Arrival at Callao—Quarantine—The war between Chili and Peru—Aspect of Lima—General Lynch—Andean railway to Chicla—Valley of the Rimac—Puente Infernillo—Chicla—Mountain-sickness—Flora of the Temperate zone of the Andes—Excursion to the higher region—Climate of the Cordillera—Remarks on the Andean flora—Return to Lima—Visit to a sugar-plantation—Condition of Peru—Prospect of anarchy.

The steam-whistle, sounding about daybreak on April 15, announced that we were again wrapped in fog. As the Islay advanced at half speed the fog lightened without clearing, until about nine a.m. we made the island of San Lorenzo, and, as the haze finally melted away into bright sunshine, found ourselves half an hour later in the harbour of Callao. The moment was exciting for those who, like myself, approached as strangers the shore which had in our childhood seemed so strange, so adventure-fraught, so distant. Already some one had pointed out the towers of the Cathedral of Lima, with the Cordillera apparently so near that the mountains must begin outside the gates. All stood on deck prepared to land—some already looking forward to luncheon in the city of Pizarro—and waiting only for the usual57 formalities of the visit of the sanidad. At length the officials came, and, after the usual parley over the ship’s side, it became apparent that the visit was no mere formality. At last the ominous word quarantine was heard, received at first with mere incredulity, as something too absurd, but at last taking the consistence of a stern fact. Since the outbreak of yellow fever among the troops at Truxillo, the Chilian authorities have naturally become nervously anxious to protect the occupying army from this danger, and every precaution is put in force. Under these circumstances, a ship coming from Guayaquil was naturally an object of suspicion. There certainly was not at the time any epidemic fever at that place; but, if reports be true, sporadic cases are not unfrequent, and that city is rarely, if ever, quite free from malignant zymotic disease. At last the discussion was closed, by a definite order that we should repair to the quarantine ground under the lee of the island of San Lorenzo.
IN QUARANTINE AT CALLAO.

Up to this time we had scarcely given attention to the scene immediately surrounding us; yet the harbour of Callao is at any time an interesting sight, and at this moment its aspect was peculiarly expressive. Although the Chilian forces had before this time become absolute masters of the entire seaboard of Peru, and there was no reason to apprehend any renewal of the struggle by sea, the memorials of the desperate encounters which marked the earlier phase of the war were here still fresh. Near the shore in several different directions were the wrecks of ships which had sunk while the captors were endeavouring to bring them into harbour, the masts sticking up idly58 above water and doing the duty of buoys. Still afloat, though looking terribly battered and scarcely seaworthy, was that remarkable little ship, the Huascar, looking a mere pigmy beside the warships in the harbour from which the Chilian, American, French, and Italian flags were flying, England being for the moment unrepresented.

The naval war between Chili and Peru was conducted at such a distance from Europe, and its causes were so little understood, that it excited but feeble interest. Even the circumstance that, in an encounter brought about by the incompetence and rashness of a British commander, the pigmy Peruvian force was able with impunity to inflict an affront on the national flag, scarcely excited in England more than momentary surprise. Nevertheless the story of the war, which yet awaits an impartial chronicler,5 abounds with dramatic incident. The record is ennobled by acts of heroic bravery on both sides, while at the same time it suggests matter for serious consideration to the professional seaman. The important part which small fast ships, carrying one or two heavy guns only, may play in the altered conditions of naval warfare has been often pointed out, but has been practically illustrated only in the war between Chili and Peru. It does not seem as if the importance of the lesson had been yet fully appreciated by those responsible for the naval administration of the great European powers.

For the remainder of the day, and during the whole59 of the 16th, we lay at anchor about half a mile from the shore of the island of San Lorenzo, a bare rough hill, mainly formed, it would seem, of volcanic rock overlaid in places by beds of very modern formation. All naturalists are familiar with the evidence adduced by Darwin, proving the considerable elevation of the island and the adjacent mainland since the period of the Incas, as well as Tschudi’s arguments going to show that in more recent times there has been a period of subsidence.
BLACK PELICANS.

Of the objects near at hand the most interesting were the large black pelicans which in great numbers frequent the bay or harbour of Callao, attracted, no doubt, by the offal abundantly supplied from the town and the shipping. Seemingly indefatigable and insatiable, these birds continued for hours to circle in long sweeping curves over the water, swooping down on any object that attracted their appetite. The body appears to be somewhat slighter than that of the white pelican of the East, but the breadth of wing and length of the neck are about the same. When on the wing the plumage appears to be black, but in truth it is of a dark bluish slate colour.

