gladdened and revived many a weary wanderer's heart. There—between mountains nine thousand feet above the level of the sea and two thousand feet below their summits—is spread out so magnificent a panorama as it is almost impossible to describe without seeming exaggeration. Miles of level land covered with luxuriant Indian corn, mellowing and waving in the mild breeze, entrance the sight varied by fields planted with the green, spreading aloes, from which great quantities of pulque and aguardiente are made. Extensive lakes, glittering like shining bands in the radiant sunshine; flowery fields cultivated to feed the colour-producing cochineal insect; and noble rocks, and skirts of volcanic growth, add the charm of variety to the beautiful plain. Then come large tracts of land dedicated to the culture of chilé, or Indian pepper, dotted and interspersed with villages and plantations; the huts of charcoal-burners being indicated by the wreaths of light blue smoke ascending against the shadow of the stately pine-trees. A group of Indian labourers are at work on the wide fields; and a party of muleteers are ascending the hills on our right hand. The splendid capital itself—with its
