Market place—Cinchona bark—Funeral
ceremonies—Longevity—Kindness of British and Brazilian
ministers—French schoolmistresses—Ancient habitation—Sucre,
the capital—Departments of Chuquisaca and Tarija—River
Bermejo—Distribution of vegetable life—Visit to
Lake Uarauara—Snow line—Balls—Theatre—Department of
Santa Cruz—Creole population—Daily life—Province of
Chiquitos—Indians—Labors of the Jesuits—Paraguay river.
On the regular days the market place is crowded with Indians selling,
while creoles are the principal buyers. The market is conveniently
arranged; on one side are the dry-goods huxters; on another, those
with shoes and beads. Beef, mutton, and pork are kept by themselves,
while fruits occupy a separate part. In the centre a number of women
cook chupe for those who are from home. In the street stand droves of
jackasses patiently waiting with forefeet hobbled. Children sleep while
slung to their mothers' backs. The gay laugh of the Indian girls often
makes the country boys sputter their chupe. Small bundles of wood and
charcoal are brought from the further side of the ridge. Indians leave
town with the setting sun and return during the night, driving donkeys
loaded with snow to be sold to the ice-cream facturers. These various
businesses are on a small scale, but all contribute their mite, and the
market of Cochabamba is well supplied with everything the inhabitants
need. The candle-makers do a good business. Oil costs so much after the
transit across the mountains that it is seldom used. We were present
when a merchant unpacked some boxes of French wines and sweet oil. Every
fourth bottle was broken, and some bottles empty. This loss was deducted
from the pay of the arriero. The poor man looked sad at the smallness
of his receipts after fourteen days labor over the mountains from the
coast. French articles excite the fancy of the people very much, such as
work-boxes, cigar cases, fancy lace. The women sometimes buy, for the
sake of getting the pretty paper boxes the French put their goods in.
Very common glassware sells well, but costly articles are more or less
injured by the journey, and find few purchasers here. The people are
more fond of trade than any other employment; they seem to take pleasure
in buying and selling again, and to possess an active industry seldom
met with.
[Illustration: COCHABAMBA MARKET WOMAN.
By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.
Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.]
The great business house in Cochabamba is the bank for the deposit
and purchase of cinchona bark, gathered along the northeast side of
a ridge in the province of Yuracares. This bark was first gathered in
quantities in 1849, though known for many years. The best quality is
not quite equal to that of Yungas, but only second to it. There are four
other classes of inferior bark, for some of which the bank pays fifteen
dollars per quintal. The best, by law, is worth fifty-four dollars. The
freight to Arica is seventeen dollars the mule load of three quintals.
Six thousand quintals of bark have already been gathered from Yuracares.
The bank was established in the year 1851. Mr. Haenke mentioned the
existence of cinchona bark on his visit to Yuracares in 1796, but it
was never closely examined until 1850, when it was found to be of such
good quality that the people of Cochabamba endeavored to get a bank
established upon an improved plan. This was not agreeable to those at
La Paz, and when the Yuracares bark was sent to that bank to have its
value determined, it was pronounced bad. The judges of Tacna, Lima, and
Valparaiso gave a different opinion. A shrewd business man of Cochabamba
requested his agent in La Paz to forward a quintal of Yungas bark that
had already passed inspection as good bark through their bank. It was
then made up in the Cochabamba fashion, and bearing a Yuracares mark,
was sent back to the La Paz bank. In regular course it was pronounced
bad. The case was then laid before the government; a new company was
formed, and a bank was established here, but without the proposed
improvements.
The eighth article of the last constitution declares, "All men may enter
the territory of Bolivia, live in it, and are at liberty to take away
with them their property, paying duties to the treasury, according to
laws of police and the custom-house."
The forests are open to all who choose to enter them; the business is
more valuable than mining. Men sometimes remain after the rainy season
has commenced. We have dreadful accounts of the loss of life among the
woodsmen this month (December) by the sickness brought on by exposure to
the climate. Many poor families are without husbands and fathers. They
have died in the woods, while seeking fortunes.
The Indians comparatively pay little attention to the business. They
make use of cinchona, as well as of other barks, but seldom trade with
it. There is a bark from the province of Matto Grosso, in Brazil, which
the Indians prefer in cases of fever and ague. It is from a large tree
with very small leaves, violet blossoms, and the bark very hard. They
boil it in water till the decoction becomes deep red, and then drink
it. It is said by them to be a certain cure, although this bark is not
yet known in the trade. The bank is obliged to keep watchmen along the
roads to the entrances of the forests during the time the government
prohibits the gathering of bark, to see there is no smuggling. This plan
is both difficult and expensive. From Yungas the woodsmen sometimes find
their way into Peru by secret paths through the tangled forests, and
exchange bark under the shade of trees in the Amazon basin for the gold
of Carabaya. It is astonishing to see the toil and labor these poor men
go through under tropical sun and rains for this article of trade; yet
neither they nor those having the monopoly appear to be accumulating
money. The expenses of labor, the distance from market, and the want of
system in the business appear to be obstructions. The law requires the
woodsman to sell his bark to the bank; the company again are required
by the same law to pay fixed prices per quintal. The market prices in
the northern countries are so low that the bank is occasionally obliged
to stop. The woodsmen crowd in and require money for their bark; the
business becomes choked, and the people engaged are dissatisfied. Then
the government is called upon for temporary relief for money to pay the
woodsmen, or a decree to prohibit the gathering of bark until the market
prices rise.
While in Cochabamba we witnessed ceremonials for the funeral of a little
child. A number of ladies came to prepare the infant for the grave.
They dressed it in a white silk frock, fastened on by diamond rings,
and trimmed with gold and silver threads; the little feet and head
bare. In its right hand was placed a golden cross, and in the left a
small silver lamb. The coffin was lined with deep-blue silk, inside of
which was placed a little bed; the whole hung by three bands of blue
and white ribbon. While the ladies were engaged upon this preparation,
they laughed and talked as though making very different preparations.
