uliar
friend of the traveling public. All the advances made by my new
acquaintance at this first interview were occasional tugs at the
blanket during the night, and divers unsuccessful attempts to turn the
table over. At Alta, two stages farther on, the pig ensconced himself
on a mat with the children, while he gave me no farther annoyance than
an occasional visit, and thrusting of his nose into the hammock where I
slept.
It was still dark when I left Alta in order to clear the Peregrino Pass
and reach Tierra Colorado that day. In a few hours I gained the top of
the pass, and sat down to take a survey of the zigzag way up which my
old horse had climbed, and of the extensive region of hill and mountain
country before me. It is difficult to believe that over this slight
mule-path all the Spanish commerce of India has passed, and cargoes of
silver dollars, amounting to hundreds of millions, during a period of
three hundred years. Over this pass armies have continued to advance
and to retreat with one uniform result: if the army is a large one, it
is starved out of the country; if it is a small one, it is destroyed.
Hunger devours the large armies; the Pintos devour the little ones. All
around was now as quiet and solitary as the grave. There were no signs
to indicate that this spot had been the scene of so much life and
contention. The prospect was a delightful one, and I could have enjoyed
it much longer had I not been assailed by that common enemy, that has
assailed every general and colonel that has crossed this pass--an empty
stomach; so that I and my old horse did our very best to reach the ford
of the Papagalla, where there was a presumptive possibility that
eatables might be found. I found entertainment for beast at the ford,
but no food for his rider until we reached Tierra Colorado.
Here prevails not only that harmless cutaneous affection, the _Quiricua_,
which causes people to appear spotted or painted (_Pintos_), but also
_Cretinism_, the much more formidable disease so prevalent among the
mountains of Switzerland.
This town is also remembered as the scene of a bloody battle. General
Garay, who had lost his way the day before, had here come up, and we
jogged along together; but as a Mexican general and escort are a
doubtful protection to an unarmed man, if there is any real danger on
the road, a prudent traveler will shake them off and travel on alone.
We passed Buena Vista, the fine sugar estate of M. C
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