Dick Boldhero.CHAPTERXI.Wecontinued our journey with great industry, generally travelling about forty miles a day. My Indian guide had the usual taciturnity of his race, but occasionally he entered into conversation, and I then discovered that he had led a life of adventure, and possessed the happy talent of describing what he had seen. I had by this time acquired a knowledge of the Spanish language, and I therefore found his narratives quite a resource during the tedious hours during which we seemed to be creeping like snails over the almost interminable plain.He had frequently officiated before as a guide over the road we were now travelling, and he gave me an account of several occurrences in which he had taken part, which might have graced the pages of romance.It appears that the Pampas are inhabited by a peculiar race of men, called Gauchos. These are the descendants of Spaniards of wild and irregular character, who had fled from civilized society and settled upon the plains, subsisting almost entirely by hunting and rearing cattle. The son followed the vocation of the father, and thus several succeeding generations of hunters had been scattered over these prairies. At the time of which I am speaking, they consisted of considerable numbers of people, though they lived apart from each other in families, dwelling in small huts, and spending the greater part of their time on horseback. These men generally respected travellers, but occasionally they would take to the highway and commit desperate acts of robbery.There were small bands of Indians, also, whose homes were along the southern borders of the Pampas, but possessing fleet horses, they occasionally made incursions even into remote portions of the plains, and after having struck a sudden blow upon some unprotected family, they would speed to another and another, marking their route with blood and conflagration. Of these wild and savage people, my guide told me various anecdotes. I have not space to recount them, but in order to give an idea of the scenes which are constantly occurring in this remote region of the world, I will repeat one of the tales which he told me.A few years previous to the period of which I am speaking, a wealthy Spanish gentleman, with his daughter about eighteen years of age, was travelling from Chili to Buenos Ayres. They were in a carriage drawn by four horses, and were attended by several servants, two of whom were on horseback. One night, as they were passing through a thicket of tall grass, a terrible cry burst upon their ears, and at the same moment about a dozen savages sprung from their lurking places, and immediately assailed the travelling party. The servants who were armed discharged their pistols, but they were speedily torn from their horses; the coachman was knocked from his seat, and the two post-boys in their fright ran away. The gentleman in the coach threw open the door and rushed out; but at the moment, he was laid prostrate, by a blow, upon the earth.Frightened at the sounds around them, the horses in the carriage began to rearand plunge, and then, suddenly springing forward, ran with all their might. In a few moments, they were lost to the view, but the rattling of the wheels was heard for a time, and was then suddenly terminated by a heavy and crashing sound.The pockets of the travellers were soon rifled, and the Indians then departed in pursuit of the coach, leaving two of the servants who had been engaged in the fray dead upon the spot, and the Spanish gentleman himself stunned by the blows he had received.At the distance of two miles, the savages found the coach overturned, and reduced to a mere wreck. The young lady within, overcome with terror, was in a state of insensibility. Being taken out, she was speedily restored. The coach was then rifled, and the lady being placed on horseback before one of the savages, the party pushed forward across the prairie in a southerly direction.In the course of four days, they reached their settlements, and the young lady, whose name was Donna Marina, was committed to the charge of a daughter of one of the savage chiefs. Worn out with fatigue and anxiety, she seemed at first indifferent to her fate; but in the course of a few days, having recovered her health and spirits, she became desirous of knowing the fate that awaited her. She then learned that a messenger was to be despatched to Buenos Ayres, where, it was ascertained, her father had arrived, proposing to surrender his daughter for a ransom of 5000 dollars.Understanding from the savage maiden under whose care she was placed, that no personal injury to herself was intended, she became tolerably calm. But it chanced that there was among the Indians a fiery young warrior, whose father was a Spaniard, his mother being an Indian. He was born at one of the Spanish huts in the vicinity of Buenos Ayres, and in his early days had acquired a taste for the refinements of civilized life. But his natural daring and love of adventure had led him to join the wild inhabitants of the Pampas, among whom he had now become a celebrated leader.At this period, he was in the bloom of early manhood, and was remarkable alike for the symmetry of his form, the grace of his movements, and the manly beauty of his countenance. Among the women of the tribe, he was an object of universal regard, on account of his fine appearance, and even the stern old warriors could not withhold their admiration at his achievements in the foray and the field. Thus an object of universal adulation, it may well be supposed that the young warrior, whose name was Yorika, had a pretty high estimate of himself. He was not of the party who had captured the fair Marina; but when he heard of the beauty of the maiden, he sought an opportunity to see her. His wishes were easily gratified by means of a little flattery bestowed upon her keeper. Vanity had led the youthful Indian to seek the interview, but a deeper sentiment led him frequently to renew it.The beauty of the captive stole into his heart, and doubtless, her gentle manners awakened his recollections of scenes that had been familiar in his childhood. At all events, he was deeply enamored of the Spanish maiden, and did not hesitate to avow his passion. His overtures, however, were sternly repelled; and,stung to the quick, the fiery savage determined to obtain by force the maiden he could not win by affection.During these events, the messenger had communicated with the father of Donna Marina at Buenos Ayres, and brought a favorable answer to the proposition of ransom. In two days a gentleman was to arrive at a designated point to pay the required sum and receive the captive. Preparations were immediately made to carry the treaty into effect, and in due time four men were despatched with Donna Marina to meet the Spanish agent. Yorika had been designated as one of this party, but he excused himself, seeming to disdain a service which offered so little of enterprize or adventure.The party set forward, and at the place of meeting found the person whom they expected, already in attendance. The negotiation was speedily settled, the money paid and the captive surrendered. The savages, and the Spanish maiden, now under the charge of her affianced lover, also departed. The latter were mounted on horseback, and by the light of a summer moon they made their way across the plain. Rejoicing in their reunion after the distressing events which had transpired, they rode side by side, their hearts being often too full for utterance.At length their path led them into a shallow vale thickly overgrown with wild thistles. As they were passing through this, a pistol was fired, and a ball whizzed near the breast of the attendant of Donna Marina. A moment after, the athletic form of Yorika rose from the thicket and sprung like a lion upon the object at which his pistol had been aimed. The Spaniard was immediately pulled from his horse, and a desperate conflict ensued. The superior strength of the Indian, however, prevailed, and he soon pressed the form of his antagonist beneath him. He drew his dirk, and was about to plunge it into the breast of his foe.At that critical instant, the Spaniard brought his pistol to bear, and discharging it in the breast of the Indian, laid him prostrate upon the earth. Bruised and bleeding, he rose from the ground and made his way to Marina. At first, the girl shrunk back with horror, imagining that it was the victorious Yorika, who had come to claim her as his own. But when her reason was restored, and she learned the truth, she