RIO SAN MATEO. 



191 



The Indian lives by the side of the San Mateo. Brighter days and 

 clearer nights are found here. The soil is rich, the country undulating. 

 The Indian has an uninterrupted view of the valley of the San Mateo, 

 until his eye strikes the Andes. 



We halted at a place called San Antonio, composed of a single shed, 

 very neatly built and thatched. Our hamacs were slung up and bag- 

 gage put under cover. We bathed in the^waters of the stream, and 

 were refreshed by our suppers. We felt grateful we had crossed all the 

 mountains in safety, as we look up at their heads among the clouds. 



The evening is like that of spring. As we found everlasting winter 

 on top, so perpetual summer is here. The flats are covered with a 

 growth of forest trees, besides which there are cane-brakes, bamboo, 

 and coarse grasses, sappy bushes, and plants that prove the soil to be of 

 the richest kind. This is the place for the axe, the plough, and the hoe. 

 The axe has never touched one of the trees, except when the Indian 

 wanted its coat. The face of the country is a true picture of nature. 

 The hand of civilization has not yet touched it, though probably it con- 

 tains a soil and a climate that would produce as well as the richest spot 

 known, and would astonish the planter, not only by an enormous yield, 

 but encourage him in planting a variety yet unexampled. 



A log canoe lay fastened to a stone near the bank of the San Mateo. 

 This is the first wooden vessel we have seen since we left the steamship 

 " Bolivia" at Callao, begging pardon of the wooden spoons, plates, stir- 

 rups, and other ware along the route. 



Cornelio has unpacked a small bale of cotton goods, and is measuring 

 off several yards of white cotton cloth for four Yuracares Indians' pay 

 in advance for their services in the morning in helping us cross the 

 river. The trade is interesting ; the Indians have thrown down their 

 bows and arrows in confusion, and stand watching with eager eyes the un- 

 rolling of colored cotton handkerchiefs, knives, needles, &c. When they 

 see the fish-hooks there is a shout of joy. They crowd so close round 

 old Cornelio that he has great difficulty to keep the savages from trying 

 on all the colored cotton caps he has brought. These Indians have no 

 gold ornaments to trade for what strikes their fancy; they are nearly dis- 

 tracted with desire to get what they see. They own nothing but bows 

 and arrows, a little yuca, and a few ears of corn to offer in exchange. 

 Animal food is so plentiful here that they are not obliged to cultivate 

 the soil, however productive it may be. 



The province of Yuracares belongs to the department of Beni. It 

 comprises the sides of the ridge from head to foot, and therefore within 

 its borders the climates are cold, temperate, warm, and hot. Gold is 