Our detention in quarantine might have been prolonged but for the fortunate circumstance that the contents of the mail-bags carried by the Islay were at this moment the object of anxious curiosity to the Chilian authorities, and to the representatives of foreign powers. The position of affairs was already sufficiently critical, and the attitude recently assumed by the Government of the United States had added a new element of uncertainty to the existing difficulties.60 Mr. Hurlbut, the last American representative, had died, and Mr. Trescott, who supplied his place, was ostensibly charged with the attempt to bring about a peace between Chili and Peru, but was supposed to be chiefly intent on extricating his Government from a position into which it had been led by a series of proceedings which had neither raised the national reputation nor secured the good-will of either Chili or Peru.

While we lay off the harbour, watched day and night by the crew of a launch stationed beside us to prevent communication with the land, we received three successive visits from the officers of the American man-of-war lying in the harbour, who approached near enough to hold conversation with our captain. The message was a request, finally conveyed in somewhat imperious terms, that the dispatches addressed to the American envoy should at once be delivered. The American foreign office is not, I believe, accustomed to forward diplomatic dispatches in a separate bag, but merely uses the ordinary post. Our captain properly declined to take the responsibility of opening the mail-bags, which he was bound to deliver intact to the postal authorities as soon as we were admitted to pratique. The result was that on Monday, just as we were beginning to be seriously uneasy at the prospect of a long detention, a steam launch was seen to approach, having a number of officials on board. A seemingly interminable conversation between these and the captain and medical officer of our ship finally resulted in a Chilian medical man coming on board to make a careful examination of the ship, the crew,61 and the passengers. After we had been duly marshalled and inspected—the first-class passengers on the spar-deck, the others on the main-deck—the welcome announcement, “Admitted to pratique,” ran through the ship. Not much time was lost in moving up to the proper moorings in the harbour, some two miles distant, and about noon we were set on land close to the custom-house.
LANDING AT CALLAO.

The boatmen, the porters, and the nondescript hangers-on about the quays of a port, formed a strange and motley assemblage, in whose countenances three very distinct types of humanity—the European, the negro, and the South American Indian—were mingled in the most varied proportions, scarcely one denoting an unmixed origin. The arrangements at Callao are convenient for strangers. The custom-house officers, though unbribed, gave no trouble, and the rather voluminous luggage of six English passengers was entrusted to a man who undertook for ten soles (about thirty-three shillings) to convey the whole to the chief hotel in Lima. No time was left to see anything of Callao. A train was about to start; and in half an hour we were carried over the level space—about seven and a half miles—that separates Lima from the port of Callao.

Occupied by the forces of her victorious rival, and shorn of most of the almost fabulous wealth that once enriched her inhabitants, Peru can, even in her present ruined state, show a capital city that impresses the stranger. It is true that the buildings have no architectural merit, that most of the streets are horribly ill-paved, and that at present there is little outward62 appearance of wealth in the thoroughfares; in spite of all this the general aspect is novel and pleasing. Although violent earthquakes have rarely occurred in this region, slight shocks are very frequent, and remind the inhabitants that formidable telluric forces are slumbering close at hand. Hence, as a rule, the houses have only a single floor above the ground, and cover a proportionately large space. As in Southern Spain, all those of the better class enclose a patio, or courtyard, partly occupied by tropical trees or flowering shrubs. Fronting the street, or the plaza, a long projecting balcony, enclosed with glass, enables the inmates to enjoy that refuge from absolute vacancy which is afforded by gazing at the passers-by, and which seems to supply the place of occupation to much of the population even in Southern Europe.

With scarcely an exception, the numerous churches are vile examples of debased renaissance architecture, fronted with stucco ornamentation in great part fallen to decay. Not long before our arrival, I believe under the Chilian administration, they had been all freshly covered with whitewash, cut into rectangular spaces by broad bands of bright blue. In the streets near the great plaza there was much apparent animation during the day; but the shops were closed an hour before nightfall, and after dark the city was hushed into unnatural silence. The fair Lime?as, as to whose charms travellers have been eloquent, and who used to throng the public drives and walks towards sunset, were no longer to be seen. To exhibit themselves would be to display indifference to the misfortunes of their country. Some might be observed, indeed,63 during the morning hours, plainly dressed in black, going either to church or on some business errand; but they were so closely wrapped up in a manta as to be completely disguised.
CHOICE OF A ROUTE TO THE ANDES.

On landing in Peru, the one question which completely engrossed my mind was whether or not it would be possible for me, in the present state of the country, to reach the upper region of the Andes.

To a naturalist this great chain must ever be the dominant feature of the South American continent. To its structure and its flora and fauna are attached questions of overwhelming importance to the past history of our planet, and, however little a man may hope to effect during a flying visit, the desire to gain that degree of acquaintance which actual observation alone can give becomes painfully intense. I was aware that what had formerly been a long and rather laborious journey had of late years been reduced to a mere excursion by the construction of two lines of railway, leading from the sea-coast to the upper region. That which, if free to choose, I should have preferred starts from the coast at Mollendo, and, passing the important town of Arequipa, traverses the crest of the Cordillera, and has its terminus at Puno, on the Lake of Titicaca, in the centre of the plateau which lies between the two main ridges of the Andes. The region surrounding this great lake, which here divides Peru from Bolivia, must offer objects of interest only too numerous and too engrossing for a traveller whose time is counted by days. Although the level of the lake is some 12,800 feet above the sea, the peaks of Sorata rise above its64 eastern shores to a further height of nearly 10,000 feet; and lake steamers give access to most of the inhabited places on its shores—no slight matter when it is remembered that the lake measures more than a hundred miles in length.