The mother and family were brought in to see the arrangements. Six
little boys, dressed in black, held the ribbons, and carried the child
towards the church. The ladies, headed by the commadre (godmother) of
the dead infant, followed, and after them friends on foot. The eldest
sister was the only one of the family who followed to the church. As
the boys moved along through the streets, Indian women crowded round to
look at and admire the finery. The boys were cautioned to see that none
of the jewellery were stolen. These are taken off after the body leaves
the church for the graveyard, where the coffin is placed on a shelf in
a brick wall above ground. Great care is taken that the coffin is not
stolen, particularly when it is an expensive one. The same coffin is
sold several times for eight dollars. Among the mestizos we are told are
found many bad people. Twenty priests, with lighted candles, knelt in
prayer by the music of "misa de las Angelas"—angels' mass. The ladies
returned to the house of the mother, and spent the evening sociably, as
though nothing had happened. The regular custom of the country is to
have music and dancing in the house before the corpse is taken to the
church, and even to bring in chicha; but as the father of this child
was a foreigner, no such practice was permitted. The doctrine taught by
the church seems to be, that as the child is in Heaven, it is cause for
rejoicing and merry-making. This appears to be a bounty for negligence
and inattention to life.
I saw a funeral passing through the streets of Cochabamba, preceded
by a man with a five-gallon jar of chicha on his head. At the corners
of the streets, when those who carried the corpse were tired, they all
drank and sang, until the whole party became intoxicated, so that they
did not reach the graveyard at all, and the funeral was postponed until
the next day, when the same forms were practised we saw the day before.
This is the case only among the mestizos; the Indians are more orderly;
show a more quiet respect, natural, and proper feeling. They often sit
silently in rows by a corpse all night mourning for the loss of a fellow
Indian. There is among them a deep, heartfelt expression, that carries
with it outwardly an unmistakeable and truthful inward grief.
The funeral of a wealthy creole is attended by gentlemen dressed in
black, invited by printed cards, who carry long tallow candles through
the streets, accompanied by music. A train of Franciscan friars and
portable altars put up at the corners between the houses and some
church. Masses are said agreeably to order, and a charge is made in the
funeral bills for chicha, cigars, coca, wine, cooking apparatus, with
other church expenses, amounting to nearly three hundred dollars. We
witnessed such a bill paid for a friend, and could not avoid making a
comparison between the articles and the list of mess stores drawn up by
an old sailor on the eve of his departure for a cruise round Cape Horn.
Men do not live to a very old age in Cochabamba, eighty years being
the oldest known at present. Girls sometimes bear children at the age
of thirteen; twelve years is the marriageable age, both for creoles
and Indians. The proportion of marriages in this country is small
for the amount of population. I regret to be obliged to say the most
moral portion is found among the aboriginal race. The Indian, with
his wife and children around him, cultivates the soil, while the
creoles and mestizos are idle and generally unmarried people. Since
the establishment of the government, in the year 1826 to the year 1851,
during twenty-five years, the population has increased from about one
million to one million and a half. Few people leave the country, and
few emigrate to it.
In the streets of Cochabamba there are many beggars, blind and crazy.
It was the practice of one friend to open his door and let into the
patio on Saturday about fifty miserable-looking creatures—men, women,
and children—not one of them Indians; each was served with two loaves
of bread by the hands of his little daughters.
Through the polite interposition of her Britannic Majesty's minister in
Sucre, the Brazilian envoy kindly sent me passports to the authorities
on my route, and also wrote to the governor of the province of Matto
Grosso in my behalf.
The Extraordinary Minister Plenipotentiary from Brazil had made a
short speech to the President and his cabinet, at a dinner in Sucre,
on the navigation of the Amazon river and its tributaries, by which
it was understood he had been sent to desire the exclusive right to
navigate the branches of the Madeira flowing through the territory
of Bolivia. An enterprising and intelligent gentleman, engaged in the
trade of cinchona bark in Cochabamba, and a friend of President Belzu,
answered the Brazilian minister. He said it would be more advantageous
to Bolivia to grant that privilege to a company belonging to a nation
who would introduce the mechanic arts, machinery, and agricultural
implements, into the lowlands and proper tools for mining operations. He
was in favor of the navigation being opened to the commercial people of
North America. To this the Brazilian minister replied, that the North
Americans had already annexed a large territory from Mexico, and he
considered such a proposition an invitation for them to come to South
America. As he had not been received in an official character by the
government of Bolivia, he demanded his passport, and retired from the
contest.
In the opinion of some, it was thought a wise plan to induce the
President of Bolivia to declare towns on the branches of the Madeira
free ports of entry to the commerce of the world. By others it was
considered an impolitic movement, as there might be proved a necessity
to land cargoes in the territory of Brazil at certain points of
obstruction between the Atlantic and Bolivia, and no affront should be
offered the Brazilian government, with whom it was necessary to be upon
good terms for the accomplishment of a great commercial enterprise. The
merchants of Cochabamba used their influence with the cabinet ministers
to discourage any act which might stand in the way of a right to pass
down to the ocean through the territory of Brazil, or, in case of
natural obstructions—such as falls and rapids—to prevent an amicable
arrangement for portages on land between these two nations.
The President has appointed two French ladies schoolmistresses for the
public schools supported by the government for the education of the
poor children in Cochabamba. These ladies come from the other side of
the world to teach, and by our particular request one of them promised
to lead the ideas of the children along the current of the small stream
flowing by the school-house through all its turnings, until she got them
to understand how easy it would be to go that way to the land of her
forefathers.
A large congregation of the intelligent people of Cochabamba were
present at the opening of this institution. The prefect of the
department and bishop appeared in their official robes. The gentlemen
present were of many colors.
The ladies of Cochabamba very seldom smoke or use tobacco, except as
snuff, and then it seems to be for the pleasure of sneezing; a practice
frequently resorted to by the bishop, who wore a handsome diamond ring.
The prefect addressed the audience, and gave his authority for opening
the institution. One of the French ladies rose and read, in a clear
and intelligible voice, thanks to the government for her appointment,
promising to exert herself to the best of her ability, setting forth
the wide difference between the well-educated lady and the savage woman.
There are three schools in the city for boys, and two other small
ones for girls. The great difficulty seems to be in the selection of
teachers. While the government was here the boys had holiday, the troops
being quartered in the school-houses.
There was no public journal published in Cochabamba on our arrival;
but a Ramage press was soon set in motion upon the subject of the
navigable rivers and commerce of Bolivia. A pamphlet was published,
called "Revista"; we received the first number, and found that the young
merchants of the city had contributed _poetry_.
The "Revista" is the fourth public journal in the country. Besides two
small papers in La Paz, there is one published in Sucre—"El Eco de la
Opinion," which with the rest are all careful to be of the same opinion
as the government upon public as well as private matters. Indeed, we
perceive no freedom of expression, as we would consider it in the United
States.
