The ravine which we had just passed was literally strewed with skeletons of beasts. It is a valley of dry bones. Now and then we passed a solitary borrico, which had been left behind to die, having been unable to keep up with the tropa. Poor beasts! as we passed them by the road side, standing listlessly, with their long ears drooping, they attempted to bray-perhaps they addressed our humanity. Their death is here at

this desert "the fowl findeth not a path."

Two hours was an unrefreshing modicum of sleep, after sixty miles ride. I was aroused to renew my labors. "We must get through the Quebrada," said the Colonel, "before the heat of the day renders it impassable." I protested, and proposed to follow on to Arequipa in the evening. But there was no guide to accompany me, and the city was thirty miles distant. I saw my position, and with grace yielded to necessity. Tambo is a Qichua or Peruvian word, corresponding | least undisturbed by birds or beasts of prey-for across to caravanserai in Persian. When Pizarro conquered the country, he found royal Tambos on the road from Quito to Cuzco. Our Tambo was established and is maintained by the merchants of Arequipa for the convenience of commerce. Water and all provisions for men and beasts, are brought from Arequipa by night. It is here that one may utter the jeremiad, "our water is bought, and our wood is sold unto us." My bill, I think, amounted to two dollars, of which one dollar was for water, for macho and myself. A medio (six cents) the bottle, is the fixed price. A poor borrico or ass, will get only two bottles of water between Arequipa and Islay. This allowance is a law of the requa.

Our host had our chupe ready at five o'clock. Chupe is a composite dish of eggs, potatoes and cheese, and very savory it is! The inmates of the Tambo, were our host and his "assistente," or help, who officiated chiefly as cook. Pedro, the "help," recognised in R. his former commandant. After an interchange of kindly expressions, Pedro said, with a cunning expression of eye, "Senor Coronel, vmd no ha hecho todavia, una revolucion ?”—“ Colonel, have you not yet got up a revolution ?" R. replied by a shake of the head and a spoonful of chupe. To me, who affected not to notice the question, it was full of meaning. It fully illustrated the character of the military men of this devoted country. One of our public agents was ordered to leave Buenos Ayres, because he used to ask, every morning, who was President? I have heard officers in Peru, when complaining of their grievances, exclaim, "Caramba! yo me haré Presidente”—by Jove! I'll make myself President. The Presidency is a sort of panacea for every ill.

"Pedro!" I said, แ are not you and Gregorio very lonely here in this desert ?"

"Yes!"

"Do you never quarrel ?"

"A veces"-sometimes!

"What do you do then?"

The smoky crater, and the snow-capped summit of the volcano, were now before us, and the town of Arequipa could not be far distant. We had ascended the last ridge of the sierra by a precipitous, zigzag path, when suddenly the valley of Arequipa fell upon the admiring and astonished vision. A meandering stream of limpid waters thridded a plain of emerald verdure. The green fields were dotted with white and sparkling cottages, embosomed among umbrageous trees, whose leaves were playing with the lambent breeze. Beautiful picture! as it was first painted upon my enchanted view. In the deserts of Arabia, the sensual prophet could promise no greater attractions to his followers, in their Paradise, than " gardens, through which run rivers of water." An earthly paradise is the valley of Arequipa to the weary traveller of the Pampa! We plunged into the green fields; and at the first azequia or aqueduct for irrigation, we slaked our thirst in the glancing stream. Under the shade of a weeping willow, by the murmurs of the purling, laughing waters, I found an intensity of enjoyment, which sprung from recollections of the Sahara, which I had just passed. This moment will be among the most enduring and pleasurable recollections of my life.

We rested at the village of Tiovaya. A Cholo farmer prepared us a chupe, and his pretty daughter served us with a picante and chicha. A picante is a sauce of cayenne pepper, which increases the taste for chicha.

