.XIX IN THE ECUADOREAN ANDES 189 
with long lines of Cactus and American Aloe, the 
fences of the country, against which the wind piles 
up the sand like snow-drifts. It is true that most 
of this sandy country produces scanty crops of 
barley, peas, and lupines, and that, where it is 
accessible to irrigation, it is rendered even very 
fertile ; but at a distance it often looks quite naked. 
On account of the sand, and of the violent wind 
that gets up as the sun approaches mid-heaven, it 
is only in the early morning one can go out on foot, 
and then not with much pleasure, for although 
Ambato has such a coquettish appearance, and has 
been built entirely anew since the great earthquake 
of 1797, notions of cleanliness are so lax that it is 
necessary to proceed with cautious steps and slow 
to avoid the quisquilia " that are copiously strewn 
about and salute the olfactory organs with an 
odour by no means sweeter than smell of sweetest 
fennel " (vide Pai^adise Lost). At early dawn it is 
difficult to avoid stumbling over the "bodies" 
squatting dow*n at the street sides, and even in the 
principal square, like so many toads, and it is not 
uncommon for a decent-looking woman in that 
position to look up in your face as you pass her 
and give you the Buenos dias, Sefior ! " with an 
air of the most unconscious innocence. At 10 
o'clock — or sometimes not until noon — the wind 
gets up from its sleep, and from that time till about 
sunset blows over these high bleak grounds with 
the fury of a hurricane, raising up the fine sand, 
which obscures the landscape as it were with 
volumes of mist, and penetrates the narrowest 
chinks in doors and windows. Few people, except 
the native Indians, stir beyond the precincts of the 
