Our road lay through a rich country, intersected by small rivers; with
the distant snowy chain of the Andes as a background, and through
thickly planted groves of poplars, growing in long shady avenues,
fragrant with perfume from the magnificent roses which blossomed
beneath their shade. In the course of our four hours' drive, we
crossed a great many streams, in some of which the water was deep
enough to come in at the bottom of the carriage, and cause us to tuck
ourselves up on the seats; there was always a little pleasing
excitement and doubt, as we approached one of these rivulets, as to
whether we were to be inundated or not. We met a good many people
riding and walking about in their holiday clothes, and at all the
cabarets groups of talkers, drinkers, and players were assembled.
The cottages we have seen by the roadside have been picturesque but
wretched-looking edifices, generally composed of the branches of trees
stuck in the ground, plastered with mud and thatched with reeds. Two
outhouses, or arbours, consisting of a few posts and sticks, fastened
together and overgrown with roses and other flowers, serve
respectively as a cool sitting-room and a kitchen, the oven being
invariably built on the ground outside the latter, for the sake of
coolness.
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