produced so disagreeable an effect upon my trav- 
elling companion ; and then our six hours idle walk in the snow, 
after having been abandoned by our guides, and our blindness for 
several days, brought on by the reflection of the sun, and our fa- 
tigues, our sufferings, our want of courage, the loss of strength, and 
in fine the painful necessity of giving up our enterprise, when we 
had but twelve or thirteen hundred feet to climb before arriving at 
the summit, the promised land. 
