Some Heroes of Travel or, Chapters from the History of Geographical Discovery and Enterprise. W. H. Davenport Adams
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trait in the character of the Mexican; always excepting from this sweeping clause the women of the country, who, for kindness of heart and many sterling qualities, are an ornament to their sex, and to any nation.” Whatever may be affirmed to the discredit of the people, it cannot be doubted that they inhabit a country which was at one time the seat of a remarkable civilization, which presents to the traveller a succession of remarkable and frequently romantic scenery, and a wonderful variety and luxuriance of vegetation.
From the southern frontier of the United States it stretches down to the isthmus which connects the northern and southern mainlands of the great American continent. On the west its shores are washed by the waters of the Pacific; on the east, by those of the Mexican Gulf and Caribbean Sea. Roughly speaking, its area is about 850,000 square miles; its population may number ten souls to a square mile. Its form of government is pseudo-republican; and for administrative purposes it is divided into twenty-five provinces. Its capital, Mexico, has 200,000 inhabitants: its only other important towns are Puebla, 75,000 inhabitants; Guadalajara, 65,000; Guanajuata, 50,000; and San Luis and Merida, about 45,000 each.
A glance at the map will show you that Mexico consists in the main of an elevated table-land, which in the south rises up into the Cordilleras of Central America, and on the east and west descends, by more or less gradual terraces, to the sea-coast. Owing to its geographical position, this table-land enjoys the profuseness and beauty of a tropical vegetation; on the other hand, its climate is so tempered by its various elevations, which lie between 5000 and 9000 feet, that it has been found possible to naturalize the European fauna and flora. A remarkable geological feature is the volcanic belt or chain that runs from ocean to ocean between the parallels of 18° 15′ and 19° 30′ north latitude, and is marked by several active as well as extinct volcanoes. Among them may be named Orizaba, Cittalapetl (“The Mountain of the Star”), Popocatapetl (“The Smoking Mountain”), 17,884 feet, Istaccihuatl (“The White Woman”), and Toluca. Most of the mountain chains that break up the table-land are of comparatively low altitude; the principal is the Sierra Madre, or Tepe Serene. The two chief streams are the Rio Santiago and the Rio Grande del Norte.
In company with a young Spaniard who was travelling as far as Durango, Mr. Ruxton quitted Mexico one fine day in September, 1847, bent on crossing the country to the United States. He passed at first through a mountainous district, covered with dwarf oak and ilex; afterwards he entered upon a tract of open undulating downs, dotted with thickets. Villages were few and far between, and when found, not very attractive, consisting only of a dozen huts built of adobes, or sun-dried bricks. Crossing a rocky sierra, he came to the town of San Juan del Rio; its one-storied houses of stone, whitewashed, with barred windows, looking out upon a fair expanse of vineyard and garden. Forty miles beyond lay Queretaro; a large and well-built town of 40,000 inhabitants, surrounded by gardens and orchards. Its chief trade is the manufacture of cigars. These, as made at Queretaro, are of a peculiar shape, about three inches long, square at both ends, and exceedingly pungent in flavour. Excellent pulque is another of its products. Pulque, the national liquor of Mexico, is made from the saccharine juice of the American aloe, which attains maturity at the age of eight or fourteen years, and then flowers. Only while it is flowering may the juice be collected. The central stem which encloses the coming flower is cut off near the bottom, and a basin or hollow exposed, over which the surrounding leaves are closely gathered and fastened. The juice distils into the reservoir thus provided, and is removed three or four times during the twenty-four hours, by means of a syphon made of a species of gourd called acojote. One end is placed in the liquor, the other in the mouth of the operator, who by suction draws up the sweet fluid into the pipe, and forces it out into a bowl. Afterwards it receives the addition of a little old pulque, and is allowed to ferment for two or three days in earthen jars. When fresh, pulque, according to Mr. Ruxton, is brisk and sparkling, and the most cooling, refreshing, and delectable drink ever invented for mortals when athirst. The Mexicans call it “vino divino;” but, admirable as may be its qualities, it needs to be very temperately used.