The second line, which, starting from the city of Lima, is carried nearly due east along the valley of the Rimac, was designed to open communication by the most direct route between the capital and the fertile region on the eastern slopes of the Andes—called in Peru the Monta?a—as well as with the rich silver region of Cerro de Pasco. The crest of the Cordillera, or western ridge of the Andes, is scarcely eighty miles from Lima in a direct line, but the most practicable pass is somewhat higher than the summit of Mont Blanc. The road was to pierce the pass by a tunnel 15,645 feet above the sea-level, and thence to descend to the town of Oroya on the high plateau that divides the two main ridges. As the line was laid out, the distance from Lima to the summit-level was only 97 miles, and that to Oroya 129 miles.

Considered merely as engineering works, these lines, which owe their existence to the enterprise of an American contractor and the skill of the engineers who carried out the undertaking, may fairly be counted among the wonders of the world. The Oroya line, the more difficult of the two, unfortunately remained unfinished. Although the loans contracted in Europe by the Peruvian Government more than sufficed to defray the cost of all the industrial undertakings that they were professedly intended to supply, it is scarcely necessary to say that a large portion disappeared65 through underground channels, leaving legitimate demands unprovided for. The stipulated instalments due to Mr. Meiggs, the great contractor, remained unpaid, and, in the midst of the difficulties in which he was thus involved, his death put a final stoppage to the works. The line had been completed and opened for a distance of about eighty miles from Lima, as far as the village of Chicla, 12,220 feet above the sea. From that time forward Mr. Meiggs devoted his energies to the boring of the tunnel at the summit, probably under the impression that if that were once finished the Peruvian Government could scarcely fail to provide the funds necessary to complete the line on either side.
UNFINISHED ANDEAN RAILWAY.

I had found it impossible to ascertain before leaving England what had been the fate of these magnificent works since the ravages of war had devastated the region through which they are carried. Various quite inconsistent stories had reached me through the passengers from Panama, Guayaquil, and Payta. Traffic, said some, continued on both lines just as before the war; traffic, said others, had been completely stopped by order of the Chilian authorities; others, finally, asserted that the Oroya line had been so damaged by either belligerent as to be rendered permanently useless.

Before I had been many hours on shore, I was able to get authentic information which relieved my mind from further anxiety. The southern line, from Mollendo to Puno, was open; but Arequipa, the chief place on the way, was still in possession of the Peruvians, who occupied it in some force. With permits, to be66 obtained from the commanding officers on both sides, it might be possible to go and return, supposing no fresh outbreak of hostile movements of the troops on either side. The news as to the Oroya line was even more satisfactory. The whole line was occupied by the Chilian forces, there being a detachment at Chicla, with outposts on the farther side of the pass. The line had been for some time closed to traffic, but had been re-opened a few days before our arrival. With a permit, to be obtained from the chief of the staff in Lima, there would be no difficulty in proceeding to Chicla.

My decision was speedily taken. Under the most favourable circumstances, the time necessary to reach Puno and return to the coast, with the not improbable risk of detention, was more than I could afford. Further than this, as Puno lies on the plateau remote from the mountains, I should see but little of the characteristic flora of the Andes, unless I could reach some place on the eastern shore of the Lake of Titicaca, whence access could be had to the flanks of the Sorata Andes.

Some description of the Lake of Titicaca which I had read as a boy still dwelt in my mind, and the memoirs and conversation of the late Mr. Pentland had long made the peaks of Sorata objects of especial interest to me. There could, however, be no doubt that the faint hope of beholding them which had lingered till then must be renounced, and I was too happy at the prospect of achieving a short visit to the more accessible part of the chain to have leisure for any keen regret.

67
DON PATRICIO LYNCH.

Having ascertained that the trains to Chicla departed only every second day, returning thence on the alternate days, I arranged to start on the 20th. During the two intermediate days, I had the opportunity of making several agreeable acquaintances. Sir Spencer St. John, the English minister, had lately returned to Europe, and the legation was temporarily under the charge of Mr. J. R. Graham, who had recently acted as chargé d’affaires in Guatemala. Among other kind attentions which I have to acknowledge, Mr. Graham was good enough to introduce me to Don Patricio Lynch, commander-in-chief of the Chilian forces in Peru.

