120 



Well, the last thing that night we were given notice that the 

 biggest official of the town wanted to see us at his office the next 

 morning by 9 o'clock. Now, we wanted to be at the nearest 

 railroad station by that time, and so we tried to find his honor 

 and learn what act or acts of lawlessness we had been commit- 

 ting. We did not dare to leave until he had given his permis- 

 sion, and we did not wish to stay, but fortunately my assistant 

 found him easily, and after much talk, we learned that he had 

 discovered that day, by looking over the old records of the town, 

 that eleven years before a party bad been in the town on the 

 same errand as ourselves — after plants and seeds — and he wished 

 to know if the seeds that the villagers traded off had grown well ! 

 My assistant fortunately remembered the name of the principal, 

 who was once a seedsman in the City of Mexico, and by explain- 

 ing that the firm no longer existed, and that I was from the Uni- 

 ted States of America, way off in California, we were finally 

 given permission to depart the next morning in peace. And the 

 next morning we set out, following a new route to the railroad, at 

 noon reached the " Bunker Hill of Mexico," charming Cuautla, 

 and that night I was again in my quarters in the City of Mexico. 



A few days later, securing horses and saddles, I started from 

 the City of Mexico, following much the same line of march over 

 which Cortes, centuries before, marched in triumph from the sea. 

 Snow-clad Popocatapetl loomed over us like a white-capped cloud 

 — rising nearly 10,000 feet above the valley at its base. Through 

 silent, sweet smelling pine forests lay the pass through the mount- 

 ains, and remembrance of the past history of this region recalled 

 those lines of the Spanish war song — 

 ' ' Their pines murmur song 

 Where bright blood hath been shed." 



As dusk approached I was urged to make greater speed, while 

 my companion regaled me with tales of cruel robberies, and 

 mentioned that certain places we had yet to pass possessed un- 

 savory reputations. Hastily passing over these interesting days 

 on horseback, the views of the pyramid of Cholula, the city of 

 Puebla, etc., I pass on to the rancho of Santa Rosa, where we 

 arrived one afternoon. Near the railroad station I climbed a 

 little hill and collected the most beautiful cactus I have ever 

 found in its home — the lovely Mamillaria elegans — which we 

 must now call Cactus supertextus for reasons already given in 

 previous remarks — a neat ball of short white spines, bearing 

 lovely pink flowers, exquisite in every part. 



The surroundings much reminded me of Californian landsca: 

 Many pretty {lowers were in blossom on the seemingly dry, 

 ren hill, and around the station, and near the little pond c 

 by were the last zephyr flowers of the season (Zephyanl 

 atamasco). of a lovely shade of rose-purple, springing like fairies 

 out of the ground. C. R. OitcrTT. 



