on,
besides articles for exportation, a boundless variety of
fruits--pine-apples (whose quality has made Guayaquil famous), oranges,
lemons, limes, plantains, bananas, cocoa-nuts, alligator pears, papayas,
mangos, guavas, melons, etc.; many an undescribed species of fish known
only to the epicure, and barrels or jars of water from a distant point
up the river, out of the reach of the tide and the city sewers. Ice is
frequently brought from Chimborazo, and sold for $1 per pound. A flag
hoisted at a favorite cafe announces that snow has arrived from the
mountains, and that ice-cream can be had. The market, held every morning
by the river side, is an animated scene. The strife of the half-naked
fishmongers, the cry of the swarthy fruit-dealers--"Pinas!" "Naranjas!"
etc., and the song of the itinerant dulce-peddler--"Tamales!" mingled
with the bray of the water-bearing donkeys as they trot through the
town, never fail to arrest the attention of every traveler.

But there is another sight more attractive still--one worth a long
voyage, for Nature nowhere else repeats the picture. From the balconies
of Guayaquil can be seen on a clear day the long, towering range of the
Andes. We may forget all the incidents in our subsequent journey, but
the impression produced by that glorious view is unfading. The sun had
nearly touched the Pacific when the clouds, which for days had wrapped
the Cordilleras[9] in misty robes, suddenly rose like a curtain. There
stood, in inconceivable grandeur, one of the stupendous products of the
last great revolution of the earth's crust, as a geologist would say,
but, in the language of history, the lofty home of the Incas, made
illustrious by the sword of Pizarro and the pen of Prescott. On the
right a sea of hills rose higher and higher, till they culminated in the
purple mountains of Assuay. Far to the left, one hundred miles
northeasterly, the peerless Chimborazo lifted its untrodden and
unapproachable summit above its fellows--an imposing background to
lesser mountains and stately forests. The great dome reflected
dazzlingly the last blushes of the west, its crown of snow fringed with
black lines, which were the steep and sharp edges of precipitous rocks.
It was interesting to watch the mellowing tints on the summit as the
shadows crept upward: gold, vermilion, violet, purple, were followed by
a momentary "glory;" then darkness covered the earth, and a host of
stars, "trembling with excess of ligh