u
of Mexico, in the _Terre-Froide_, eight thousand seven hundred feet
above the level of the sea.

What a change there was! The white soil was so light and dry that it was
carried away by the breeze, and produced nothing but a few leafless
trees. There were also some thorny bushes smothered in sand, and, a
little farther on, some gigantic _cacti_ astonished us with their
strange shapes. The sun, reflected by the red glaring surface, much
interfered with our sight, so we directed our steps to the right, where
there appeared to be a greater amount of shade.

"Oh, what a wretched country!" cried Lucien. "Can we be still in
Mexico?"

"Yes," replied I; "but we are now on the great plateau, almost on a
level with the city of Mexico and Puebla."

"Are we going to cross that great plain? I can see neither birds nor
beasts on it; in fact, one might almost fancy the very trees were
thirsty."

"You are right, for it does not often rain here. Nevertheless, this
ground, which at first sight appears so barren, is very fruitful when
cultivated. It produces wheat, barley, potatoes, apples, pears,
cherries, grapes, peaches, and, in short, all the European fruits, which
can only grow in a temperate zone. On this plateau, too, grows the
_Maguey agave_, _Mexicana_, a wonderful plant, which is as useful to
the Mexicans as the cocoa-nut tree is to the inhabitants of the lands to
which it is indigenous."

L'Encuerado had stooped down under a pepper-tree, and his glance
wandered over the scene. The fact was, that we were now about the same
height as that at which his own country is situated, and he might easily
fancy himself near his native village.

"What are you thinking of?" said I, tapping him on the shoulder.

"Oh Tatita! why did you disturb me? Here I feel myself almost as learned
as you, and I could tell you all the names of those flowers which turn
their bright faces towards me as if they knew me! It seems as if I had
often walked on that plain, and as if I had often seen these trees,
bushes, and plants-- You are laughing at me, Chanito; it's all very
well, but you'll see! Tatita will set me right if I tell you any thing
that is not true. Look here, for instance," continued the Indian, rising
up and plucking a plant with slender and whitish stems; "this is the
_alfilerillo_, which mothers give their children to cure them of sore
throats. Such shrubs are lost here; for their fruit would be useful in
my country. Here too, Chan