A THOUSAND MILES’ WALK ACROSS SOUTH AMERICA. BY NATHANIEL H. BISHOP. WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY EDWARD A. SAMUELS, Esq. , AUTHOR OF “ORNITHOLOGY AND OÖLOGY OF NEW ENGLAND,” ETC., ETC. THIRD EDITION, ILLUSTRATED. BOSTON: LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS. NEW YORK: LEE, SHEPARD AND DILLINGHAM....

When, a few weeks since, I saw my little book of South American travels issued from the press, I supposed that my connection with it had ended. My publishers now ask for a preface to a second edition. I take this occasion to express my thanks for the very kind manner in which my boyish descriptions of a boy’s travels have been received by the public and the press. I can only wish that my book had been more worthy of the liberal patronage and the generous praise which have been bestowed upon it.

In placing this little volume before the public, a few words, regarding the manner in which the incidents and material composing it were acquired, may be of interest to the reader. The young gentleman who made the pedestrian trip, of which this forms the narrative, was a native of Massachusetts. I had missed him from his accustomed place for some time, but was ignorant of his contemplated journey, or even that he had gone away, until my attention was called to the following paragraph in the colu

One cold November morning, in compliance with previous orders, I reported myself ready for duty at the shipping office of Messrs. S. and K., Commercial Street, Boston, and having received, as is customary, one month’s wages in advance, proceeded with my baggage to Battery Wharf, at the foot of which lay the bark M., destined to be my future home for many weeks. As but one of the crew had already gone on board, I had ample leisure for examining the vessel, on board of which I was to receive my fi

At length the day for making preparations for nearing land arrived. One fine afternoon the order was given to have everything ready for entering the river. All hands were kept on deck, and every one manifested an unusual readiness to work. The lashings were cut adrift from the anchors; the chain drawn out of the locker, and overhauled upon the deck; and the other matters attended to, which are not to be neglected on a ship about coming to an anchorage. Towards night, the changing color of the wa

For a whole month I was obliged to remain by the vessel, awaiting the arrival of the orders that were to set me free. During this period, to prepare the vessel for a long stay, the lighter spars were sent down, the flying jib-boom sent in, sails unbent, &c. The tides in the River Plata are governed by the wind, and have no regularity in rising; the current of the river is at the rate of three miles per hour. Vessels drawing above eleven feet of water remain in the outer roads, while smal

The steamer in which I expected to embark for Rosario, on the Paraná River, would not sail from Buenos Ayres for ten days or a fortnight, and I began to look around me for some occupation, by means of which I might become more acquainted with the localities about the city. I was eager to visit the gaucho in his home upon the pampas; and when a young man, who had just arrived from New York, invited me to accompany him across the Plata to the Republic of Uruguay, I did not wait for a second invita

From the River Tigre I proceeded on foot to Buenos Ayres. When within a league or two of the city, I passed a fine quinta inhabited by a Scotchman, who had resided several years in the republic. Two Irishmen, mounted high upon a cart, were driving through the gate, and one of them, after scrutinizing my appearance, shouted to me, “Sure you’re an Irishman—are ye not?” I answered that I was a North American, and belonged in Boston; when the other man inquired if I happened to be acquainted with a

At sunrise on the day but one following that mentioned at the close of the preceding chapter, I left the house of my hospitable friend, after bidding farewell to my amiable hostess, and proceeded with Mr. G. to a plaza on the outskirts of the town, from whence all troops of carts or mules take their departure for the interior provinces of the country. We entered the square in time to find Don José Leon Perera, the patron or owner of the caravan, who was reclining upon a skin beneath the cart tha

The night passed drearily away, and glad enough was I when day dawned, and the caravan was prepared to start. Before we began to move, I retired to my cart, and changed my clothes, appearing before my companions in the unconfined and comfortable garb of a sailor. The moment the peons, who were clustered around the fire, beheld me, they shouted to each other “ Montenero! ” a word which at that time I did not comprehend, but which, as I learned some months later, was the name of a particular class

