CHAPTER I.

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[Illustration: LLAMAS TRAVERSING THE ANDES LADEN WITH SILVER.

By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.

Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.]

33d CONGRESS,} HO. OF REPS. {EXECUTIVE,

1st Session.} { No. 53.

EXPLORATION

OF THE

VALLEY OF THE AMAZON,

MADE UNDER DIRECTION OF

THE NAVY DEPARTMENT,

BY

WM. LEWIS HERNDON AND LARDNER GIBBON,

LIEUTENANTS UNITED STATES NAVY.

PART II.

BY LT. LARDNER GIBBON.

WASHINGTON:

A. O. P. NICHOLSON, PUBLIC PRINTER.

1854.

MESSAGE FROM THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES,

TRANSMITTING

THE SECOND PART OF LIEUTENANT HERNDON'S REPORT OF THE EXPLORATION

OF THE VALLEY OF THE AMAZON.

JANUARY 6, 1854.—Resolved, That there be printed, for the use

of the members of the House, ten thousand extra copies of the

report of the Secretary of the Navy communicating the reports

of the exploration of the river Amazon and its tributaries,

made by Lieutenants Herndon and Gibbon, with the accompanying

maps and plates.

APRIL 13, 1854.—Resolved, That there be printed twenty

thousand additional copies of the reports of the surveys and

explorations of the river Amazon, with the plates and maps

accompanying, by Lieutenants Herndon and Gibbon—two hundred

and fifty copies for distribution by Lieutenant Herndon, and

two hundred and fifty copies by Lieutenant Gibbon, and the

remainder for the use of the members of the House.

To the Senate and House of Representatives:

I herewith transmit a communication from the Secretary of the Navy,

accompanied by the second part of Lieut. Herndon's Report of the

Exploration of the Valley of the Amazon and its tributaries, made by

him, in connexion with Lieut. Lardner Gibbon, under instructions from

the Navy Department.

FRANKLIN PIERCE.

WASHINGTON, February 10, 1854.

NAVY DEPARTMENT, February 10, 1854.

To the PRESIDENT.

SIR: In compliance with the notice heretofore given and communicated

to Congress at its last session, I have the honor herewith to transmit

the second part of the Report of the "Exploration of the Valley of the

Amazon, made under the direction of the Navy Department, by William

Lewis Herndon and Lardner Gibbon, lieutenants of the United States

Navy."

The first part of the exploration referred to was transmitted to

Congress by the Executive on the 9th of February, 1853, and has been

printed. (See "Senate Executive No. 36, 32d Congress, 2d session.") The

second part, which completes the report, is the result of the labors of

Lieutenant Lardner Gibbon, after his separation at Tarma, on the 20th

June, 1851, from Lieutenant Herndon, the senior officer of the exploring

party.

I have the honor to be, with the highest consideration, your obedient

servant,

J. C. DOBBIN.

WASHINGTON, D. C., February 7, 1854.

SIR: I have the honor to submit, herewith, a report of an exploration

of the countries drained by certain tributaries of the Amazon, made by

Lieutenant Gibbon during the years 1851-'52.

It will be recollected by the department that, at Tarma, in Peru,

I divided my party, and confided a portion of it to Mr. Gibbon's

direction. This report is the result of Mr. Gibbon's labors consequent

upon that division, and will form Part II of the "Exploration of the

Valley of the Amazon."

I have the honor to be, very respectfully, your obedient servant,

WM. LEWIS HERNDON,

Lieutenant U. S. Navy.

Hon. JAMES C. DOBBIN,

Secretary of the Navy, Washington.

WASHINGTON, D. C., January 25, 1854.

SIR: By instructions, a report, accompanied by maps and sketches of

scenery in South Peru, Bolivia, and Madeira river, in Brazil, made by

me to the Navy Department, is herewith submitted.

Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

LARDNER GIBBON,

Lieutenant U. S. Navy.

Lieut. WILLIAM L. HERNDON, U. S. N.,

Commanding Amazon Exploring Expedition, Washington.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.

Page.

Tarma—Inca road—Juaja valley—Quichua Indians—Trade—Juaja

river—Snow mountains—Stone bridge and stone

coal—Temperature of springs—Llamas—Lieutenant

of police—Quicksilver mines of Huancavelica—Wool

growing—Molina Posta, or Country tavern—Silver mines

of Castro-Virreyna—Population of Huancavelica—Its

mineral productions—Sandstone pyramids—Chicha and

chupe—A New Englander among the Andes—Fruits and

flowers of Huanta—Blacksmiths. 1

CHAPTER II.

Gold and silver ornaments—Bridal trip on the

Andes—Manufacturers of bark rope—Cotton

trees—Winds and currents of the

mountains—Population—Cultivation—Flocks

of sheep—Frosty nights—Reports of

Robbers—Shoemaker—Ancient fortification—Indians

travelling—Condor's wings—A padre on the

road—Sugar-cane patches—Spanish Creoles—An African

slave—Apurimac bridge—Cabbage patch—Peruvian

widow—Bull fight—Fish and horned cattle—Cuzco—Market

place—Steamboat navigation—Eastern side

of the Andes—Coca plantations—Head of

Madre-de-Dios—Rivers Cosnipata, Tono and

Piñipiñi—Forests—Tigers—Monkeys—Chuncho savages—View

of the lowlands from a peak of the Andes—Cinchona

bark gatherers. 27

CHAPTER III.

College of Sciences and Arts at

Cuzco—Students—Library—Popularity

of Fenimore Cooper's

works—Convents—Cock-pits—Procession—Condition of

the Aborigines anterior to the Incas—Manco Capac

and his wife—Their language—Antiquities—Incas

fortress—Worship of the planetary bodies—Suspicion

of intercourse between ancient civilized Asia and

south Peru—Temperature of bull's blood—Reception

of the prefect's family—Sham fight among the

Quichua Indians—Barley and corn crops—Trade—Loss

of Paititi—Thermal springs—Hospitality of

a Cura—Lampa—Gold mines of Carabaya—Lake

Titicaca—Appearance of the Indians—Puno

military—Niggardly soil. 55

CHAPTER IV.

Manto silver mine—Trade—Shores of Lake Titicaca—Rush

balsas—Animals—Loftiest mountains—Aymara

Indians—Mode of cultivation—Bottled fish—Frontier of

Peru—Rio Desaguedero—Rush bridge—Bolivia military

and custom-house—Southeast trade-winds—Tiahuanaco

ruins—Evaporation and precipitation—Planting

small potatoes—Difficulty among postillions—City

of La Paz—Population—Cinchona bark—Beni river

and Madeira Plate—Transit duty—Gold washings

of Tipuani—Productions of Yungas—Dried

mutton and copper mines—Articles of the last

constitution—A Bolivian lady's opinion of North

Americans—Illimani snow peak—Church performances of

the Aymaras—Benenguela silver mines—Growth of cedar

bushes. 96

CHAPTER V.

Silver mines of Sicasica—Productions of the Puna, or

Table lands—An exile returning home—Department

of Oruro—Silver, copper, and tin—Climate—A

chicha factorer—The expedition out of Titicaca

Basin, and into Madeira Plate—Department of

Potosi—Population, climate, and productions—Rio

Pilcomayo—Mint—Quicksilver trade—Imperfect

mining operations—Smuggling of precious

metals—Statistics of silver—Trade with the

Argentine confederation—Port of Cobija—Desert of

Atacama—Eastern side of the Andes—Frosty mountain

tops and thermal streams—A washwoman—Cinchona

bark ascending to the South Pacific—Department

of Cochabamba—Increase of Creoles—Incas colony of

Quichua Indians—Hail storm—Gardens—Fig trees—City

of Cochabamba—Hospitality of the merchants—The

President of Bolivia and his cabinet—Commercial

proposition—Brazilian minister—President

Belzu—Cavalry and infantry—Armor of the Bolivian

troops—Public force—Calacala gardens—Market

people—Rio Mamoré—Legislative power—Church

ceremony—Climate—A bishop's opinion of the

consequences of steamboat navigation—Cabinet

ministers—Reception of a Farmer by the

President—Heavy shock of an earthquake—Sudden

departure of the government—Clisa fair—Trade to the

Pacific coast. 121

CHAPTER VI.

Market place—Cinchona bark—Funeral

ceremonies—Longevity—Kindness of British and

Brazilian ministers—French schoolmistresses—Ancient

habitations—Sucre, the capital—Departments of

Chuquisaca and Tarija—River Bermejo—Distribution

of vegetable life—Visit to Lake Uara-Uara—Snow

line—Balls—Theatre—Department of Santa

Cruz—Creole population—Daily life—Province of

Chiquitos—Indians—Labors of the Jesuits—Paraguay

river. 146

CHAPTER VII.

Diamonds—Animals of Chiquitos—Decree of 1837, and act

of Congress—Señor Oliden's voyage on the

Paraguay river—Salt—Fall of trees—Descending

the mountains—Monkey meat—Coca plant—Espiritu

Santo—Creole workmen—A night in the wild

woods—Yuracares hunting—River San Mateo—Province of

Yuracares. 169

CHAPTER VIII.