expressed her joy and gratitude alike for the safety of her lover and her own.Such was one of the tales of my guide, which beguiled the weariness of our journey over the Pampas. He related several narratives respecting the jaguar, which is a kind of tiger infesting the thickets which border upon the road. One day, as we were passing through an immense forest of thistles, ten feet in height, and spreading out like an interminable sea on every side, he pointed to a spot where a traveller, on descending from his horse, had been seized and torn in pieces by one of these furious beasts.Day after day, we continued our monotonous course. Although it was winter, the weather by no means answered to the common idea of that season. We had occasional rain, but it was seldom colder than during our April or May. Few incidents occurred to break the uniformity of our journey. One day appearedlike another, and as we had no objects by which we could mark our progress, we seemed, like a ship in the waste of waters, to stand still in the midst of the shoreless desert. As we stood alone upon the bosom of the mighty prairie, stretching out on every side, and blending itself with the sky, we seemed dwindled into insects. Never have I felt such a sense of nothingness as in the presence of that mighty plain. In measuring myself by the gigantic scale which the Pampas presented, it seemed that I might be blotted from existence like the veriest moth that fluttered in the breeze. It was not until I turned my mind upon my plans and prospects, my hopes and fears, that my bosom began to swell again with those powerful emotions which seem to give importance to our existence and enable us to triumph over the despondency which often besets the heart, and might otherwise sink us in despair.The sense of loneliness, the yearning for society, the longing to be restored to the sympathy of human beings which beset one in these solitudes, can only be understood by experience. I doubtless felt these the more from my youth and the want of that stern habit of self-reliance which is acquired by men who pursue a life of hazard and adventure. But I was becoming trained in the school of experience, and day by day was learning to sustain myself with my own thoughts, plans and prospects.We met few travellers upon the road. Four men on horseback, and a company with two vehicles, were all that we encountered in a distance of more than 500 miles. The latter consisted of some five and twenty persons. They had a baggage cart, which was a capacious, rude uncouth-looking vehicle, with cane sides and a roof covered with hides. The body was balanced upon two prodigiously high wheels for the convenience of passing through rivers. The other vehicle was a long coach, called agalera, and resembled the modern omnibus; the seats ran sideways, and the door was at the end. To each of these carriages there were four horses, and a postilion to each horse. Such is the ordinary equipment of travellers upon the Pampas.The post houses upon the road were miserable tenements, generally of mud, and affording scanty accommodation. The lazy inhabitants seem to offer the commonest civility with reluctance or languid indifference. We occasionally met with huts inhabited by squalid Indians, who seemed sunk in indolence and apathy. They were nearly naked, yet they possessed a gentle and kindly character. The herds of cattle upon the plains furnish them abundance of meat, and they parted with it freely, seeming to be almost indifferent whether they received compensation or not.At the end of twenty days, we reached the verge of the Pampas, and now began to ascend the highlands, which rise by gradations for the distance of nearly two hundred miles, at the foot of the Andes. Industriously pursuing our journey, we rose step by step, and at last reached a village situated in a deep gorge at the foot of mountains that seemed to reach the skies. Here we sold our horses, and purchased mules, these animals being considered safer in climbing the dizzy precipices, over which our road now lay.Being duly equipped, and having restedthree days, we departed and began to creep up the frowning battlements of the Andes. Sometimes we seemed lost in deep and dark ravines; sometimes we threaded our way amid rocks that lifted their shaggy pinnacles over our heads, which seemed to threaten us with destruction, and sometimes, we reached a lofty peak from which we could see the rugged valley stretched out behind, and still loftier pinnacles rising up to the heavens in front. How striking the contrast between these savage mountains and the level prairie!—yet the emotions they excited were nearly the same; the same overpowering sense of vastness in nature; the same oppressive sense of my own insignificance, visited me here as upon the Pampas. There was, indeed, something exhilarating in the mountain air, and the consciousness of danger frequently experienced as we wound along the edges of the mountains with a yawning chasm of five hundred feet below, imparted something of a romantic interest to our journey. The scenery, too, was often amazingly grand, and when at last we reached the highest ridge of the Andes, and I gazed upon its glittering peaks covered with everlasting snow, I experienced a sensation which I shall never forget. They seemed indeed like bluish-white clouds piled up to the very heavens. They appeared like the ghosts of mountains, dreamy and mist-like, rather than those eternal barriers of snow-capped granite which they really are.Winding for several days along the devious path, amid the wilderness of rocky peaks and cliffs, we began to emerge from the labyrinth, and the western slope of the Andes soon opened before us. Creeping over a succession of ridges, we finally reached the undulating plain, and from an eminence, we caught a distant view of the Pacific. Proceeding through a country of great fertility we arrived at the place of our destination, thankful indeed that I had reached it in safety.CHAPTERXII.Ifoundthe city of Valparaiso to be much smaller than its commercial importance had led me to suppose. It is the chief port on the western coast of America. From this point, the principal commerce is carried on with the Islands of the Pacific and the coast of Asia. Indeed, Valparaiso is the centre of trade in this quarter of the world. Still, at the time I was there, more than twenty years ago, its population did not exceed 15,000. In 1822, it suffered from a dreadful earthquake, but it has now increased, and since the independence of Chili, it has become even more important than in former times. It is built along a bending beach, at the foot of a high bluff, which overlooks the town. The buildings are ornamented with piazzas, painted with different colors, giving the place a very lively appearance. The present number of inhabitants is about 25,000.It may well be believed that the business which brought me to this place, engrossed my thoughts, and that immediately after my arrival, I began to devote my attention to it. I delivered the letters of introduction I had brought, and pursued my enquiries in relation to my uncle, in the channels which had been pointed out. To my great mortification,I soon found that he was not in Valparaiso.The only clue I could obtain which seemed to offer the least chance of his discovery, was that a man bearing the Spanish name of Signor Morales, had come to this city some fifteen years before. He engaged in commerce, and being a man of enterprise, was very successful, and speedily amassed a large estate. Suddenly, and without any known cause, he became poor, closed his business and lived a life of seclusion. At last, he disappeared and no one seemed to know with certainty whither he had gone.I found various rumors respecting him. One person said he had gone to the Island of Juan Fernandes, and now lived there alone as Alexander Selkirk had done before him. I was told by another that he had become a friar, and lived as a hermit near the foot of one of the snow-capped mountains of the Andes. Another story was, that the mysterious merchant had gone to Potosi, where he had purchased a silver mine and become immensely rich.Amid these various rumors, one thing only seemed to be clear, and this was, that the individual to whom they related was in fact my uncle. The description of his person, manners, and appearance was exact. Everything else however was uncertain. It seemed probable, indeed, that he had himself set afloat the contradictory rumors as to his residence, with a view of concealing his real