FROM SANTIAGO TO MENDOZA BY THE USPALLATA PASS. 13 



On fhe morning of the 2'7tli we again set out; and after travelling about fifteen miles to the 

 northeastward, along the skirt of the Uspallata range, and gradually ascending, we reached 

 its highest point, called "^El Paramillo" par excellence ; for although there are several para- 

 millos — places exposed to the cold winds of the mountains — this is perhaps the most exposed of 

 them all. Here we fell in with the tail of a snow-storm, which prevented me from seeing any- 

 thing more of the nature of the country than that the hills were higher on both sides than in 

 the road. 



From this we turned to the southeastward, and commenced to descend by a steep and narrow 

 valley with high hills on both sides. Passed two mining establishments, one on the right and 

 the other on the left. I believe they are not worked at present ; the few peons employed about 

 them only picking out enough grains of gold to cover their expenses. Passed also, on the left, 

 a high bronze-colored hill called the Cerro Dorado, or gilded hill ; and finally, after a ride of 

 nine hours, arrived at the high-sounding, but wretched place, Villavicensio. The name indi- 

 cates a town, but there is really nothing more than one long hut, divided into two parts, with 

 an adjoining shed for a kitchen. The room for travellers is without any furniture except a 

 small table and a couple of knotty logs on crutches for seats. Its floor is of earth, and at the 

 time of our arrival the rain had leaked through the roof to such extent, that it would have 

 served better for a brickyard than a chamber. Add to this, that we could get nothing to eat 

 but bad beef and four eggs, and you have a description of Villavicensio as I found it — a place 

 rendered notable from the fact that the wife of an English traveller was here confined and 

 delivered of a child. How she managed to exist through such a comjalication of miseries is 

 a mystery. If it had been a man, accustomed to all hardships, it would have been a small 

 matter ; but for a delicate woman to be confined in such a place must have been the acme of 

 misery. 



Upon consultation with the arriero, who was as little pleased as myself with the prospect of 

 a night's lodging there, I learned that the mules would be capable of going on as far as Men- 

 doza, and after allowing them to graze for a couple of hours we pushed on. 



A short distance down the valley brought us in sight of the plain, spreading out with un- 

 broken horizon from north, around by east, to south. Its appearance is generally like that of 

 the ocean; but on this occasion it was particularly so. The sky was entirely overcast, but some 

 reflected light fell on the nearer part of the plain, giving to it the appearance of shoal-water. 

 Far in the distance to the southward, Mendoza, with its tall poplars, was in sight, requiring 

 no stretch of imagination to fancy it a port with shipping ; while, rising above the horizon to 

 the eastward, were the peaks of a remote range of hills, finishing the picture in their resem- 

 blance to islands. 



On emerging from the mountains we were saluted by the familiar notes of the partridge and 

 mocking-bird, giving us assurance that we had arrived at habitable regions. 



I think the mocking-bird very much slandered by those who suppose it to have no notes of its 

 own. Here, and elsewhere in those parts of the plain where there are woods, it is common, 

 and has many of the same notes that it has in the southern parts of the United States ; and it 

 certainly has no originals to copy from hereabouts, the country being remarkably destitute of 

 warblers. 



By nightfall we were in the well-beaten road, and being desirous to enjoy the luxury of a 

 bed under shelter, I left the party behind and pushed on alone — a step I had reason to regret, 

 as the distance was so much greater than was anticipated, that I believed I had lost the way ; 

 but at length the outer settlements of Mendoza were discovered, and two drunken gauchos 

 informed me that I was on the right course. One of them was disposed to be very familiar, 

 and leaned on my mule to hold a conversation, which I cut short by spurring ahead and leaving 

 him sprawling in the road. Of course I was saluted with very complimentary epithets, which, 

 as I was out of reach of their knives, I cared very little for. I should not have been guilty of 

 this great discourtesy, but that I was badly scared. It was a late hour and a lonely place; and 



