while the afternoon was given to the less precipitous but more broken and irregular slopes on the opposite, or right, bank.
Having soon made the discovery that the supplies at Chicla were very limited, we had taken measures to procure a few creature comforts through the obliging conductor of the train, which left Chicla, in the morning, and was to return from Lima on the following evening. A far more serious deficiency was at the same time apparent. I had quite underrated the quantity of paper required to dry the harvest of specimens that I was sure to collect here, and no one but a botanist can measure the intensity of distress with which I viewed the prospect of losing precious specimens, and seeing shapes of beauty converted into repulsive masses of corruption, for want of the material necessary for their preservation. I addressed an urgent note to Mr. Nation, on whose sympathy as a brother naturalist I could safely count, telling him that unless I could find two reams of suitable drying-paper on my return, I should infallibly require accommodation in a lunatic asylum at Lima.
The scenery at Chicla is wild, but neither very beautiful nor very imposing. As in the lower valley of the Rimac, the slopes of the mountains are steep, but the summits are deficient in boldness and variety of form. Those lying on the watershed of the Cordillera, at a distance of fifteen or twenty miles, apparently range from seventeen to eighteen thousand feet in height, and on the first day of our visit showed but occasional streaks and patches of snow, while the sombre tints of the rocks exhibited little variety of hue even in the brightest sunshine.
Although the stream at Chicla is the main branch of the Rimac, its volume is here much reduced, not having yet received the numerous tributaries that fall into it between this place and Matucana. It is here no more than a brawling torrent, swelling rapidly after even a very moderate fall of rain, but prevented from ever dwindling very low by the snows, of which some patches at least remain at all seasons on the upper summits of the Cordillera. In a country without wood, and where the art of building in stone had made little progress, one of the most serious obstacles to any advance in civilization must have arisen from the difficulty of crossing the streams by which the upper ranges of the Andes are everywhere intersected.
ANDEAN SUSPENSION BRIDGES.
The art of constructing suspension bridges must have originated in the subtropical zone of Eastern Peru, where the abundance of climbing plants with long, flexible, tough stems supplied the requisite materials. These, being light and easily transported, were everywhere used in the valleys of the Andes to sustain hanging bridges, of which the roadway was formed of rough basket-work. The only change that has resulted from the introduction of European arts is that of late years iron wire is used instead of flexible lianes to sustain the bridges; but the roadway is still made of basket-work, which is rapidly worn by the feet of passing men and animals, and the natives have a disagreeable habit of stopping up the holes, not by mending the basket-work where this has begun to give way, but by laying a flat stone over the weak place. Being very slight and not nicely adjusted, these bridges swing to and fro under the feet of a passenger to an extent that is at first rather startling, but, as in everything else, habit soon makes one indifferent. Our first experience this afternoon was very easy, as the bridge connecting the station with the pueblo, or village of Chicla, was new and more solid than usual.
The little village, altogether composed of frail sheds, was occupied by the Chilian detachment of about two hundred men, posted here to guard the railway line. Four houses, larger than the rest, wherein the officers had established themselves, were adorned with conspicuous painted inscriptions worthy of the hotels of a great city. The Fonda del Universo informed the public that it contained “apartamentos para familias,” and the rival establishments were no way inferior in the stateliness of their titles and the inducements offered. It must be recollected that Chicla is the first halting-place on the main, almost the only, line of communication between the coast and a magnificent region, as large as England, and teeming with natural resources – the montaña of Central Peru. Before the war the hostelries of Chicla were often crowded, and the accommodation doubtless appeared sumptuous to the wearied travellers who had been contending with the hardships of the journey from the interior, and the passage of the double range of the Andes.
I have already said that the supplies at our hotel were somewhat scanty. Inquiries for eggs were met by the reply that the Chilian soldiers had killed all the poultry, and milk was not to be thought of, because the cows had all been driven to a distance to save them from the Chilians. But these were only trifling inconveniences. The experience of our German landlord was full of graver matter. A foreigner in the interior of Peru during this abominable war is placed between the devil and the deep sea. Having no one to protect him, his property is at the mercy of lawless soldiery; he is an object of suspicion to both parties, and his life is in constant peril. Our host owed to a fortunate accident that he had not been shot by a Peruvian party under the suspicion of having given information to the enemy. He was certainly no lover of the invader; but, like every foreigner in Peru, he looked forward with undisguised dread to the day when the Chilians should depart.
THE CONDOR AS OFFICER OF HEALTH.
If one had not recollected how very slowly and imperfectly the elementary rules of health have made way in Europe, it would have been hard to understand how men of education and intelligence, such as the great majority of the Chilian officers, should neglect the simplest precautions for preserving the health of themselves and their men. We had heard that the troops at Chicla had lost many men owing to a severe outbreak of typhoid fever, though the disease had recently almost disappeared. The cause was not far to seek. The ground all around the village was thickly strewn with the remains of the numerous baggage animals that had fallen from overwork, and the beasts that had been slaughtered by the soldiers. In South America the only sanitary officials are the carrion-eating birds. Near the coast the removal of offal is chiefly accomplished by the gallinazo, a large black vulture; in the Andes the condor takes charge of all carrion, and travels far in quest of it. It is likely that in the noisy neighbourhood of a detachment of soldiers the birds were shy of approach. If the remains had been dragged a short distance away from the village, they would have been quickly disposed of. As it was, the carcases were allowed to accumulate close to the sheds in which the men were lodged until they bred a pestilence. Things were mended, they said, at the time of our visit, yet, warned by vile emanations, I found the carcase of a horse lying close beside the baraque in which we slept; and it was only after energetic remonstrances that I succeeded in having it removed to some distance, where, doubtless, the condors made a savoury meal.
We were not curious to inquire too particularly what animal had supplied the material for our evening repast. It was enough that the skill of the Chinese boy who acted as cook had converted it into a very eatable dish. The work of the establishment seemed to be conducted altogether by two boys – the Chinese cook and a young German who acted as waiter. It was curious to notice that the intercourse between the two was carried on in English, or what passed as such. On many another occasion during my journey I observed the same thing. Throughout America, and I believe that the same is true in most countries out of Europe, English has become the lingua franca, the general medium of communication between people of different nationalities.
Having felt perfectly well all day, and inclined to believe that the discomforts of the previous night had arisen from some accidental cause, we had no hesitation in renewing the arrangement for an excursion to the Tunnel en la cima, and the Chilian commandant readily promised to send two horses, with a soldier who was to act as guide and escort, at seven o’clock on the following morning. Rather late, after some hours’ work in laying out the plants collected during the day, I lay down to sleep, but in a short time awoke with a severe headache, accompanied by ineffectual nausea, the light supper being already digested. It was an undoubted case of mountain-sickness, which had to be borne through the sleepless dark hours until daylight summoned us to rise. As on the previous day, the operations of washing and dressing chased away the symptoms, and before seven o’clock we were ready to start. At half-past seven we began to lose patience, and despatched a messenger to ascertain the cause of delay. No answer coming, we resolved to go in quest of the promised steeds, and, shouldering
