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Frederick J. Tabor Frost. The American Egypt: A Record of Travel in Yucatan
The American Egypt: A Record of Travel in Yucatan
Table of Contents
PREFACE
CHAPTER I. A BIRD'S-EYE VIEW OF MEXICO
CHAPTER II. MEXICO CITY AND THE MEXICANS
CHAPTER III. YUCATAN AND HER HISTORY
Footnote
CHAPTER IV. FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF YUCATAN
CHAPTER V. A YUCATECAN BREAKFAST, AND OTHER "SIGHTS"
CHAPTER VI. AMID THE PALACES OF THE ITZAS
Footnote
CHAPTER VII. VALLADOLID AND AFTER
CHAPTER VIII. IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF CORTES
Footnote
CHAPTER IX. EL MECO TO PUERTO MORELOS
Footnote
CHAPTER X. IN SEARCH OF THE MAYAN MECCA
CHAPTER XI. ON THE SOUTHERN SIERRAS
CHAPTER XII. COPAN AND QUIRIGUA
Footnote
CHAPTER XIII. PALENQUE, MENCHÉ, AND ON THE USUMACINTA
CHAPTER XIV. THE ANCIENT MAYANS
CHAPTER XV. WHO WERE THE MAYANS?
Footnote
CHAPTER XVI. WHO WERE AMERICA'S FIRST ARCHITECTS?
Footnote
CHAPTER XVII. THE AGE OF THE RUINS
Footnote
CHAPTER XVIII. HIEROGLYPHICS AND PAINTINGS
Footnote
CHAPTER XIX. SLAVERY ON THE HACIENDAS
Footnote
CHAPTER XX. YUCATAN AS IT IS TO-DAY AND THE YUCATECANS
CHAPTER XXI. THE GREEN GOLD OF YUCATAN
CHAPTER XXII. FLORA AND FAUNA
INDEX
Отрывок из книги
Channing Arnold, Frederick J. Tabor Frost
Published by Good Press, 2022
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Time was so much the essence of our tour that we decided to travel by the night train to Moctezuma's capital—where our chief business was the procuring of passports—despite the lamentations of acquaintances who assured us we were throwing away the opportunity of a lifetime—the sight of the train's climb of 8,000 feet in the sunlight. As it proved, we had perhaps in some ways a really more awe-inspiring night spectacle; for the moon, which had bathed the tropic seas night after night for us in such gorgeous silver, had but just passed its full the very day of our arrival in port.
When the tepid night settled down upon the plaza, we made a hurried meal and, leaving the crowd still drinking, made our way to the station. There are two trains every twenty-four hours each way between Mexico City and Vera Cruz, and a few minutes after we reached the platform the day train from the capital came lumbering in, the bell on its huge Atlantic type of engine ringing mournfully. The same train starts back within a few minutes—the engines only being changed—and the narrow platform was quite the wrong place for the dreamer during the next few moments, with the crowds clambering out of the huge corridor cars and a mob of would-be passengers fighting to get in. In the mêlée one of us slipped between the train and the platform, while the train was still slowly moving, but was withdrawn by a friendly arm before the oncoming bogey-wheel had passed over his foot and put a summary end to explorations in Yucatan.
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