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Peperomias and epiphytic ferns were already much in evidence. 
Tuberous-rooted fuschias in flower peeked out here and there 
among the rocks overlooking the small stream. Clambering, vine- 
like composites (Mutisia) spread themselves over the low gray- 
leaved, bush, their black and orange flowers reminding one some- 
what of the Gazania daisy. Blue-flowered relatives of Trades- 
cantia (“ Wandering Jew’’) formed numerous populous colonies 
along the tiny Pongo river—here little more than a large brook. 
Selaginellas and Lycopodiums carpeted the damp rocks, two very 
curious species of the latter being collected. Far up on the dry 
mountain sides, spikes of bright, peculiar, blue-green-flowered 
relatives of our century plants made striking groups; and amid 
this diversity of color and strange perfumes hummingbirds darted 
and dived about. 
From Pongo, where we were much indebted to the Guggenheim 
representatives in the persons of Mr. and Mrs. H. D. Johnson for 
a generous hospitality, we traveled by mules up and down cloud- | 
capped, fog-and-rain-soaked mountains through a remarkably 
beautiful country—the Yungas. Our tons of baggage required 
several score of mules, and the mountain sides rang with the 
expletives of our muleteers as the picturesque winding mule train 
climbed and descended the narrow, rocky trails—trails that often 
outlined themselves against the steep mountain sides like the zig- 
zag path of a streak of lightning. And along these trails grew an 
everchanging profusion of plant life—six-foot fuschia bushes, 
scarlet with flowers; giant begonias; moss and bromeliad-covered 
bushes supporting here and there orchids with long sprays of 
yellow-brown-spotted flowers; deep purple-flowered melastomes 
(Tibuchina), almost as beautiful as our rhododendrons; alder trees 
on which scarlet-cerise-spiked bromeliads perched by the hundreds. 
And yet we were still high above the region of palms and monkeys, 
of rubber trees and Brazil nuts. But we were constantly descend- 
ing. Each ridge we ascended and descended brought us nearer the 
tropic lowlands. We seemed to be always encountering the sleepy 
llama trains with oranges and lemons for the plateau cities, but we 
left them behind us as we descended below the 5,000-foot elevation. 
In this Yungas country the finest coffee in the world is said to 
grow, and these narrow V-shaped valleys, with the little Aymara 
