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THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE 



in the; highlands of Bolivia, ne;ar la paz 



each week in the year, as her landlord 

 sent his country employees into town, 

 one by one, for a week's holiday. The 

 pongo performed odd services about the 

 Tiouse and slept on a mat in the court- 

 yard, guarding the entrance. Some of 

 these men had villainous faces. 



My friend was desirous that her 

 mother in New York should visit her, but 

 the man of the house was not as enthusi- 

 astic over the plan, so he sent on a photo- 

 graphic group of the family servants, the 

 pongo well in the foreground, and the 

 mother-in-law indefinitely postponed her 

 visit. 



The pongo who served our breakfast 

 had evidently just arrived in town, and 

 the broad grin on his stupid face beto- 

 kened enjoyment of his vacation. He 

 could not speak Spanish, and we pos- 

 sessed little knowledge of the Aymara 

 tongue, but his never-changing smile and 

 -our wild gesticulations answered all pur- 

 poses. 



The sound of shouting in the street 

 brought me back to the balcony to see a 

 llama-driver urging his flock down-hill. 

 Slowly and gracefully the strange little 

 mountaineers descended, casting furtive 

 glances to either side. Stately, silent- 

 footed, wearing an expression of great 

 curiosity, the llamas, with their big 

 cousins, the camels, are the only burden- 

 bearers with pride unbroken. They 

 carry their heads with a regal air. In 

 coloring they are black, brown, tan, or 

 white, often wearing a brighter touch in 

 ear ribbons and small ornamental bags 

 hung about the neck. 



No sooner had the llamas departed 

 than I beheld, crossing the plaza, the 

 gorgeous Bolivian belle of my dreuns, 

 the Chola girl. My impulse was to rush 

 down to see if she were real. Of mixed 

 Indian and Spanish blood, the Cholos 

 form the greater portion of the popula- 

 tion of La Paz. Industrious and loyal, 

 the men are good citizens and excellent 