At a later hour of the evening we set off for the town of Arequipa, into which we proposed to enter at night, It had thus far been concealed from us by a low range of hills. Whilst winding round their base, the town gradually expanded to our view, the loveliest picture of imagination. Its white and sparkling houses were nestling at the foot of the volcano, and sportively reflecting back the last rays of the sun. The green, emerald fields smiled in freshness and abundance, pre

“No le hablo mas, tampoco, no lo veo"-why then I nei-senting a pleasing contrast to the brown hills which ther see him, nor speak to him.

walled in the happy valley. It was a scene for the

The doctrine of Hobbes was rather sustained in this daguerroscope to seize its flitting lights. case of two isolated men in a desert.

Amidst this scene of surpassing beauty, I forgot my fatigue; our beasts, strange to say, went over the last miles of the road, at a hand-gallop, with astonishing vigor. By twilight we crossed a stone-bridge over the river Chile, and entered the town. I alighted at the residence of J. Moens, Esq., United States Consul, to whose hospitalities I was warmly invited; whilst R. proceeded to embrace his lovely wife, the Senorita Tomasita.

The quebrada, which opened our road through the second range of the Cordilleras, was six leagues in extent. We reached its debouché at meridian, upon the extreme summit of a sierra. The Pacific was visible from this point, eighty miles distant. The edge of the sierra was here very sharp and narrow, and it sloped down on either side most precipitously. The wind blew strongly; and whilst I was looking down the mountain into the deep vallies below, vertigo seized Arequipa being the first stage in my journey across me, and I sunk to the ground. To avoid a recurrence the Andes, I will also make it the first stage of my narof this malady, I walked down to the next valley, rative. The passage of the Cordilleras, the Pampas and whilst Pepe led my mule. I should infer, from compa-Quebradas, has been attended with so many difficulties rison, that the Cordillera at this point is 10,000 feet and adventures, that I could scarcely be expected to above the level of the sea. think of statistics or history, moral and political. When

His gallant crew, around their chief

Like icy statues stand;

And with their lives have passed away,
The golden dreams that led astray
That bold adventurous band.

'Tis ever thus with human hopes,
How bright soe'er they be;

If bounded by the present life

Our course must be with dangers rife,
On time's tempestuous sea.

But ah! there is, to cheer the soul,
A region more sublime,
Brighter than India's fairest day,
And richer far than fam'd Cathay,
Is that perennial clime.

To guide us to that destined shore
Truth's polar star is given;
Conscience, our compass, points to this-
And for our chart, the Bible is

A precious boon from Heaven.
Occoquan, Va. 1839.

THE SPANIARDS;

THEIR CHARACTER AND CUSTOMS.

ral sense, should have attracted so little attention, or that they should retain in full relief those peculiarities and shades of character which distinguish them as a nation?

This fact is singularly exemplified by their adherence not only to their ancient customs and dress, but to their ancient feelings and inclinations.

The village Hidalgo of La Mancha is to be found in that province with the same dress, and in the obser vance of the same habits, as are described by the inimitable Cervantes. Many a Sancho, too, may be still seen there with his montera cap on one side of his head, sitting on the rump of a donkey, and ever and anon tossing to his mouth the leathern bota, or bottle, full of Yesses or Valdepenas.

[The native of Asturias, though poor and oppressed, is still proud of his descent from that brave and hardy race who never suffered foreign foe to set foot within their territory, and who so successfully bade defiance to the Roman eagle and the Moorish crescent. The exploits of Pelayo and the glories of Covadonga are themes which he yet dwells upon with pleasure. But with all this, and with the privilege of giving a title to the heir of the Spanish monarchy, the Asturian is the most humble and patient of his countrymen. He comes to Madrid while a youth, and adopts the profession of a water carrier, or a porter, as his fathers have done before him from time immemorial. After some years, and by dint of economy, he finds himself master of three or four hundred dollars, which to him is a world of money. He then retires to his province, buys a cow and a pig, gets a wife and a cottage, and settles down for life.]