The Indians' houses are small and generally have but one room. In the
centre is a high adobe stand, built up to obstruct a view from the
street. In one corner is an adobe bedstead, which is used for a seat.
Around the earthy wall is hung a strip of cotton cloth to protect
visitors' clothes from being soiled. In a small wooden box all the
valuables are kept, such as clothes, money, and ornaments. On the wall
are hung a few pictures of saints and angels, purchased from the clergy,
with here and there a wooden cross, decorated with flowers. In one
corner are earthen and copper pots or kettles, with a few large stones,
between which the fire is made. In another corner is usually found a
squadron of white, black, or yellow Guinea pigs, grunting and burrowing
in the ground floor to the great amusement of the aboriginal children,
who are very partial to them when converted into chupe.
The ancient habitations of the Indians of this valley are rotund, built
entirely of moistened clay and stone, with but one entrance. These
houses are going out of fashion, though many of them are used at the
present day. There are a number of ruins about the valley, supposed to
be of the style of ancient times. The art of building archways was an
accomplishment of the Aymara tribe, of which we found no signs near the
Inca capital.
The Indian ploughs a strait furrow with a team of oxen, although he
knew nothing of such animals until the Spaniard came. He rides a young,
unbroken horse bare-backed, sticking so close to the hide that his legs
chafe the hair off; yet his forefathers had not a donkey to practise
upon. The Indian is desirous that his children shall be taught. A
fine-looking old man wanted to know if I would have his son to bring up,
informing me of his good qualities, and saying that José had told him I
was the sort of man to whom he should give his child. He evidently was
not pleased at my declining his offer, notwithstanding José explained
to him that my home was far off to the north; to which he replied, "No
importa;" that was no objection.
A number of lakes are in the valley and on the mountains in the
neighborhood of this city. During a dry time, no frogs are heard; but
the moment the thunder roars, or the lightning flashes, they sing songs
of thankfulness; the valley is made gay with their voices after rains.
The wild ducks bathe in the calm waters, near the willow trees which
shade the Indian's hut, and is also adorned with sweet orange blossoms,
while the dry barren hills are baked into crust, and the sheared sheep
look half starved for want of pasture.
The clover or lucerne that fattens horses, mules, horned cattle, and
jackasses, is not relished by the sheep and llama. The latter animal is
seldom found here, and unless forced down, never seeks the climate or
grasses of this valley. The horse as well as black cattle thrive, and
the hog is at his ease. There are few bees; we observe ants on clear
days providing against wet weather; they are very exclusive. Humming
birds are numerous; blackbirds, and three or four kinds resembling the
cedar bird and sparrow, are seen. An ugly and very ill-natured hawk
resides on the sides of the hills among the cactus and the doves.
[Illustration: ANCIENT QUICHUA INDIAN HUT, COCHABAMBA, Bolivia.
By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.
Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.]
We mounted our mules, which were saddled and fastened under a lemon
tree, early in the morning. After passing through the rich gardens
of Calacala, we wound our way through small bushes and cactus to the
hacienda "Miraflores," where the people go in the month of January every
year to eat strawberries and cream. As we rode up to the house an old
Indian's head appeared on the one side of a pea-patch in full flower,
as the sun peeped through a gorge in the mountains on the other. We
were admiring the rich growth of vegetation at the base of the great
mountain range, where green fields of barley appear at the mouth of
a deep ravine, when we suddenly heard a crash, and looking round, saw
Richards with mule, saddle, and gear falling over the rocky ground, for
there was no road, and we had to take it rough and tumble; fortunately
there was nothing broken except the saddle-girth and the stock of a gun,
which the old Indian kindly enough assisted us in repairing, and sent
his little boy to show us a path leading up the mountain side, dry and
unproductive for some distance. Our mules were in fine condition, but
suffered in the steep ascent, being rather fat for such work. We met
jackasses descending with loads of potatoes, beans, peas, barley, and
oca, a species of potato, of a purple color, which is boiled and eaten
as a vegetable, or put in chupe. The Indians pay great attention to the
cultivation of the oca; its vine resembles the bean plant. Proceeding
still further, we met with good pasture for cattle. The oxen were in
fine condition, equal to those in the valley below. Here the Indians and
their families live the year round, cultivating their little gardens
for the markets of Cochabamba. Our mules are wet with perspiration,
and we gain an uncultivated and uninhabited region, clothed in a thick
sod of mountain grasses. The whistle of the vicuña is heard, and we
dismounted to get a shot at three large partridges, the size of hens,
the "Perdiz Grande," which are found on the pampas of Buenos Ayres.
Our mules suddenly turn gray by frost formed on the ends of their hair.
The clouds are forming, and we seat ourselves under their cool shade to
breakfast, with a snow-capped mountain above, and far below the valley
and city in full view. The farther side of the valley appears tilted up
out of its level; beyond are the everlasting mountains.
The road through those hills leads south to the capital Sucre, with a
population of 19,235. Sucre was founded by the title of "La Plata,"
silver, in a district known in the early days of the Spaniards as
"Charcas." It was afterwards changed to "Chuqui Chaca," the Indian
name for "gold place." It seems to have been a doubtful question among
the Spaniards which was most appropriate, a golden or a silver title,
both metals being found there. The republicans called the country after
"_their_ Washington," as Bolivar is often spoken of.
The department of Chuquisaca, of which Sucre is the capital, has a
population of 117,503 Creoles, and 34,287 Quichua Indians. Half of that
department is situated in the Madeira Plate, and the other in La Plata
basin. Sucre stands on the edge of each; the water flowing from the
south side of the city runs into the South Atlantic ocean; that towards
us pays tribute to the North Atlantic. The Mamoré waters this side of
the department, and the Pilcomayo the other side. We left the latter
stream, when first noticed, where it broke through the Andes in the
department of Potosi.
The climates of Potosi and Oruro are cold; those of Cochabamba and
Chuquisaca temperate. The sky in the night on this steppe is generally
clear. The productions of Chuquisaca are the same as in Cochabamba,
with the addition of pasture for cattle, and timber in the ravines.