The object of boundless admiration from his own followers, and of still more unmeasured denunciation from his enemies, General Lynch is undoubtedly the most remarkable man who has come to the front during the late unhappy war in South America. Like most of the men who have acquired military renown in that part of the world, he is of Irish extraction, his grandfather having settled in Chili early in the present century. Having served as a young man for a time in the English navy, he was promoted by the Chilian Government, some time after the outbreak of the war, to a naval command. The operations at sea had, up to that time, been on the whole unfavourable to Chili, and the successes which finally changed the aspect of the war by sea were largely ascribed to the energy and ability of Admiral Lynch. Passing from the sea to the land, he so much distinguished himself in various daring encounters with the enemy that he was finally promoted to the chief command of the Chilian68 forces in Peru, and at this time was virtually dictator, with absolute rule over the whole coast region occupied by the Chilian army.

However open to discussion might be the policy adopted by the Chilians towards the conquered country, there was a general agreement as to one matter of no slight importance. The population of Lima and the surrounding districts is composed of the most varied constituents—native Indian, negro, and the mongrel offspring of the intermixture of these with European blood, to all which of late years has been added a large contingent of Chinese immigrants. It is not surprising that, under inefficient administration, there should have arisen from the dregs of such a population a large class either actually living by crime or ready to resort to outrage as favourable opportunities might arise. On the other hand, the Chilian army, for which there was but a small nucleus of regular troops, had to be largely recruited from among the loose fish of the floating population of South America, and naturally included no small number of bad subjects, ready to make the utmost use of the license of war. For many years past the police of Lima was notoriously inefficient; robberies were frequent, and there were many spots in the neighbourhood of the city where it was considered unsafe to go unarmed even in broad daylight. It was not unreasonably feared that in such conditions the occupation of the city by the Chilians would have results disastrous for the safety of the numerous foreign residents and the peaceful citizens. It was through the energy and capacity of General Lynch69 that the apprehended reign of disorder was averted. An efficient police was at once established, speedy capital punishment was awarded in every case of serious outrage, and with stern impartiality a short shrift was allotted alike to the Peruvian marauder and the looter wearing Chilian uniform. It was admitted on all hands that the city had never before been so safe, while, at the same time, the ordinary municipal work of cleansing, watering, and lighting the streets and public places had been visibly improved under the stimulus of vigorous administration.
ORDER ESTABLISHED IN LIMA.

My reception by the Chilian general was all that I could desire. He at once expressed his readiness to assist my objects in every way, and carried out his promise by giving me a letter to the officer commanding the detachment at Chicla, with instructions to provide horses and guides and all needful protection for myself and my companion. I failed to detect in General Lynch any of the characteristics, usually so persistent, of men of Irish descent. The stately courtesy and serious expression, reminding one of the bearing of a Castilian gentleman, were not enlivened by the irrepressible touches of liveliness that involuntarily relieve even a careworn Irishman from the pressure of his environment. One particularity in the arrangements at head-quarters struck me as singular; but I afterwards understood that it was merely the transference to Peru of the ordinary habits of Chili. The head-quarters of the general were fixed in the former palace of the Spanish viceroys. A sentry in the street paid no attention as, in company with Mr. Graham, I entered the first court, and it appeared70 that every one, or, at least, every decently dressed stranger, was free to pass. Through an open door we entered the first of a suite of large rooms, and advanced from one to another without encountering a human being, whether guard or attendant, until in the last room but one, seemingly by accident, a secretary presented himself, who at once ushered us into the cabinet of the general. In the case of any public man in Europe, to say nothing of the chief of an army of occupation constantly assailed by the fiercest denunciations, and left thus easy of access, some fanatic or madman would speedily translate the popular hatred into grim deed.

Among the acquaintances made in Lima, I must mention the name of Mr. William Nation, a gentleman who, amidst many difficulties, has acquired an extensive knowledge of the fauna and flora of Peru, and has observed with attention many facts of interest connected with the natural history of the country. After my return from Chicla, Mr. Nation was kind enough to accompany me in two short excursions in the neighbourhood of the city, and I am further indebted to him for much valuable assistance and information.

Soon after eight a.m. on the morning of April 20, I started from the railway station at Lima, in company with my friend W——, who was fortunately able to absent himself for some days. The country lying between the coast and the foot of the Cordillera appears to the eye a horizontal plain, but is, in fact, a slope inclining towards the sea, and rising very uniformly about seventy feet per mile.6 This ancient71 sea-bottom extends for a distance of fully fifteen miles from Lima into the valley of the Rimac, which, in approaching the coast, gradually spreads out from a narrow gorge to a wide valley with a flat floor. At the same time the river gradually dwindles from a copious rushing torrent to a meagre stream, running in many shallow channels over a broad stony bed, until it is finally almost lost in the marshes near Callao. Its waters are consumed by the numerous irrigation channels; for it must be remembered that along the western side of the continent, for a distance of nearly thirty degrees of latitude, cultivation is confined to those tracts which can be irrigated by streams from the Andes. Keeping pretty near to the left bank of the Rimac, the railway runs between two detached hills, formerly islands when the sea stood a few hundred feet above its present level. That on the north side is called the Amancais, and another less extensive mass rises south of the river.
WINTER VEGETATION NEAR LIMA.

