Papallacta at 11 A.M.

We put up at the governor's. This edifice, the best in town, had sides
of upright poles stuccoed with mud, a thatched roof, and ground floor,
on which, between three stones, a fire was built for cookery and
comfort. Three or four earthen kettles, and as many calabashes and
wooden spoons, were the sum total of kitchen utensils. A large flat
stone, with another smaller one to rub over it, was the mill for
grinding corn; and we were astonished to see how quickly our hostess
reduced the grains to an impalpable meal. The only thing that looked
like a bed was a stiff rawhide thrown over a series of round poles
running lengthwise. This primitive couch, and likewise the whole house,
the obsequious governor gave up to us, insisting upon sleeping with his
wife and little ones outside, though the nights were cold and
uncomfortable. Parents and children were of the earth, earthy--unwashed,
uncombed, and disgustingly filthy. We found the governor one day taking
lice for his lunch. Sitting behind his little boy, he picked out the
little parasites with his nails, and crushed them between his teeth with
a look of satisfaction. Eating lice is an old Indian custom, and
universal in the Andes. In Inca times it was considered an infallible
remedy against sore eyes. We have seen half a dozen women sitting on the
ground in a row, picking out vermin from each other's heads. We thought
the arrangement was a little unfair, for the first in the series had no
lice to eat, and the animals were left to roam undisturbed in the
capillary forest of the last.

Papallacta is a village of thirty dwellings, situated in a deep valley
on the north slope of Antisana, nearly surrounded by an amphitheatre of
sandstone and basaltic precipices. Here, too, is the terminus of the
fourth great lava stream from the volcano; it is not mentioned by
Humboldt. Papallacta is a thousand feet higher than Quito, yet
vegetation is more tropical. Its name signifies "the potato country,"
but not a potato could we find here. Though Mancheno was governor, he
was not really the greatest man in Papallacta. This was Carlos
Caguatijo; he was the ruling man, for he could read, write, and speak
Spanish, while the governor knew nothing but Quichua. Carlos, moreover,
was a good man; he had an honest, Quaker-like air about him, and his
face reminded us of George Washington's. In all his transactions we
noticed no attempt to prevaricate or deceive; what he promised