sticks, into the ocean.

Allowing the eyes to wander around and beyond the city, the discolored
Rimac is seen hurrying from the melting bosom of its Alpine mother down
between the distant hills, diffusing its fertilizing freshness over the
sloping valley--the margins encircled by verdant fields of cane, like
bright patches of emeralds, and the banks fringed by weeping willows,
that dip their bending branches to kiss the rapid torrent. On it comes,
over the stony bed, dashing its strength in fierce anger against the
arches of the sturdy bridge, and then glancing by the flowering meads
and slopes of Almencaes, flies rapidly to the placid waves of the
Pacific.

FOOTNOTE:

[7] In February, 1826.

CHAPTER LIII.

Lima is fast losing its singular originality, although there is still
much to be seen, which, in these days of universal journeyings, has the
merit of being extremely novel.

There are interminable strings of mules and donkeys constantly passing
and repassing to the bubbling fountains of plazas or churches, each with
twin reservoirs of water-barrels balanced on the brute's shoulders;
others with huge milk jugs, baker's boxes of hides, and the drivers in
the midst. Again, matronly dames jog along astride their cattle,
commonly nursing infants; then gilded _volantes_ and _berlinas_ whirl
by, occupied by _damas_ in full dress, looking as if entombed within
crystal shades; then priests in "cope and stole" in processions--white
and black gowned ones--tottering bishops in lawn and mitre, and very
shaky on their swollen ancles, with beads vibrating like uneasy
pendulums; others in stove-pipe hats, sleek, fat, and slovenly--or meek
friars--not of eggs and bacon, from their meagre, famished
appearance--lank and dirty, with robes of coarse serge and girdles of
ropes--all darkening the side walks, with flickering torch and taper
flaring in the mid-day sun, and solemn chaunt, as they move unceasingly
towards church or convent.

Then, again, stupid, stunted native Indians strut along with bow legs
and parrot step; beside them, stout negresses, zambos, and cholos, with
brief frocks, and the most gossamer of flesh-colored silk stockings
encasing their ebony shins; there are _portales_ thronged with shops and
stalls--artizans in gold and silver embroidery carrying on their
avocations, regardless of noise and bustle. Equestrians, too, are
caracolling through streets and squares, clothed in bright ponchos, and
their