n my
passport was demanded, I discovered I had lost it. Fortunately, I had in
my pocket a bit of waste paper, which I had used instead of wadding in
loading my gun. I ventured at all hazards to hand it to the Indian
Rejidor, who having unfolded it stared very gravely at the words _Lucia
di Lammermoor_, which he saw printed in large characters. It was the
bill of the opera I had attended a few evenings before my departure from
Lima. After examining the bill very attentively, and then scanning me
very narrowly, the Rejidor returned the paper, with the observation that
the passport was quite correct.

From San Mateo the road runs for half a league through a gloomy
ravine; and then suddenly takes a steep ascent up the side of the
mountain, over fragments of stones, lying one above another like
flights of steps. The stream dashes from rock to rock, covering the
narrow path with foam, and washing away the blocks of stone which, in
some of the most dangerous parts, serve as barriers along the edge of
the precipice. On this road long trains of mules are frequently met
coming from the Sierra. The traveller, at their approach, seeks some
little recess into which he may creep, and there stand closely jammed
against the mountain until the train passes by. This is attended by
great loss of time, owing to the slow and cautious pace at which the
mules proceed. On such a rencounter in a narrow mountain path, I was
once obliged to wait for several hours, whilst two hundred mules
passed by; and at the spot where I and my horse stood, the laden
animals had scarcely space sufficient to set down their feet at the
very edge of the pathway. In some places it is perfectly impossible
either to go on one side or to turn back; and when horses or mules
meet at these difficult points, one of the animals is obliged to
plunge into the stream, before the other can have room to pass. The
numerous curvatures of the road, and the projecting masses of
mountain, render it impossible to see advancing objects in sufficient
time to avoid collision.

After having passed this difficult tract, which is called by the natives
Cacray, we reach the summit of the acclivity down which the mountain
stream descends. Here the valley presents quite the Sierra character. It
is no longer confined within steep and rugged mountain walls, but runs
in undulating contours along the bases of the hills, and gently ascends
eastward towards the principal chain of the Cordillera. T