purpose.I remained several months at Valparaiso, following out every suggestion that seemed to offer a clue to the object of my search. At last there seemed some reason to suppose that the story of my uncle’s being at Potosi, was not altogether without foundation. Faint, indeed, was the hope thus offered, but in the absence of every other, I determined to visit that celebrated place. My guide across the Pampas had continued with me and again setting out on horseback, we laid our course for southern Peru, a country which is now known by the title of Bolivia.The road led to the north, and lay at a distance of sixty or seventy miles from the ocean. For the most part we travelled over a wavy table-land, nearly a thousand feet above the level of the sea. On our right, lay the mighty range of the Andes; on our left, the almost boundless Pacific. The country was thinly settled, there being here and there a small village; or, more frequently, the villa of some Spanish planter. The country was exceedingly fertile, and the cattle seemed as abundant as upon the prairies of Buenos Ayres. As we rode along, the grass, now in its fullest bloom, frequently concealed the pasturing herds from view, and often as we rode along, the coarse herbage seemed to form a wall on either side of the path, rising even as high as my head. Never have I seen a more lovely climate, or a more fruitful soil.Though we met with few adventures, our journey was delightful. In ten days we approached the celebrated desert of Atacama, which stretches four hundred and fifty miles along the Pacific, and forms the maritime district of the present republic of Bolivia. Upon this spot, as if it were deserted of Heaven,the rain never falls, and it is accordingly given up to everlasting blight and desolation. It is a sandy waste, and is not only destitute of vegetation, but it is said that no animal, not even a spider, a cricket, or a worm, is found throughout its vast extent.Our road, for two days, lay along the verge of this waste. It seemed marked with a peculiar aspect of solitude and desertion. No word can express the emotions which it suggested, but that ofdeath. Neither life, nor motion, nor verdure were visible throughout its measureless bosom. No sound seemed to stir the atmosphere, in that region of silence. I paused as we rode over its surface; and such was the absolute void of nature—such the settled silence of the very atmosphere—that I felt oppressed, and moved forward to throw off a feeling that my heart would cease to beat in the midst of this pulseless creation.Taking leave of the desert, our course turned more to the eastward, and we began to enter a more mountainous territory. One evening, as the sun went down, we saw before us a lofty peak, covered with snow. From its top, issued a perpendicular column of dark smoke, which, at the elevation of a few hundred feet, expanded into a thin cloud. Its shape was that of a pine tree, divested of branches, except at the top.We knew this mountain to be a volcano, and we gazed upon it with intense interest. We soon arrived at a small village, and took up our lodgings for the night. Being greatly fatigued, I retired early to bed, and was speedily wrapped in profound repose. I was at length awaked by a violent shaking, and the most terrific sounds I ever heard. I sprang out of bed, and rushed to the window. The whole heavens seemed to be on fire, and as I caught a view of the volcanic peak, I perceived that it was vomiting forth torrents of lava, smoke and flame. The inhabitants of the village were already in the street, and seemed to be frantic with alarm, if not despair. I hurried on my clothes, and descended also to the street.The volcano was in full blast, rumbling to its foundation, and keeping up at its mouth a roaring sound, like the continued discharge of artillery. Amid the columns of black smoke that rose to the sky, hundreds of rocks, red with heat, seemed shot upward, like blazing rockets, while the molten lava—a river of fire—was seen pouring over the edge of the crater, and making its way toward the village. But this was not the greatest danger. The thick masses of snow and ice, around the peak of the crater, were melted, and roaring torrents were already bursting down the declivity.The confused sound of the raging waters was audible, even amid the thunder that shook the fabric of the mountains. The valley was situated in a gorge, through which the river must pour its flood. Conscious of the peril, the people were preparing for flight. But the danger was even more near at hand than was anticipated. While I stood gazing at the sublime pinnacle of the volcano, I heard a rush at a little distance, and suddenly I perceived the tumbling waters gushing between the houses and filling the narrow street. Most of the people had already fled, and I followed in their train.Scarcely had we reacheda rocky eminence on the side of an adjacent ridge, when the whole village was engulphed, and speedily swept away.So sudden had been the alarm, so rapid our retreat, that I had not saved a single article, except the clothes upon my back. My own horse, as well as that of my guide, with every particle of baggage, money, papers, letters—every vestige was swallowed up by the inundation; I was even uncertain of the fate of my guide, till at last I discovered him, half wild with terror, amid the throng that had now gathered upon the cliff.During the remainder of the night the volcano remained in violent agitation, and the swollen torrent of water continued to flow down its side and sweep over the buried village. One by one, the people departed to seek shelter at a small town about two miles distant, and when morning came, finding no hope of recovering my horse or baggage, I followed the rest, and took up my lodgings at the post-house.CHAPTERXIV.Mysituation was now in the highest degree embarrassing and painful. I was at least three hundred miles from Potosi, and excepting a small piece of gold, and a few dollars in silver, which I happened to have in my pocket, in all amounting to about seven dollars, I was absolutely destitute of money. I was in the midst of strangers, and had no means of obtaining credit, by which I might repair my losses. I spent two or three days in walking up and down the river, which had swept away our horses and baggage; but the torrent continued to increase, rather than subside, and had now the aspect of a permanent river. Not the slightest hope was therefore presented of retrieving our fortunes. No other alternative was offered but to make our way to Potosi on foot.No sooner was my resolution taken than I departed, still accompanied by Balbo, my Indian guide. When I was once again in action, my spirits rose, and with a cheerful heart I pursued my way over the rugged country that lay before me. For several days, the tall pyramidal top of the smoking volcano was in view, and indeed, as we proceeded, it seemed to lift its head above the surrounding mountains as if to watch us, or to keep us company. It was not till we had travelled a distance of more than forty miles, that it began to dwindle in the distance, and sink down amid the mountain peaks that encircled it.It was a beautiful season, and on every side, there were objects to attract my attention. The strange but gorgeous flowers that were scattered in profusion on every hand; the gaudy birds; the contrast between the mountain scenery on one side, and the waving plain, marked with cultivation, on the other, afforded constant topics for observation and reflection. No very remarkable incidents occurred, yet there were passages in our journey which were by no means devoid of interest. We met with no towns, and few villages.The Indians constituted the chief inhabitants upon the route. These were marked with a peculiar character of gentleness, and their hospitality was unbounded. They allowed us freely to share in whatever food they possessed, and would seldom accept of payment.Their houses were of the simplest materials, consisting of poles set upright in the ground, the sides and roof being firmly thatched with palm leaves. Their furniture was rude and scanty. They seemed to sail down the stream of life, resigning themselves with easy indolence to its current. They had most of them some cattle, and milk furnished a leading article of their food.In one instance, we met with an exciting adventure. As we were crossing a broken range of mountains, we perceived a small animal, resembling a deer, pursued by a bird of enormous size. My guide immediately informed me that the