Cinchona forests—Indians shooting fish—Department of

the Beni—Vinchuta—Small pox—Canichanas boat's

crew—Cotton cloth and silver coins—Our faithful

servant José Casas and the mules—Trade at Vinchuta—A

night on Coni creek—Embarkation at the base of

the Andes—Chaparé river—Canoe life—Floods—Bark

cloth—Pick up the sick—Indians at prayers in the

wilderness—Lassoing an alligator. 193

CHAPTER IX.

Pass the mouth of Chimoré river—White cranes—Rio

Mamoré—Woodbridge's Atlas—Night watch—"Masi"

guard-house—Pampas—Ant-houses—Cattle—Religion—Sugar

cane—Fishing party of Mojos Indians—River

Ybaré—Pampas of Mojos—Pasture lands—City of

Trinidad—Prefect—Housed in Mojos—Don Antonio de

Barras Cordoza—Population of the Beni—Cotton

Manufactures—Productions—Trade—Don Antonio's

Amazonian boats—Jesuits—Languages—Natural

intelligence of the Aborigines—Paintings—Cargoes of

foreign goods in the plaza. 218

CHAPTER X.

Horned cattle and horses—"Peste"—Salt trade—Church

service—Bull fight—Mariano Cuyaba—Rules and

regulations of the town—Laws and customs of the

Creoles—A walk through the plaza at midnight—Scenes

on the road to the town of Loreto—Annual deluge—The

beasts, birds, and fishes—Loreto—Inhabitants—Grove

of tamarind trees—Winds of the Madeira Plate—A

bird-hunter—Trapiche—A black tiger burnt

out—Departure in Brazilian boats—Enter the Mamoré

river again—An Indian overboard. 240

CHAPTER XI.

Exaltacion—Cayavabo Indians—Descending the Mamoré

river—Indians shooting fish—Houbarayos savages and

birds at midnight—Ascend the Itenez river—Forte do

Principe da Beira, in Brazil—Negro soldiers—Kind

attention of the commandante—Favorable notice of

the expedition by the President of Matto Grosso—The

wilderness—Friendship of Don Antonio, his boat, and

a crew of negro soldiers—Departure for the Madeira

river—Birds and fishes congregated at the mouth

of the Itenez—On the Mamoré river again—A negro

soldier's account of the Emperor's service—Roar of

"Guajará-merim" Falls. 263

CHAPTER XII.

Jacares savages—Mouth of the Beni river—Obstructions to

steamboat navigation—Madeira river falls—Lighten the

boat—Pot holes—Granite—Pedreneira falls—Caripuna

savages—Pedro milks a savage woman—Bilious

fever—Arrive at the foot of San Antonio falls—The

impracticability of navigating by steamboats the

falls of the Mamoré and Madeira rivers—Proposed road

through the territory of Brazil to Bolivia—Physical

strength of the white, black, and red men, compared

under a tropical climate—Tamandua island—Turtle

eggs—Oil-hunters—Borba—Mouth of the Madeira river. 287

APPENDIX.

Observations with the sextant and artificial

horizon—Meteorological observations—Table of

distances in South Peru and Bolivia by government

measurement—Boiling water measurements of heights

above sea level—Map of roads and rivers, with

situation of mineral wealth. 315

LIST OF PLATES.

Page.

Llamas traversing the Andes laden with silver, (to face title page.)

View to the east of Juaja, (Peru). 6

Encamped near Huancayo, valley of Juaja, (Peru). 8

Quichua Indian family and hut, (Peru). 10

Alpacas on the Cordilleras, near Huancavelica, (Peru). 12

Matriz de San Antonio, Huancavelica, (Peru). 16

View to the south from Huanta, (Peru). 24

Matara post-house. 28

Camp Ladron, (Peru). 32

Ruin of the Incas Fort, Quramba, (Peru). 34

Apurimac bridge, (Peru). 38

Descending the Andes to the east of Cuzco. 44

Coca plantation, (Peru). 46

Rio Madre-de-Dios. 50

North view of the remains of the Incas fort, Sacsahuamam,

Cuzco. 75

Agua Caliente Posta, (Peruvian tavern). 86

Titicaca Balsa, off Puno. 94

View of Nevada de Sorata, from the west shore of Lake

Titicaca, (Peru). 100

Illimani snow-peak; Vicuñas pasturing with the sheep on

the Puna of Bolivia. 117

Cochabamba market-women. 146

Ancient Quichua Indian hut, Cochabamba, (Bolivia). 152

La Laguna de Uara-Uara. 156

Yuracares plantation. 184

Yuracares Indians shooting fish. 194

San Mateo ferry, (Bolivia). 196

Vinchuta, (Bolivia). 200

Descending the river Mamoré, (Bolivia). 220

Housed in Mojos. 230

Maria Nosa, Casemira Nacopearu, José Vicente, Cayuba,

Juana Jua. 246

Plaza de Trinidad, (Bolivia). 258

Don Antonio's Amazonian boats, Exaltacion, (Bolivia). 264

Brazil shore of the Itenez river. 272

View down the river Itenez, from Forte do Principe da

Beira, (Brazil). 274

Descending Ribeirao falls, Madeira river, (Brazil). 292

Matuá and his brother Manú, Caripuna boys, and their

bark canoe. 294

Crossing the mouth of the Madeira river, (Brazil). 312

PREFACE.

WASHINGTON CITY, January 25, 1854.

SIR: A Passed Midshipman, suddenly drawn from duty at the National

Observatory, in Washington, to enter upon an exploration of distant

lands and rivers, among strange and divers people, will not be

expected to furnish a polished report of observations made under many

disadvantages.

In revising notes, hastily scribbled upon a mule's back, on mountains,

or in a canoe, the writer has endeavored to present familiar images

of the objects he saw, as they impressed him at the time, leaving

intelligent readers to draw their own conclusions from his facts, or

the best information he could gain from reliable sources on the route.

The statesman, the planter, the merchant, the farmer, the manufacturer,

or the artisan, can estimate, from every-day occurrences, in what

manner habits and customs of inhabitants of the southern continent,

or productions of its climates, lands, rivers, forests, and mines, may

advantage the industry or promote the enterprise of the people of the

United States of North America.

Being limited by instructions, the writer commences his observations at

the division of the naval party at Tarma, in Peru, and closes them on

reaching the mouth of the Madeira river, in Brazil.

Descriptions of fishes collected from snow-water lakes and streams

in Peru or Bolivia, and from rivers in Brazil, botanical specimens,

varieties of birds, different ores, earth, and metals procured on the

journey, are unavoidably omitted.

Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

LARDNER GIBBON,

Lieutenant U. S. Navy.

Hon. JAMES C. DOBBIN,

Secretary of the Navy, Washington.

CHAPTER I.

Tarma—Inca road—Juaga valley—Quichua Indians—Trade—Juaja

river—Snow mountains—Stone bridge and stone coal—Temperature

of springs—Llamas—Lieutenant of police—Quicksilver mines

of Huancavelica—Wool growing—Molina Posta, or country

tavern—Silver mines of Castro-Virreyna—Population

of Huancavelica—Its mineral productions—Sand-stone

pyramids—Chicha and chupe—A New-Englander among the

Andes—Fruits and flowers of Huanta—Blacksmiths.

Tarma, a small town in Peru, by alpha and beta, Centauri, in latitude

11° 25' south, is situated in a rich, well-cultivated, narrow valley,

between the Andes range of mountains on the east, and the lofty

Cordillera chain on the west.

On the 9th of July 1851, the writer turned southeast, accompanied by

Henry C. Richards, a native of Virginia, in the United States, and José

Casas, of Spanish descent, native of Peru.

A volunteer mestizo, Arriero, with his little son, drove a train of

mules which carried the baggage.

Our path was shaded by willow trees, and the way obstructed with droves

of llamas, loaded with rock salt from mines in the neighborhood.

The leaves of the trees seemed calling for water, while the temperature

of the air, at mid-day, in the shade, was 68° Fahrenheit. Peach and

apple-tree leaves doubled up, showing both their edges to the sun; the

fruit is small, oblong, and unthrifty-looking.

The ravine through which we ascend is thickly populated with Quichua

Indians. Their houses are built of stone and mud, and thatched with

coarse mountain grasses.

The natives are busily employed gathering in the harvest of maize, which

is small-grained and of four colors, red, white, yellow, and blue. It

is of excellent quality, generally used as food, roasted or parched.

Potatoes, of which there are numerous varieties, are also now gathered;

they grow in perfection, though much smaller than their descendants in

the United States.

The little estates—chacras—are owned by descendants of Spaniards,

Indians, or Mestizos, the latter a cross between the two former.

In almost all cases the cultivation of the soil is performed by the

aborigines, at wages from ten to twenty cents a day.

As we rise above the foliage, the mountain tops begin to look wild and

barren, with rocks and red clay; below we have a beautiful view of the

town of Tarma, amidst its green trees and pasture fields. My mule, Rose,

pants for breath; she is so fat and plump that the climbing troubles

her.