Throughout the greater part of the year these hills, as well as the lower slopes of the Cordillera, appear, as they did to me, absolutely bare of vegetation; but in winter, from June to September, slight showers of rain are not unfrequent, and the fogs, denser than in other seasons, rest more constantly on the hills, and doubtless deposit abundant night-dews on the surface. The seeds and bulbs and rhizomes awake from their long sleep, and in a few days the slopes are covered with a brilliant carpet, in which bright flowers of various species follow each other in rapid succession.

Alongside of the railway runs a broad road covered to a depth of a couple of feet with volcanic sand, with72 occasional loose blocks of stone. The struggles of the few laden animals that we saw in passing, as they toiled along this weary track under a scorching sun, suggested a thought of the wonderful changes which modern inventions have already effected, and are destined to effect in the future, throughout every part of the world. The track before our eyes was, until the other day, the sole line of direct communication between Lima and the interior of Peru. The passage of men and animals had in the course of centuries reduced the original stony surface to a river of fine sand, and by no better mode of transport had the treasures of Cerro de Pasco, and the other rich silver deposits of the same region, been carried to the coast to sap the manhood and energy of the Spanish settlers in Peru, and help to achieve the same result in the mother country.

The American railway car, which is not without its drawbacks for ordinary travellers, is admirably suited to a naturalist in a new country. No time is lost in opening and shutting doors. Standing ready on the platform, one jumps off at every stoppage of the train, and jumps up again without delay or hindrance. I was able to appreciate these advantages during this day, and to add considerably to my collections by turning every moment to account. At first the vegetation was, of course, extremely scanty; but I was interested by finding here some representatives of genera that extend to the hotter and drier parts of the Mediterranean region, such as Boerhavia and Lippia.

Not far beyond the station of Santa Clara, near to73 which is a large sugar-plantation, the slopes on either side of the valley become more continuous, and gradually approach nearer together. The first trace of vegetation visible from a distance was shown by one of the cactus tribe, probably a Cereus, and as we ascended I was able to distinguish two other species of the same family.
VEGETATION OF THE RIMAC VALLEY.

At many points in the valley, always on slightly rising ground, shapeless inequalities of the surface marked with their rough outline all that now remains of the numerous villages that in the days of the Incas were scattered at short intervals.

As we advanced, the slopes on either side became higher and steeper, but were still apparently nearly bare of vegetation until we reached Chosica, about twenty-six miles from Lima, 2800 feet above the sea. At this place it was formerly the custom to halt for breakfast, but since the line has been re-opened, the only eatables to be found are the fruits, chiefly bananas and granadillas, which Indian women offer to the passengers.

Henceforward the line is fairly enclosed between the slopes on either hand, everywhere rough and steep, but, as is the nature of volcanic rocks, nowhere cut into precipices. The gradient becomes perceptibly steeper, being about one in thirty-three in the space between Chosica and San Bartolomé—about thirteen miles. Here the change of climate begins to be distinctly marked. It is evident that during a great part of the year the declivities are covered with vegetation, though now brown from drought, and they show the occasional action of running water in deep furrows74 and ravines. Here the engineers engaged on the railway first confronted the serious difficulties of the undertaking. Following the line from San Bartolomé to Chicla, the distance is only thirty-four miles, but the difference of level is 7317 feet, and the fifty-one miles between this and the summit-tunnel involve an ascent of 10,740 feet. The gradient is very uniform, never, I believe, exceeding one in twenty-six, the average being about one in twenty-eight. Some of the expedients adopted appear simple enough, though quite effectual for the intended purpose. Very steep uniform slopes have been ascended by zigzags, in which the train is alternately dragged by the locomotive in front, and then (the motion being reversed), shoved up the next incline with the engine in the rear. In one place I observed that we passed five times, always at a different level, above the same point in the valley below.

Among the more remarkable works on the line are the viaducts by which deep and broad ravines cut in the friable volcanic rocks have been spanned. The iron beams and girders that sustain these structures appear much slighter than I have seen used in Europe. In crossing one barranca, on what is said to be the loftiest viaduct in the world, I stood on the platform at the end of the car: there being no continuous roadway, the eye plunged directly down into the chasm below, over which we seemed to be travelling on a spider’s web.

For a distance of about eight miles from San Bartolomé the railway keeps near to the bottom of the valley, between slopes whereon a distinct green hue75 is now visible, and some trickling rivulets are perceived in the channels of the ravines. On the opposite, or northern, slope are still distinctly seen the terraces by which in ancient days the industrious Indian population carried cultivation up the precipitous slopes to a height of more than fifteen hundred feet above the bed of the valley. For in this land, before the Spaniard destroyed its simple civilization and reduced the larger part to a wilderness, the pressure of population was felt as it now is in the southern valleys of the Alps. The fact that terrace cultivation commenced precisely in the part of the valley where we now find streamlets from the flanks of the high mountains above, which might be used for partial irrigation, tends to show that no considerable change of climate has occurred.
ANCIENT INDIAN TERRACES.