In La Plata basin the traveller finds the Indian cultivating the sugar
cane on the banks of the Pilcomayo, and distilling brandy and rum. From
grapes he makes wine of good quality. The sugar mills are constructed of
timber at hand. The tropical fruits, as the orange, lemon, chirimoyas,
granadillas, and limes, grow in the valleys, while the productions of
the table lands of the cold regions are found among the hills. Near the
Andes, in the Pilcomayo, gold has been washed, and among the mountains
there are abandoned silver mines. Five silver mines are reported to
be worked at present. Stone coal, tin, copper, lead, and iron are
natives. Rice is raised there, and the chick pea or brown bean, so much
esteemed by the Spaniards. Particles of gold, rolled down from the foot
of the Andes, have been washed from the alluvial soil near the river.
It appears strange that gold should be found on the west side of the
Cordilleras, and at the eastern base of the Andes, while on top silver
predominates. We trace a connected outpouring of gold on the tributaries
of the Pilcomayo, Mamoré, Beni, and Madre-de-Dios. Our map will show
the links of this golden chain as wonderful as the golden legends told
of the wealth of the Incas.
There are some very curious and ancient remains of magnificent edifices
in the department of Chuquisaca which excite admiration, but to whom
they originally belonged still remains a mystery.
Looking far south we see on our map the department of Tarija, with
a population of 53,666 Creoles, and 9,108 friendly Indians; but the
eastern portion of this department is inhabited by tribes of very savage
Indians, of whom there is little known. They roam among the forests and
grassy plains, or among those great mountains which separate Bolivia
from the Argentines.
The town of Tarija, capital of the department, contains a population of
5,129, and is situated on one of the tributaries of the river Bermejo,
which flows through the Argentine confederation into the Paraguay. My
impressions, from information, are that the Bermejo is a deeper and a
slower-motioned stream than the Pilcomayo, and that small sail-vessels
may reach the town of Oran, a short distance south of the southern
boundary of Bolivia. We are not, however, as certain of this as we
are that the Pilcomayo has been reported not navigable in Bolivia.
There is a wide field for exploration on La Plata. Grape-vines produce
luxuriously in Tarija, and there the Paraguay tea—"yerba del Paraguay,"
is found. Cochabamba, Chuquisaca, and Tarija, are the corn-growing
departments of this country; Potosi and La Paz are the potato districts.
The distribution of vegetable life, as presented to us in their elevated
regions, places the potato the highest; the other plants run down in
order—quinua, barley, wheat, coffee, and sugar-cane. Therefore the
inhabitants on this side of the mountains have a self-sustaining supply
without looking to other countries for sugar, wine, flower, potatoes, or
tea; and the varieties of animal life offer them mutton and wool from
the highlands, with beef and tallow candles from the steppe, on which
exists the most dense population.
Our mules rested, and our breakfast over, we mount and slowly struggle
upwards again; the bright sun shines clear upon the city below, while
we have a cloudy day. It is interesting to see from under this cloudy
curtain the beautiful natural-colored scene on this stage of wonderful
creation. The panorama brilliantly lighted by the sun, which sparkles on
the waters of the river as they dash along among the deep green foliage.
The lakes are like mirrors, only rippled by the green breast of the wild
duck. A long train of mules winds along the road from the Pacific; we
just hear the great bell of the cathedral toll, when the clouds unroll
and fall, shutting out light and view, as a mountain eagle shrieks. The
scene soon changes as we climb higher up among the bare-headed rocky
peaks; on our left is one gray with the snows of perpetual winter; on
the right a great avalanche of earth has fallen from the crown of a
mountain into the ravine, as though blown off by the prevailing winds
from the opposite side. The jackasses we meet are loaded with fire-wood
and charcoal, from an extensive growth on the eastern face. The Indians
wear long hair on the back of the head, and never cultivate a growth on
their faces.
The water draining from the snow forms the Lake Uarauara, which is
dammed up at its outlet during the rainy season, and let out gradually
in the dry, for the supply of Cochabamba. The chart will show its
height above the city. We were disappointed in not finding game;
neither water-fowl nor fish were seen. The waters are transparent and
silent; nothing was moving except the clouds and the small veins of cold
snow-water. Thin sheets of ice lie near the lake, and patches of snow on
the brow of the mountains resemble white cloths spread out on the ground
to dry. Some of the rocks were broken in such perfect forms that we were
almost induced to take them for houses, and hunt up a washwoman. The
temperature of the water was 59°; air, 54°. In the valley of Cochabamba
the temperature of a spring was 62° Fahrenheit.
A small quantity of the snow on a peak near this lake remains through
the dry season; in the wet season the snow-line is constantly sliding
up and down the sides of the mountains. When very damp the snow appears
lowest, and sometimes reaches half-way down to Cochabamba; in the
morning, as the sun rises, and his effects are felt, the lower edge
of the snow-line is melted off, and to the eye it seems travelling up
hill. The clouds are regulated by the precipitation. When there is much
rain cloudy days follow, and the curtain round the valley arises from
the moisture on the mountains. The lower edge of the curtain is lowered
down in the morning exactly to the lower edge of the snow, and as it is
evaporated the curtain rises in the evening, in time for those in the
valley to behold the sun set behind clearly defined snow-peaks.
The climate, therefore, is very variable in the valley between the
months of December and May. I have noted the thermometer in Cochabamba,
12th January, at 69°; in five minutes after, it was as low as 52° in
the same place, in the shade. A man planting tube roses in his garden,
without a coat, and in sheeting trousers, would run suddenly into the
house for thick cloth clothing; in the mean time the hard hail-stones
destroy his flowers and drive cattle from their pastures.
Heavy storms frequently arise in the wet season, and blow violently
through the valley, from southeast. The hail beats so hard upon the pear
trees that the delicate leaves are broken from the upper branches, and
the blossoms are destroyed. The hot sun withers the ends of the limbs,
and they die, so that all the pear trees are stunted; and instead of
large, clear limbs, the under branches are sapped by numbers of suckers
that shoot out and rob the fruit of its life. Hence it is that not only
pears but apples are very indifferent, but might be improved by trimming
the trees, which the Indian does not seem to understand, and the creole
cares less for the tree than for the fruit.
[Illustration: LA LAGUNA DE UARA-UARA.
By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.
Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.]
The willow grows up like a poplar; its narrow leaves present such a
small surface to the hail or sun that they may be said to grow between
the drops. It is the tallest tree in the valley. The willow naturally
grows by the side of streams, where the roots creep out into water or
swampy ground. The apple produces best on higher and drier earth. Almost
every plant in this valley has to be raised by irrigation.