quadruped was a vicuna, and that the pursuer was a species of vulture, which is familiar to most readers under the name of condor. When we first saw them, the vicuna was straining every nerve to escape, while the condor hung over his back, and at every opportunity struck his talons into his flesh.They both swept by us, so close that we could distinctly see every feature of the pursuer and pursued. The little quadruped was foaming at the mouth; his eye was wild and glaring, and his sides streaming with blood. The vulture, with his merciless gaze fixed upon his prey, held his talons ready for the blow, while he seemed to glance through the air on his outspread wings, like an arrow from the bow. On they went, till at last the vicuna came to a precipice of nearly two hundred feet in depth. Pressed by his remorseless enemy, he hesitated not for a moment, but taking the fatal leap, fell crushed and lifeless into the depths of the rocky gorge beneath. The condor wheeled round and round, and finally stooped with an easy motion to partake of his feast.I had some curiosity to see the monster at his meal. After winding round for a considerable distance, we reached the bottom of the ravine. We approached the savage bird, and perceived that he had already commenced his feast; he had torn open the bowels of the vicuna, and seemed to cut and rend the flesh with his enormous beak as easily as if it had been a butcher’s knife. As we drew near, he glared upon us fiercely, and seemed to deliberate for a moment whether he should not repel the unwelcome intrusion. Finding us not disposed to retreat, he seized his prey in his claws, and beating his wings with a furious impulse rose heavily upon the air. Bending his course slightly downward along the distant slope of the mountains, he continued for some time in view, and at last disappeared amid the mazes of the forest.Pursuing our way with diligence, we now began to ascend the mountains which encircled the valley of Potosi. Winding our way through deep vales, and often climbing along the dizzy edges of beetling cliffs, we reached the top of the mountain range and looked down upon the scene below. The wild and rugged ramparts which encircle this famous city, bear a desolate and wintry aspect. Scarcely a tree crowns their summits, and nothing but mosses and lichens seem to flourish in the chill and ungenial climate. Yet below, we could perceive bright patches of vegetation, seeming to indicate a milder temperature.Beginning now to descend, we proceeded with caution, and were soon lodged in the celebrated city of Potosi.PotosiCity of Potosi.CHAPTERXV.BeforeI proceed with my narrative, I must give some little account of the celebrated town in which I now found myself. Potosi is situated within a circle of mountains, and stands at the foot of a lofty peak which rises far above the rest. In this are the rich mines of silver which have given such fame to the place.The number of inhabitants in Potosi was once 100,000, but it has greatly diminished, and the present number does not exceed 15,000; half of these are Indians. The towns of South America are not famous for their neatness; in this respect, however, Potosi has the advantage over most other cities in this quarter of the world. It is the custom to whitewash the houses on the outside, which gives them a very cheerful aspect.Potosi is very remarkable in several respects. In the morning the air is keen and cold, but in the middle of the day it is burning hot. At night, the cold returns, and it seems almost as chill as during our New England March. Potosi is situated at an elevation of 13,265 feet above the level of the sea, and is the highest inhabited place on the face of the globe.After my arrival here, my first business was to despatch letters to my friends at Valparaiso for a supply of money, and letters of introduction. I then sallied forth to take a view of the town. On my return I stated the manner in which I had lost my baggage to the landlord of the hotel, and having informed him that I had come on important business, requested him to supply me with such articles as I needed till I could obtain remittances. The man looked in my face with a gaze of amazement,and then laughed outright at what he deemed my brazen impudence.I was, in fact, miserably clad, and my servant was worse off than myself. We looked, indeed, like a couple of vagabonds, and though I was at first angry, I did not think the conduct of the landlord unreasonable when I reflected upon the whole matter. But what was to be done? I was out of money and totally unknown to everybody in the place. It was necessary to do something for immediate support, and I therefore determined that my guide, Balbo, should go to work in the mines if I could get him a place, hoping that he would obtain the means of subsistence for us both.Everybody has heard how the silver mines of Potosi were discovered. An Indian hunter was pursuing a vicuna up the slope of the mountain. In order to aid his ascent, he seized upon a small tree. This gave way, and beneath its roots, he saw a shining mass of silver. This occurred three hundred years ago, and since that time, more than a thousand millions of dollars have been taken from the mines in the mountain where this accidental discovery was made.I had heard the story of the Indian hunter, and fancied that silver in Potosi was almost as abundant as common earth. When I reached the mines, however, I found the fact to be otherwise. The openings to these mines are small holes, which are entered by getting down upon the hands and knees. In this manner, you crawl along for a number of yards, when the space widens, and you are able to stand upright. There are a great many of these shafts, and some of them penetrate to a considerable distance into the bowels of the mountain. The silver ore is found in veins, and in following these, the miners have wrought out irregular winding caverns, sometimes ascending, and again descending. They work by blasting the rock with gunpowder. The ore, thus broken off, is carried out in the leather aprons of the workmen.Most persons have no other than pleasant ideas in regard to silver; but if they could see the miserable Indians toiling in the mines, shut out from the light of day, grimed with soot and gunpowder, and haggard from the want of pure air, and all to obtain this precious metal, they would ever after feel that even this is purchased at almost too dear a rate.I was not a little shocked and disgusted to observe the severe and painful toil required at the mines. After the ore is obtained, it is broken into pieces about the size of a hen’s egg. It is then put into a mill, and reduced to powder. In this state, it is mixed with salt and quicksilver, and remains fifteen days. By this time the silver has become mixed with the quicksilver. The earthy particles are then washed away, and the silver is separated from the quicksilver by squeezing. Such is the laborious process of mining; yet, notwithstanding the severe nature of the occupation, I found the wages to be but fifteen cents a day. The urgency of the case conquered my feelings, and I agreed that Balbo should go to work the next day.This he accordingly did, and I found that, by the utmost economy, we could both of us subsist upon his earnings. I was now at leisure to pursue my inquiriesin relation to the object of my journey. It is unnecessary to detail the careful investigation that I made, or to say with what anxiety I pursued my search. I may sum up the whole in stating that my uncle was not in Potosi, and that if he had ever been there, he had removed to some other part of the country at least three years before.At the end of two months, I expected an answer from Valparaiso, but none was received; and after two months more I was forced to adopt the conclusion that my letters had miscarried, or my correspondents had refused to comply with my request. My situation was again in the highest degree embarrassing. After revolving a great many schemes in my mind, I determined to join a company of merchants who were going at that time to Quito. I offered myself as a mule-driver, and Balbo as a servant. Both were accepted, and we speedily set forward. I have not space to detail the incidents of this journey of more than 1500 miles in length. My story has, perhaps, already extended beyond the patience of the reader. It will be enough to say, that, after travelling over mountains and plains, and beholding some of the most sublime scenery in the world, we reached the capital of Equador.
CHAPTERXI.
