"Mexico, picturesque, political, progressive" by Mary Elizabeth Blake, Margaret Frances Sullivan. Published by Good Press. Good Press publishes a wide range of titles that encompasses every genre. From well-known classics & literary fiction and non-fiction to forgotten−or yet undiscovered gems−of world literature, we issue the books that need to be read. Each Good Press edition has been meticulously edited and formatted to boost readability for all e-readers and devices. Our goal is to produce eBooks that are user-friendly and accessible to everyone in a high-quality digital format.
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Mary Elizabeth Blake. Mexico, picturesque, political, progressive
Mexico, picturesque, political, progressive
Table of Contents
PART I
PICTURESQUE MEXICO
Into the Sun Land
MEXICO
CHAPTER I
Glimpses of a New World
CHAPTER II
GLIMPSES OF A NEW WORLD
The City of Mexico
CHAPTER III
THE CITY OF MEXICO
Through Lanes and Highways
CHAPTER IV
THROUGH LANES AND HIGHWAYS
On the Southern Slope
CHAPTER V
ON THE SOUTHERN SLOPE
Shrines and Pilgrimages
CHAPTER VI
SHRINES AND PILGRIMAGES
Literary Mexico: A Group of Novels
CHAPTER VII
Blossoms of Verse
CHAPTER VIII
BLOSSOMS OF VERSE
From Conquest to Independence
CHAPTER IX
FROM CONQUEST TO INDEPENDENCE
Constitution and Government
CHAPTER X
CONSTITUTION AND GOVERNMENT
Religion and Education
CHAPTER XI
RELIGION AND EDUCATION
Revenue and its Application
CHAPTER XII
REVENUE AND ITS APPLICATION
Отрывок из книги
Mary Elizabeth Blake, Margaret Frances Sullivan
Published by Good Press, 2021
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Sometimes for hours, fields green with springing corn, or the soft verdure of young wheat, lined each side of the road; sometimes a herd of sheep gathered about the rare water-courses, or were grouped under great roofs of thatch, held up by forked poles without any side coverings.
Nine miles below the city of Zacatecas, the railroad begins to rise, by a triumph of magnificent engineering, up a grade of one hundred and seventy-five feet to the mile, making on the passage some of the most abrupt curves conceivable. It recalled the old Colorado cañons, only that here we went around the hillside instead of plunging over precipices and bridging gorges with trestles. The powerful engine panted like some hard-pressed animal, and the train of heavy cars dragged wearily up after it. We forgot fatigue, forgot fear, forgot — what is harder to forget than either — supper, and crowded the narrow platforms with an excitement almost painful. At last, with one mighty, final effort, we turned the last sharp mountain spur, and with the Büfa rising high on the left, its enormous crest of rock above like the dorsal fin of some fossil monster, with a glow of red gold over all the western sky, and the evening star shining palely in the east, we rested on the crest of the hill above the dark, little, sleeping town, with only three faint points of light to indicate its location or give any sign of life.
