462 
THE  TROPICAL  AGRICULTURIST. 
[Jan.  2,  1893. 
■whom  an  “aith”  would  relieve,  that  I would  not 
have  ventured  near  him  had  he  not  beckoned  to 
me.  “You  are  now  leaving  us”  he  brusquely  said, 
“and  will  be  coming  in  contact  with  Peruvian 
officials.  My  advice  is,  never  believe  one  word  they 
say,  even  supposing  they  should  swear  to  it  upon  a 
cartload  of  Bibles.”  A warning,  I regret  to  say,  which 
proved  not  altogether  unnecessary.  Callao  has  no 
special  interest  for  us.  With  its  quays  and  wharfs, 
ugly  warehouses,  and  polyglot  population,  it  is  like 
any  other  seaport  town ; and  as  Lima  is  only  seven 
miles  distant,  we  prefer  to  pass  on  at  once. 
And  now,  when  in  the  capital,  I am  afraid  I shall 
disappoint  you,  for  I am  not  fond  of  cities:  my 
heart  lies  always  in  the  quiet  country  beyond.  A 
simple  man,  my  tastes  lie  among  the  simple  people 
on  the  mountains,  or  culling  the  common  weeds  by 
the  wayside.  I cannot,  therefore,  enter  into  any 
detailed  description  of  Lima,  which  at  one  time,  we 
are  told,  was  considered  the  gem  of  South  America, 
and  though  now  somewhat  sullied,  is  still  beautiful ; 
picturesquely  situated,  and  with  a climate  almost 
perfect  ; where  the  sun  rarely  scorches,  and  the 
rains  never  bedraggle  the  inhabitants. 
The  two  chief  characteristics  of  the  city  are, 
perhaps,  its  magnificent  churches— more  than  seventy 
in  number — and  its  great  bull  ring,  “ Plaza  de  Acho,1’ 
where  over  ten  thousand,  chiefly  women,  weekly 
witness  and  applaud  the  cowardly  slaughter  of  poor 
helpless  animals.  Prom  the  churches  we  might, 
perhaps,  with  advantage  take  one  little  lesson — they 
are  always  open  from  4 a.m.  till  10  or  11  p.m.,  while 
here,  in  Scotland,  we  build,  by  a supreme  effort, 
substantial  kirks  and  then  lock  them  up,  looking 
only  at  the  outside,  for  312  days  in  the  year. 
Foreigners  laugh  at  this,  and  perhaps  there  are  few 
greater  absurdities  to  be  seen  on  the  face  of  the 
arth. 
The  population  of  Lima  may  be  about  130,000,  but 
no  one  knows  exactly,  as  they  have  not  succeeded 
in  taking  a census  for  many  years.  The  last  attempt 
showed  something  like  eight  ladies  to  every  man, 
and  the  ladies  are  as  famous  for  their  beauty  and 
energy  as  the  men  are  for  their  feebleness.  The 
marriages  seem  only  to  number  about  83  per  annum, 
or  less  than  1 per  1,000,  not  a very  prosperous  sign. 
Now  for  the  hills.  By  rail  to  Chicla — 87  miles  — 
thence  on  mule  back.  This  railway,  it  will  be 
remembered,  is,  without  any  exception,  the  highest 
in  the  world : the  engineering,  the  most  audacious. 
“We  know  of  no  difficulties,”  the  consulting  engineer 
said  to  me.  “ We  would  hang  the  rails  from  balloons 
if  necessary  1” 
When  rather  more  than  halfway  to  Chicla  we 
reach  Matucana  station,  at  an  altitude  of  7,788  feet 
above  sea  level,  and  here  we  resolved  to  stop  for 
two  days,  in  order  to  get  accustomed  to  the  rarefied 
air,  but  w'ere  not  idle.  Procuring  mules,  we  pro- 
ceeded to  ascend  the  surrounding  mountains.  Matu- 
cana may  be  described  as  a village  of  250  inhabi- 
tants, situated  at  the  bottom  of  a basin  only  a few 
hundred  yards  wide,  but  widening  out  to  50  miles 
at  the  upper  rim,  which  is  covered  with  snow.  The 
hills  rise  at  an  angle  of  from  45  degrees  to  75  degrees, 
and  the  so-called  roads  are  really  a terror  to  think 
of.  In  the  distance  the  mountains  of  Peru,  or  the 
Andes,  look  as  bleak  and  barren  as  Aden,  and  most 
globe-trotters  who  take  a passing  glimpse  say  so; 
but  such  is  not  the  case.  I have  not  yet  seen  an 
acre  upon  which  the  botanist  might  not  revel,  and 
but  for  the  fact  that  I had  to  watch  with  constant 
dread  the  feet  of  my  mule,  I have  never  spent  a 
more  intensely  interesting  afternoon  than  I did  during 
this  memorable  ride.  Up,  up,  we  went,  zig-zagging 
on  paths  often  not  more  than  18  inches  wide,  and 
sloping  over  chasms  that  made  one  blind  to  look 
down.  Speak  o’ “loupin’ o’er  a linn!”  here  is  a 
chance  for  any  love-sick  Duncan. 
But,  oh  1 the  flowers  1 the  sweet  flowers  1 who  could 
pass  these  unheeded?  So  many  old  friends, 
too,  in  all  the  glory  of  their  own  native 
home,  to  welcome  us,  and  indicate  the 
altitude  more  correctly  than  any  of  our  aneroids. 