Before reaching the Surco station (forty-eight miles from Lima, and 6655 feet above the sea) the road finally abandons the Rimac, and commences the seemingly formidable ascent of the declivity above the left bank. For some distance a projecting buttress with a moderate slope enabled the engineers to accomplish the ascent by long winding curves; but before long we reached the first zigzags, which are frequently repeated during the remainder of the ascent. The tunnels are frequent, but fortunately for the most part short, as the rate of travelling is necessarily slow, and the artificial fuel used gives out black fumes of a stifling character. A further change of climate, welcome to the botanist, was now very obvious. Although the soil appears to be parched, it is clear that some slight rain must recur76 at moderate intervals. Vegetation, if not luxuriant, finds the needful conditions, and in the gardens of Surco tropical fruits, such as bananas, cherimolias, oranges, and granadillas, are cultivated with tolerable success. Of the indigenous plants in flower at this season the large majority were Composit?, chiefly belonging to the sun-flower tribe (Heliantho?de?), a group characteristic of the New World.7 It was tantalizing to see so many new forms of vegetation pass before one’s eyes untouched. Most of them were indeed finally captured, but several yet remain as fleeting images in my memory, never fixed by closer observation.

About one p.m. we reached the chief village of the valley, San Juan de Matucana, fifty-five miles from Lima, and about 7800 feet above the sea. The train halted here for twenty minutes, and we discovered that very tolerable food is to be had at a little inn kept by an Italian. Hunger having been already stilled, the time was available for botanizing in the neighbourhood of the station, and, along with several cosmopolite weeds which we are used to call European, I found a good many types not before seen. Owing to the accident of having left my gloves in the carriage, I unwisely postponed to collect one plant not seen by me again during my stay in Peru. This was a small species of Tupa, a genus now united to Lobelia, with flowers of a lurid purple colour, which is said to have77 the singular effect of producing temporary blindness in those who handle the foliage, and I had been assured by Mr. Nation that he had verified the statement by experiment.8 We were here in the intermediate zone, wherein many species of the subtropical region are mingled with those characteristic of the Andean flora. Hitherto the most prevalent families, after the Composit?, had been the Solanace? and Malvace?. These have many representatives in the Andean flora, but henceforward were associated with an increasing proportion of types of many different orders.
ASCENT FROM MATUCANA.

As we continued the ascent in the afternoon our locomotive began to show itself unequal to the heavy work of the long-continued ascent, whether owing to defects in construction or, as seemed more probable, to the bad quality of the fuel supplied. Two stoppages occurred, required, as we learned, to clear out tubes. A considerable ascent was then achieved by a detour into a lateral valley above Matucana, returning to the Rimac at a much higher level, as is done on the Brenner line between Gossensass and Schelleberg.

Up to this time the scenery had fallen much below my anticipations. Owing to the nature of the rocks, there was an utter deficiency in that variety of colour and form that are essential elements in the beauty of mountain scenery. A still greater defect is the entire absence of forest. Along the course of the Rimac bushes or small trees, such as Schinus molle, two Acacias, Salix Humboldtiana, and others, are tolerably frequent; but on the rugged surface of the mountain78 slopes nothing met the eye more conspicuous than the columnar stem of a cactus, or dense rigid tufts of what I took to be a Bromeliaceous plant, most probably a species of Puya. The sun had set, and darkness was fast closing round us when the train came suddenly to a standstill, and the intelligent American guard informed us that a delay of at least twenty minutes was required to set the locomotive in working order.

The accident was in every way fortunate. We had just reached the Puente Infernillo, by far the most striking scene on the whole route, rendered doubly impressive when seen by the rapidly fading light. The railway had here returned to the Rimac, and is carried for a short distance along the right bank. In front the river rushes out of a narrow cleft, while on either hand the mountains rise to a prodigious height, with a steeper declivity than we had as yet anywhere seen. With a lively recollection of the Via Mala, the gorge of Pfeffers, and other scenes of a similar character, I could bring to mind none to rival this for stern sublimity. The impassable chasm that seemed to defy further advance, the roar of the river in the deeply cut channel below, the impending masses that towered up above us, leaving but a strip of sky in view, combined to form such a representation of the jaws of hell as would have satisfied the imagination of the Tuscan poet. To a botanist the scene awoke very different associations. Before it became quite dark I had captured several outposts of the Andean flora, not hitherto seen. The beautiful Trop?olum tuberosum, with masses of flowers smaller,79 but even more brilliant, than those of the common garden species, climbed over the bushes. A fleshy-leaved Oxalis, the first seen of a numerous group, came out of the crevices of the adjoining rocks, and Alonsoa acutifolia, which I had never seen but in an English greenhouse, was an additional prize.
ASCENT FROM PUENTE INFERNILLO.

