to see the “market,” and the curio hunter would just be in his element, as not only do the Indians bring in vegetables and fruits, but all sorts of native silver in quaint shapes, and ornaments made by the Indians themselves can be picked up very cheaply.  The dresses of the Indian squaws are also very picturesque, and, as far as I can remember, red, green, and bright yellow were the dominating colours.  But I am getting away from the main subject.

Right ahead of us there is the gigantic Illimani, silent and majestic, with its perpetually white crown rising 22,000 feet above sea-level.  One begins to wonder where La Paz can be, as the plain seems to extend right to the foot of the mountain.  Keeping steadily on, however, the coach eventually arrives at the brink of a hitherto unnoticed hollow, and the scene that here awaits the traveller is magnificent in the extreme.  To describe the view baffles my limited vocabulary.  There you are looking down on the roofs of the houses in La Paz, which lies snugly 1,200 feet below you.  It just seems that you could drop a stone on to them, so precipitate are the cliffs; but it is the enormous drop that deceives the eye, because, of the route over which the coach passes, six miles have yet to be traversed before getting into the town.  I have seen La Paz from the top of the “Cuesta” both by day and night, and the latter effect, while losing much of its grandeur and magnificence, on account of the darkness, almost surpasses in beauty that of the daylight vision.  The whole city is lit up by electricity, and it just seems as if one were gazing down on another firmament, if such a thing can be imagined.  I repeat, that to fully appreciate this special scenery words fail me.

Allow me to transgress once more.  On the first occasion that I reached the top of the entrance to La Paz it was under rather “sporting” circumstances, which, I think, I may be excused for interpolating here.  I had come on horseback and alone from the mining town of Coro Coro, sixty-six miles off, and it is a very hard and tiring journey.  The elevation above the sea varies from about 14,000 feet to 12,000 feet at the La Paz end, and therefore great speed is impossible on account of the rarity of the air.  Apparently I had journeyed too fast for my horse, as the poor animal died when I was still eighteen miles from La Paz.  Here was a nice “kettle of fish.”  It was all right enough as long as daylight lasted, but when darkness overtook me I was fairly “in the soup.”  Not knowing the road, and there being nothing to guide me and no one to consult, I simply walked along slowly, hoping to strike up against some Indian settlement, and pass the night somehow or other.  I trudged along for goodness knows how long until I eventually did hear some sounds indicating that at any rate I was nearing some encampment or habitation.  I could hear what was supposed to be music, and in the dark made my way, as near as I could judge, in the direction of