First  comes  the  heliotrope,  scenting  the  air  with 
fts  massive  blue  clusters.  So  different  from  the 
straggling  exotic  in  Britain,  or  the  leafy,  lanky  plant 
in  India.  This  grows  in  the  greatest  perfection  and 
profusion  to  about  S,000  feet  above  sea  level.  Then 
come  miles  of  bright  yellow  calcselarias,  intermixed 
so  prettily  with  brilliant  red  and  blue  salvias,  every 
vacancy  apparently  filled  up  with  lovely  little  lobelias, 
curious  cupheas,  and  creeping  solanums,  while  our 
old  enemy  in  India,  the  ageratum,  everywhere 
intruded  its  white,  thrnmmy  head.  Suddenly  all 
was  changed,  and  hundreds  of  acres  of  the  ’most 
beautiful  blue  lupine  cover  the  ground;  this  grows 
up  to  14,000  feet,  and  then  gives  way  for  the  anemone, 
sedum  and  dandelion,  which  dispute  with  the  snow 
the  limit  of  16,000.  We  were  contented,  however, 
on  this  occasion  to  reach  about  13,000  feet,  and 
“sail-  forfochen”  as  we  were,  eagerly  accepted  the 
invitation  of  a Chola  Indian  to  enter’ his  hut.  And 
here  let  me  say  that  my  ignorant  prejudices  against 
the  Indian  changed  at  once  as  I looked  upon  this 
evidently  happy  and  most  hospitable  family.  The 
best  they  had  was  placed  before  us,  and  one  sweet 
lassie,  seeing  we  were  fond  of  flowers,  disappeared 
into  a tidy  little  garden  and  brought  us  such  bouquets 
as  I had  rarely  seen.  Imagine  real  red  roses,  stock, 
fuschias,  sweet  peas,  giadiola,  Ac.,  mixed  with  springs, 
of  fennel ; I could  not  help  contrasting  this  delightful 
reception  with  what  I had  sometimes  seen  amongst 
more  pretentious  people. 
The  present  terminus  of  Oroya  railway  is  Chiclaa 
at  an  altitude  of  12,215  feet  above  sea  level ; y 
dreary  enough  spot,  where  passengers  not  infrequentln 
get  their  first  experience  of  Sorroche,  or  mountaie 
sickness,  caused  by  the  rarefied  air,  the  disagreeablt 
symptoms  being  headache,  vomiting  and  bleeding  a- 
the  ears  and  nose — the  only  cur“.  a greater  atmo 
spheric  pressure.  Horses  and  mules  from  the  low' 
country  frequently  drop  down  dead  here  from  failure 
of  the  heart’s  action. 
Leaving  Chicla  the  real  tug  of  war  begins ; the 
Cordilleras  have  to  be  encountered  and  crossed.  A 
wretched  road  is  made  worse  by  the  dr.bris  from  the 
railway,  which,  for  the  first  fifteen  miles,  we  see 
being  constructed  still  far  above  us.  The  navvies 
hang  over  the  cliffs  by  ropes,  looking  like  venturesome 
apes.  Higher  and  still  higher  goes  this  extraordinary 
zig-zagging  railway,  boring  into  the  bowels  of  the 
mountains  and  emerging  again,  at  least  a dozen 
times,  before  it  takes  its  final  plunge  for  the  eastern 
side  of  the  Andes.  Meanwhile,  we  continue  our 
scramble  to  the  top  of  the  ridge,  17,000  feet  above 
sea  level.  I have  no  desire  to  magnify  the  difficulties 
and  dangers  of  this  tedious  ride.  The  great  question 
is,  what  do  we  see  when  we  get  there  ? This  I 
cannot  well  magnify.  It  is  not  a case  of  merely 
going  up  one  side  of  a range,  like  the  Grampians, 
and  down  the  other,  but  there  is  now  before  us  a 
table  land  as  far  as  the  best  eyes  can  reach,  and  ten 
times  father,  with  its  hills  and  dales,  lochs  and 
rivers,  more  than  equal  in  extent  to  Great  Britain 
itself,  at  an  average  height  of  about  13,000  feet 
above  sea  level. 
Viewing  this  plateau  from  here,  we  have  spread 
out  before  us  a region  unlike  anything  we  have  ever 
before  seen,  far  above  the  rest  of  the  world,  upon 
the  cares  and  troubles  of  which  it  looks  down  with 
calm,  if  cold,  indifference,  sharing  none  of  its  alarms, 
and  seldom,  indeed,  disturbed  by  the  insane  political 
broils  of  the  lower  regions.  The  clear  sky  above, 
the  occasional  clouds  chasing  each  other  up  from 
the  valley  of  the  Amazon,  only  to  be  dissipated  on 
the  snowy  peaks  which  they  cannot  possibly  pass ; 
above  all,  the  glorious  sun,  so  welcome  a benefactor 
here,  that  we  can  no  longer  marvel  that  it  was  the 
great  object  of  worship  by  the  Inca.  And  all  this 
bleak  but  most  interesting  region  has  to  be  traversed 
before  beginning  our  descent  into  the  promised  land 
beyond,  the  real  basin  of  the  great  Amazon  for  which 
we  are  now  bound,  a region  which  even  the  Inca, 
in  the  plenitude  of  his  power,  never  subdued ; and, 
we  are  assured,  no  living  Peruvian  has  penetrated. 
It  would  be  tedious  for  you  were  I to  describe  too 
minutely  the  ride  of  the  next  few  days  over  the  great 
grassy  puna.  Here  is  the  home  of  the  gentle  llama 
a sort  of  link  between  the  camel  and  the  sheep, 
the  wool  of  which  is  so  much  appreciated  j the  p ac« 