Night had completely fallen as we resumed our journey, and although my curiosity was much excited in the attempt to follow the course of the line, I utterly failed to do so. Watching the stars as guides to our direction, where these were not cut off by the frequent tunnels, I could only infer that we were constantly winding round sharp curves, at times near the bottom of a deep ravine, with the roar of a torrent close at hand, and soon after working at a dizzy height along the verge of a precipice, with the muffled bass of a waterfall heard from out of the depths. Even after I had travelled the reverse way in broad daylight, I remained in some doubt as to the real structure of this part of the line. So far as I know, the first application of a spiral tunnel in railway construction was on the line across the Apennine between Bologna and Florence, but the spiral is there but a semicircle; you enter it facing north, and emerge in the opposite direction at a higher level. A similar device has been more freely resorted to in the construction of the St. Gothard line; but on this part of the Oroya line, completed before that of the St. Gothard was commenced, the spiral, if I mistake not, includes two complete circles, at the end of which the train stands nearly vertically above the point from which it started. It is by no means altogether a tunnel, as the form of80 a great projecting buttress has allowed the line to be carried in great part along a spiral line traced upon its flanks.

Nearly two hours after sunset we at length reached the terminus at Chicla, very uncertain as to the resources of that place in point of shelter and food. We had had the pleasure of meeting in the train Mr. H——, a distinguished German statesman, who had travelled with us in the Islay on his way from California to make the tour of South America. He was accompanied by Baron von Zoden, the German minister at Lima. As their object was merely to see the railway line, they intended to return on the following morning; but meanwhile we resolved to confront together any difficulties that might arise.

The architecture of Chicla is remarkably uniform, the only differences being in the size of the edifices. Stone, brick, tiles, slate, and mortar are alike unknown. Planks are nailed together around a framework, the requisite number of pieces of corrugated iron are nailed to some rafters on the top, and the house is complete. After stepping from the railway car and scrambling up a steep bank, we found ourselves before the chief building of the place, a so-called hotel, kept by a worthy German whose ill fortune had placed him on the borderland, where for some time the place was alternately occupied by small parties of Chilian or Peruvian troops. Besides some rooms on an upper floor occupied by the people of the house, the hotel consisted of two large rooms on the ground floor, where food and drink were supplied to all comers, with an adjoining kitchen. For such81 fastidious travellers as might require further sleeping accommodation than a cloak in which to roll themselves, and a floor on which to stretch their limbs, a long adjoining shed was provided. This was divided by thin partitions into four or five small chambers, each capable of holding two beds. Supper was before long provided; and when we afterwards learned the difficulties of our host’s position, our surprise was excited more by the merits than by the defects of the entertainment.
MOUNTAIN-SICKNESS.

We had been assured at Lima that, on going up to Chicla, we should be sure to suffer from the soroche, by which name the people of South America denote mountain-sickness, familiar to those who ascend from the coast to the plateau of the Andes. Knowing the height of Chicla to be no more than 12,220 feet above the sea, and never having experienced any of the usual symptoms at greater heights in Europe, I had treated the warning with derision so far as I was personally concerned, though not sure what effect the diminished pressure might have on my companion. I have described elsewhere9 my experience at Chicla, which undoubtedly resulted from a mitigated form of mountain-sickness, the symptoms being felt only at night, and passing away by day and in exercise. They were confined to the first two nights, and after the third day, during which we ascended to a height of more than two thousand feet above Chicla, they completely disappeared.

With regard to mountain-sickness, the only matter for surprise, as it seems to me, is that it is not more82 frequently felt at lower elevations, and that the human economy is able so readily to adapt itself to the altered conditions when transferred to an atmosphere of say two-thirds of the ordinary density, where the diminished supply to the lungs is aggravated by the increased mechanical effort requisite to move the limbs, and raise the weight of the body in an attenuated medium. Observation shows that the effects actually produced at great heights vary much with different individuals, and that in healthy subjects the functions after a short time adapt themselves to the new conditions. It is obvious that this process must have a limit, which has probably been very nearly attained in some cases.

In spite of some statements lately published, I am inclined to believe that the utmost limit of height compatible with active exertion will be found to lie, according to individual constitution, between twenty and twenty-five thousand feet. As regards our experiences at Chicla, the difficulty is to account for the fact that the effects produced while the body is at rest should disappear during active exercise; and whatever the nature of the disturbance of the functions, this was not accompanied by any discernible derangement of the respiration or the circulation. It appeared to me that the seat of disturbance, such as it was, was limited to the nervous system.