On the mountain-side is seated a fine looking Indian, blowing a

semicircular shaped trumpet, made of a number of cow's horns, stripped

one into the other, with the joints sealed; he don't seem to be so

particular as to the tune, as he does to the distance he may be heard,

and he makes the valley ring. José thinks he is trying to blow up a

wedding with a fair one among the flowers below. The Indians celebrate

harvest-time with merry-making. Their meals are cooked in the fields,

where their kitchen utensils are carried. They have music and dancing

in the barley stubble. It is amusing to see these happy people enjoying

themselves in the open air. As we pass, the reapers are seated near

the road, in a barley field, at dinner, upon the ground, in rows one

behind another, laughing and talking among themselves. When we meet them

they are very civil, modest, and unassuming in manners. The men carry

enormous loads of barley or wheat on their backs, while the women drive

the loaded ass, and sling the children over their own shoulders. Their

horses, mules, sheep, horned cattle, pigs, and dogs, are all admitted,

together with the family, into the harvest field; while the father

reaps, and the mother gathers, the boys tend the flocks, and the older

girls take care of the babies and do the cooking, while at the same time

they spin woollen yarn by hand, for stockings. One of them offered a

pair for sale at twenty-five cents, which were nearly long enough for

trowsers. They are always employed, go to bed early, and rise before

the sun, as their Incas taught them to do.

At the top of the mountain, not a house or tree was to be seen, and

no sign of cultivation. On tufts of coarse mountain grass, a flock of

sheep were grazing; some of them merinos, and of good size. Their wool

is sent to Lima, where it is sold, to be exported around Cape Horn, to

the manufacturers in the North.

To the east is a snow-peaked mountain, and as the moon rises, as if from

the Atlantic ocean, we are followed by a cold north wind. The sky is

clear and of a deep blue. On our left we see the remains of an ancient

Peruvian road, used in the times of the Incas. It is said that _good_

roads are marks of civilization; could my mule, Rose, give her opinion,

she would certainly decide in favor of the Inca road, in preference to

those found in Peru at the present time. These remains show a width

of thirty feet of rock pavement, with well placed curbstones on each

side. Where the road has considerable inclination, rows of stone are

placed across, higher than the general level of the pavement, so that

it appears like a stair-way on the side of a hill. That it was not

a coach road is no argument against it; it was before the horse, the

ass, or the cow were introduced into South America from Europe. It was

constructed for the Indian and his llama, the surest of the sure-footed

and, therefore, the improvement speaks well for the civilization of

those times of which we have but a traditionary record.

Passing over a plain on the mountain top, there was a cistern by the

side of our path, where water is caught during the rainy season to

supply the thirsty in the dry. The rainy season commences here about the

middle of September—sometimes later—and lasts six months. The remainder

of the year is dry.

Night had overtaken us where not a living thing was to be seen, except a

black eagle, returning to its roosting-place under overhanging rocks, on

the west side of a lofty peak. Our little tent was pitched; the baggage

piled up and covered at the door; the mules let free for the night to

feed upon the mountain grass around us. A fire was kindled, and water

from a small spring heated, and tea was made. José produced bread and

cheese from his saddle-wallets; placed them upon a clean cloth over a

trunk; looking into the tent, he says, very slowly, "_Señor! La hora de

cenar_," (Sir, it is the supper hour.) Both men and beasts seem tired;

we have ascended all day. The first day's travel is always the most

harassing. Our arriero, Francisco, a mestizo, is a small, slim built

man, with respectful manners; he and his little son Ignacio keep watch

by turns over the mules. The little boy is out while his father gets

supper. The night was clear and cold; the moon shining brightly. The

world is not so silent in the middle of the ocean. I do not think I

heard anything; I almost listened to hear the globe turn upon its axis.

Long after the people were asleep, I heard little Ignacio singing to

himself, wrapped up in his homespun poncho, as he follows the mules.

At daylight in the morning we found heavy frosts and ice about us, with

thermometer 24°, and wet bulb 30°. The mules were loaded; breakfast

over; observations made; and we off, soon after sunrise. This is the

way to travel at an elevation where we find no inhabitants.

The mountains are becoming more rounding, and covered with a fine sort

of grass. Shepherdesses are following thousands of sheep and lambs.

The girls spin wool and chat together, while the dogs follow lazily

after. If we pass close to the flock, and the sheep run back, these

dogs make a furious attack upon us, keeping between us and the flock.

The temperature of a spring of excellent water near the path was 48°.

To the southeast snow peaks stand up in full view. The day is warm

and pleasant. Here comes a cheerful party of ladies and gentlemen on

horseback. As we pass each other, the gentlemen take off their hats,

and the ladies look prettily under their white straw ones. Their

figures show to advantage in riding-dresses, and they manage and set

their horses well. The cool mountain air gives them a fresh color,

which contrasts well with gazelle-eyed beauty and long black hair. I

thought their dresses rather short, but a sight of the foot of one of

them, small as it was, reminds one there is proof positive against the

propriety of a man's travelling through this world alone.

Now we meet the market Indian driving asses loaded with potatoes, corn,

and saddles of mutton, to Tarma. I wanted some mutton for the party, but

José was positively refused by an old woman, who got out of his way by

twisting the tail of her donkey, who was disposed to come to a stand and

be relieved of his load. I was told Indians scarcely ever sell except

after they arrive in the plaza. I can account for it by the woman's

wanting to go to town, for José offered her more than the market price.

At the end of a thickly populated valley, which stretches off to the

southeast, we halted at an Indian hut for dinner. The wife was at home

with her children—fine, healthy-looking little ones. Boiled mutton,

potatoes, and eggs, with good wheat bread, were placed upon the ground

at the door. The children and dogs formed an outside circle around us.

After dinner the woman gave me an orange, which she said came from the

woods, pointing to the Andes, to the east of us. Some of these Indians

cross the range of mountains, and garden on the eastern slopes for the

markets, on these table lands—_Puna_—as the Spaniards call the elevated

flats.

The husband was threshing barley with his neighbors. The grain is

separated from the straw by the tramping of oxen and horses. Over

the surface of this level valley there are numbers of such threshing

parties. The grain is cleared from the chaff by being poured from the

top of a man's head on a windy day. Many of them suffer with inflamed

eyes, and even lose them sometimes by a shift of wind, which blows the

barley beards into the eyes.

Black cattle are numerous here, and at the foot of the mountains; so

are white churches, which stand in the midst of a thick population of

Indians. We met a number of tax-gatherers, going among the threshers,

with silver-headed canes, receiving a measure of grain instead of

contribution-money. They are old Indians, very well dressed, with a

respectable, quaker-like air about them; broad-brimmed hats and standing

collars. It is an active time also with the priests, who go abroad among

the farmers for tithes. The valley is all activity, and merry are the

people. Women are visiting about from place to place, astride of plump

little jackasses. This is a plentiful season.

When the crops fail on these table lands, the suffering among the

Indians is very great. Seeding time is in September, just before the

rains commence. If there are hard frosts in February, the chances are

that a famine follows.

Crossing a small ridge on the east, we came in full view of the great

valley of Juaja, stretching away south. The snowy peaks are represented

in a sketch from our camp near the town.

José's wife and children came to the tent, brought _us_ supper, and

lucerne for our mules. One of the sons, a fine-looking boy of eighteen,

volunteered to go with me. José desired that I should let him go, and

I had no objection; but when his mother came to ask me if I was not

satisfied to take her husband without taking her son and only protector,

I referred José and her son to her. She settled the case her own way,

and gave me her blessing.

Juaja has a population of about 2,500 inhabitants. I say _about_,

because there is no such thing as a census known at this elevation. The

houses are built one story, of adobe walls, or of unburnt bricks, and

tile roofs. The streets are well paved, and run at right angles with

each other. A pretty little white-washed church stands upon the plaza,

where the women sell their marketing and say their prayers. The Indians

come to market and church at the same time; Sunday morning is the great

market day. A drove of horses are most miserable-looking little rats;

the horses of the lowlands and coasts are much their superiors.

Men live to a good old age in this climate; 70, 80, and 90 years are

common; some have arrived at 120 and 130. I am under the impression that

the Indians live longest. Mestizo and Spanish Creole girls have been

known to bear children at 8 and 9 years of age.

The Spanish Creole population is small; they are generally shopkeepers,

the only dealers in foreign goods, which are retailed to the Indians

at enormous profits. They travel to Lima and purchase goods, which they

use as an inducement to the Indians to work the silver mines, existing

three leagues to the east of Juaja, in the Andes range, but which at

present are little worked. The Indians prefer blue, in their dresses,

to any other color, and consume considerable quantities of indigo. The

demand for wax in the churches is of some account. Eggs and wool are the

principal exports to Lima, and are carried over the Cordilleras on the

backs of jackasses. Travellers do not know why they meet with so many

bad eggs at breakfast in Lima. It is customary to pass them round the

country as current money or coin for some time before they are sent to

the coast to be eaten. Mrs. José says, three eggs will buy her a glass

of brandy, or sixpence worth of anything in market. The carrying trade

is superintended by the Indians.

The mestizos are shoemakers, blacksmiths, and saddlers. They seem fond

of music and dancing, and assume the pride of a superior, and lord it

over the honest Indian.