Between Queretaro and Celaya the traveller gradually descends from the table-lands, and the air comes upon him with a warm tropical breath. Nopalos, or prickly-pears, line the road; the Indians collect the fruit—which is savoury and invigorating—with a forked stick. At Silao striking evidence of the geniality of the climate is supplied by the variety of fruit exposed for sale: oranges, lemons, grapes, chirimoyas, batatas, platanos, plantains, cumotes, grenadillas, mamayos, tunas, pears, and apples—a list which would have delighted Keats’s Porphyro when he was preparing a refection for his lady-love Madeline. But if fruit be abundant, so are beggars and thieves; and Silao is not a comfortable place to live in! Mexico, according to its climatic conditions, is divided into three great divisions—the Tierras Frias, or Cold lands; the Tierras Templadas, or Temperate lands; and the Tierras Calientes, or Hot lands. From Celaya our travellers stooped down rapidly into the Tierra Caliente, and the increased temperature was every day more perceptibly felt. Jalisco, the most important town on their route, is situated on the western declivity of Anahuac, a Cordillera which unites the Andes of South and Central America with the great North American chain of the Rocky Mountains. Mr. Ruxton describes the table-land on the western ridge of the Cordillera as blessed with a fertile soil and a temperate climate. It is studded with the populous towns of Silao, Leon, Lagos, and Aguas Calientes. The central portion, of a lower elevation and consequently higher temperature, produces cotton, cochineal, vanilla, as well as every variety of cereal produce. While the littoral, or coast region, teems with fertility, and lies in the shadow of immense forests, unfortunately it is cursed by the ever-prevalent vomito, or yellow fever, and its climate is scarcely less fatal to its inhabitants than to strangers.
At La Villa de Leon, a town celebrated for robbers and murderers, Mr. Ruxton met with an adventure. About nine o’clock in the evening he was returning from the plaza, which with its great lighted fires, the stalls of the market-people, the strange garb of the peasantry, and the snow-white sarapos, or cloaks, of the idlers of the town, presented a stirring aspect, when, striking into a dark and narrow street, a group of vagabonds, at the door of a pulque shop, detected that he was a stranger, and, mistaking his nationality, yelled at him: “Let’s kill him, the Texan!” Having no weapon but a bowie-knife, and not desiring an encounter with such overwhelming numbers, he turned off into another street; but the rascals followed him, renewing their wild cries. Happily, a dark doorway invited him to seek its shelter, and while crouching in its obscurity, he could see them rush by, knives in hand. When he thought they had all passed, he stepped forth, to find himself confronted by three wretches who brought up the rear, and who, brandishing their knives and rushing headlong at him, cried, “Here he is, here he is; kill him!” As the foremost rushed at him with uplifted blade, he swiftly stepped aside, and at the same moment thrust at him with his bowie. The robber fell on his knees with a cry of “Me ha matado!” (“He has killed me!”), and fell on his face. One of his companions hastened to his assistance; the other dashed upon Mr. Ruxton, but, confused by his calm attitude of preparation, fell back a few paces, and finally slunk away. Mr. Ruxton returned at once to his quarters, ordered out the horses, and in a few minutes was on his road.
By way of Aguas Calientes, a very pretty town, and Zacatecas, a populous mining town, he proceeded towards the Hacienda (or farm) of San Nicolas, with the view of traversing that singular volcanic region, the Mal Pais. Down to a comparatively recent period, it would seem to have been the theatre of plutonic phenomena of an extraordinary character. The convexity of the district enables the traveller to judge very readily of the extent of the convulsion, which has spread to a distance of twelve or fourteen miles from the central crater. The said crater measures about fifteen hundred feet in circumference, and its sides are covered with dwarf oaks, mezquito, and cocoa trees, which find a rich nourishment in the chinks and crevices of the lava. At the bottom stagnate the green and slimy waters of a small lake, which is fringed with rank shrubs and cacti, growing among huge blocks of lava and scoriæ. Not a breath of air disturbs its inky surface, save when a huge water-snake undulates across it, or a duck and her progeny swim out from their covert among the bushes.
“I led my horse,” says Mr. Ruxton, “down to the edge of the water, but he refused to drink the slimy liquid, in which frogs, efts, and reptiles of every kind were darting and diving. Many new and curious water-plants floated near the margin, and one, lotus-leaved, with small delicate