. A white umbrella in Mexico. We have the pulque, the old man drink-ing my share, and on our way to the sta-tion pass through the market-place. Mylast view of this delightful old city isacross this market-place, with the domedbuildings in the background silhouetted against theevening over theopen spacewhere therush andtraffic of themorninghad heldsway now lounged and slept hundreds oftired people, some on the steps surround-ing the square stone column centring theplaza, others flat on the pavement. Herethey will doze until the sun looks at themfrom over the Cerro de las Camp an
. A white umbrella in Mexico. We have the pulque, the old man drink-ing my share, and on our way to the sta-tion pass through the market-place. Mylast view of this delightful old city isacross this market-place, with the domedbuildings in the background silhouetted against theevening over theopen spacewhere therush andtraffic of themorninghad heldsway now lounged and slept hundreds oftired people, some on the steps surround-ing the square stone column centring theplaza, others flat on the pavement. Herethey will doze until the sun looks at themfrom over the Cerro de las Camp an they will shake themselves together,and each one will go in search of his dailyavocation. It is safe to say that not onein ten ever finds CHAPTER IV. SOME PEONS AT AGUAS CALIENTES. Blinding sunlight; a broad road ankledeep in dust; a double row of great treeswith branches like twisted cobras ; inky-blue black shadows stencilled on the gray-dust, repeating the tree forms above ; along, narrow canal but a few feet wide halffilled with water, from which rise littlewhiffs of hot steam; beside it a stragglingrude stone wall fringed with bushes. Inthe middle distance, through vistas of treetrunks, glimpses of brown fields fadingaway into pale pink, violet, and the dim blue beyond, the dome andtowers of a church, surmounting littlespots of yellow, cream white, and red, 62 A White Umbrella in Mexico broken with patches of dark green, — lo-cating bits of the town,—with orangegroves between. Long strings of burros crawl into thecity along this highway loaded down withgreat bundles of green fodder; undulatingmasses of yellow dust drift over it, whichharden into droves of sheep as they pass. Shuffling along its edges,
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, bookpublisherbostonhoughtonmiff
