is the draw-bridge, over a dry foss, and an entrance under an arched gateway to the castle, the Real Felipe. I was presented to the Governor, a Spanish colonel, who immediately ordered me to the caloboso, one of the prisoners' cells: this was a room about one hundred feet long and twenty wide, formed of stone, with a vaulted roof of the same materials, having two wooden benches, raised about three feet from the ground, for the prisoners to sleep on. A long chain ran along the bench for the purpose of being passed through the shackles of the unhappy occupants, whose miserable beds, formed of rush mats, were rolled up, and laid near the walls. I had an opportunity to make a survey of this place before the prisoners entered; until then I was left quite alone, pondering over my future lot, for this was the first time I could consider myself a prisoner; however, I consoled myself with the hope of release, or if not, a removal to some more comfortable situation. In this hope I was not mistaken, for before the prisoners, who were malefactors employed at the public works, arrived, a soldier came and ordered me to follow him. He took up my bed, while I took care of my trunk, and in this manner I left the abode of crime and misery in which I had been placed. I was conducted to the guard-house, where that part of the garrison on duty are usually stationed. I now found myself among such a curious mixture of soldiers as eyes never witnessed in any other part of the world; but I reconciled myself to my lot, especially as it was not the worst place in the castle. In a short time I was sent for to the officers' room. I there found several agreeable and some well-informed young men, with two very obstinate and testy old ones, who, though of superior rank, were heartily quizzed by their subalterns. Such is the ease and frankness of the South Americans in general, that before I had been an hour in the room, one of the officers, a young lieutenant, and his brother, a cadet, had become as familiar with me as if we had been old acquaintance. They were natives of Lima, both had been educated at San Carlos, the principal college, and both lamented that the most useful branches of science were not taught in the Spanish colleges to that extent, and with that precision which they are in England. The lieutenant also observed, that as the rectors and heads of their colleges were churchmen, the studies were confined principally to theology, divinity and morality, which circumstance caused them to neglect the useful sciences; and this he ascribed as a reason why in those studies the students made little progress. But, continued he, our libraries are not destitute of good mathematical and philosophical books, which some of our young men study, and they are at all times willing to instruct their friends. I spent the time in a very agreeable chit chat with my new acquaintance till ten o'clock, when the lieutenant rose and requested me to wait his return, saying he was going to the governor for el santo, the watchword, and for the orders of the night. He returned in about half an hour, pulled off his uniform coat, put on a jacket, and then told me, in the most friendly manner, that the governor had given orders for my removal to Lima on the following morning; on which he congratulated me, saying, that as that was a large city I should be more comfortable, although a prisoner, than at Callao; he also informed me that, it being the first day of the month, September, 1803, part of the garrison would be relieved by detachments from the capital, and that he was included in that number, and would be happy in giving me a seat in the valancin, hackney coach, which he should hire. About twelve o'clock my bed and trunk were carried to his sleeping room, and I remained in conversation with him till day broke; we slept about an hour, and then arose to breakfast, which consisted of a cup of very good chocolate for each of us, some dry toast, and a glass of water. At eleven o'clock, the detachment having arrived, we left Callao in a valancin, which is a kind of carriage, having the body of a coach on two wheels, drawn by two horses, one in the shafts and the postillion mounted on the other.
The city of Callao, which was destroyed by an earthquake in 1746 and swallowed up by the sea, was at a short distance to the southward of the present town. On a calm day the ruins may yet be seen under water at that part of the bay called the mar braba, rough sea, and on the beach a sentry is always placed for the purpose of taking charge of any treasure that may be washed ashore, which not unfrequently happens. By this terrible convulsion of nature upwards of three thousand people perished at Callao alone. I afterwards became acquainted with an old mulatto, called Eugenio, who was one of the three or four who were saved; he told me that he was sitting on some timber which had been landed from a ship in the bay, at the time that the great wave of the sea rolled in and buried the city, and that he was carried, clinging to the log, near to the chapel, a distance of three miles.
From Callao to Lima it is six miles, with a good road, for which the country is indebted to Don Ambrose Higgins; but he unfortunately died, after being Viceroy three years, leaving this useful work incomplete. The finished part extends only about two miles from the gateway, at the entrance to the city, and has a double row of lofty willows on each side, shading the foot-walk. He also furnished it, at every hundred yards, with neat stone benches; and at about every mile a large circle with walls of brick and stone, four feet high, and stone seats are erected. These circles are formed for carriages to turn in with greater ease than on the road. On each side of the foot-walk runs a small stream of water, irrigating the willows in its course, and nourishing numberless luxuriant weeds and flowers. It was the intention of the Viceroy to carry the road down to Callao in the same style as it now exists near the city, but only the carriage road was finished. It has a parapet of brick raised two feet high on each side, to keep together the materials of the road. On the right hand side, going from the port, may be seen the ruins of an indian village, which was built before the discovery of South America. Some of the old walls are left, formed of clay, about two feet thick and six feet high, and which perhaps owe their present existence to the total absence of rain in this country. To the right is the town of Bellavista, to which parish Callao is attached, being called its anexo. Here is a hospital for seamen and the poorer class of the inhabitants. Half way between the port and the city stands a very neatly built chapel, to which is connected a small cloister; it is dedicated to the Virgin of Mount Carmel, and many visit it to fulfil some vow or other which they have made at sea to this Madonna, she being the protectress of seamen. Near the chapel is situated a house at which are sold good brandy and wine, and it may easily be guessed which establishment has the most customers! On approaching the city the quality of the soil appears to be very good; large gardens with luxuriant vegetables for the market, and fields of lucern and maize are here cultivated, and close to the city walls there are extensive orchards of tropical fruit trees, all irrigated with water drawn by canals from the river Rimac. The gateway is of brick, covered with stucco, with cornices, mouldings, and pillars of stone: it has three arches; the centre one for carriages has folding doors, the two lateral posterns are for foot passengers.
The mind of a traveller is naturally led to expect to find the inside of a city correspondent with the appearance of its entrance; but at Lima he will be deceived. The distant views of the steeples and domes, the beautiful straight road, its shady avenue of lofty willows, and its handsome gateway, are contrasted, immediately on passing them, with a long street of low houses with their porches and patios; small shops with their goods placed on tables at the doors; no glass windows; no display of articles of commerce; numbers of people of all colours, from the black African to the white and rosy coloured Biscayan, with all their intermediate shades, combined with the mixture of colour and features of the aborigines of America:—the mere observation of this variety of colours and features produces a "confusion beyond all confusions."
As a prisoner of war, although the two nations were at peace, I was conducted by my kind friend to the city gaol, carcel de la ciudad, where I remained shut up for eight months with about a hundred criminals of the worst description. Owing, however, to a recommendation and the promise of a remuneration from my good friend the lieutenant, the alcalde lodged me in a room at the entrance of the prison, allotted to persons of decent families, or to such as had the means of paying for this convenience.
I was fortunate enough to find here a native of Lima, an officer in the army, who was confined on suspicion of forgery. He was a very excellent man, and conducted himself towards me in a manner which contributed, not only to my comfort whilst I was a prisoner, but finally to my liberation. My first object in my confinement was to make myself perfectly master of the Spanish tongue, and to obtain some knowledge of Quichua, the court language of the Incas, and used wherever their authority had been established. I was the more desirous of becoming acquainted with this language, because it