We returned, after a harassing ride to Miraflores, "see the flowers,"
where we found the old Indian's wife had provided chupe for us, and
lucerne for our animals. She had stirred in so much "ajé"—the red dwarf
pepper—that we preferred her boiled corn. This seemed so strange she
dropped several stitches in the woollen stockings she was knitting,
and looked as much as to say, "Where do you come from, that you don't
like ajé?" When she was paid for her kindness, she laughed, gave us
apples, and sent her son to show the way through the peach trees and
strawberry patches. The attention of the Indians is much attracted to
hear us talking in English. They listen, look at each other, listen
again, and say "don't understand _that_." Then they close up and stand
in deep thought as they reflect. When they see we want anything they
offer assistance or kindness, which shows a frank, honest hospitality to
strangers. They seldom ask for anything; when they receive a gift it is
with a quiet modesty, which speaks their thanks more plainly than words.
On our return to Buena Vista, in town, near the alameda, we found José
with a fine young dog, which had been sent by a friend, and which we
named Mamoré. The dogs in this country are often a miserable breed of
curs. Mamoré appears to be a cross between a Spanish terrier and the
mastiff; while very brave he is very affectionate, and being young
enough to be spoiled by too much company, we train him as sentinel at
night, and keep him very exclusive; his services may be very much needed
on the journey; his color is yellowish brown, and he is of large size.
The Indians are so partial to dogs that they raise more than they can
conveniently support. The young aborigines seem to have greater fondness
for animals than for each other. We have seen two of them pelting one
another with mud balls, while a third seated on a sow, looking with
delight at nine squealers helping themselves to milk. When she rose
on her fore-feet, the child rolled off among the pigs, laughingly
grasping the first tail in his way, to the great annoyance of his hungry
companions.
We have news of the mail being stopped between Sucre and Oruro by a
heavy fall of snow on the Andes, which was deep enough to break in the
roofs of houses in Oruro, while here peaches are sold in the market.
The peach tree flourishes better than the apple, but both fruit and tree
are small. The quince grows to an unusual size in the valley, and the
trees are loaded with fruit of golden yellow.
The merchants are keeping back their remittances to the Pacific on
account of numerous robberies reported in the snowy regions.
The young gentlemen give a ball every month in the palace, and
performances at the theatre, which was once a church. On both occasions
the families of the city are brought sociably together. The balls are
believed to produce political concord, and are very gay. A Sucre lady
inquired if "Cochabamba girls dressed in good taste?" The creoles seem
anxious to know the opinion strangers have of them. The North American
midshipmen used to say, the height of their enjoyment was to dance with
the South American girls. The beauty, manners, and grace of the ladies
here cannot be disputed; they are naturally gifted with a pleasing
flow of conversation, keen-sighted, and witty. Their bright black eyes
flash beneath an irresistible and modest smile; their long, black hair
is neatly arranged abroad, but at home it usually hangs plaited over
the shoulders and breast. They appear more proud of small feet than
of lovely eyes and snow-white necks. In walking they carry themselves
straight, and show their graceful figures to advantage; their motions
are slow and steady. A bloom on the cheek gives them a fresh, healthy
appearance as they ride spirited horses by the side of their lovers,
through the gardens of Calacala, before sunrise in the morning.
At midday, on the 12th of May, 1852, we mounted and followed a train
of nineteen loaded mules towards the east. Our baggage was reduced one
half upon each animal. By law, the arriero may charge full price in
descending the eastern side of the Andes for half the load carried on
the roads of the table lands. The train followed a white mare with a
bell hung to her neck. Four arrieros were accompanied by a number of
women, carrying jars of chicha. The party seemed to have been drinking
over night, and bent upon a frolic. They succeeded in seducing José, who
rode along with our tent pole on his shoulder, and hat pulled over his
eyes, ordering about men and women, until I was called upon to settle
a difficulty between him and the chief arriero's wife. Richards was
carefully guarding Mamoré for fear we would lose him. After some trouble
in keeping the baggage mules from escaping up the cross streets, we bid
farewell to Cochabamba. On the river bank the women seated themselves in
a row to take the last dram with the men who were going with us. They
shouted, sang, and danced; then shaking hands all round, the arrieros
called to their mules, and we all moved along single file on our way
home through the river bed, which was now dry again, the wet season
being just over.
The minister of state sent circular instructions to all the authorities
on my route, _rubriconded_ by President Belzu, by which they ordered
the prefects and governors to facilitate the expedition.
The President usually signs public documents with his peculiar mark
or flourish alone, without writing his name. No man's signature in the
country is valued without getting him to "_rubricar_" the document also.
The custom is a Spanish one. They have been known to use their own blood
or red ink, but the black ink does as well and is lawful. Our receipt
book is a most _flourishing_ volume. After José signs his name for his
monthly wages, he straddles his legs, turns his head sideways, and gives
a most gallant dash, occupying the remainder of the page, often through
the paper on to the next leaf, with the point of the pen. We observe
all along the route that the people generally _dash_ better than they
write. The rule may have originated for the advantage of those who could
not write.
Passing over a level road and through the small town of Sacaba, we slung
our hammock on the piazza of a hacienda at the foot of the ridge of
mountains. Mamoré whipped the big house-dog and played with the small
ones, while the fleas retaliated upon us. The mule drivers laughed among
themselves when they saw us washing our faces in the morning, while
they were snugly wrapped up in their ponchos. The country girls are
quite pretty. The drovers we met on the road with horned cattle for the
Cochabamba market, said they came from Villa Grande, in the department
of Santa Cruz, to the southeast of us. The cattle come up with the
winds. They are of good size and condition.
We turned to the northeast, rising up on the mountain. Leaving the
valley of Cochabamba, the road lies through a gorge in a range where
the Indians were digging potatoes and reaping barley. Descending again,
we encamped for the night by an Indian stone hut, amidst the harvest
fields. Don Cornello, our head arriero, purchased a sheep in partnership
with us, and his men dressed it for the journey. One of them, who
suffered with chills, Cornello dosed with a solution of cinchona bark
from a bottle he carried with his bread in his saddle wallets.
