r to the brink of the coast, while nearer
the land trends away, towards the interior, nearly plain-like--green,
fertile, and pleasant to gaze upon--with the clustering towers, and
spires of Lima abutting on the distant hills.

There is no difference of opinion about Callao: for it is a filthy,
bustling little port, reeking in garlic and drunken mariners, alive with
fleas, miserable, dirty soldiers, and their yet more slovenly wives.

The place is thriving, for steam frequents it; and on the curving quay
are piled mountains of English coals, enormous heaps of wheat, great
stacks of _pisco_, and _italia_ jars, where Haserac, the celebrated
captain, might have concealed an army of thieves with impunity.
Merchandise moves backwards and forwards on railway trucks, and lazy
villains in pale yellow jackets, with iron chains and anklets attached
to the legs, are at work after a fashion of their own.

The houses of the port are mean and irregular, built anywhere and any
how, either of adobies, boards, and on the outskirts, pleasant cottage
residences, built of bullocks' hides and poles. Streets and lanes run
hither and thither, and glaring English signs stare you in the face,
such as the "Jibboom House," "The Lively Pig," "Jackknife Corner," and
"House of Blazes." Along the beach are ranges of wicker, reed, and
mat-made sheds for bathing, which are thronged during the season. But
the most prominent features of Callao that attract the eye, are the
round, flat turrets of the Castle, flanked on either side by long lines
of curtains, bastions, embrasures, and batteries. It covers a great
space, enclosing within its thick and massive case-mated walls, ranges
of barracks--now happily converted into warehouses for the
customs--magazines, and a large square, with a fountain in the centre.
The fortification, from the nature of its position, is somewhat
irregular, constructed partly on a ridge of sand, leading towards the
southern arm of the bay, where in former times was the site of old
Callao, before its destruction by the memorable earthquake of 1746.

There is a wide, deep moat, like to the bed of a river, encircling the
fortress, with narrow channels cut on either side to the sea. This is
now dry and partially filled in nearest the town. The redoubts and
detached outworks are also in ruins, but yet enough remains to make us
reflect, that what the old Spanish engineers left incomplete in this
work would hardly be worth attempting i