The gay and reckless Andalusian, has not yet relinquished his taste for smuggling and bull-fighting, nor his abhorrence of every thing like vulgar industry and labor. And as he only wants money to squander it on his mistress, he generally selects the easiest and most expeditious mode of accomplishing his object, without

contraband, or he exhibits in the plaza ;* or, if these resources fail him, he takes to the road, and subjects the unwary passenger to involuntary contribution. An intelligent observer can easily discover vestiges of the oriental origin of the Andalusians. The amorous and chivalrous disposition of the native of this province, his taste for dress and finery, and the multitude of Arabic idioms which occur in his dialect, are all strong indications of a Saracen extraction. The construction of their houses, with inner courts, refreshed by fountains and adorned with flower pots, and the narrow winding streets of their towns, also evince the truth of this re

Spain, the land of chivalry and romance, and the country of the Cid, of Cortes and Pizarro, has always been a subject of interest and inquiry to the scholar and the traveller. And yet, after all that has been said and written about the country, and after the numerous visits that have been made to it, Spain still seems to be a region unexplored; the genius and character of the inhabitants are not generally understood; and the notions entertained in regard to their manners and cus-much regarding the propriety of it. He has recourse to toms, are often vague and inconsistent. The fact is, that till the beginning of the present century there has been but little intercourse, at least in a philosophic point of view, between the Spaniards and the rest of Europe. The want of good roads and accommodations, and the risk of falling a prey to the ruthless banditti of the mountains, were circumstances that fully justified, at one time, the reluctance of travellers to a journey into Spain. The jealous and despotic spirit of the government, and the little knowledge there was then abroad of the Spanish language, now so much studied and admired, increased that reluctance, and effectually checked all the impulses of curiosity. It was not to be ex-mark. And to say nothing of the large black eye and pected that these difficulties would be removed by a people who seldom stirred from home, and whose intercourse with foreigners was, till of late, so rare, that a Spanish traveller might have been considered a phenomenon. Nor is it a matter of surprise that even within their own territory the excursions of this people should have been so limited as we know they were; for certain it is that at no very distant period a journey from Madrid to Cadiz, was an undertaking of not less consideration, expense and danger, than a voyage at the present day from New York to Liverpool. Under these circumstances, and isolated as they have been for a long time, what wonder that the Spaniards, in a mo

swarthy skin of the peasant, how is the handkerchief he wears constantly on his head to be accounted for unless it be considered as a relic of the Moorish turban ? In speaking of the Andalusians, a Spanish writer says, that they are ni bien Moros ni bien Cristianos; not exactly Moors, nor yet in reality Christians.

Jealous of his independence, and proud of his advantages, the Biscayan affects to look upon himself as belonging to a different nation from the Spaniards, and only gives to the king of Spain the title of Lord. Woe to the minister that should attempt to impose taxes on him, or to raise a conscription there; he might as well

In the bull-fights.

beard a lion in his den. Trade, navigation, the accu- | It cannot be denied, however, that of late the diffusion mulation of wealth, and the preservation of his liberties, | of knowledge in Spain has made some progress; and are the objects which absorb the faculties of the Biscayan, who, to his credit be it said, is frank, hospitable and courteous.

The native of old Castile is perhaps the most amiable character of all. He is still remarkable for that gravity and dignified manner, and that delicate sense of honor, that pundonor, for which the inhabitants of his province were proverbial; and the appellation of "old Castilian" is even now assumed with pride, and admitted with complacence.

it is possible, that under the present more liberal order of things, this country may in a few years raise herself to a level with the rest.

The education of females in Spain is of course still more limited than that of the men; but it is also a fact that they can do with less instruction than any other women in the world. Introduced into society almost from childhood, a Spanish girl, while yet in her teens, can assume, when she pleases, all the formality and se dateness of a matron, will do the honors of the house in the absence of her elders, receive a visit, and return a compliment, without being embarrassed. There is a natural grace and good breeding, an intuitive sense of decorum, about a Spanish lady, which supplies the want of a refined education. Nature seems to have done every thing for her; to art her obligations are but few. The Spanish ladies possess also a talent for conversa tion; and the ease and volubility with which they maintain it, is surprising. This perhaps is owing to the richness of the language, which, like that of the orien tals, is figurative and diffuse in a high degree. With Spanish lady an idea conceived is an idea expressed; there is no study or affectation in the choice of phrases; and with the aid of an animated countenance and an