In this small mountain basin, the thermometer stands at 52°, at 6
p. m., and wet bulb, 53°, with heavy frost in the morning. From the
last ridge of mountains we see that the waters flowing towards the
northeast go directly to the river Mamoré, and those which run to the
southeast are tributary to the same stream, winding around the ridge,
at the end of which is situated the city of Santa Cruz, which has a
population of six thousand souls. The department contains a population
of forty-two thousand two hundred and eighty-four whites, and twenty-six
thousand three hundred and seventy-three aborigines. Santa Cruz is
the rice-growing state of this country; it being mostly situated in
the bottom of the Madeira Plate. Its climate is truly tropical—both
hot and moist. It is well wooded and watered. Among the level lands
there are lakes, and on the road to the town of Matto Grosso, there
are alternately forests and plains covered with a growth of herd grass
on which cattle flourish. Tropical fruits are raised in the gardens of
Santa Cruz. The weavers of Cochabamba receive their cotton thence, as
well as sugar and molasses. Both coffee and chocolate are of excellent
quality, and some of the tobacco is equal to that of Cuba. The Nankin
cotton of China is produced of a bright color, and contrasts beautifully
with the white. The vanilla bean grows by the side of the Indigo plant.
The Indian cultivates the pea-nut along the sandy banks of the rivers.
The white man reports signs of cinnabar among the mountains at the end
of this ridge, where wheat, maize, potatoes, and grapes are found.
The skins of spotted and black tigers are exported to the cold
departments, with hides of horned cattle, horses, and the sloth. The
feathers and skins of rare birds, snakes, and lizards are gathered among
forest trees of the most brilliant colors. The cochineal insect has its
place, while different species of bees supply the inhabitants with honey
and wax.
The distance from the town of Santa Cruz to Cochabamba is one hundred
and seven leagues. The arrieros generally lag along the road thirty
days with a cargo of chocolate, coffee, and sugar, or with cotton
manufactures, glassware, and salt in return. The trip from Santa Cruz
to Cobija is made generally within three months by the way of Cochabamba
and Potosi; the distance by the road being three hundred and forty-five
leagues. The return cargo may arrive in three months more, but it is not
certain that two trips to the Pacific coast and back can be made in one
year. It must not be supposed a very extensive foreign trade is carried
on with the department of Santa Cruz, though a most dense population is
found on its western border. When we look at the list of productions
in that region of country, we are struck with the independence of its
inhabitants upon all external trade. A breakfast table in Santa Cruz,
constructed of beautiful cedar wood, is described, covered with white
cotton cloth, silver plates and dishes, with silver cups, forks, and
spoons; coffee, sugar, cream, butter, corn and wheat bread, mutton,
eggs, and oranges, are all produced in the province. Beef is found on
the pampa, game in the woods, and fish in the rivers. Potatoes and all
the garden vegetables are raised upon the plantations. The arm chair of
the creole is made of the ornamental "Caoba," or mahogany tree. Eight
guests may be seated, each one in a different species of mahogany.
His Indian servants gather grapes, make wine, collect the tropical
fruits, and tobacco; while his wife or daughter take pride in well-made
cigars. The climate is such that horses roam about all the year; there
is no expense for stabling the animals. No barns are necessary for
the protection of his harvests during a hard winter. His house may be
as open as a shed. What little thin clothing and bedding his family
require are supplied by the soil, and worked into fine cloth by the
hands of Indians, who spin, weave, and sew. Silver he cares little for
except in table use. Gold ounces are melted into crosses and earrings
for the Indian girls. The inhabitants of Santa Cruz are therefore the
most indolent in the world; under its hospitable climate, few men exert
themselves beyond what is absolutely necessary.
It may be well to give, from report, an outline of the daily life of a
family in this town. Very early in the morning the creole, getting out
of bed, throws himself into a hamac; his wife stretches herself upon a
bench near by, while the children seat themselves with their legs under
them on the chairs, _all_ in their night dresses. The Indian servant
girl enters with a cup of chocolate for each member of the family. After
which, she brings some coals of fire in a silver dish. The wife lights
her husband a cigar, then one for herself. Some time is spent reclining,
chatting, and regaling. The man slowly pulls on his cotton trousers,
woollen coat, leather shoes, and vicuña hat, with his neck exposed to
the fresh air,—silk handkerchiefs are scarce,—he walks to some near
neighbors, with whom he again drinks chocolate and smokes another cigar.
At midday a small low table is set in the middle of the room, and the
family go to breakfast. The wife sits next to her husband; the women
are very pretty and affectionate to their husbands. He chooses her from
among _five_, there being about that number of women to one man in the
town. The children seat themselves, and the dogs form a ring behind. The
first dish is a chupe of potatoes with large pieces of meat. The man
helps himself first, and throws his bones straight across the table;
a child dodges his head to give it a free passage, and the dogs rush
after it as it falls upon the ground floor. A child then throws his
bone, the mother dodges, and the dogs rush behind her. The second dish
holds small pieces of beef without bones. Dogs are now fighting. Next
comes a dish with finely-chopped beef; then beef soup, vegetables, and
fruits; finally, coffee or chocolate. After breakfast the man pulls
off his trousers and coat and lies down with his drawers in the hamac.
His wife lights him a cigar. She finds her way back to bed with her
cigar. The dogs jump up and lie down on the chairs—the fleas bite them
on the ground. The Indian girl closes both doors and windows, takes the
children out to play, while the rest of the family sleep.
At 2 p. m. the church bells ring to let the people know the priests are
saying a prayer for them, which rouses them up. The man rises, stretches
his hand above his head, and gapes; the dogs get down, and whiningly
stretch themselves; while the wife sets up in bed and loudly calls out
for "fire;" the Indian girl re-appears with a "chunk" for her mistress
to light her master another cigar, and she smokes again herself. The
dinner, which takes place between 3 and 5, and is nearly the same as
breakfast, except when a beef is recently killed by the Indians, then
they have a broil. The ribs and other long bones of the animal are
trimmed of flesh, leaving the bones thinly coated with meat; these
are laid across a fire and roasted; the members of the family, while
employed with them, look as if all were practising music.
A horse is brought into the house by an Indian man, who holds while
the "patron" saddles and bridles him; he then puts on a large pair of
silver spurs, which cost forty dollars, and mounting, he rides out of
the front door to the opposite house; halting, he takes off his hat and
calls out "Buenas tardes, señoritas"—good evening, ladies. The ladies
make their appearance at the door; one lights him a cigar; another mixes
him a glass of lemonade to refresh himself after his ride. He remains in
the saddle talking, while they lean gracefully against the door-posts,
smiling with their bewitching eyes. He touches his hat and rides off
to another neighbor. After spending the afternoon in this way, he rides
into his house again. The Indian holds the horse by the bridle while the
master dismounts. Taking off the saddle, he throws it into one chair,
the bridle into another, his spurs on a third, and himself into the
hamac; the Indian leads out the horse, the dogs pull down the riding
gear to the floor, and lay themselves on their usual bedsteads.