Our road lies through a rich valley, often four miles wide, and level as

a floor. The mountains on both sides are dry and unproductive, except in

the ravines. The half-yearly displacement of earth is very great; during

the rainy season the mountain torrents come down from the summit loaded

with soil. The decrease in the size of the mountains from the time of

their creation to the present day, and the filling up of this basin,

naturally leads one to wonder, whether the present valley was not once

a lake. The Juaja river, which takes its rise in Lake Chinchaycocha to

the north of Tarma, flows sluggishly and serpent-like through the whole

length of the valley, and creeping through the Andes, suddenly rushes

off at a rapid rate, as though sensible of its long journey, by the

Ucayali and Amazon, to the Atlantic ocean. The bed of the river is half

a mile wide, and in the wet season is probably eighteen feet deep. There

is very little water in it now. The banks break down perpendicularly.

The growth of small trees and flowers gives a fresh appearance to the

valley, but the sun is very warm as we pace along the dusty road. The

apple trees are about the size of raspberry bushes.

There are few varieties of birds in the valley; some pigeons and doves

keep the table pretty well supplied. Little Ignacio takes great interest

in the sport, and his sharp eyes are constantly on the look-out for a

shot. By the river snipe are found; among the flowers, the humming bird

is seen and heard.

[Illustration: VIEW TO THE EAST OF JUAJA, Peru.

Sketched by L. Gibbon.

Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.]

The road crosses a number of dry beds, streams of considerable size

in the rainy season. There is only water enough, at present, for the

washwomen, whose soap-suds spoil the water for our beasts. We pass

through the village of San Lorenzo, and the small town of Concepcion. A

death-like silence pervades these places; the people are in the fields,

except some creoles, seated among the flowers in their neat little

court-yards. The streets are narrow and the houses small. All the towns

of the Puna are built pretty much after the same fashion, and of the

same material; the only difference in their outward appearance being

produced by the cultivation of foliage and flowers, where the soil and

climate permit. When this is not the case, the town presents a stupid,

uninteresting aspect. Children, dogs, and pigs, earthen pots, and beds

of straw, surround a smoking fire on the ground floor of a one-roomed

house. The smoke escapes through the door-way; the only opening for

light or a change of air. During storms, or at night, the door is

closed. One peep inside satisfies the North American he can find no rest

_there_. But here, in the valley, the cooking is done under the trees,

and the inmates of the house wander out in the shade. We have often

noticed expressions of friendship between children and dogs; the latter

shows his pleasure by wagging its tail, while the smiling child pulls

his ears. The pig is the most restless creature at this height. While by

himself, he is seen tossing up the bottom of the valley; when he sees

the child and dog together, he gives a corkscrew motion to his tail,

jumps and swings his body about with an inviting grunt to play. Before

long he is laying on his side, with the child on top of him, while the

dog is pawing and snapping at that laughable twist of the tail. The

affection the different species of animals have, in these associations,

is remarkable. The dog in any other place will sometimes kill and eat

the sheep; here, he protects it by night and by day. The pig forms an

attachment to the jackass, who leaves it, at this season of the year,

for the female of its own kind. The ram becomes intimate with a horse

or a bull, and it is with difficulty they can be separated. The lamb

follows the Indian girl in direct disobedience of its mother's call.

Domestic cats are few. They cannot live on high elevations.

There is no part of Peru which is more densely populated than the valley

of Juaja. There, close under the mountains, on the east side, stands

the town of Ocopa, with its convents and schools. From that place,

missionaries have branched off in different directions to the forests in

the east, at great risk of life and loss of all its comforts, to teach

the savage red man how to change his manners, customs, and belief. Some

have succeeded, others have failed, and were murdered or driven back by

the battle-axe; their settlements destroyed by fire, and years of labor

lost; yet some never tire!

Ignacio carries our tent pole across the pommel of his saddle. His

thirsty mule ran between two others, loaded with baggage. The boy was

swept off and dropped over the creature's heels in the middle of the

stream. He regained his saddle in a short time. His father laughed at

him, and took the pole himself.

In the centre of the valley are the remains of an ancient city; the

ruins of stone walls were 12 feet high, and from 1 to 1½ foot thick.

Those of the present day are generally adobe, from 3 to 4 feet thick.

Some of the buildings have been round; others oblong, but generally

square, 12 by 18 feet. The round ones are largest and best situated. The

streets very irregular and narrow; no appearance of plaza, or church.

The ruins extend half a mile north and south, and 200 yards east and

west, on a knoll, which may have been an island before the Inca road was

built, now hedged in on both sides with cactus. As the land about this

ancient city is now cultivated as a corn-field, no remains of curious

things could be found. The mason-work is very rough, but remains of

mortar are there. How the houses were roofed is doubtful, but by the

slanting down on the inner sides of the stones of those houses which

were round, the mason work may have been carried up till it met at a

point, which would give the house a sugar-loaf shape. Besides doorways,

there were window openings.

Droves of jackasses pass, loaded with small raw-hide bags filled with

quicksilver from the mines of Huancavelica, on their way to the silver

mines of Cerro de Pasco.

On Saturday evening, July 12, 1851, we encamped on the south side of

the town of Huancayo, and remained till Monday morning, giving the party

their usual day of rest. Upon entering this town we saw the first signs

of improvement in the construction of a stone bridge; the mason work

compares well with that of more flourishing places. The men and cows of

this place are larger than any we have seen. The people are very polite.

The Indians oblige us with all we require, and seem interested in our

industry. José asks permission to go to church, and for money to buy

shoes. The singing of frogs reminds us of home. Some of the trees are

much larger than those hitherto passed.

Marks of small-pox are seen among the people; but there are no chills

and fevers here. Some of the women have dreadful swellings in their

necks, called by them "_cota_," or goitre, caused by drinking bad water,

or snow-water deprived of salts. But why this disease is generally

confined to the women I cannot say, unless the men never drink water. It

was very certain, from the noise after church, that they find something

stronger. I do not think the people are generally dissipated, except on

Sunday afternoons, when both sexes seem disposed to frolic. During the

week they are otherwise employed.

Leaving the Juaja valley, we passed through a rough, hilly country. In

barley stubbles ewes are giving lambs.

[Illustration: ENCAMPED NEAR HUANCAYO, VALLEY OF JUAJA, Peru.

By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.

Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.]

A woman planting beans after the plough, has her baby slung over her

shoulders; by the noise it made, I doubt its partiality to beans. The

plough is drawn by oxen, yoked by the horns. It is made of two pieces of

wood—the handle and coulter are of one piece, into which is jointed the

beam; the coulter is shod with a square plate of iron, without a shear,

so that the furrow is made by throwing the soil on both sides, like the

North Carolina bull-tongue. On a hill some Indians are planting, while

others are carrying up water in large jars from a stream for the purpose

of irrigating the vegetables peeping out of the ground.

Some of the Indians on the road look very sad after their Sunday frolic.

A man on horseback, with his wife astride behind him, and her baby

slung to her back, looked quite as uncomfortable as his miserable little

horse. The road is marked with stones at every league of three miles:

some of the measures must have been made on a Monday morning after a

frolic. The small towns of Guayocachi and Nahuinpacyo are inhabited

solely by Indians, and have a ruinous appearance. The streets are

pasture-grounds, and decayed old houses serve as roosting-places for

buzzards. We had thunder, rain, and hail; the hail-stones as large as

peas, and soft, like snow-balls. Lightning flashed all around us in the

valley, while the black clouds brought up by the southeast winds were

hurried back by a heavy northwest squall. Thermometer 45°.

The Indians gather the dung of animals for fuel. Wood is too scarce to

burn here. The green waters of the Juaja rush down through deep ravines;

its power is used for a flour mill. The grain is mashed. The branches

of a few large cedar trees, give shade to the door of the polite old

mestizo miller. Descending the river, we came to a beautiful whitewashed

new stone bridge, with one arch, 30 feet above the stream. Paying a

toll of one shilling per mule, we crossed the Juaja into the small town

of Iscuchaca. Near the river there are patches of lucerne, and peach

trees in blossom. A native of Copenhagen, in Denmark, came forward

and invited us to his house. The people had told him his countrymen

had arrived. He was silversmith and apothecary, but had been employed

by the Peruvian government to construct this beautiful stone bridge,

which he had finished, and married the first pretty girl on the street

leading therefrom, the daughter of a retired officer of the Peruvian

army. The bridge across this stream was formerly built of wood. During a

revolution, one of the parties set it on fire to the stone foundation.

The Copenhagen man gathered a quantity of this stone, made a fire of

it in his forge, and heated a piece of iron red hot. He called it brown

slate coal; rather hard; not good for blacksmith's work; but the same is

used for running an engine at the mines of Castro-Virreyna, in which he

is interested. There are thermal springs near; and specimens of magnetic

iron were collected from a mountain 1½ league to the northeast of the

town. The "Matico" bush is found here. Many stories are told of the

effects of this medicinal plant, which has been in use as a tea among

the Indians, and as a poultice for wounds.

Iscuchaca is pleasantly situated amidst wild mountains, which seem to

lock it up. The Juaja winds its way towards the Atlantic, while we climb

a steep towards the Pacific.

The water of a rapid stream is somewhat salt, and its temperature 50°,

while the air was 65°. Many fine mules are dashing down the narrow road.

