CHAPTER XXII.
TO MEXICO BY RAIL.
THE first object which meets the voyager's eye as he approaches Mexico from the east by sea and nears the city of Vera Cruz is the white cone of snow-crowned Orizaba—"Mountain of the Star"—as it rises behind the city, the giant leader of a file of volcanoes crossing the continent in this latitude. Flat upon the beach before him lies the harborless town, the Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz—"Rich City of the True Cross"—of Cortez. Its white towers and walls and gayly-tinted roofs and domes, mingled with tufted and feathery palms, give to the picture an attractiveness not sustained upon a nearer view. The illusion is dispelled on entering the city, which is dreaded by strangers as the abode of miasms, the home of the deadly vomito. It is, however, regularly laid out, with streets crossing at right angles, and with houses two stories in height, built of coral-rock stuccoed. The buzzards perched lazily on every roof and every tower, and even on the golden crosses of the churches, seem sombre symbols of danger to the visitor. There is no true harbor here offering shelter in rough weather. From November to May the "northers" sweep the Gulf with resistless fury, often strewing the coast with wrecks. But these wild winds no sooner begin to rage than the city is cleared of the dreaded vomito, that scourge of these