The Spaniards not only differ in a wonderful degree from the rest of Europe, as a nation, but are remarkable for the difference which exists among themselves as natives of separate provinces. It may be asserted with confidence, that there is less similarity between an Andalusian and a native of Asturias, than between a Frenchman and an Englishman. This discrepancy is strikingly apparent in the existence among them of a variety of dialects; for, while the Castilian speaks the Spanish in all its purity, the Biscayan expresses himself in a language as unintelligible to his neighbors as the Irish is to a Londoner. The Valencians and Catalonians have, in like manner, a dialect of their own, consisting of a medley of French, Latin and Spanish words, which it is as difficult to understand as it is im-eye glowing with expression, she imparts an interest to possible to learn. The same may be said of the Andalusian, who speaks a Spanish corrupted by a multitude of Arabic idioms, and whose accent has something in it peculiar and perhaps graceful, which he is supposed to have derived from his conquerors, the Moors.

trifles, and is pleasing and even fascinating. Dancing and music, are accomplishments which, in Spain, many young ladies acquire of themselves. Drilling and dumb belles, and masters of marche et tenue, are things which they have no idea of, and which will never give to the girls of other countries the graceful walk and carriage of a Spanish girl. The women of Spain possess lively imaginations with but little sentiment; they love ar

thing with them; and if in other countries girls die of love, they certainly never do so in Spain.

There are in the Spanish character certain fine points, certain distinguishing features, which are highly honorable to the nation. That chivalrous spirit which shone with so much lustre in the days of Ferdinand and Isa-dently, but not long; a broken heart is a very rare bel, is not entirely extinguished. They are a people susceptible of great enthusiasm; and when influenced by religious motives, or by national pride, their exer- One observation more is necessary before finishing tions are prodigious. If there were a head to direct, this brief sketch of the character and manners of the there would be no want of hands to execute; and had Spaniards, which is, that their national characteristics Napoleon had one hundred thousand Spaniards to com- are to be sought for among the peasantry and the midmand, he might to this day have been Emperor of the dling classes in the interior. In the sea-ports and at the French. But these brilliant qualities are, to a certain capital, their intercourse with foreigners has rendered degree, neutralized by defects too obvious to be over- them quite a different people; and so wide is the diflooked. The energies of a Spaniard are not easily awa-ference in the state of society between the two classes, kened. There is a listlessness and apathy of disposi- that in passing from Madrid to Toledo, a distance only tion about him, in ordinary circumstances, which lie of forty miles, the transition is like the lapse of a hunlike a dead weight upon his faculties, and often disap-dred years. point the most flattering expectations; there is an aversion to every thing like innovation, an adherence to old practices and old ideas, and a baneful spirit of procrastination, which are a clog to his progress in civilization, and retain him, as respects the useful arts, far in the rear of every other nation.

LIFE.

G. W. M.

In point of education, that of a Spaniard generally approaches one of the two extremes of great ignorance The life of an ordinary man presents but few events or great learning. And even this learning, great as it of magnitude: it is a succession of details-and our is in some branches, is often attended by a singular happiness is to be sought for at home, not abroad-in want of knowledge in others. A profound theologian, the common course of every-day life, not in affairs of a doctor of laws, or a man deeply versed in the dead"great pith and moment"-in the book, the companion, languages, will sometimes be found so ignorant of geo- the work and the recreation of to-day, and not in the graphy, as to ask whether Philadelphia is in Europe or golden dreams of romance. America, and perhaps to doubt whether the English language is that of the citizens of the Uunited States.

Petersburg, Va

bright with the confident hope of victory! Alas! what mul

CURRENTE-CALAMOSITIES; titudes of the disappointed! How solitary is success! "The

A good beginning and now for a look around us! When William penned the following lines, he must have had clairvoyance of the scenes in whose very midst we now stand.

race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor understanding to men of skill!" And it were well, if it were only the aspirants to the various forms of greatness who are blastod in their hopes. But Disappointment goes down into the humble and innocent vales of life. The Poor sees but one destiny with the Rich. When forest oaks yield, on the mountains, to the violence of the storm, the reaper sighs over his wasted labor on the plains!

