CH. xjx IN THE ECUADOREAN ANDES 189 



with long lines of Cactus and American Aloe, the 

 fences of the country, against which the wind piles 

 up the sand like snow-drifts. It is true that most 

 of this sandy country produces scanty crops of 

 barley, peas, and lupines, and that, where it is 

 accessible to irrigation, it is rendered even very 

 fertile ; but at a distance it often looks quite naked. 

 On account of the sand, and of the violent wind 

 that gets up as the sun approaches mid-heaven, it 

 is only in the early morning one can go out on foot, 

 and then not with much pleasure, for although 

 Ambato has such a coquettish appearance, and has 

 been built entirely anew since the great earthquake 

 of 1797, notions of cleanliness are so lax that it is 

 necessary to proceed with cautious steps and slow 

 to avoid the " quisquilia " that are copiously strewn 

 about and salute the olfactory organs with an 

 odour by no means " sweeter than smell of sweetest 

 fennel " (vide Paradise Lost}. At early dawn it is 

 difficult to avoid stumbling over the "bodies" 

 squatting down at the street sides, and even in the 

 principal square, like so many toads, and it is not 

 uncommon for a decent -looking woman in that 

 position to look up in your face as you pass her 

 and give you the " Buenos dias, Senor ! " with an 

 air of the most unconscious innocence. At 10 

 o'clock -or sometimes not until noon -- the wind 

 gets up from its sleep, and from that time till about 

 sunset blows over these high bleak grounds with 

 the fury of a hurricane, raising up the fine sand, 

 which obscures the landscape as it were with 

 volumes of mist, and penetrates the narrowest 

 chinks in doors and windows. Few people, except 

 the native Indians, stir beyond the precincts of the 



