and putting one hand into his breast, where he
had, no doubt, a revolver or a bowie-knife ready,
railed out: "What's the matter, friend? Take
care." "Curses on you," shouted the peasant;
"I have lost all: I will have my revenge!" But
by this time he was pulled back by half  a dozen
strong arms, and in spite of his struggles and
threats was soon summarily ejected from the
house. These outbreaks are common enough,
and often end in stabs, sometimes in loss
of life. The South Americans are inveterate
gamblers, and a man will pass a whole year in
patient savings, and then lose all his earnings in
a single night at the gaming table.

After this we walked through the village, and
my free-and-easy friend spoke to every pretty
girl he saw. At half-past five I insisted on
going home, though I was assured that the fun
was only just beginning, and would go on waxing
more and more furious until the small hours.
Our driver, who was three parts tipsy at starting,
was now unmanageably drunk. Seeing a
huge trolloping negress, not ill favoured, but
slatternly and shameless, on her way back to
Valencia on foot—looking in her white dress, as
the Spanish proverb has it, like a mushroom in
cream—he stopped, and made her get up beside
him on the box, and the two together then
carried on such a fire of rough jokes with all
and singular who came in our way as created
quite a sensation. I protested against travelling
under the tutelage of this nymph; but
the driver was past reasoning with, and I had
to put up with the annoyance as far as the outskirts
of Valencia, where, just as I had made up
my mind to set down rather than enter the city
under such auspices, the sable beauty herself
took it into her head to descend, and, kissing to us
a hand of the size and colour of an ordinary coal-
shovel, struck into a back lane and disappeared.
I was horribly scandalised by this adventure, but
still more so on overhearing that same evening
the barber at a shop nearly opposite my house,
who could speak a little English, bawl out to
Juan, no doubt with a gesture indicating my
whereabout in the upper room: "Hear bad
thing of him!" " Ay!" said Juan, delightedly
thrusting his head out of the window, "what's
that?" " Hear he came home from the
corrida——" The last words were lost in the
rattling of a cart which went by at the moment,
but I heard Juan, with an obstreperous peal of
laughter, bawl out in reply, "That's a lie!" A
low chuckling conversation followed, which was
interrupted by a squall with thunder and
lightning, during which I fell fast asleep in my
easy-chair, and awoke well punished by the
mosquitoes, and with a splitting headache.

Next morning I started with three companions
to ride up the Morro: a steep, rocky, semi-
isolated hill eight hundred feet high, situated
about half a mile to the north-east of the city.
A meadow of tall grass skirts the foot of the
hill, and over this we trotted very pleasantly;
but as we began to ascend the slope on
the west, from which quarter alone the Morro
is accessible to a man on horseback, we found
we were in for a severe struggle. The path was
only about a foot broad, and led sometimes
between rocks which pinched our legs, and made
us go through evolutions worthy of a cirque, to
save ourselves from being dragged off; sometimes
through thickets, whose thorns made sad
havoc of our thin clothes. One of the party, who
led the way, and was mounted on a mule, got on
very well, but we who had horses could hardly
keep them on their legs. At last we emerged
from the thorns and the narrow path, but only to
land on slippery sheets of rock at a steep incline,
which were even more difficult to cross. However,
when we reached the top, the view well repaid
us. The hill had a double summit. On the
first peak, a cross had been erected; then there
was a steep descent, and an equally steep ascent
to the other top, which was covered with great
boulders and brushwood, and seemed to be an
uncommonly likely place for snakes. At our
feet, on the south side of the hill, lay the city of
Valencia, in a thickly-wooded valley three or
four miles broad, the city itself being full of
gardens. Between us and the town flowed a
stream, which bears the same name, and is from
fifteen to twenty yards broad, with a general
depth of three feet, but with deep pools at
intervals. This valley, in which Valencia lies,
is formed by two sierras, the S. Diego to the
north-east, and the Guataparo to the south-west,
and comes curving from the mountains of the
coast, which I had crossed from Puerto Cabello,
but runs almost due west and east for the five
miles from Nagua to Valencia. The Morro is,
as it were, the boundary-stone of this valley, and
stands where it debouches into one much
broader, and running at right angles to it; that
is, from north-east to south. On turning to the
north-east, my eyes were delighted with the
beautiful view of the lake. I could see some of
the islands in it, but its expanse stretched far
beyond my vision for miles and miles into the
Golden Valley of Araguas. When I had done
gazing in this direction, my eyes found new
beauties as they travelled eastward and
southward over a park-like country to the famous
battle-field of Carabobo.

The soil in the immediate neighbourhood
of Valencia, up to the borders of the lake,
is, perhaps, the richest in the world. It is
said that an iron rod has been passed down
uninterruptedly for upwards of sixty feet
through this black soil, the quality of which
may be judged of from the fact that sugar-cane
plantations will here yield twenty successive
harvests without requiring a renewal of the
plants. This extreme depth and richness will
appear less surprising when it is remembered
that, all this ground was within the last century
covered with the waters of the lake, into which,
manv streams discharged themselves; the principal
of them, the Pao, being really worthy to
be called a river. These streams brought down
a rich deposit of slime, which has now been laid
bare by the rapid shrinking and diminution of
the lake. When it is considered that the
annual evaporation at Valencia amounts to one