310 



JOURNEY. 



our road lay, the only sound audible being 

 the regular trampling of the mules. At a 

 space where the road widened, on one side 

 lay a group of muleteers, some sleeping, 

 others watching their mules, which were 

 fastened two or three together, and sur- 

 rounded by their cargos piled up with a 

 toldo on the top for shelter. We did not 

 stop here, but went on to the cottage 

 called Cangreco, where I supped in the 

 open air by moonlight,— a pleasure which 

 none can appreciate so highly as those who 

 have been travelling during the day over a 

 hot, sandy soil, and beneath the influence 

 of a scorching sun, without a breath of 

 air stirring, and the thermometer at 90° in, 

 the shade. 



Dec. 16th. Left Cangreco at half-past 

 seven, and arrived at a small village called 

 Santa Rosa : at noon, thermometer 85°. The 

 clergyman of the place supplied me with a 



