Rich esculents and fruits unknown in other countries are in abundance. Amongst the former are yuca, mandive, and camotes; whilst the delicious cherrimoya reigns supreme over them all. The valleys of Upper Peru, of Bolivia, and of the province of Salta in La Plata, are rich in the most valuable products. Exclusive of minerals--which include gold, silver, copper, and lead--we have coffee, chocolate, tobacco, cotton, indigo, cochineal, sarsaparilla, logwood, and an infinity of similar productions. Cattle are numerous: mules and horses abundant. And, above all, the men are noted for their generosity and hospitality, and the women for their grace and beauty. What a contrast between these glorious valleys--in which Rasselas might well have lived--and the rugged heights of the silver city, Ceno Pasco: its dirty streets, and half-savage people; its unhealthy mines, and blackened smelting-furnaces; its bare rocks and scrubby patches of brown herbage affording a scanty subsistence to its flock of shaggy llamas. It is a charm to travelers among the Andes, that, within their limits, these vast mountains enclose every climate. Within the range of one degree of latitude, we may sit and burn under a palm-tree, or lie down upon a bed of Alpine moss. * * * * * =BETTER DAYS.= =BY LYDIA L. A. VERY.= Was it a dream that came to me, That men’s care-worn faces seemed to be Clothed with a calm serenity-- A peaceful holiness; A spirit’s voice, that said, no more Shall the blood of man like water pour, Staining the flowers on earth’s green floor, That fain his path would bless? Was it a vision of the night, Making each child seem an angel bright, Free from earth’s mildew, ain’s withering blight That falls upon the young; Graceful and winning everywhere, Grown like the flowers by God’s own care, Like them blooming as fresh and fair, Earth’s hills and vales among? Was it a dream, that men did feel Themselves as brothers for wo or weal, Seeking the wounds of life to heal With soothing words of love; Speaking to each as on he wends Grasping in every hand a friend’s, Smoothing the path of Age that tends So tremblingly above?