On the evening of our arrival we met at the hotel the commandant of the Chilian detachment, and on presenting my letter from the commander-in-chief, he was profuse in offers of assistance. It was speedily arranged that we should start on the following morning,83 to ride as far as the tunnel at the summit of the pass to Oroya, where I promised myself an ample harvest among the plants of the higher region of the Andes. When morning broke, after a sleepless night with a splitting headache, I found or fancied myself unfit for a hard day’s work; and, my companion being in much the same plight, we sent at an early hour to request that the excursion should be postponed till the following day. By the time, however, that we had dressed and breakfasted, the troubles of the night were all forgotten. A new vegetable world was outside awaiting us, and we were soon on the slopes above the station, where, in the person of my friend W——, I had the advantage of a kind and zealous assistant in the work of plant-collecting.
FIRST DAY IN THE ANDES.

Deferring to a later page some remarks on the vegetation of the Cordillera, I need merely say that of this first delightful day the morning hours were devoted to the steep declivity of the mountain overhanging the left bank of the stream, while the afternoon was given to the less precipitous but more broken and irregular slopes on the opposite, or right, bank.

Having soon made the discovery that the supplies at Chicla were very limited, we had taken measures to procure a few creature comforts through the obliging conductor of the train, which left Chicla, in the morning, and was to return from Lima on the following evening. A far more serious deficiency was at the same time apparent. I had quite underrated the quantity of paper required to dry the harvest of specimens that I was sure to collect here, and no one but a botanist can measure the intensity84 of distress with which I viewed the prospect of losing precious specimens, and seeing shapes of beauty converted into repulsive masses of corruption, for want of the material necessary for their preservation. I addressed an urgent note to Mr. Nation, on whose sympathy as a brother naturalist I could safely count, telling him that unless I could find two reams of suitable drying-paper on my return, I should infallibly require accommodation in a lunatic asylum at Lima.

The scenery at Chicla is wild, but neither very beautiful nor very imposing. As in the lower valley of the Rimac, the slopes of the mountains are steep, but the summits are deficient in boldness and variety of form. Those lying on the watershed of the Cordillera, at a distance of fifteen or twenty miles, apparently range from seventeen to eighteen thousand feet in height, and on the first day of our visit showed but occasional streaks and patches of snow, while the sombre tints of the rocks exhibited little variety of hue even in the brightest sunshine.

Although the stream at Chicla is the main branch of the Rimac, its volume is here much reduced, not having yet received the numerous tributaries that fall into it between this place and Matucana. It is here no more than a brawling torrent, swelling rapidly after even a very moderate fall of rain, but prevented from ever dwindling very low by the snows, of which some patches at least remain at all seasons on the upper summits of the Cordillera. In a country without wood, and where the art of building in stone had made little progress, one of the most serious obstacles to any advance in civilization must have arisen from85 the difficulty of crossing the streams by which the upper ranges of the Andes are everywhere intersected.
ANDEAN SUSPENSION BRIDGES.

The art of constructing suspension bridges must have originated in the subtropical zone of Eastern Peru, where the abundance of climbing plants with long, flexible, tough stems supplied the requisite materials. These, being light and easily transported, were everywhere used in the valleys of the Andes to sustain hanging bridges, of which the roadway was formed of rough basket-work. The only change that has resulted from the introduction of European arts is that of late years iron wire is used instead of flexible lianes to sustain the bridges; but the roadway is still made of basket-work, which is rapidly worn by the feet of passing men and animals, and the natives have a disagreeable habit of stopping up the holes, not by mending the basket-work where this has begun to give way, but by laying a flat stone over the weak place. Being very slight and not nicely adjusted, these bridges swing to and fro under the feet of a passenger to an extent that is at first rather startling, but, as in everything else, habit soon makes one indifferent. Our first experience this afternoon was very easy, as the bridge connecting the station with the pueblo, or village of Chicla, was new and more solid than usual.

The little village, altogether composed of frail sheds, was occupied by the Chilian detachment of about two hundred men, posted here to guard the railway line. Four houses, larger than the rest, wherein the officers had established themselves, were adorned with conspicuous painted inscriptions worthy86 of the hotels of a great city. The Fonda del Universo informed the public that it contained “apartamentos para familias,” and the rival establishments were no way inferior in the stateliness of their titles and the inducements offered. It must be recollected that Chicla is the first halting-place on the main, almost the only, line of communication between the coast and a magnificent region, as large as England, and teeming with natural resources—the monta?a of Central Peru. Before the war the hostelries of Chicla were often crowded, and the accommodation doubtless appeared sumptuous to the wearied travellers who had been contending with the hardships of the journey from the interior, and the passage of the double range of the Andes.

I have already said that the supplies at our hotel were somewhat scanty. Inquiries for eggs were met by the reply that the Chilian soldiers had killed all the poultry, and milk was not to be thought of, because the cows had all been driven to a distance to save them from the Chilians. But these were only trifling inconveniences. The experience of our German landlord was full of graver matter. A foreigner in the interior of Peru during this abominable war is placed between ............