1K1KNCES CONTINUED. 461 



(c.,mitr\ tin- more \\ealth\ citi/eiiN and <|iiiti- larjn- orchards of figs, orange*, olives, 



ami nut-trees, with ornamental OJpreM ami llu <-i iu^ trees int< <1. ROWH of poplars 



bound tin- road 'ii either .side. I' i]>iilly as we wind the base of San Cristoval in follow- 



ing a beml til' tin- river, each im.meiit In i tiding more grandly into view the masses of mountains 

 hidden iVuia the eil \ . Here, the muddy streams seen within the city walls an- limpid, and Kpurklo 

 as tie ! over beiidiii'j; water-lilies profusely growing within the river banks. Once in 



the ci.iuitr\ , ami t IK- main highway deserted, t he eil'ects of late rains became strikingly apparent. 

 Whilst nature \\as starting some forms of vegetable life into visible existence, others were 

 |.a\iir_c their a.itiiiniial tribute, and waved thoir leafless arms across the blue sky. Brilliant 

 tl.. \\ers and verdure clad tlie earth in all directions. In one place a broad hill-side is wholly 

 hidden by the little Jlor de perdiz; in another, the parasite quintral displays, as if in mockery, 

 its hunches of brilliant scarlet flowers on denuded liinbs of the tall poplar, or amid the dark 

 evergreen foliage of the olive. 



Though no broader, at four miles from the city the river is more rapid, and has a slightly 

 greater volume. Its southern bank is quite twenty feet above the water surface ; that to the 

 north, when the bed is full, is the base of San Cristoval. A bridle path leads across its 

 pebbly bottom, now, in a great measure, overgrown with shrubs ; thence the path continues up 

 to a depression in the spur, perhaps a hundred yards above the level of the stream. Here, a 

 small sheet of water precipitates itself to a depth of forty or fifty feet, amid reeds and shrub- 

 bery, and thence dashes along in a line of foam through more than three hundred, till it 

 reaches the great plain. Water is taken from the Mapocho at a point of the river above this 

 level, and led in a canal along the southeastern slope of the spur, for the purpose of irrigating 

 some of the estates lying north of Santiago. A surplus from this canal makes the " Scdto ;" 

 and the water thus wasted has converted a hollow of the plain into a marshy swamp, which in 

 a few years will be irrecoverably grown with rushes. The remainder of the water is distribu- 

 ted into two or three smaller canals that follow the involutions of the sloping hill-sides to the 

 northward, until the whole is finally absorbed for the purposes of man. Tradition alleges that 

 all of these channels were cut by the Mapochos long before the arrival of the Spaniards ; and 

 as we know that the Peruvians resorted to this portion of the country to receive an annual 

 tribute, it is not at all improbable. Indeed, none but the hardy and inoffensive race inhab- 

 iting nearly all of South America north of the thirty-sixth parallel would ever have had the 

 patience to execute such a task. The Spaniards might have commanded and supervised, but 

 had not the numbers to execute the work ; and we have a right to believe that they found it com- 

 pleted, because they would have thrown aqueducts across narrow ravines rather than follow the 

 hill-sides so many additional miles. Beyond a doubt these canals are many scores of times 

 longer than the fields they benefit. 



A small monument of red porphyry has been erected near the precipice from which the water 

 makes its spring, and the view of the plain from that point is very lovely. The southwestern 

 sugar-loaf of San Cristoval conceals the city ; but Cerro Blanco and Renca remain in sight, 

 with all the country-scats near its northern skirts, and the dwellings of the haciendas as far as 

 the Western Cordilleras. 



June 4. As had been the case on several preceding mornings, there was a dense fog until 

 11 A. M., which on this day was followed by a brightly clear night and pellicles of ice on little 

 pools near the river. 



June 19. Shortly after midnight there was a brief though somewhat violent earthquake, in 

 one respect unlike any of which we had been observers. All but one of our little party were 

 seated round a handful of fire in an open stove discussing the affairs of the day, and that most 

 interesting topic to some of us at all times, the arrival of the monthly mail. Of a sudden two 

 of us were flying towards the door leading to the head of the stairs, and one had got half way 

 down when the full tremor of an earthquake was upon us. On my part the flight was wholly 

 involuntary ; and at the instant of consciousness that it was a subterranean disturbance I 