The drover tells me he is from Iça, bound to the Cerro Pasco mines,

where he trades mules for silver. Iça is situated inland from Pisco, on

the coast.

Among the mountains, at the top of a dangerous and precipitate pass,

there is a wooden cross, erected by the people in the neighborhood.

Travellers universally take off their hats as they pass, praying for

a safe passage, or feeling thankful for one. The women often decorate

these emblems with wreaths of flowers, cross themselves devoutly, and

pass on. José begged me to hang the mountain barometer to one arm of the

cross. While I took the reading of it, he looked on in great admiration.

The small Indian town of Guando is the first we have seen built of

stone. It is situated high up on the mountains, and presents a most

dilapidated appearance. On one side of a narrow street, little school

boys were seated, saying their lessons to the teachers, who were on

the opposite side. As we passed between them, the boys all rose and

bowed politely. Among the inhabitants were an unusual number of elderly

women. The temptation was great to ask their ages; but as some dislike

questions of that sort, I might make an enemy without getting a fact. An

Indian hut in the valley sketches the inhabitants. José appears between

the man and his wife, telling them, in the Quichua language, that I live

far off to the north, and want to show the people there what kind of

people are here. The old Indian chews an extra quantity of coca leaf.

The woman looks astonished, and the child is disgusted, though all stand

still _as they are told_. The man was employed threshing barley with a

long pole. The woman was cooking, and the child playing with the dog,

when we arrived. The nights are very cold, the days warm and pleasant.

To a church and few houses near the road has been given the name of

Acobambilla. The Indians around answer the bells to prayers.

[Illustration: QUICHUA INDIAN FAMILY AND HUT, Peru.

By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.

Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.]

We ascend the top of the mountain and see perpetual snow in all

directions, overhung with heavy, black, cumulus clouds, above which the

cirrus shoot upwards; in the zenith the sky is clear and of the deepest

blue. Spring water 44°; air 45°.

Richards shot at four wild geese with his carbine and single ball; two

of the geese flew off, leaving the others very much frightened. The

geese flew across a small snow-water lake. These birds are white, the

ends of wing and tail being black, with red bills and legs, as large

as the domestic goose, though not so tender. Tadpoles, but no fish,

were to be seen. Wild ducks kept at a distance. The llama is pasturing

and giving birth to its young close under the perpetual snow line. The

alpaca and huanacos—species of the llama—are in numbers also. Llamas

occupy the useful position among the aboriginal race of South America,

that the camel does to the wandering man in Arabia. These animals carry

loads of one hundred pounds, over roads too dangerous for the mule or

the ass, and climb mountains difficult for man. They are principally

used for conveying silver from the mines. The Indians are very fond

of them; though they drive them with a whip, it is seldom used; when

one lags behind or lies down on the road, the Indian talks to it, and

persuades it to forget its fatigues and get up again. They hang little

bells about their graceful necks, and decorate the tips of their ears

with bits of colored ribbon. Their disposition, like those of their

masters, are gentle and inoffensive, except when too much hurried; then

they cast, saliva at the Indians, or at each other; this is their only

offence; it is thought to be poisonous. They require very little food,

which they pick up on the mountains, and are much more temperate than

their drivers; they require very little water. Their loads are taken

off at mid-day, so that they may feed. I am told that they never eat at

night. They seek the cold regions of the Andes; nature has provided them

with a warm fleece of wool, and they need no shelter. Though they are

feeble animals, their usual daily travel is about 15 miles; but after

three or four days journey, they must have rest or they perish on the

road. The motion of the head and neck as they cross the mountain crags

may be likened to that of the swan, as it floats over smooth water.

The wool makes good coarse cloth, of various colors, seldom all of one

color. The huanaco is known by its being rather larger than the llama;

it is said to be difficult to train, even if taken young. It never gives

up its ideas of liberty, and will regain its companions whenever an

opportunity admits.

The alpaca is the smallest, with the finest long wool; its body

resembles the sheep, with the head and neck of the llama. José tells

me they are good to eat, but like the others the meat is not very

palatable. The alpaca wool is well known in the markets; the Indians

make clothing of it, and trade it off on the coast. In this department,

and further south, great numbers of these new world camels are raised.

It has been remarked that they seek the south side of the mountains;

probably there is less evaporation than on the north side, and the

pasture is more fresh and inviting. Barley is generally raised on the

north side of the mountain.

After a long and tiresome descent we halted in the main plaza of the

town of Huancavelica, in front of a small shop on the corner. Drawing

out a letter of introduction to the owner of the house, given to me by

his friend, my Copenhagen "countryman," I handed it to a very pretty

young woman, seated in the doorway, sewing. She invited me in, and I

followed to the bed-room of her husband, who was napping. There were

so many female dresses hanging around I was obliged to be seated on the

bed. The husband shook hands, rubbed his eyes, gaped, and then laughed.

He said he was very glad to see me, that everything in the house was

mine. Our baggage was put into a room, and preparations at once made for

dinner. While I was resting, an officer, with a gold-laced cap, gray

trowsers, and a half-buttoned military jacket, came in, and inquired

from whence I came, and as he was a lieutenant of police, he would

thank me to show him my passport. In return I inquired, whether, in his

opinion, the world was not sufficiently civilized to permit people to

pass without such documents. It is very certain the lieutenant never had

such a question put to him before. I told him to call when my baggage

was unpacked, but I never saw him again, though I heard that Don — had

said, "North Americans required different treatment from those of some

other parts of the world; _they_ did not know what passports meant,

notwithstanding they were a very intelligent people!"

Don — keeps a gambling house, where hot coffee and ice cream may be

had by applying at the shop, attended by his pretty little wife. All

the ladies in town visit in the evening to refresh themselves after

promenade, while the Spanish Creoles spend their time at a game called

"Monte," until day-light in the morning. This is a hotel, so far as

eating and drinking goes, and the only house of the kind in the town

kept by a Spaniard. The house was established after the marriage of the

young couple, and is thought a good business, though the bride may be

disgusted with her laborious life, even amidst so much ice cream, during

the honey-moon.

[Illustration: ALPACAS ON THE CORDILLERAS NEAR HUANCAVELICA, Peru.

By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.

Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.]

The town of Huancavelica has a population of about 8,000, and is

situated in a deep ravine, amidst a cluster of lofty peaks. It is the

capital of the department, and was named by the Incas. The ravine runs

east and west, with an average width of one mile. A small stream flows

through it to the east. Thermal springs, of 82° Fahrenheit, found in the

vicinity. The town is divided into two parishes; counts six churches, a

hospital, and college for young men, in which physics, chemistry, and

mineralogy are taught. The plaza is adorned with a fountain of stone.

A cathedral stands by the side of the mountain of Cinnebar, which

contains the celebrated quicksilver mine of Santa Barbara. Climbing up

this mountain, we came to a door-way 15 feet high and 12 wide, carved in

the sand-stone. The entrance on the southwest side of the peak was like

a railroad tunnel. The eternal glaciers are at this door-way. Icicles

hung overhead, and sheets of ice spread under our feet. Sooty-faced,

rough-looking Indians trundled wheelbarrows loaded with quicksilver ore.

As the _administrador_, a tall, smallpox-marked mestizo, said to me—We

are all ready, sir, to escort you through the mines of Huancavelica—I

felt as though he was going to say, to be buried alive. We entered this

dark hole, about 600 feet below the top of the mountain. As we left

daylight, I thought of home; then I heard a dreadful crash, which the

mestizo informed me was the upper part of the mine falling in. A hollow

sound was followed by a splash in the deep waters somewhere below; then

came suddenly a strong smell of sulphuret of arsenic. A little further

on I saw a pair of eyes through the darkness. I called to Richards to

hold his torchlight; we were travelling east-northeast by my compass;

the eyes belonged to a little Indian boy standing on the side of the

mine, with a load of ore on his back, while we passed; he had come

through a narrow passage called "Take off your horns," on his hands and

knees, and had raised a choking dust. After refreshing ourselves at a

spring of water of 50° temperature, we passed into a plaza, where the

market women sell to those men who seldom leave the mines. On one side

of this plaza, by holding the torches over our heads, we see a beautiful

bridge, and beyond it a stairway leading into utter darkness; on the

other side a lake—the opposite shore not in sight, though the sound

of a hammer floats over its smooth water. As we move along among red

brick-colored columns, which support the immense weight overhead, we

see a dim torch by the side of the workman, seated with his hammer and

chisel, cutting away and honey-combing the Andes. The _administrador_

tells me we are half way through; if I wish to climb up stairs, we can

get near the peak. Turn which way we will, we find a road to travel. I

told him to be pleased to keep as near a level as possible. He halted,

and after some words to the Indian guide, he said he had taken the

wrong road, and must go back some distance. After bumping our heads,

and walking doubled up in a most tiresome position, with great want

of fresh air, we finally stood up in the San Rosario church, which is

rotundo-shaped, with a height of 100 feet to the ceiling. Over the altar

was carved, in solid cinnebar, the Virgin Mary, with the Infant in her

arms. As the Indians pass, with hat in hand, they turn, and, kneeling

under their heavy loads of ore, say a short prayer, cross themselves,

and pass on by the light always burning at the altar. The laboring

Indian, who seldom leaves these dark regions, attends when the church

bell calls, and offers up prayer for protection from the dangers of the

mine. On a Sunday evening, in this rotundo, he meets his countrymen, who

work on the opposite side of the lake; they tell of seeing daylight at

the point of the chisel overhead, instead of driving it farther towards

the bowels of the earth.

