accomplish this it was
necessary at first to suspend workmen by ropes over the brow of the
cliffs, lowering them down until they were opposite the point to be
operated upon, and, after making fast the ropes which held them, leave
them there to work for hours with hammer and chisel. There was one piece
of roadbed, not more than ten rods in length, where the track seemed to
run on a narrow shelf barely wide enough for the cars to pass, which is
said to have required seven years to render available. We can well
conceive it to have been so, for the whole road from Vera Cruz to Mexico
was about five times seven years in building. The view is at times such
as to incline the experienced traveler to hold his breath, if not to
close his eyes, in a tremor of excitement. In the steepest part of the
route the descent is at the rate of one hundred thirty-three and one
third feet to the mile! Were a wheel to break, an iron nut to give way,
or the trusted brakes fail to operate, what a frightful catastrophe
would instantly follow!

Between Orizaba and Cordova, a few rods off the line of the railway to
the left as we go from the former to the latter place, is a dark,
cavernous passage cut through the hillside a hundred feet or more,
leading to the view of a waterfall of great beauty and of considerable
size. It is closely framed on all sides by dark green foliage, tall and
graceful trees partially overhanging it. Dainty orchids and beautiful
ferns hang upon the damp rocks and the brown tree-trunks. Here the cars
stop for a brief period, to enable us to delight our eyes and ears by
the sight and sound of the riotous waters. A waterfall or cascade in
this climate is enhanced in importance for many reasons; the very sight
of rushing, foaming water has a cooling and refreshing effect when the
thermometer is at 90 deg. Fahr. The rank, tropical verdure, the depth of
the sombre gorge, the tumultuous, sparkling waters, the cool, welcome
shade, and the ceaseless anthem of the falls make the charming spot a
scene long to be remembered. One would have liked to linger there for
hours. Finally, after having passed over a distance of nearly twenty
miles, we cross the bridge of Metlac, built over a river of the same
name, and arrive in sight of Cordova, whose domes and towers are just
far enough away to clothe them in a soft, inviting, amber hue.

Cordova is situated in the fertile valley of the Rio Seco, and in the
midst of a sugar and coffee prod