A PHILADELPHIA]*. 



43 



dian, with scarlet vest, kindly offered us part of his breakfast ; he was 

 taking it in the doorway of his lonely little hut, among these rugged 

 mountains. At 6 a. m., thermometer, 60°, and at 6 p. m., 66°. We 

 crossed a well-built stone bridge over the Mapacho river, which is said 

 to flow north into the Santa Ana, but this is doubtful. The houses 

 of the town of Porcatambo are small, and the population seven thou- 

 sand ; miserable looking, excepting the Indians, who are full of health 

 and life. Many of them have noble faces, and are willing to do anything 

 required of them, except to enter the low country to the east. Like the 

 Creoles of the town, they have great fear of the Chuncho tribe of In- 

 dians, who are at war with the Peruvian government. The sub-prefect 

 and his wife were very kind ; twenty-five able-bodied Creoles volunteered 

 to accompany me ; I accepted their services, but the next day the arriero 

 being alarmed, deserted ; the volunteers backed out to a man, when 

 Jose suggested an opinion that volunteers did not act so in North 

 America ; at the same time he frankly acknowledged he was afraid of the 

 Chunchos. 



Our road lay along the river in the narrow valley, where Indians were 

 ploughing with oxen ; peach, apple, and cherry trees in blossom. The 

 Indians build their houses partly of wood ; they carve spoons, bowk, 

 plates, and baskets, beautifully, with iron chisels. At 5 p. m., thermo- 

 meter, 68°. At Totora farm, wo, halted for the night, and met. a young 

 Philadelphian, named Charles Leechler, engaged in collecting Peruvian 

 bark for a number of years. At first, be- spoke with difficulty in his 

 native language, but with a true American spirit assured me I might 

 depend upon him as a companion. He knew parts of the country I 

 was directed to explore ; his services wefi the more acceptable. He 

 joined me. ,.„&;■ 



Turning from the river we ascend a steep ridge of mountains — the 

 eastern range at last. A heavy mist wafts upwards as the winds drive 

 it against the side of the Andes, so that our view is shortened to a few 

 hundred yards. We hope the curtain will rise that we may view the 

 productions of the tropical valley below ; but the mist thickens, and 

 the day gets dark with heavy, heaped-up black clouds ; a rain-storm 

 follows. The grasses are thrifty, and the top of the ridge covered with 

 a thick sod. By barometer we stand eleven thousand one hundred feet 

 above the level of the sea. I was obliged to leave my box of instru- 

 ments in Porcatambo on account of bad roads, and take barley for the 

 mules. By law, the cargo of a mule descending the eastern slope of 

 the Andes is one hundred and fifty pounds — one-half the usual load. 

 Wild ducks are seen feeding in the small lakes. 



