There are two kinds of maguey: the cultivated plant from which comes pulque, and one which grows wild in the desert parts of the country. From the latter is distilled a coarse liquor which is highly intoxicating, called mescal. This is a digression. Let us speak of our journey to Toluca. If this very interesting city did not possess any special attraction in itself, the unsurpassed scenery to be enjoyed on the route thither would amply repay the traveler for the brief journey. At about twenty miles from the city of Mexico, it is found that we have risen to an elevation of eleven hundred feet above it, from which point delightful views present themselves, embracing the entire valley, its various thrifty crops distinguishable by their many hues; here, yellow, ripening grain; there, the blue-green maguey plant; and yonder, wide patches of dark, nutritious alfalfa; together with irrigating streams sparkling in the sunshine, enlivened here and there by groups of grazing cattle. Now an adobe hamlet comes into view, the low whitewashed cabins clustering about a gray old stone church. Creeping up the mountain paths are long lines of toiling burros, laden from hoofs to ears with ponderous packs, and on the dusty road are straggling natives, men and women, bearing heavy loads of produce, of wood, pottery, and fruit, to the nearest market; while not far away a ploughman, driving three mules abreast, turns the rich black soil with his one-pronged, one-handled plough. Villages and plantations are passed in rapid succession, where scores of square, tower-like corn cribs, raised upon four standards, are seen adjoining the low, picturesque farmhouses.
At Dos Rios (Two Rivers), half-clad, gypsy-looking women and young, nut-brown girls besiege the passengers to partake of fresh pulque, which they serve in small earthen mugs. Two stout engines are required to draw us over the steep grade. The highest point reached is at Cima (The Summit) twenty-four miles from the city of Mexico, and ten thousand feet above the level of the sea. This is the most elevated station in the country, seriously affecting the respiration of many of our party. Indeed, any considerable exertion puts one quite out of breath at such an altitude. The conductor of the train was an American, who had been engaged upon this route for a year and more; but he assured the author that he was as seriously affected by the great elevation as when he first took the position. It was observed, however, that the natives did not seem to experience any such discomfort.