Wecontinued our journey with great industry, generally travelling about forty miles a day. My Indian guide had the usual taciturnity of his race, but occasionally he entered into conversation, and I then discovered that he had led a life of adventure, and possessed the happy talent of describing what he had seen. I had by this time acquired a knowledge of the Spanish language, and I therefore found his narratives quite a resource during the tedious hours during which we seemed to be creeping like snails over the almost interminable plain.
He had frequently officiated before as a guide over the road we were now travelling, and he gave me an account of several occurrences in which he had taken part, which might have graced the pages of romance.
It appears that the Pampas are inhabited by a peculiar race of men, called Gauchos. These are the descendants of Spaniards of wild and irregular character, who had fled from civilized society and settled upon the plains, subsisting almost entirely by hunting and rearing cattle. The son followed the vocation of the father, and thus several succeeding generations of hunters had been scattered over these prairies. At the time of which I am speaking, they consisted of considerable numbers of people, though they lived apart from each other in families, dwelling in small huts, and spending the greater part of their time on horseback. These men generally respected travellers, but occasionally they would take to the highway and commit desperate acts of robbery.
There were small bands of Indians, also, whose homes were along the southern borders of the Pampas, but possessing fleet horses, they occasionally made incursions even into remote portions of the plains, and after having struck a sudden blow upon some unprotected family, they would speed to another and another, marking their route with blood and conflagration. Of these wild and savage people, my guide told me various anecdotes. I have not space to recount them, but in order to give an idea of the scenes which are constantly occurring in this remote region of the world, I will repeat one of the tales which he told me.
A few years previous to the period of which I am speaking, a wealthy Spanish gentleman, with his daughter about eighteen years of age, was travelling from Chili to Buenos Ayres. They were in a carriage drawn by four horses, and were attended by several servants, two of whom were on horseback. One night, as they were passing through a thicket of tall grass, a terrible cry burst upon their ears, and at the same moment about a dozen savages sprung from their lurking places, and immediately assailed the travelling party. The servants who were armed discharged their pistols, but they were speedily torn from their horses; the coachman was knocked from his seat, and the two post-boys in their fright ran away. The gentleman in the coach threw open the door and rushed out; but at the moment, he was laid prostrate, by a blow, upon the earth.
Frightened at the sounds around them, the horses in the carriage began to rearand plunge, and then, suddenly springing forward, ran with all their might. In a few moments, they were lost to the view, but the rattling of the wheels was heard for a time, and was then suddenly terminated by a heavy and crashing sound.
The pockets of the travellers were soon rifled, and the Indians then departed in pursuit of the coach, leaving two of the servants who had been engaged in the fray dead upon the spot, and the Spanish gentleman himself stunned by the blows he had received.
At the distance of two miles, the savages found the coach overturned, and reduced to a mere wreck. The young lady within, overcome with terror, was in a state of insensibility. Being taken out, she was speedily restored. The coach was then rifled, and the lady being placed on horseback before one of the savages, the party pushed forward across the prairie in a southerly direction.
In the course of four days, they reached their settlements, and the young lady, whose name was Donna Marina, was committed to the charge of a daughter of one of the savage chiefs. Worn out with fatigue and anxiety, she seemed at first indifferent to her fate; but in the course of a few days, having recovered her health and spirits, she became desirous of knowing the fate that awaited her. She then learned that a messenger was to be despatched to Buenos Ayres, where, it was ascertained, her father had arrived, proposing to surrender his daughter for a ransom of 5000 dollars.
Understanding from the savage maiden under whose care she was placed, that no personal injury to herself was intended, she became tolerably calm. But it chanced that there was among the Indians a fiery young warrior, whose father was a Spaniard, his mother being an Indian. He was born at one of the Spanish huts in the vicinity of Buenos Ayres, and in his early days had acquired a taste for the refinements of civilized life. But his natural daring and love of adventure had led him to join the wild inhabitants of the Pampas, among whom he had now become a celebrated leader.
At this period, he was in the bloom of early manhood, and was remarkable alike for the symmetry of his form, the grace of his movements, and the manly beauty of his countenance. Among the women of the tribe, he was an object of universal regard, on account of his fine appearance, and even the stern old warriors could not withhold their admiration at his achievements in the foray and the field. Thus an object of universal adulation, it may well be supposed that the young warrior, whose name was Yorika, had a pretty high estimate of himself. He was not of the party who had captured the fair Marina; but when he heard of the beauty of the maiden, he sought an opportunity to see her. His wishes were easily gratified by means of a little flattery bestowed upon her keeper. Vanity had led the youthful Indian to seek the interview, but a deeper sentiment led him frequently to renew it.
The beauty of the captive stole into his heart, and doubtless, her gentle manners awakened his recollections of scenes that had been familiar in his childhood. At all events, he was deeply enamored of the Spanish maiden, and did not hesitate to avow his passion. His overtures, however, were sternly repelled; and,stung to the quick, the fiery savage determined to obtain by force the maiden he could not win by affection.
During these events, the messenger had communicated with the father of Donna Marina at Buenos Ayres, and brought a favorable answer to the proposition of ransom. In two days a gentleman was to arrive at a designated point to pay the required sum and receive the captive. Preparations were immediately made to carry the treaty into effect, and in due time four men were despatched with Donna Marina to meet the Spanish agent. Yorika had been designated as one of this party, but he excused himself, seeming to disdain a service which offered so little of enterprize or adventure.
The party set forward, and at the place of meeting found the person whom they expected, already in attendance. The negotiation was speedily settled, the money paid and the captive surrendered. The savages, and the Spanish maiden, now under the charge of her affianced lover, also departed. The latter were mounted on horseback, and by the light of a summer moon they made their way across the plain. Rejoicing in their reunion after the distressing events which had transpired, they rode side by side, their hearts being often too full for utterance.
At length their path led them into a shallow vale thickly overgrown with wild thistles. As they were passing through this, a pistol was fired, and a ball whizzed near the breast of the attendant of Donna Marina. A moment after, the athletic form of Yorika rose from the thicket and sprung like a lion upon the object at which his pistol had been aimed. The Spaniard was immediately pulled from his horse, and a desperate conflict ensued. The superior strength of the Indian, however, prevailed, and he soon pressed the form of his antagonist beneath him. He drew his dirk, and was about to plunge it into the breast of his foe.
At that critical instant, the Spaniard brought his pistol to bear, and discharging it in the breast of the Indian, laid him prostrate upon the earth. Bruised and bleeding, he rose from the ground and made his way to Marina. At first, the girl shrunk back with horror, imagining that it was the victorious Yorika, who had come to claim her as his own. But when her reason was restored, and she learned the truth, she expressed her joy and gratitude alike for the safety of her lover and her own.
