Recollections of a journey from the Peruvian port of Mollendo to the Bolivian interior, which the writer made in the year stated, are here transcribed.  No rhetorical merit is claimed, facts only are related, and the compiler of the manuscript only hopes that his efforts may, in part at least, justify a cursory perusal, without exhausting the patience of the readers, or overtaxing their indulgence.  These notes are transcribed nearly ten years after the trip was made, and any readers who may have visited Bolivia at a more recent date are requested to make allowance for such modifications or change of conditions of which they can be the only judges.

I have crossed the Andes Chain in other places farther south, in Chile; but on this occasion I will confine my observations to the trip as headed.

Mollendo is one of the worst ports on the Pacific coast, but is of some importance on account of the fact that the railway through Peru to Lake Titicaca starts here.  All vessels have to lie at least half a mile from the land on account of the constant heavy swell, and the landing is always attended by a certain amount of danger, so much so that not infrequently passengers have to be “slung” on to the landing stage in baskets made for the purpose.  Like most of the South American coast from Valparaiso northwards there is little or no vegetation, and the scenery is not of the kind generally associated with tropical climes, of which one reads so much.  Sand dunes and waste meet the eye on all sides, and the traveller for the interior is generally glad when the railway journey commences.

Of the country through which the railway takes one there is not much to be said, but the attention of the traveller is at once called to the marvellous ingenuity of the famous engineer Meiggs, who built the railway.  Gradually rising as the coast recedes, the train reaches Arequipa, at an elevation of 7,500 feet, and distant from Mollendo about 200 miles.  Arequipa has about 45,000 inhabitants, and, while rather prettily situated in a small valley surrounded by high volcanoes, it does not have anything of particular interest to attract one.  Moreover, it suffers frequently from earthquakes, which does not surprise one when you look at the giant volcano “El Misti,” towering up to 18,000 feet, at no great distance off.  The houses are all built with “vaulted” foundations, the better to resist the “earth-tremblings,” but on this occasion I did not experience any shocks.

Leaving Arequipa behind, the ascent continues until the highest point is reached at Crucero Alto, where a notice board indicates that we are now 14,666 feet above sea level.  It is before reaching this altitude that the wonderful enterprise of the engineer shows up.  The line goes on winding and climbing, twisting back again but always ascending, for hours, until a point is reached where passengers, looking down from the carriage windows, may see right below them, only