After a walk of two hours we came into the fresh air on the north

side of the mountain. The Cinnebar is so narrowly separated by layers

of sandstone, that the peak may almost be called a solid mass of

quicksilver ore. At present there are 120 Indian men, women, and boys

employed in extracting the metal. Those who cut out the ore work very

much as they please—that is, they cut without compass; this makes it

dangerous to those inside, the proper supports being cut away by the

ignorant Indian. The ore is carried out at both sides of the peak, in

bags of raw hide, slung over the backs of the boys, and then wheeled to

the furnaces near by, where men break it up into bits, and women make

small cakes of the dust. These cakes are laid in the bottom of a large

iron grate, sufficiently open to allow heat to pass, and over them the

ore is filled in to the depth of three feet. A fire is made underneath

of coarse mountain grass; a strong draught carries the vapor from the

heated cinnebar, through a retort of earthern pipes, slipped one into

the other, to a distance of five or six feet, where it condenses, and

the quicksilver lodges in the floor. After the ore becomes well heated,

which generally takes eight or ten hours, the doors of the furnace are

closed, and, for three or four hours, the distillation continues. After

this the quicksilver is swept into pots, washed in water, and dried,

when it is ready for the market, and is sold here at one dollar per

pound. It is sent off in all directions to the silver mines of Peru.

By the rude method of mining and smelting, the loss of mercury is

great. The joints of the earthern pipes are luted with clay, through

which the vapor escapes before it has time to condense. It is difficult

to regulate the heat by the dry mountain grass, which blazes up and

passes away in a moment, so that the doors must be kept open, and a man

constantly feeding the fire.

The mine is owned by the government, and leased to a company, who keep

secret its annual yield. The laborers' wages are never more than fifty

cents a day. They are supplied by the company with all they require from

the shop—a sort of purser's store-room—altogether a profitable business

for the company. It often happens that when the day of reckoning comes,

the laborer is in debt on the books of his employer; he is then obliged

to return to the mine and work.

Cinnebar is said to be found the distance of ten leagues, in all

directions, from Santa Barbara, and that the Incas knew of and made

use of it. Remains of small ovens, in the shape of retorts, have been

discovered. The Indians used it to paint their faces.

The only account found of the annual yield of this celebrated mine

was from 1570 to 1790; during this 220 years, Santa Barbara produced

1,040,469 quintals (100 pounds) of quicksilver, or an average of 47,294

pounds per annum. The price during this period varied from fifty to one

hundred dollars per quintal, according to the tariff of prices fixed by

the Spanish crown.

Huancavelica is on the inland route between Lima and Cuzco, distant

from the former 73 leagues. This, although not the shortest distance

to the coast, is yet the best road at the present day, leading to the

best seaport. Of this immense mass of cinnebar, not a pound is exported.

England finds a market for other quicksilver in the silver mines of

Peru; carried in iron jars around Cape Horn at great expense, it is

transported on the backs of mules, almost by the very mouth of Santa

Barbara. The roads are very narrow and rough; it would be impossible to

draw a piece of artillery over them in their present condition; a piano

was brought from Lima to Huancavelica, and remains cracked to this time,

though the house containing it is the centre of gayety and attraction;

the owner expects the music of "The last rose of summer" by the next

train of mules. Cargoes arrive from Lima in ten days; mail-boxes, on a

mule, travel the distance in six days. To Iça, 50 leagues; cargoes take

eight days.

There are no foreigners in Huancavelica. Creole families are few, and

the Indian population very poor. Its vegetable productions are raised in

this cold ravine; the inhabitants, generally, keep in doors; almost all

the Spanish Creoles have been to Lima on visits, or educated there, and

possess a gay, agreeable manner, and make the cold dreary evenings pass

off pleasantly. They have no fires in their houses; as a substitute,

they play romping games, and under the exercise keep comfortable until

bed time. This was decidedly a merry way of bringing families together,

and pleasing to see old folk's romping, like children, with the young

people. On one such occasion, a corpulent gentleman had his thumb put

out of joint; a pretty girl held the end of it, while others pulled

it in place again—by his coat-tails. One of the games is somewhat like

"hunt the slipper." All the players stand up in the middle of the room,

and carry on to the music of a guitar, violin, or flute. The houses

are tolerably well furnished and carpeted. The Indians act the part

of servants. They are taken when young, grow up with the children, and

frequently remain all their lives in the family; others run away when

they become of age, or whenever they are dissatisfied. The Indian girls

are often very much attached to their employers, and make cooks and

house servants; remarkably neat in their dress, which is not unlike the

bloomer style. People wear thick cloth here, even in the house; it is

unusual to see ladies without shawls, or gentlemen without cloaks or

overcoats. The only fuel known is mountain grass, and dried droppings

of llama, like what our hunters call "Buffalo chips."

The Prefect of the department was very kind and attentive. He gave me

passports for all the lieutenants of police in South Peru, and called

upon them as good citizens to assist me; besides, he offered me private

letters of introduction to his friends on my route. He expressed the

opinion that Mr. Gibbon was probably going to Carabaya, for the purpose

of ascertaining whether the gold there was not "the other end of the

California vein." I paid off Francisco and his little son Ignacio, when

they returned home. Here we take regular post mules and new arrieros,

or mule-drivers. José's saddle wallets were replenished with bread and

cheese. An Indian girl came up in time for Don ——'s pretty little wife

to purchase part of a lamb for us, and we marched on, feeling quite an

attachment to the town, for though the climate and soil be inhospitable,

the kind-hearted people are not.

[Illustration: MATRIZ DE SAN ANTONIO-HUANCAVELICA, Peru.

By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.

Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.]

Dog-killers were rushing through the streets with short clubs, and as

a wounded dog came running for protection among our baggage mules, the

arriero's fat wife clung to her own pet dog until the killers were out

of sight. The women generally accompany the arrieros some distance on

the road, carrying provisions, which are eaten and drank on the road

side just before parting. Ascending a rough, rocky road, over deeply

washed ravines, we gain the smooth grass capped mountains. Between peaks

of perpendicular strata, flocks of llama are pasturing. Yonder is a lake

of clear snow-water, and there stands five beautiful vicuña, looking

intently at us. What pretty animals, and how wild they look. They come

here to pasture with their kinsfolk, the llamas. "Richards ride round

the mountain; José go with the baggage steadily along the road, while

I take up this ravine, and try a shot." We all start. The male gives a

whistle, which sounds among the hills like the cry of a wild turkey; the

four females are off. He stands still; as I near him, he calls louder,

and long before I get within ball range, he is away over the mountain

brow. The sailor-boy Richards will never give up the chase; he has run

his mule out of breath, and now he takes after them on foot.

The vicuña is smaller and a much more neatly-formed animal than the

llama, with a coat of fine curly wool; its color resembles that of the

smaller deer. In the distribution of animals, as well as I can judge,

the vicuña naturally seeks an atmosphere just below the llama. It is

very swift and difficult to capture. The Indians take them by driving

them into pens. Now and then a young one may be found tamed, and kept

as a pet among the children; they are never used as beasts of burden.

Fine cloths and valuable hats are manufactured from the vicuña. A skin

sells in the market for fifty cents, and the meat is better than that of

the llama, though José expresses rather a disgust at the idea of eating

llama meat.

Our course is to the eastward. The snow-capped mountains are in sight

to the west. Temperature of a spring 48°; air, 44°. Lightning flashes

all around us; as the wind whirls from northeast to southwest, rain and

snow-flakes become hail, half the size of peas. Thunder roars and echoes

through the mountains; the mules hang their heads, and travel slowly;

the thinly-clad aboriginal walks shivering as he drives the train ahead;

the dark, cumulus cloud seems to wrap itself around us.

The first house we met was Molina post; the men passed the night with

their mules in a storm, which beat against our tent all night. The

postman, a Spanish Creole, invited us into his house; I saw his wife,

two children, one Indian servant, and five dogs, seated around a fire

made of dung, over which the woman was cooking mutton. Their bed was of

barley straw, and a miserable old donkey was peeping in the door at it;

so I had the tent pitched. At 7 in the morning the thermometer was 37°

Fahr. This is a barren country, and seems to be inhabited by the wilder

animals. We chased a fox among the rocks, and shot two _viscachas_,

which resemble the rabbit in size, color, and head, but the feet and

tail are like those of the opossum. The people are very fond of them.

The arriero smiled when he saw his supper. Richards cut one of them open

to bottle its young, but we had misjudged its appearance. An Indian boy

said if the mules ate any of the hair of this animal it would cause

instant death. We had no extra mules to prove the assertion. The fur

is very fine and valuable; they are running in and out of holes in

the ground or the clefts of rocks, to nibble the mountain grass. The

mountains are more rolling, and covered with a thick coat of pasture;

flocks of sheep speckle the mountains—black and white—cleanly washed by

the rains. They seek the atmosphere next below the vicuña, while the

good-natured shepherdess follows with a womanly regard for the wishes

of those she loves.

