QUICKSILVER MINES. 



13 



situated in a deep ravine, amidst a cluster of lofty peaks. It is the 

 capital of the department, and was named by the Incas. The ravine 

 runs east and west, with an average width of one mile. A small stream 

 flows through it to the east. Thermal springs, of 82° Fahrenheit, found 

 in the vicinity. The town is divided into two parishes ; counts six 

 churches, a hospital, and college for young men, in which physics, 

 chemistry, and mineralogy are taught. The plaza is adorned with a 

 fountain of stone. A cathedral stands by the side of the mountain of 

 Cinnebar, which contains the celebrated quicksilver mine of Santa Bar- 

 bara. Climbing up this mountain, we came to a door-way 15 feet high 

 and 12 wide, carved in the sand-stone. The entrance on the southwest 

 side of the peak was like a railroad tunnel. The eternal glaciers are at 

 this door-way. Icicles hung overhead, and sheets of ice spread under 

 our feet. Sooty-faced, rough-looking Indians trundled wheelbarrows 

 loaded with quicksilver ore. As the administrador, a tall, smallpox- 

 marked mestizo, said to me — We are all ready, sir, to escort you through 

 the mines of Huancavelica — I felt as though he was going to say, to 

 be buried alive. We entered this dark hole, about 600 feet below the 

 top of the mountain. As we left daylight, I thought of home ; then I 

 heard a dreadful crash, which the mestizo informed me was the upper 

 part of the mine falling in. A hollow sound was followed by a splash 

 in the deep waters somewhere below ; then came suddenly a strong 

 smell of sulphuret of arsenic. A little further on I saw a pair of eyes 

 through the darkness. I called to Richards to hold his torchlight ; we 

 were travelling east-northeast by my compass ; the eyes belonged to a 

 little Indian boy standing on the side of the mine, with a load of ore 

 on his back, while we passed ; he had come through a narrow passage 

 called " Take off your horns," on his hands and knees, and had raised a 

 choking dust. After refreshing ourselves at a spring of water of 50° 

 temperature, we passed into a plaza, where the market women sell to 

 those men who seldom leave the mines. On one side of this plaza, by 

 holding the torches over our heads, we see a beautiful bridge, and be- 

 yond it a stairway leading into utter darkness ; on the other side a 

 lake — the opposite shore not in sight, though the sound of a hammer 

 floats over its smooth water. As we move along among red brick- 

 colored columns, which support the immense weight overhead, we see 

 a dim torch by the side of the workman, seated with his hammer and 

 chisel, cutting away and honey- combing the Andes. The administra- 

 dor tells me we are half way through ; if I wish to climb up stairs, we 

 can get near the peak. Turn which way we will, we find a road to 

 travel. I told him to be pleased to keep as near a level as possible. He 