Such was one of the tales of my guide, which beguiled the weariness of our journey over the Pampas. He related several narratives respecting the jaguar, which is a kind of tiger infesting the thickets which border upon the road. One day, as we were passing through an immense forest of thistles, ten feet in height, and spreading out like an interminable sea on every side, he pointed to a spot where a traveller, on descending from his horse, had been seized and torn in pieces by one of these furious beasts.
Day after day, we continued our monotonous course. Although it was winter, the weather by no means answered to the common idea of that season. We had occasional rain, but it was seldom colder than during our April or May. Few incidents occurred to break the uniformity of our journey. One day appearedlike another, and as we had no objects by which we could mark our progress, we seemed, like a ship in the waste of waters, to stand still in the midst of the shoreless desert. As we stood alone upon the bosom of the mighty prairie, stretching out on every side, and blending itself with the sky, we seemed dwindled into insects. Never have I felt such a sense of nothingness as in the presence of that mighty plain. In measuring myself by the gigantic scale which the Pampas presented, it seemed that I might be blotted from existence like the veriest moth that fluttered in the breeze. It was not until I turned my mind upon my plans and prospects, my hopes and fears, that my bosom began to swell again with those powerful emotions which seem to give importance to our existence and enable us to triumph over the despondency which often besets the heart, and might otherwise sink us in despair.
The sense of loneliness, the yearning for society, the longing to be restored to the sympathy of human beings which beset one in these solitudes, can only be understood by experience. I doubtless felt these the more from my youth and the want of that stern habit of self-reliance which is acquired by men who pursue a life of hazard and adventure. But I was becoming trained in the school of experience, and day by day was learning to sustain myself with my own thoughts, plans and prospects.
We met few travellers upon the road. Four men on horseback, and a company with two vehicles, were all that we encountered in a distance of more than 500 miles. The latter consisted of some five and twenty persons. They had a baggage cart, which was a capacious, rude uncouth-looking vehicle, with cane sides and a roof covered with hides. The body was balanced upon two prodigiously high wheels for the convenience of passing through rivers. The other vehicle was a long coach, called agalera, and resembled the modern omnibus; the seats ran sideways, and the door was at the end. To each of these carriages there were four horses, and a postilion to each horse. Such is the ordinary equipment of travellers upon the Pampas.
The post houses upon the road were miserable tenements, generally of mud, and affording scanty accommodation. The lazy inhabitants seem to offer the commonest civility with reluctance or languid indifference. We occasionally met with huts inhabited by squalid Indians, who seemed sunk in indolence and apathy. They were nearly naked, yet they possessed a gentle and kindly character. The herds of cattle upon the plains furnish them abundance of meat, and they parted with it freely, seeming to be almost indifferent whether they received compensation or not.
At the end of twenty days, we reached the verge of the Pampas, and now began to ascend the highlands, which rise by gradations for the distance of nearly two hundred miles, at the foot of the Andes. Industriously pursuing our journey, we rose step by step, and at last reached a village situated in a deep gorge at the foot of mountains that seemed to reach the skies. Here we sold our horses, and purchased mules, these animals being considered safer in climbing the dizzy precipices, over which our road now lay.
Being duly equipped, and having restedthree days, we departed and began to creep up the frowning battlements of the Andes. Sometimes we seemed lost in deep and dark ravines; sometimes we threaded our way amid rocks that lifted their shaggy pinnacles over our heads, which seemed to threaten us with destruction, and sometimes, we reached a lofty peak from which we could see the rugged valley stretched out behind, and still loftier pinnacles rising up to the heavens in front. How striking the contrast between these savage mountains and the level prairie!—yet the emotions they excited were nearly the same; the same overpowering sense of vastness in nature; the same oppressive sense of my own insignificance, visited me here as upon the Pampas. There was, indeed, something exhilarating in the mountain air, and the consciousness of danger frequently experienced as we wound along the edges of the mountains with a yawning chasm of five hundred feet below, imparted something of a romantic interest to our journey. The scenery, too, was often amazingly grand, and when at last we reached the highest ridge of the Andes, and I gazed upon its glittering peaks covered with everlasting snow, I experienced a sensation which I shall never forget. They seemed indeed like bluish-white clouds piled up to the very heavens. They appeared like the ghosts of mountains, dreamy and mist-like, rather than those eternal barriers of snow-capped granite which they really are.
Winding for several days along the devious path, amid the wilderness of rocky peaks and cliffs, we began to emerge from the labyrinth, and the western slope of the Andes soon opened before us. Creeping over a succession of ridges, we finally reached the undulating plain, and from an eminence, we caught a distant view of the Pacific. Proceeding through a country of great fertility we arrived at the place of our destination, thankful indeed that I had reached it in safety.
CHAPTERXII.
Ifoundthe city of Valparaiso to be much smaller than its commercial importance had led me to suppose. It is the chief port on the western coast of America. From this point, the principal commerce is carried on with the Islands of the Pacific and the coast of Asia. Indeed, Valparaiso is the centre of trade in this quarter of the world. Still, at the time I was there, more than twenty years ago, its population did not exceed 15,000. In 1822, it suffered from a dreadful earthquake, but it has now increased, and since the independence of Chili, it has become even more important than in former times. It is built along a bending beach, at the foot of a high bluff, which overlooks the town. The buildings are ornamented with piazzas, painted with different colors, giving the place a very lively appearance. The present number of inhabitants is about 25,000.
It may well be believed that the business which brought me to this place, engrossed my thoughts, and that immediately after my arrival, I began to devote my attention to it. I delivered the letters of introduction I had brought, and pursued my enquiries in relation to my uncle, in the channels which had been pointed out. To my great mortification,I soon found that he was not in Valparaiso.
The only clue I could obtain which seemed to offer the least chance of his discovery, was that a man bearing the Spanish name of Signor Morales, had come to this city some fifteen years before. He engaged in commerce, and being a man of enterprise, was very successful, and speedily amassed a large estate. Suddenly, and without any known cause, he became poor, closed his business and lived a life of seclusion. At last, he disappeared and no one seemed to know with certainty whither he had gone.
I found various rumors respecting him. One person said he had gone to the Island of Juan Fernandes, and now lived there alone as Alexander Selkirk had done before him. I was told by another that he had become a friar, and lived as a hermit near the foot of one of the snow-capped mountains of the Andes. Another story was, that the mysterious merchant had gone to Potosi, where he had purchased a silver mine and become immensely rich.
Amid these various rumors, one thing only seemed to be clear, and this was, that the individual to whom they related was in fact my uncle. The description of his person, manners, and appearance was exact. Everything else however was uncertain. It seemed probable, indeed, that he had himself set afloat the contradictory rumors as to his residence, with a view of concealing his real purpose.