Chocolate and cigars are repeated. Should the creole be handed a
letter of introduction by a stranger travelling through the country, he
immediately offers his hamac and a cup of chocolate. The baggage will
be attended to, and as long as the traveller remains, he is treated by
the family with a degree of kindness and politeness seldom met with in
fashionable parts of the world. No alteration will be made in their mode
of living on account of his being among them, except that the dogs and
horses are kept out of the house, and there is less dodging of bones.
Pride and a natural feeling of good manners prevent the stranger from
seeing such performances. The creole speaks of the wealth of his country
in the most exaggerated manner; he has so many of the good things of
the world at his door, that he naturally boasts; he thinks little of
other parts of the world; he has no idea of leaving his own fruits
and flowers. The roads are bad; he cares little for their use. When
he leaves his native city, it is more for pleasure than for commerce.
He is not obliged to build railroads that he may receive at low rates
of freight the tea of China; the sugar of the West Indies; the flour,
iron, or cotton goods of North America. His own climate is so agreeable
that he seldom wishes to travel; there is no place like _his_ home!
When the traveller inquires how he would like to see a steamboat come
to the mouth of the Piray river, the water of which he drinks, his
eyes brighten, and he smilingly says "he would be delighted;" at once
telling what he would put on board of her as a cargo for the people
who sent her. He is contented with the roads constructed by the hand
of the Creator of all things; but the creole is honest in his desire
to see what he has never yet seen—a steam-engine move a vessel. He is
ready to sell his produce to those who come to him; yet when you inquire
what he desires from other parts of the world, it is very certain, from
the length of time it takes him to answer, that he seldom thinks he is
in want of anything; and if asked how much he is willing to subscribe
towards purchasing a steamboat, his usual answer is, that "he has no
money, and is very poor!"
The Spanish language is more generally spoken in Santa Cruz than in
other parts of this country. The Indians are taught and practise that
language to the exclusion of their own. The people of Santa Cruz pride
themselves upon their pure Spanish, and ridicule the speech of those
of other towns. The teachers of most of the schools in Cochabamba are
natives of Santa Cruz, as well as the most intelligent of the clergy,
who are generally foremost to speak of the advantages of establishing
trade with the Atlantic ocean by the natural river road, instead of
looking constantly towards the Pacific. Santa Cruz may be called the
frontier town of the Spanish race, who have swept over the country from
the Pacific. The bay of Arica bears due west from Santa Cruz. As the
coast of South America bends at Arica, so the Spanish have pressed far
in towards the centre of the continent, placing those on the eastern
border of Bolivia nearer to the Atlantic than the people of Peru;
although they seem to be farthest from the markets of the world, they
are the nearest, and are best prepared for entering into commercial
relations with the United States of the North.
The industrial, agricultural, and manufacturing people of this country
are principally among the aborigines. They plant the sugar-cane,
gather the coffee, work the mines, and transport silver, copper, and
tin to the coast of the Pacific. Looking on the map, and running the
eye along the road from the town of Santa Cruz towards the southeast,
the traveller finds a country nearly level. Among hills near the river
Paraguay, in the province of Chiquitos, the inhabitants are composed
of many tribes of Indians; some savages are warlike, while others are
inoffensive and friendly to the whites. Those of the small villages
of Santiago and Jesus are described as nearer the color of chalk
than of copper, and to be a robust, intelligent people, willing to be
taught the Spanish language, to cultivate the soil, tend cattle, and
give up the life of wandering for that of the civilized man, under
the instruction and labors of the Jesuits; while the tribes south of
them, near the mouths of the rivers Pilcomayo and Bermejo, obstinately
refused any such interference, and remain savage to this day. They are
the Gran Chaco Indians, and are called Tobas. As they are unfriendly,
we have no account of their number, and will confine ourselves to the
Chiquiteños, who understand the art of planting and gathering a harvest,
the management of cattle on the grassy plains, and the collecting of
wax from the forest trees, with which, and the cotton they cultivate,
they pay tribute to the State, as well as with salt from lakes found
in the wild regions. In their little huts are carpenters, blacksmiths,
silversmiths, shoemakers, tailors, and tanners. Their houses are usually
built of adobe, and thatched with coarse grass; yet they were taught
to burn tiles for the roof of their little church. For the purpose of
manufacturing sugar and melting wax, they erected founderies to smelt,
and fabricated their own copper boilers. The cotton of their small
farms is woven by hand into ponchos, hamacs, saddle cloths, and the fine
cloths of which their white frocks are made, after a fashion of their
own invention, in bark. The women in Chiquitos are good farmers; most
of the spinning is performed by them, as well as the manufacturing of
chicha from corn and yuca.
They find gold and silver in the tributaries of the Otuguis river,
with which they decorate the altars of their churches and hammer into
crosses, ear and finger-rings.
The men make straw hats, more for sale than for their own use—for both
sexes go bare-headed—a good sign of a delightful climate, as it is said
to be. The baskets made of the leaf of the palm-tree, which grows in the
plains, are carried on their backs as they travel through the country.
On such occasions they are armed with bows and arrows. In the Spanish
settlements, near the unfriendly tribes, they are permitted to attend
church with war-clubs and other weapons, for the protection of their
wives and children from an attack while at prayers. The church bell is
a signal to the savage, but he takes occasion at times to commit murder
under its calling.
Their houses are very small, with but one entrance, so narrow and
low that it is supposed the country was called Chiquitos, because of
the little door-ways. When first the traveller peeps into the house
all is darkness; on entering, the light from the hole he came through
shines against a few earthen pots made by the women, an axe, macheta or
cutlass, bows and arrows, pretty Indian girls, and dogs without number.
The boys are rambling about; the old Indian and his wife are cultivating
the chacra. Their great ambition seems to be celebrating the feast days
of the church, playing ball, drinking chicha, and making love to the
women.
These Indians are great musicians, playing upon the violin and
tamborine, while the women sing and dance with grace. Few of them
quarrel; should a difficulty take place, seldom more than three or four
blows are struck. They all carry knives, but these are not often drawn.
If one man kills another, his shame, compunction, and fear in after life
is much worse than death, I am told.
The Chiquiteños are very apt in learning to read, write, and calculate.
They have intelligence enough to know that knowledge is valuable to
them, and the children speak Spanish with great ease.
Lime and plaster of Paris are found among the hilly portions of the
province. Salt from the lakes is of great value where cattle are raised.