On Saturday, April 14, we unlashed our oxen before Rio Quarto. All along the road the patron and capataz had spoken of this village, which they described as being very beautiful, filled with fine white-washed houses, and inhabited by a wealthy class of people, many of whom owned thousands of cattle which were pastured upon estancias outside the village. Besides, it was here that the great Indian battles had taken place: both the gentlemen failed to inform me that the Indians were generally the v

While all around me seemed to offer danger in some form, I grew lighter at heart every day that we further penetrated the country, for everything was novel and captivating to the fancy. I was at last among a strange people, and their habits and mode of life, and the many incidents that were constantly occurring, were full of interest to me. Although my heart was light, and I trudged along cheerfully and with courage, my companions in the caravan were but little calculated to make the trip a plea

We travelled through the remainder of the night, and until near eleven o’clock on the following day, when we encamped at a place in which there was a fair pasturage and some water. Here we tarried until the morning of the next day, when we filled our vessels with water, harnessed up the teams, and started. Our course lay through a country that was dreary in the extreme, and we had no incidents or experiences that were worthy of a notice here. My readers have found in these pages so many mentions

On the 28th of April our caravan crossed the River Desaguadero, and upon the western bank the peons killed an ox, and we ate for the first time since the morning of the previous day. At noon we reached the limits of artificial irrigation, which is carried on extensively in the neighborhood of Mendoza. Along the road ran a shallow ditch, four feet wide, and containing about two inches of water, which, when the canal is full, fertilizes the soil in the vicinity. Beyond the Desaguadero, forty leagu

As soon as I arrived at San Juan, I made inquiries for parties who were about crossing the mountains; but owing to a most severe snow storm that set in, the clouds of which were plainly visible from the town, I was forced to the disagreeable necessity of remaining until the snows melted. The people told me that the winter had proved to be the most severe of any season within the last thirty years. They said that after ten dry or mild winters there always succeeded a similar number of wet or seve

With the approach of spring, the desert around the mill became a constant source of study to me. The lagoon near the house was filled with seven or eight species of ducks and teals, and occasionally a pair of white swans might be seen upon the water, where they frequently staid for several days in succession. The ducks remained throughout the whole year; and before I left Causete, the China or half-breed girls were frequently seen swimming into the lagoon, where they captured great numbers of th

In a preceding chapter I made reference to the viente de zonda , or zonda wind; and as the history of it is imperfectly known in the northern continent, I will here speak of it to some extent. The viente de zonda may be called a local wind, as it blows only in the vicinity of the province of San Juan, the town where the following observations were made. San Juan, the capital of the province, lies at the eastern base of the Andes, three or four leagues distant from the outer sierra, south latitud

While the fig, the olive, and the orange trees were clothed in green, and vast herds of cattle from the great pampas were arriving, to be fattened in the clover-fields, the mountains still remained covered with snow, and impassable, save to the trained courier. Still I had seen all that rendered San Juan attractive, and a longing to return to my own country came so strongly upon me, that I determined to risk a passage to Chili at the earliest possible moment. It was only when my intentions becam

When the sun’s rays of the next morning had penetrated the valley, we were more than a league from our camping-ground, and had passed the second casucha , or snow hut, of the winter courier. This little domicile was built after the model of its distant neighbor at La Punta de las Vacas, and was two leagues farther up the valley. While we were trudging along, the metallic-sounding whinny of llamas sounded from the sierra, and, looking up, we counted no less than thirty of these graceful creatures

At daylight we breakfasted on dried beef and maté tea, and soon started on our journey, which was now rapidly drawing to a close. The sun was high in the heavens, although we could not for a long time see his face, for the mountains shut us in completely. We continued down the valley, passing near some fine springs of water, which, from the peculiar manner in which they burst forth from the ground, are called “ Los ojos de Agua ,” or Eyes of Water. The first signs of civilization that we reached