quake in 1687, can be seen under water, and at times, when fishing, you may haul up the skull of some old Peruvian patriot. It is said that it never rains in Peru, and it is true, I think; for it is full of dust, dirt, and fleas. The shops are very poor. As for the inhabitants, they are a miserable set, a dirty, lazy gang of loafers. The country is full of soldiers, badly clad and worse fed, and dirty, wretched looking objects, but with their old cry of "Vive la Perarano!" still in their mouths. Conquered as they are, they still have thoughts of liberty and freedom. May they never forget them! The fort and castle here are strong enough to resist almost any force, if properly handled; but treachery was at work, and the Peruvians lost the day.
Lima, the capital of Peru, is some six or seven miles from here. It is situated in a valley of the Andes. While we were here the Chilian troops were in possession of the country and Lima was garrisoned by them. There was a big celebration while we were here. It was held in the valley of the Amancaes, two miles from the town. Several nationalities were present — Peruvians, Chilians, Indians, Negroes, half-breeds, and others of both sexes. They danced the fandango to the tunes played on the guitar, while others were drinking their orgedent, singing, gambling, swearing, laughing, fighting, and begging. It was the 24th of June, the celebration of St. John’s day by the Peruvians. It carried me back to the days of my youth, in those good old times when Boston Common was inclosed by a wooden fence, and the cows grazed thereon, and Independence Day was celebrated in the good, old-fashioned way. Even the
