e travelled route.

The crown of this mountain presents three groups of rocky peaks. The
most westerly one is called Rucu-Pichincha, and alone manifests
activity. To the northeast of Rucu is Guagua-Pichincha, a ruined flue of
the same fiery furnace; and between the two is Cundur-Guachana.
Pichincha is the only volcano in Ecuador which has not a true cone
crater. Some violent eruption beyond the reach of history or tradition
has formed an enormous funnel-shaped basin two thousand five hundred
feet deep, fifteen hundred in diameter at the bottom, and expanding
upward to a width of three-fourths of a mile. It is the _deepest_ crater
on the globe. That of Kilauea is six hundred feet; Orizaba, five
hundred; Etna, three hundred; Hecla, one hundred. Vesuvius is a portable
furnace in comparison. The abyss is girt with a ragged wall of dark
trachyte, which rises on the inside at various angles between forty-five
degrees and perpendicularity. As we know of but one American besides the
members of our expedition (Mr. Farrand, a photographer) who has
succeeded in entering the crater of this interesting volcano, we will
give a brief sketch of our visit.

Leaving Quito in the afternoon by the old arched gate-way at the foot of
Panecillo, and crossing a spur of the mountain, we stopped for the night
at the Jesuit hacienda, situated in the beautiful valley of Lloa, but
nearly ruined by the earthquake of 1859. On the damp walls of this
monastery, perched ten thousand two hundred and sixty-eight feet above
the ocean, we found several old paintings, among them a copy of the
_Visitation_ by Rubens. The sunset views in this heart of the Andes were
surpassingly beautiful. Mounting our horses at break of day, and taking
an Indian guide, we ascended rapidly by a narrow and difficult path
through the forest that belts the volcano up to the height of twelve
thousand feet, emerging gradually into a thicket of stunted bushes, and
then entered the dreary _paramo_. Splendid was the view of the Eastern
Cordillera. At least six dazzling white volcanoes were in sight just
across the valley of Quito, among them table-topped Cayambi, majestic
Antisana, and princely Cotopaxi, whose tapering summit is a mile above
the clouds. Toiling upward we reached the base of the cone where
vegetation ceased entirely; and tying our horses to some huge rocks
that had fallen from the mural cliff above, we started off on hands and
feet for the crater. The cone is deeply c