ion
lately dead, but for their Inca, long ago murdered by their conquerors.
The dress of most of the men was a dark woollen jacket, with breeches
open at the knees, a gaily embroidered woollen cap, a broad cotton belt,
woollen stockings without feet, and sandals of goatskin. A
broad-brimmed hat, and a small poncho thrown over the shoulders,
completed their attire. Our host soon placed before us a large deep
silver dish, containing some delicious mountain mutton, and a fat fowl,
cooked in the ashes, and garnished with small but very good potatoes.
There were neither knives nor forks in the dish, but one large wooden
spoon, with which it was intended all guests should help themselves. We
had _chicha_, the beverage of the country, offered us in silver goblets;
but for a good reason neither my father nor I felt inclined to partake
of it, though our servants did most willingly. To the taste of
Englishmen nothing can be more disagreeable than the mode in which
_chicha_ is prepared. A quantity of Indian corn is pounded into a fine
powder, round which a number of old men and women sit and masticate it
into a paste. They then roll it into balls, which are dried; and
afterwards water being thrown on them, they are allowed to ferment.

A number of Indians were sitting apart in a corner of the room. One of
them was a tall, thin, emaciated man, of a yellowish copper hue. His
only garment was a pair of dark trousers; and his long, lank, black hair
hung down over his bare shoulders, giving him a very wild and haggard
appearance. I saw him swallow a large cupful of a mixture which I
thought was _chicha_; but soon afterwards he seemed to fall into a deep
stupor, and I fancied he was going into a fit. His eyes were fixed on
the ground, his mouth closed convulsively, and his nostrils dilated. As
I watched him, his eyes began to roll most horribly, foam issued from
his half-opened lips, and every limb and his whole body became distorted
in the most frightful manner.

"The man will die!" I exclaimed, springing forward to assist him, and
disgusted with the apathy of his companions.

"No fear, my son," answered an old Indian, making a sign which checked
me; "our brother has but drunk the tonga; his spirit has departed for a
season to hold communication with the spirits of our ancestors, and when
it returns he will be able to tell us things of wonder, and perchance
they may show him the treasures which lie hid in their _huacas_--