There is a market for it in the Argentine republic, Paraguay, and in
the Brazilian district of Matto Grosso. In all parts of this province
saltpetre is found of which the aborigines manufacture powder, to make
fire-works for the churches. The rockets, they send up towards the
heavens, under the dark shade of night, light the wilderness around,
and was one means used by the Jesuits to attract the attention of the
wild man to seek religion. The Chiquiteños are a peaceful race; their
gunpowder is only used for the purpose of lighting the way towards
Heaven—a lesson to civilized men who sometimes employ it too freely
for the destruction of their fellows on the earth, of which they form
a hell!
The Indians cast church bells. Brass, copper, and zinc are sent by the
Aymara Indians from the Titicaca basin in exchange for sugar and wax.
They are unacquainted with the process of casting cannon, or the art of
making the brass armor of olden times.
The Indian of Chiquitos, like the Creole of Santa Cruz, has his full
share of the delights of this earth, which he enjoys in his own way.
When he takes a fancy to wear striped trousers, he plants a row of white
cotton and a row of yellow. These colors contrast without the trouble
of dye-stuff; should he wish a blue, he plants a row of indigo; when he
requires red, he gathers cochineal from among the woods where he also
finds a bark which produces a deep black, which the women often employ
to dye their white dresses.
The heart-leaved bixa grows wild; the vanilla bean scents the doorway,
while the coffee and chocolate trees shade it. The sugar cane may be
planted in any part of the province, to be manufactured into sugar,
rum, and molasses during the year of planting. The Indian understands
the art of distilling. He cannot be considered intemperate, generally;
considering his partiality for chicha, we are inclined to give him
credit for self-denial, except when the saints' days of the Catholic
church are celebrated, then it seems to be understood that much drinking
is one of the conditions. Whatever good ideas may be instilled into
their minds by the worship in the morning, are generally lost under the
effects of strong drinks at night. This custom shocks the stranger.
An excuse has been offered by some who resided among the more savage
race of men, that in the exertions of the Jesuits to change the worship
of these people from their own barbarous imitations of the actions
of tigers and poisonous serpents, the priests were obliged to allow
them to continue many of the most innocent popular customs, such as
dancing, singing, and drinking, as well as fighting sham battles on
a Sunday evening, until they were enabled to lead them gradually to
perceive these were not the forms of worship which would most please
the Almighty. Among these Indians, as among the people of Japan, "every
custom is a part of their religion." Music has a powerful effect upon
the savage, and therefore the Jesuits encouraged them to cultivate it,
and as its influence over the limbs of the women was so great, that
they could not stand still during that part of the church service, it
was thought best to permit them to dance at the door, after which they
quietly entered to say their prayers. But when the music commenced again
they returned to dance in their savage fashion. They are naturally a
good and tractable people, finally willing to do their dancing at home,
or only on particular occasions at church after the Jesuits were long
enough among them. At the present day there are times when the war dance
is allowed in front of the church, performed by the able-bodied men of
the nation with war clubs and hatchets in their hands.
The drinking of chicha was a portion of the primitive worship of the
aborigines. They no doubt honestly believed that, the more happy they
made themselves while paying respect to the Creator of all things, the
better He was satisfied! They were sincere in their thankfulness to God
for the blessings they received at His hands. The Jesuits found that
the Indian had adopted this means of praise, and the effects produced
were so agreeable, that it was not an easy matter to persuade the old
Indian to give up his liquor. If force were applied he undoubtedly
would fight for it, so that a mild manner had to be pursued until _time_
worked its wonders. The Jesuits were obliged to keep back an expression
of disapprobation of this custom for the purpose of converting the
savage in any way, and persuaded him to attend church in the morning,
and to postpone drinking until after the service. The Indian entered
willingly into this compromise, and after being fastened up in church
under new forms, which he did not understand, he found it rather dry,
compared to what he had been accustomed to. So the moment he got out he
returned to his mode of worship, and in the afternoon became generally
intoxicated. The women dance to music all the way home on the road; the
frolic is kept up the greater part of the night. On Monday morning the
congregation were generally complaining from the effects of dissipation.
This was the time at which the influence of the priest was brought to
bear upon them. They were taught the art of cultivation; their minds
were diverted by novel undertakings. The women were encouraged to spin,
attend to the cotton plant, and to make use of chocolate. There was
little or no difficulty in keeping them from chicha during the week,
as they seldom made improper use of it except at the time devoted to
religious worship, and that had now become a fixed one by the Jesuits,
namely—after six days of labor.
Among the forests are found gums, which are used at the altar; the
Indians gather and sell them to the church for incense. They also
collect the sponge plant from which they extract oil. They seek
transparent copal with the copaiba balsam, the gum of the storax-tree,
and roots of the jalapa, ipecacuanha, and sarsaparilla.
"Mate," the tea of Paraguay, is grown in Chiquitos, with a number of
species of the palm tree. There are ornamental and dye woods, many of
which are only known to the Indian; few of them have been brought fairly
to the notice of the mechanic.
Chiquitos is within the tropic of Capricorn. The natives enjoy the
fruits of the banana, the plantain, and oranges, both sweet and
sour. The grape yields wine, and from the wild apricot a pure vinegar
is made. The much esteemed chirimoya is found there by the side of
the pomegranate and granadilla, the pine-apple and water-melon, the
mandioca, the sweet and other potatoes, guavas, pea-nuts, maize, and
wheat. This is the agricultural district of Bolivia. Chiquitos will rob
Cochabamba of its name "Granary," and prove a finer garden than Yungas.
The hide and tallow trade of Buenos Ayres will be enlarged by the yield
of the pampas of Chiquitos. The trade of La Plata must be increased when
the productions of this beautiful land are sent out upon its waters,
and floated down to the sea.
In the small town of Oliden, the Indian carries to market lettuce,
onions, capsicum, tomatoes, the cummin plant, wild marjorem, parsley,
mustard, radishes, and the sweet-scented seed of the anise, with a
species of moscatel grape.
From what I can learn from persons who have navigated the upper waters
of the Paraguay, there is every reason to believe that the navigation
is open from Cuyaba, the capital of the province of Matto Grosso, in
Brazil, down to the ocean. It is said there are no falls, and that if
there should be too little water on the upper streams in the dry season
of the year, the produce of these countries may be sent down with ease
in the wet seasons, when the rivers rise several feet, and are not very
rapid.