110 A PLANTATION IN A TROPICAL FOREST 
though they had been cut at random from the forest ; 
but, strange to say, these stakes do not appreciate their 
humble fuuction, and they straightway start to grow and 
also to blossom. Imagine an unkempt field, surrounded by 
miles of ugly barb wire fences on crooked posts, with great 
crowns of pink blossonis 11 bunches as large as your head 
on the top of each post. The appearance is too utterly ab- 
surd to be beautiful. 
But soon we reach the green country, the country of 
abundant vegetation. The foliage becomes brighter and 
darker, and many flowers appear. The surface is more 
rugged, and finally we begin to climb the first terrace of 
the mountain slope. Suddenly the country has become 
brilliant with flowers and dark green foliage. 
Beside the railroad I noticed one deep gorge, black 
perpendicular cliffs with dark green foliage spilling over it, 
a swift torrent rushing and roaring over a rocky ledge 
into a dark gulf below, and, over all, Mount Orizaba, with 
its white head, 18,220 feet in the air. Then a bridge of 
grey, time blackened masonry over a mountain torrent 
and a confused jumble of thatched huts scrambling across 
it. 
CORDOBA. 
Cordoba is a characteristic town of the Tierra Caliente. 
There is a principal street, say two miles long, a tram- 
track on which the cars are drawn by mules, a beautiful 
Spanish cathedral, hundreds of yearsold, a picturesque re- 
minder of old Spain, surrounded by the roughest assembly 
of uncivilized Indians. There was a fiesta or feast in pro- 
gress when I first visited the town, and Indians were there 
from all the surrounding countries. Under my window a 
family group was assembled ; a man, his wife and children, 
a brown, naked baby rolling on the road, one or two yellow 
dogs, some hens tied by one leg, a few little piles of fruit 
to sell, altogether a happy and picturesque group. 
A few hundred feet from the main street of Cordoba 
