Continuing our journey, we travelled along the base of the Cordilleras, which towered to the skies on our right. The scenery was most magnificent. From a height we had reached we cast our eyes over the beautiful valley, with one or two large villages near us, and the pretty town of Calli in the distance. We made our way towards it, though it was somewhat out of our direct course. The inhabitants were generally supporters of the Liberal cause, and had suffered greatly from the Spaniards. As we got close to the bridge we stopped to inquire which was the principal inn in the place. Crossing the bridge, we rode through the streets of the neat little town in search of a posada, at which we agreed that it would be more prudent to stop than with a resident, as I might thus be able to gain much more information from the conversation of the visitors than I could at the house of a private person. Everywhere the town exhibited traces of the visit of an enemy. Many of the houses were deserted, others had been burned to the ground. Several were in ruins, and the walls, in many places, were bespattered with bullet-marks. Domingo took our horses round to the shed which served as a stable, while we entered the public room, the centre of which was occupied by a long table with rough benches on either side, at which several persons-- merchants, small traders, and carriers--were seated. Mr Laffan requested to be supplied with food, and asked if we could have a room in which our hammocks could be slung up. The landlord assured him that the whole house was at our command. "Yes," said Mr Laffan, "but we would rather have a room to ourselves. This young English milord likes to be quiet." The landlord examined me with a curious look, and said he should be happy to clear out a room at present occupied by some of his family. I asked Mr Laffan to tell me what the landlord had said, and in reply begged to assure him that I would not on any account put his estimable family to so much inconvenience; that we would, therefore, sling our hammocks at the further end of the hall. He was not long in placing a very fairly concocted olla-podrida before us. It consisted of beef, fowls, bacon, mutton, and a variety of vegetables, all cooked together, and tolerably free from garlic. The landlord remarked, as he tasted it before us, "I am aware that the English do not like much of that root, as I discovered by observing the expressions of disgust exhibited by the countenances of some British officers for whom I had prepared a dish with rather more, perhaps, than the usual allowance of seasoning. One of them declared that he was poisoned, and compelled me, at the point of his sword, to eat the whole of it; while another clapped the dish upside down on my head, and insisted on my producing some other food of a less savoury character. I have remembered ever since that Englishmen do not like garlic."