I remained several months at Valparaiso, following out every suggestion that seemed to offer a clue to the object of my search. At last there seemed some reason to suppose that the story of my uncle’s being at Potosi, was not altogether without foundation. Faint, indeed, was the hope thus offered, but in the absence of every other, I determined to visit that celebrated place. My guide across the Pampas had continued with me and again setting out on horseback, we laid our course for southern Peru, a country which is now known by the title of Bolivia.
The road led to the north, and lay at a distance of sixty or seventy miles from the ocean. For the most part we travelled over a wavy table-land, nearly a thousand feet above the level of the sea. On our right, lay the mighty range of the Andes; on our left, the almost boundless Pacific. The country was thinly settled, there being here and there a small village; or, more frequently, the villa of some Spanish planter. The country was exceedingly fertile, and the cattle seemed as abundant as upon the prairies of Buenos Ayres. As we rode along, the grass, now in its fullest bloom, frequently concealed the pasturing herds from view, and often as we rode along, the coarse herbage seemed to form a wall on either side of the path, rising even as high as my head. Never have I seen a more lovely climate, or a more fruitful soil.
Though we met with few adventures, our journey was delightful. In ten days we approached the celebrated desert of Atacama, which stretches four hundred and fifty miles along the Pacific, and forms the maritime district of the present republic of Bolivia. Upon this spot, as if it were deserted of Heaven,the rain never falls, and it is accordingly given up to everlasting blight and desolation. It is a sandy waste, and is not only destitute of vegetation, but it is said that no animal, not even a spider, a cricket, or a worm, is found throughout its vast extent.
Our road, for two days, lay along the verge of this waste. It seemed marked with a peculiar aspect of solitude and desertion. No word can express the emotions which it suggested, but that ofdeath. Neither life, nor motion, nor verdure were visible throughout its measureless bosom. No sound seemed to stir the atmosphere, in that region of silence. I paused as we rode over its surface; and such was the absolute void of nature—such the settled silence of the very atmosphere—that I felt oppressed, and moved forward to throw off a feeling that my heart would cease to beat in the midst of this pulseless creation.
Taking leave of the desert, our course turned more to the eastward, and we began to enter a more mountainous territory. One evening, as the sun went down, we saw before us a lofty peak, covered with snow. From its top, issued a perpendicular column of dark smoke, which, at the elevation of a few hundred feet, expanded into a thin cloud. Its shape was that of a pine tree, divested of branches, except at the top.
We knew this mountain to be a volcano, and we gazed upon it with intense interest. We soon arrived at a small village, and took up our lodgings for the night. Being greatly fatigued, I retired early to bed, and was speedily wrapped in profound repose. I was at length awaked by a violent shaking, and the most terrific sounds I ever heard. I sprang out of bed, and rushed to the window. The whole heavens seemed to be on fire, and as I caught a view of the volcanic peak, I perceived that it was vomiting forth torrents of lava, smoke and flame. The inhabitants of the village were already in the street, and seemed to be frantic with alarm, if not despair. I hurried on my clothes, and descended also to the street.
The volcano was in full blast, rumbling to its foundation, and keeping up at its mouth a roaring sound, like the continued discharge of artillery. Amid the columns of black smoke that rose to the sky, hundreds of rocks, red with heat, seemed shot upward, like blazing rockets, while the molten lava—a river of fire—was seen pouring over the edge of the crater, and making its way toward the village. But this was not the greatest danger. The thick masses of snow and ice, around the peak of the crater, were melted, and roaring torrents were already bursting down the declivity.
The confused sound of the raging waters was audible, even amid the thunder that shook the fabric of the mountains. The valley was situated in a gorge, through which the river must pour its flood. Conscious of the peril, the people were preparing for flight. But the danger was even more near at hand than was anticipated. While I stood gazing at the sublime pinnacle of the volcano, I heard a rush at a little distance, and suddenly I perceived the tumbling waters gushing between the houses and filling the narrow street. Most of the people had already fled, and I followed in their train.Scarcely had we reacheda rocky eminence on the side of an adjacent ridge, when the whole village was engulphed, and speedily swept away.
So sudden had been the alarm, so rapid our retreat, that I had not saved a single article, except the clothes upon my back. My own horse, as well as that of my guide, with every particle of baggage, money, papers, letters—every vestige was swallowed up by the inundation; I was even uncertain of the fate of my guide, till at last I discovered him, half wild with terror, amid the throng that had now gathered upon the cliff.
During the remainder of the night the volcano remained in violent agitation, and the swollen torrent of water continued to flow down its side and sweep over the buried village. One by one, the people departed to seek shelter at a small town about two miles distant, and when morning came, finding no hope of recovering my horse or baggage, I followed the rest, and took up my lodgings at the post-house.
CHAPTERXIV.
Mysituation was now in the highest degree embarrassing and painful. I was at least three hundred miles from Potosi, and excepting a small piece of gold, and a few dollars in silver, which I happened to have in my pocket, in all amounting to about seven dollars, I was absolutely destitute of money. I was in the midst of strangers, and had no means of obtaining credit, by which I might repair my losses. I spent two or three days in walking up and down the river, which had swept away our horses and baggage; but the torrent continued to increase, rather than subside, and had now the aspect of a permanent river. Not the slightest hope was therefore presented of retrieving our fortunes. No other alternative was offered but to make our way to Potosi on foot.
No sooner was my resolution taken than I departed, still accompanied by Balbo, my Indian guide. When I was once again in action, my spirits rose, and with a cheerful heart I pursued my way over the rugged country that lay before me. For several days, the tall pyramidal top of the smoking volcano was in view, and indeed, as we proceeded, it seemed to lift its head above the surrounding mountains as if to watch us, or to keep us company. It was not till we had travelled a distance of more than forty miles, that it began to dwindle in the distance, and sink down amid the mountain peaks that encircled it.
It was a beautiful season, and on every side, there were objects to attract my attention. The strange but gorgeous flowers that were scattered in profusion on every hand; the gaudy birds; the contrast between the mountain scenery on one side, and the waving plain, marked with cultivation, on the other, afforded constant topics for observation and reflection. No very remarkable incidents occurred, yet there were passages in our journey which were by no means devoid of interest. We met with no towns, and few villages.
The Indians constituted the chief inhabitants upon the route. These were marked with a peculiar character of gentleness, and their hospitality was unbounded. They allowed us freely to share in whatever food they possessed, and would seldom accept of payment.Their houses were of the simplest materials, consisting of poles set upright in the ground, the sides and roof being firmly thatched with palm leaves. Their furniture was rude and scanty. They seemed to sail down the stream of life, resigning themselves with easy indolence to its current. They had most of them some cattle, and milk furnished a leading article of their food.
In one instance, we met with an exciting adventure. As we were crossing a broken range of mountains, we perceived a small animal, resembling a deer, pursued by a bird of enormous size. My guide immediately informed me that the quadruped was a vicuna, and that the pursuer was a species of vulture, which is familiar to most readers under the name of condor. When we first saw them, the vicuna was straining every nerve to escape, while the condor hung over his back, and at every opportunity struck his talons into his flesh.
