shippers with the idea of their temples. Lofty, terraced sides and level summits extended far enough to allow room for the imposing ceremonial of their worship.
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
