A NEW ENGLANDER AMONG THE ANDES. 



21 



Two girls walking after their flocks, have their arms around each other's 

 necks, joking and laughing as they leave home for a day among the 

 hills. The sheep have just been let out of their pen, and run, one 

 before the other, nipping the frost-tipped pasture. The dogs follow 

 sulkily, with heads and tails hanging, as though they would rather stay 

 at home if there was any company. 



Here, as we rise to the top of a mountain, we behold all around one 

 broken mass, ridge beyond ridge, as far as the eye can reach, like waves 

 of the tempest-tossed ocean. Our mules are harassed, and the chronom- 

 eter positively refuses to go any further. As we descend the Indians 

 are harvesting barley. Horned cattle seem to fancy the atmospheric 

 pressure just below the sheep. 



The arrieros keep the higher road which brings us to the left of a 

 valley. From the ridge we see the small town of Acobamba, and a turn 

 in the Juaja river, dashing over its rocky bed, as the wild duck flies 

 quickly against the current. The country has a fresher appearance. In 

 the ravines, clusters of green bushes and flowers bloom; 5 p. m., air, 43° ; 

 wet bulb, 39°, at Parcas post. 



I succeeded in securing a duck supper from a small lake, with a thick 

 growth of rushes in the centre. The common mallard duck, and a black 

 species, are found with red and green bills, and red legs. When these 

 take fright, they hide themselves in the rushes and seldom fly. There 

 are a number of beds of lakes which are filled in the rainy season ; at 

 present they are dry ; on this route it is usual for travellers to carry 

 bottles of water with them. A man in poncho and mountain travelling 

 dress rode up behind us, with an Indian girl seated behind his' saddle. He 

 refreshed us with the compliments of the morning in plain English. He 

 came out of the valley from Acobamba, though born in New Haven, Con- 

 necticut. His spirited horse was fretting itself over the rugged road. This 

 man was proprietor*of a circus company; had been many years in South 

 America, and as we slowly wound our way up the mountain, told us his 

 past history ; what he had seen, and how often he thought of returning 

 to ISTew England. " But nobody knowsjne now. Years ago I heard of 

 the changes there, and don't believe I should know my native place. 

 I have adopted the manners and customs of these people, and if I should 

 return to the United States again, I fear my earnings would not be suffi- 

 cient. I have* worked in this country for years, and am worth nothing 

 at last." His stories of travels were interesting. He had encountered 

 travellers of all nations, and amused me with the way in which some of 

 them worked their way through the rough country, among the people of 

 Mexico and South America. Speaking of the mountain roads between 