Another storm is coming; we hurry on, and arrive at the next post in the

small Indian town of Pancara. The postman told José that the Alcalde had

come to pay us a visit. A respectable old Indian, with a silver-headed

cane, who could not speak Spanish, appeared, so José was my interpreter

in Quichua. "How many people live in this town, Señor Alcalde?"

_Alcalde_, (eating parched corn from his waistcoat pocket,) "Don't

know." "Have you plenty to live upon in this part of the country?"

_Alcalde_, (with the most laughably contented air,) "Roast corn and

few potatoes. The people are going away; will soon be left by myself."

_Alcalde_—"Going to Cuzco?" _José_—"Yes; and as we have a long travel,

we have to feed our mules well. Will you order us barley?" _Alcalde_—"I

will go now and fetch it."

The town is falling to decay; many houses deserted, and their roofs have

tumbled in. Climate cold and unpleasant. Except our kind friend, the

Alcalde, the people look wretched.

The vegetable productions of this department are few, and can only be

raised in the deep valleys, where the dense atmosphere interrupts the

parching rays of the sun, and they are protected from the cold mountain

blasts of the night. No department in Peru is more broken and barren

than this, with a greater variety of climate. In our sight are peaks of

eternal snow, which run up to sharp points of pure white, standing in

rows; the humble Indian, cultivating his patch of green lucerne in the

valley, far below.

The animals are mostly those native to the country, and few of them

tame. The horse, ass, and horned cattle, are much smaller than those

on the coast, and are little used. Birds are very few, and seldom found

domesticated; even the common poultry find the climate uncongenial.

Fishes are rare and small; only taken, I believe, in the Juaja river.

Of minerals and metals already known, there are silver, quicksilver,

copper, lead, iron, stone coal, and lime.

The silver mines of Castro-Virreyna have been worked for many years.

They are situated south of the town of Huancavelica, in the Cordillera

range. They count thirty mines, of which, at the present day, but seven

are worked. Stone coal is found near by sufficiently good for engine

purposes. One steam-engine made a voyage round Cape Horn, and arrived

safely at these mines, where it is said to be doing a good business.

In all cases, the _pieces_ must not exceed one hundred and fifty pounds

weight, or they come to a stand-still at the landing on the coast. Two

pieces are balanced on the back of a mule, which carries the heavy

loads, never exceeding three hundred pounds. This is the only way a

steam-engine can possibly travel through the department of Huancavelica.

The unoccupied mines are said to contain water, and air so offensive,

that it is dangerous for the workmen to enter them.

This department has a population, by the government estimate, of 76,111

people. Two of the aboriginal race to one Creole will not be far from

the average proportion. As the old Alcalde honestly confesses, he don't

know how many people live in his small town, it will be understood how

difficult it is to get anything like a correct list. The people are

scattered over a great space of country. We travel a day over the wild

heights without meeting with a man, or find a valley too thickly peopled

for the productions raised therein.

The department is divided into four provinces, each governed by

a sub-prefect. These are again divided into districts, under

governors, all of whom are responsible to the prefect at the

capital—Huancavelica—who is allowed a secretary, three assistants, and

a porter. The civil list amounts annually to six thousand four hundred

and ninety-five dollars. The prefect is appointed by the government

at Lima, and holds his office during the pleasure of the President of

the republic. The sub-prefects and governors are also appointed by the

supreme government, though generally through the recommendation of the

prefect of the department.

Early in the morning we left Pancara; our good old friend, the Alcalde,

still eating roasted maize, while he cheerfully expressed a desire to

see us when we returned again. The Indians show great surprise when they

are told that we will not return _that way_, and seem to be buried in

deep thought, as though it troubled them to make out the white man's

motions.

Near this small town the road leads through a number of standing

rocks, which have been washed by the rains into sugar-loaf forms; and

so uniform are they, that it seemed like passing through tents in an

encampment. The rock is a soft sandstone, which wears away very fast at

the sides, and not on the top, where seems to be the end of the grain.

Their heights are from 12 to 18 feet, and so well shaped, that one might

be erroneously led to believe they were the work of a pyramidal-minded

race of men; but, upon closer examination, we found the work going

on in the side of a bank, which was being regularly divided off into

sugar-loaves. Had we entered this apparent encampment at midnight, I

should have called out, for those rocks which stand off on the plateau a

little distance look like sentry boxes around the main body of an army.

The constant wearing away of these elevated portions of the earth is

beautifully demonstrated here, where the uplands seem to be _dissolving_

and settling down towards a level—examples of the natural working of

_weather_ upon stones, so nearly resembling that of human hands with

hammer and chisel. We found these pyramids for some distance along the

road. Some of them were inhabited by families of Indians, large square

holes or rooms being cut in the north side. Some rooms required steps

to ascend; others were even with the ground. I found the family at home

in one of them. Near the doorway was a horse-trough cut in the stone,

and above it a place like the handle of a pot, where the end of the

halter was tied. Cooking utensils, dogs, and children were seen in the

lower story, while the Indian woman was spinning wool in the upper,

or bed-room. A few regularly-built stone houses near by are not so

interesting.

On this part of our journey, Indian girls, with _chicha_ and _chupe_

for sale, are seated at the tops of the steep ascents. Chicha is

the favorite drink of the Indians. A party—generally old women—seat

themselves around a wooden trough containing maize. Each one takes a

mouthful, and mashes the grain between her teeth—if she has any—and

casts it back into the trough in the most sickening manner. As the

mill-stones are often pretty well worn, the operation requires time

and perseverance. The mass, with water added, is then boiled in large

coppers, after which it is left to ferment in huge earthen jars, when it

is sold by the brewers without a license. It is an intoxicating drink,

but very healthful, the Indians say. Chupe is the Peruvian national

dish, and may be made of any and everything, so long as it holds its

relationship to soup. It is made generally of mutton, potatoes, eggs,

rice, all highly seasoned with pepper, &c.

As the weary traveller arrives almost breathless at the top of the

hill, the girl tempts him. I halted by one of them, and addressed her in

Spanish, but she answered in Quichua, and pointed to her chupe, which

I believe she had kept warm by sitting over it during the morning. I

thanked her kindly, and pushed on. Here and there an Indian hut is to be

seen at a distance. In the valley to our right are flocks of sheep; and

the merry laugh of the shepherdesses echoes through the mountains. Two

girls walking after their flocks, have their arms around each other's

necks, joking and laughing as they leave home for a day among the hills.

The sheep have just been let out of their pen, and run, one before the

other, nipping the frost-tipped pasture. The dogs follow sulkily, with

heads and tails hanging, as though they would rather stay at home if

there was any company.

Here, as we rise to the top of a mountain, we behold all around one

broken mass, ridge beyond ridge, as far as the eye can reach, like waves

of the tempest-tossed ocean. Our mules are harassed, and the chronometer

positively refuses to go any further. As we descend the Indians are

harvesting barley. Horned cattle seem to fancy the atmospheric pressure

just below the sheep.

The arrieros keep the higher road which brings us to the left of a

valley. From the ridge we see the small town of Acobamba, and a turn

in the Juaja river, dashing over its rocky bed, as the wild duck flies

quickly against the current. The country has a fresher appearance. In

the ravines, clusters of green bushes and flowers bloom; 5 p. m., air,

43°; wet bulb, 39°, at Parcas post.

I succeeded in securing a duck supper from a small lake, with a thick

growth of rushes in the centre. The common mallard duck, and a black

species, are found with red and green bills, and red legs. When these

take fright, they hide themselves in the rushes and seldom fly. There

are a number of beds of lakes which are filled in the rainy season;

at present they are dry; on this route it is usual for travellers

to carry bottles of water with them. A man in poncho and mountain

travelling dress rode up behind us, with an Indian girl seated behind

his saddle. He refreshed us with the compliments of the morning in

_plain English_. He came out of the valley from Acobamba, though born

in New Haven, Connecticut. His spirited horse was fretting itself over

the rugged road. This man was proprietor of a circus company; had been

many years in South America, and as we slowly wound our way up the

mountain, told us his past history; what he had seen, and how often he

thought of returning to New England. "But nobody knows me now. Years

ago I heard of the changes there, and don't believe I should know my

native place. I have adopted the manners and customs of these people,

and if I should return to the United States again, I fear my earnings

would not be sufficient. I have worked in this country for years, and

am worth nothing at last." His stories of travels were interesting. He

had encountered travellers of all nations, and amused me with the way

in which some of them worked their way through the rough country, among

the people of Mexico and South America. Speaking of the mountain roads

between Popoyan and Bogota, in New Granada, over which travellers are

borne in light bamboo chairs upon the backs of Indians, I discovered

that he had encountered two of my own near relations on that route,

nearly twenty years before.

He had sent a branch of his circus to Cerro de Pasco, and ordered the

horses, on a raft at Huallaga river, to descend that stream, and the

main trunk of the Amazon, to Pará. He had navigated the Mississippi in

a canoe, and assured me at first he would try to sell his horses and

go with me down the Purus. Every now and then his English ran off into

Spanish. Then he would beg my pardon for not speaking his mother tongue

as well as when a boy.

