NOTICES OF PERU. 



103 



nothing but the bare leg of the female pointed out the differ- 

 ence of sex ! 



We had scarcely passed this party, when an officer and two 

 soldiers shot by us in full gallop for Lima. We learned after- 

 wards, that it was a lieutenant, bearing an ordinary despatch 

 from Callao to the government. 



We stopped at the half way house, and indeed our horses 

 were so accustomed to halt there, that they trotted up to the 

 shed of their own free will. The ^'tambo de la Legua" is a 

 pulpena at which most travellers rest for a few minutes. Be- 

 side it stands a church, called La Legua, (hence the name of 

 the tambo), at the door of which was an image of the Virgin, 

 standing on a table, with a crucifix and a silver plate before it, 

 half full of " reales" and " medios." A friar, in a coarse tunic, 

 with a long beard and shaven crown, stood near, begging alms 

 for " la santisima Virgen" — the most holy Virgin, and extend- 

 ing the crucifix to be kissed by all those who bestowed charity 

 in the silver plate. 



The tambo is a low, one story building, bearing the marks 

 of great age ; the large opening in front, like a huge window, 

 from which liquors and cigars are dispensed at low prices, is 

 worn by the frequent handling of customers. On the counter, 

 which may be compared to a broad window sill, there are always 

 burning two or three knots of wood for the convenience of 

 lighting cigars. The roof extends out in front, affording an 

 ample shade for those who stop to partake of the " good things" 

 provided. On either side of this shed is a low adobe seat, for 

 the accommodation of foot passengers. No customer ever 

 enters the door — a wise precaution against the inebriated, who 

 are not to be trusted amongst bottles and glasses. 



The scene at the tambo was curiously contrasted with the 

 religiously grave friar and holy Virgin. Though not twenty 

 yards apart, there was a party of negroes, men and women, 

 with scarcely tatters enough to hide their nakedness, wriggling 

 fandangos under the shed, to the music of a rude harp, played 

 by an old, frosty headed negro, accompanied by the nasal, 

 twanging voices of black wenches, who also beat time with 

 their palms on the body of the instrument. Both men and 

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