But a few, my friends, succeed! And, William, benign as are your teachings, I will count pain for pain, and sigh for sigh, in the Palace and in the Cottage. Man tires of possession: he desires change: he prefers all he is not, all he has not, to what he is and has. Each blessing he gets, great as it may be, is less than it seemed to the eye of Hope. And why is this? Is it true, as "the wisest man" has said, that "All is vanity?" No!

It was true, to him, in a sense. All was vanity, when viewed without its legitimate end and object,-moral improvement, culture, and upward advancement! In this view, nothing is vain,-every event of life, dark as it may seem to those who are of the "earth, earthy," is mercy. Thus, what will prove but a shadow to him who extends his arms to embrace it, not actuated by the proper and only legitimate motives that should impel him, is full of substantial joy to him, whose eye is fixed upon the true goal. never vain to those by whom it is understood. As a period within which to erect plans for permanent rest, it is as vain as a hair would prove, tried as a link to chain together and to support a system of planets. As a sphere for the effort of mind it is vain, for its measure is finite and very uncertain. Nor is it the proper home of the Affections. Our loves drop, like lead, from our embrace, when loveliest, and there an end!

Life is

We want, we will have,-something more! Asking this more of life, we find it has it not to give! But we have not these desires for nought? Where shall we go to obtain "As I followed my father silently up the ascending road their gratification? The tendency of our souls' desires is on my gray pony, such scenes opened before me as I had upward. Heaven opens before them. It expands to satisfy never dreamed were to be seen in this world. The rocks them. Our spirit spreads its wings to obtain the fruition of on one hand went stretching away, till they made a sud-it, out of this bleak world, as yonder noble bird, Mary, on den turn, at one which resembled exactly an old castle his sublime flight for these warm, happy, summer skies, tower; and at their feet there appeared a broad walk of sings joyfully there, "at Heaven's gate." natural grass between them and the river, so green, and soft, and smooth, no king's garden ever looked so pleasant; and the river was so clear, and sent up such a softened murmur, that it was both like a picture, and like music!" THE PALISADES.

Why is it, my friends, that the content, the delight, the charm, the pleasure, the joy, with which we look abroad, upon such a scene as this, is never unmingled with melancholy? You answer truly enough, Mary, it is because we sympathise with our kind. We are so constituted, that the woes, the sorrows, the misfortunes, nay, the very mistakes of our fellow beings interest us almost as keenly as if they were all our own. Here, surrounded by so much that is beautiful and inspiring, we are looking, "from the loopholes of retreat," upon that busy, bustling world from out of which we have just now come. There it lies before us. There; in yonder city, whose lofty spires, and glittering roofs are dimly seen through the summer sky,-there, absorbed in hurrying anxious occupation, is going on the noisy chace The politician is fastening his wily threads around the hearts of the people, and enmeshing therein their honors. The statesman, in the full flush of encouragement, which the promises of the strong, and the wealthy, and the influential, have superinduced, is towering in his pride, firm as the earth his on ward step,-his eye, eagle-like, VOL. V.-66

for wealth.

Life belongs to the Man no more than the vapor that hangs over that city belongs thereto: And just as surely will it seem to him, one day or other, to be as vain a show. But take we up the book, again!

That day, William Howitt, you stole away from Ackworth school, with Harry Webb, to go visit Ned Tunstall, was such a day as this,-its counterpart! Read from page 244 of the "Country Book."

a

"If ever there was a day of splendor and rejoicing beauty, it was that day. It was towards the latter end of June, the foliage was in its utmost luxuriance: the sky was of one fine transparent azure: the fields were full of flowery and odorous grass ready for the scythe; the wild rose and elderflower waved in the breezy hedge-rows, and flung their fragrance far and wide: the lark was rejoicing in the air, the cuckoo floated from place to place, with its deepest and mellowest voice; the grasshopper raised its shivering note in the turf at our feet, and a thousand insects hummed and wavered around—a thousand creatures uttered voices of delight.

"He that knows-and who does not know?-how full of gladness and beauty, and wonder, all creation is to the heart of childhood-how entirely and intensely it lives in the present; having no habitual acquaintance with fear, or calculations of coming weariness, and of the fleet passing