They both swept by us, so close that we could distinctly see every feature of the pursuer and pursued. The little quadruped was foaming at the mouth; his eye was wild and glaring, and his sides streaming with blood. The vulture, with his merciless gaze fixed upon his prey, held his talons ready for the blow, while he seemed to glance through the air on his outspread wings, like an arrow from the bow. On they went, till at last the vicuna came to a precipice of nearly two hundred feet in depth. Pressed by his remorseless enemy, he hesitated not for a moment, but taking the fatal leap, fell crushed and lifeless into the depths of the rocky gorge beneath. The condor wheeled round and round, and finally stooped with an easy motion to partake of his feast.
I had some curiosity to see the monster at his meal. After winding round for a considerable distance, we reached the bottom of the ravine. We approached the savage bird, and perceived that he had already commenced his feast; he had torn open the bowels of the vicuna, and seemed to cut and rend the flesh with his enormous beak as easily as if it had been a butcher’s knife. As we drew near, he glared upon us fiercely, and seemed to deliberate for a moment whether he should not repel the unwelcome intrusion. Finding us not disposed to retreat, he seized his prey in his claws, and beating his wings with a furious impulse rose heavily upon the air. Bending his course slightly downward along the distant slope of the mountains, he continued for some time in view, and at last disappeared amid the mazes of the forest.
Pursuing our way with diligence, we now began to ascend the mountains which encircled the valley of Potosi. Winding our way through deep vales, and often climbing along the dizzy edges of beetling cliffs, we reached the top of the mountain range and looked down upon the scene below. The wild and rugged ramparts which encircle this famous city, bear a desolate and wintry aspect. Scarcely a tree crowns their summits, and nothing but mosses and lichens seem to flourish in the chill and ungenial climate. Yet below, we could perceive bright patches of vegetation, seeming to indicate a milder temperature.
Beginning now to descend, we proceeded with caution, and were soon lodged in the celebrated city of Potosi.
PotosiCity of Potosi.
City of Potosi.
CHAPTERXV.
BeforeI proceed with my narrative, I must give some little account of the celebrated town in which I now found myself. Potosi is situated within a circle of mountains, and stands at the foot of a lofty peak which rises far above the rest. In this are the rich mines of silver which have given such fame to the place.
The number of inhabitants in Potosi was once 100,000, but it has greatly diminished, and the present number does not exceed 15,000; half of these are Indians. The towns of South America are not famous for their neatness; in this respect, however, Potosi has the advantage over most other cities in this quarter of the world. It is the custom to whitewash the houses on the outside, which gives them a very cheerful aspect.
Potosi is very remarkable in several respects. In the morning the air is keen and cold, but in the middle of the day it is burning hot. At night, the cold returns, and it seems almost as chill as during our New England March. Potosi is situated at an elevation of 13,265 feet above the level of the sea, and is the highest inhabited place on the face of the globe.
After my arrival here, my first business was to despatch letters to my friends at Valparaiso for a supply of money, and letters of introduction. I then sallied forth to take a view of the town. On my return I stated the manner in which I had lost my baggage to the landlord of the hotel, and having informed him that I had come on important business, requested him to supply me with such articles as I needed till I could obtain remittances. The man looked in my face with a gaze of amazement,and then laughed outright at what he deemed my brazen impudence.
I was, in fact, miserably clad, and my servant was worse off than myself. We looked, indeed, like a couple of vagabonds, and though I was at first angry, I did not think the conduct of the landlord unreasonable when I reflected upon the whole matter. But what was to be done? I was out of money and totally unknown to everybody in the place. It was necessary to do something for immediate support, and I therefore determined that my guide, Balbo, should go to work in the mines if I could get him a place, hoping that he would obtain the means of subsistence for us both.
Everybody has heard how the silver mines of Potosi were discovered. An Indian hunter was pursuing a vicuna up the slope of the mountain. In order to aid his ascent, he seized upon a small tree. This gave way, and beneath its roots, he saw a shining mass of silver. This occurred three hundred years ago, and since that time, more than a thousand millions of dollars have been taken from the mines in the mountain where this accidental discovery was made.
I had heard the story of the Indian hunter, and fancied that silver in Potosi was almost as abundant as common earth. When I reached the mines, however, I found the fact to be otherwise. The openings to these mines are small holes, which are entered by getting down upon the hands and knees. In this manner, you crawl along for a number of yards, when the space widens, and you are able to stand upright. There are a great many of these shafts, and some of them penetrate to a considerable distance into the bowels of the mountain. The silver ore is found in veins, and in following these, the miners have wrought out irregular winding caverns, sometimes ascending, and again descending. They work by blasting the rock with gunpowder. The ore, thus broken off, is carried out in the leather aprons of the workmen.
Most persons have no other than pleasant ideas in regard to silver; but if they could see the miserable Indians toiling in the mines, shut out from the light of day, grimed with soot and gunpowder, and haggard from the want of pure air, and all to obtain this precious metal, they would ever after feel that even this is purchased at almost too dear a rate.
I was not a little shocked and disgusted to observe the severe and painful toil required at the mines. After the ore is obtained, it is broken into pieces about the size of a hen’s egg. It is then put into a mill, and reduced to powder. In this state, it is mixed with salt and quicksilver, and remains fifteen days. By this time the silver has become mixed with the quicksilver. The earthy particles are then washed away, and the silver is separated from the quicksilver by squeezing. Such is the laborious process of mining; yet, notwithstanding the severe nature of the occupation, I found the wages to be but fifteen cents a day. The urgency of the case conquered my feelings, and I agreed that Balbo should go to work the next day.
This he accordingly did, and I found that, by the utmost economy, we could both of us subsist upon his earnings. I was now at leisure to pursue my inquiriesin relation to the object of my journey. It is unnecessary to detail the careful investigation that I made, or to say with what anxiety I pursued my search. I may sum up the whole in stating that my uncle was not in Potosi, and that if he had ever been there, he had removed to some other part of the country at least three years before.
At the end of two months, I expected an answer from Valparaiso, but none was received; and after two months more I was forced to adopt the conclusion that my letters had miscarried, or my correspondents had refused to comply with my request. My situation was again in the highest degree embarrassing. After revolving a great many schemes in my mind, I determined to join a company of merchants who were going at that time to Quito. I offered myself as a mule-driver, and Balbo as a servant. Both were accepted, and we speedily set forward. I have not space to detail the incidents of this journey of more than 1500 miles in length. My story has, perhaps, already extended beyond the patience of the reader. It will be enough to say, that, after travelling over mountains and plains, and beholding some of the most sublime scenery in the world, we reached the capital of Equador.