The grand volcano of Orizaba had been hidden from us ever since that morning when we saw it from far out at sea, but now it rises on our left, its upper half covered with snow of dazzling whiteness,--a regular cone, for from this side the crater cannot be seen.

It looks as though one could walk half a mile or so across the valley and then go straight up to the summit, but it is full thirty miles off.

The air is heated as by a furnace, and as we jolt along the road the clouds of dust are suffocating.

We go full gallop along such road as there is, banging into holes, and across the trenches left by last year's watercourses, until we begin to think that it must end in a general smash.

We came to understand Mexican roads and Mexican drivers better, even before we got to the capital.
Before us and behind lay wide lakes, stretching from side to side of the valley; but the lake behind followed us as steadily as the one before us receded.