The Indians of the surrounding country were gathered at Marcas post,

to celebrate the saint's day of San Jago, an old church in the valley.

The obliging master of the post had just returned from church, a little

intoxicated, like most other folks about him. The Indians were dressed

in queer costumes, marching in procession, with drums and fifes,

through crowds of women; some wore cows-horns and black masks, others

cocked hats and gold laced coats; while the women were dressed in all

colors. Young Creoles dashed about on horse-back; girls were singing

and hanging most affectionately on the shoulders of their lovers. The

whole crowd was _high_ on a chicha diet. The morning had been spent in

prayers, after which a grand procession, headed by the priest. We came

in at the evening ceremony. The scenery was as beautiful as strange;

the church below us, and the people lining the road from it to the post

house, while drums mingled with the shouts and singing of the women.

Down the sides of the mountain, Sage's circus company slowly advance. A

queer-looking Mexican is the clown. A little dark complexioned Guayaquil

girl, a neat rider, accompanies a fine looking Peruvian, whose fat wife,

with sun-burnt face, follows. Then a pony and his playmate, the dog,

with a beautiful Peruvian girl, servants, and a long train of baggage

mules, all mixed in with the congregation. As the sun sets over the

western mountains, a storm rises in the southwest, with thunder and

lightning.

A long steep descent brought us into the valley of Huanta, where we

entered the department of Ayacucho. The horse stands at ease; the swine

repose coolly under the shade of a fig-tree; humming birds buzz among

the flowers, and the fresh-water streams ripple through the highly

cultivated lucerne fields. The gay, laughing faces of the people speak

for the happiness of the valley, as do the beautiful flowers for its

richness. Potatoes, beans, apples, chirimoyas, and granadillas are for

sale by the road-side. Indian girls often invite us to take chicha. The

climate is pleasant. At 9 a. m., thermometer 60°. The fig-tree is very

large, and bending with fruit, while peach blossoms overhang the road;

large clusters of green cactus shade the quiet little ring-dove; the

partridge calls from beneath the barley beards; the people are seated

by the shady brook in midsummer costume. Yesterday we were shivering

under a midwinter snow-storm, high up on the mountains.

At the town of Huanta, my letters were handed to the governor, who

kindly gave me possession of the house of the sub-prefect, who had gone,

with his family, visiting about the country. Huanta has a population of

two thousand people. From the balcony we have a full view of the plaza

and the market people, with the hills in the back ground, among which

there are some rich silver mines. Many have been abandoned on account of

water. People are anxious to receive silver bars, but not over anxious

about paying the necessary expenses for getting them. The Indian finds

great hardship and little profit, while he goes with hammer and chisel

mining out the rich metal. The Creole seats himself at the mouth of the

mine, wrapped in his broadcloth cloak, and receives the treasure. The

poor Indian prefers cultivating the soil, from which it is difficult

to persuade him; force, at times, is _indirectly_ applied through the

influence and power of the authorities. The more intelligent race take

advantage of his ignorance. Some, who are very intemperate, of course

are generally very poor; such are enticed to the mines by a regular

supply of chicha; others, again, are taught to believe that to labor in

this world for the benefit of others is to lay up treasures for them

in a better place; they have a dreadful fear of temporal powers, and

dare not disobey. There are different sorts of slavery existing among

different kinds of free people. If obliged to choose, many would rather

be negro slaves in North America, than free Indians in the South.

The governor had our mules cared for, and invited me to his table under

the shade of the eastern balcony. He was a cheerful, agreeable man; if

he knew how, no doubt would better the condition of those around him.

His fine, healthy boys are growing up in idleness, and a pretty little

daughter stands most of the day in the balcony watching the Indians in

the plaza, under their umbrella shades, selling fruit. She pointed out

an old Spanish Creole, said to be one hundred and five years old.

There are beggars and marks of the smallpox. In the ravines, along the

sides of the valley, ague and fever sometimes prevail, but, generally,

the valley is very healthy. The nights are cold and days warm. During

our few days' stay here, the twilight was followed by flashes of

lightning, which lit up the whole valley. The nights are cloudy, which

baffles our watch for the stars. The day's travel before our arrival

here was harassing.

The roof of the government house in Huanta is well tiled, and the

walls well plastered, with paintings of full figures of saints, fairly

executed, on them; the rooms are large, furnished, and carpeted. This

is the exception to the rule.

The Huancavelica mules and arrieros returned, and we engaged others. The

postman examined the baggage; pairs off the loads; and receives _half_

the passage-money in advance the day before starting. He inquires, with

an enterprising air, what time we would like to leave in the morning? I

have found it best to tell them to come before the time appointed. The

frequent excuses are various—a mule will be missing, or, the arriero

may want a wife—he is never at a loss for a reason to keep you waiting

until _he_ is ready. The best way, after fretting a little at first,

is to take things a little _easier_ than they do. It is amusing to see

how they dislike to be outdone, and hurry to break down opposition.

Whenever these people meet with difficulties, the rule is to take a

seat, and from the pocket take a small piece of paper or corn husk; a

tin box supplies tobacco, to be rolled up in the shape of a cigar, and

placed behind the ear; a match box and strike-a-light are produced, and

the difficulty is considered in so cool a manner, while the smoke curls

upwards, that unless you saw a mule, baggage and all, had broken through

a miserable bridge, or fallen down a precipice, you would not believe

anything had happened. The tobacco imported from Havana into Peru is

highly prized, and a quantity consumed. Massachusetts cotton goods are

sold by the Indians, in the plazas of these inland towns, at three times

their value in the United States.

[Illustration: VIEW TO THE SOUTH FROM HUANTA, Peru.

By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.

Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.]

Passing through the small town of Macachara, I made José ask an Indian

woman, seated on the side of the street, how old she was? She answered,

one hundred years, God bless you, and "_very poor_." At a well built

stone bridge, dated 1770, a flock of parrots flew by. Our course is

south, over a rocky, dusty road; the day clear and calm. At noon,

thermometer, 71°, with snow-capped mountains to the northeast. There

is very little growth on the mountains—here and there some cactus.

We arrived at the side of a stream through which a number of women

were wading. No wonder they carry such loads on their backs, they are

so stout built. An old woman, with four handsome daughters, kept her

dress much dryer than any of the girls, though they were more careful

after they found how deep it was. They are not nervous, and don't mind

men much. A plateau is cultivated with barley, and we felt somewhat

interested in the ground over which we travel. It is the battle-field

of Ayacucho, where the royalists of Spain, under command of Viceroy

Laserna, met the independent South Americans, under the brave Venezuelan

Sucre. This battle took place on the 9th day of December, 1824, when the

whole of the Peruvian territory was surrendered, with the exception of

Callao.

The country around is wild and deeply washed with gullies and ravines

in the wet season. The Spaniards flocked to this country for silver and

gold; they built a large city, and called it Huamanga; the republicans

changed its name to Ayacucho, in honor of the victory. It is the capital

of the department, which is divided into five provinces, and contains

a population of 129,921.

The complexion of the people becomes lighter as we get south, and fewer

Indians speak Spanish. They all say "buenos tardes" (good evening) when

we meet them, even if it be at sunrise. Many of their expressions in

Quichua sound like the language of the natives of the South Pacific

islands, as I recollect it ten years ago, while cruising as a midshipman

in the ship-of-war St. Louis.

The city of Ayacucho has a population of ten thousand people; the houses

have two stories, with large rooms and court-yards; the streets run

at right angles, and are paved. On the grand plaza stands an immense

cathedral, of stone, with heavy bells and iron-fastened doors. There

are twenty-two other churches. The whole city was built on a grand

and expensive scale. The present population indicate a falling off in

numbers and wealth. The streets are strewed with ragged children and

beggar men. Under large corridors are seen lounging sleepy old soldiers,

with muskets and fixed bayonets; officers parade the streets, buttoned

up to the throat, with dangling swords, and some of the most unclean

looking priests we have ever beheld.

In the two schools there are only thirty pupils. A professor of belles

lettres and _poetry_, informed me that geography was only provided

for in the college of Lima; and a teacher of _latin grammar_ said the

reason they had so few scholars was, the parents were too poor to pay

for schooling. Among the aboriginals it is very unusual to find one who

can write his name, and not unusual to find Creoles who cannot write.

As to reading, I have never seen a person in the country so occupied,

and have not seen a public journal.

In the plaza the Indians sell barley, wheat, maize, potatoes, onions,

lucerne, and fruits, brought from the other side of the eastern ridge.

In a blacksmith's shop I found the mestizos burning charcoal, and upon

asking whether they used stone coal, they all stopped work, and, with

an air of astonishment, said they had never seen coal dug out of the

ground, nor iron neither. One of them showed me a piece of charcoal,

and inquired whether I had seen any before! As they were about shoeing

a mule, I remained. The smith came into the street with a short-handled

whip, long lash, and box of tools, accompanied by four workmen. One of

them doubled a hair rope and slung the mule's hind foot to its tail; in

doing so there was some kicking. The tools were at once set aside, and

the sprightly mule most cruelly whipped; after which the shoe was nailed

on and the hoof cut to fit it. The horseshoes are imported.