The New England magazine . Valley of Puebla through the clouds from Mt. Popocatepetl Whirling rocks, loosened from their rest-ing-places of centuries, came whizzingdown as if shot from a catapult. Many leagues to the east shone the whitewalls and towering Campaniles of Puebla,the city of the angels. Still farther arosethe inaccessible peaks of Mount threads of rivers stole down from the mountains and lost themselves in the foot-hills. Like a band of fairy sprites, whirl-ing wraiths of clouds circled around thedome of the White Woman, we climbed still higher, Mari
The New England magazine . Valley of Puebla through the clouds from Mt. Popocatepetl Whirling rocks, loosened from their rest-ing-places of centuries, came whizzingdown as if shot from a catapult. Many leagues to the east shone the whitewalls and towering Campaniles of Puebla,the city of the angels. Still farther arosethe inaccessible peaks of Mount threads of rivers stole down from the mountains and lost themselves in the foot-hills. Like a band of fairy sprites, whirl-ing wraiths of clouds circled around thedome of the White Woman, we climbed still higher, Marionsright foot became numb as a board, thecold growing more and more severe. It wasnot until then that we had fully realized. Down Popocatepetl on a toboggan 56 NEW ENGLAND MAGAZINE our lack of preparation for the hazardoustrip. Every time we fell on the icy crust ofthe snow, cutting our hands on the glasslikeprojections, we felt the need of spiked shoesand a pair of heavy mittens. And then thedense mists would sweep by us upward,chilling us to the bone. Whenever in thisway we lost sight of one another, wewould stand stilland wait for themist to clear. Asnowslide startedabove us and wentswirling down o nour left. The snowwas exceedinglyslippery and treach-erous. Had we fal-len, we would havetumbled into one ofthe deep ravines, ordashed down to LasCruces with thespeed of a runawayengine. At last,when our patiencewas as small as amole-hill and ourappetites as largeas mountains, wedragged ourselvesup a last fifty feetand crouched nearone of the peaks atthe craters rim,called Espinazodel Diablo (theDevils Backbone).From here we salu-ted Vaughan below with cheers that never reached him. Thediameter of this vast c
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, bookidnewenglandma, bookyear1887
