Mr. Stephenson used afterwards to speak in glowing terms of this his first mule-journey in South America. Everything was entirely new to him. The variety and beauty of the indigenous plants, the luxurious tropical vegetation, the appearance, manners, and dress of the people, and the mode of travelling, were altogether different from everything he had before seen. His own travelling garb also must have been strange even to himself. “My hat,” he says, “was of plaited grass, with a crown nine inches in height, surrounded by a brim of six inches; a white cotton suit; and a _ruana_ of blue and crimson plaid, with a hole in the centre for the head to pass through. This cloak is admirably adapted for the purpose, amply covering the rider and mule, and at night answering the purpose of a blanket in the net-hammock, which is made from fibres of the aloe, and which every traveller carries before him on his mule, and suspends to the trees or in houses, as occasion may require.” The part of the journey which seems to have made the most lasting impression on his mind was that between Bogota and the mining district in the neighbourhood of Mariquita. As he ascended the slopes of the mountain-range, and reached the first step of the table-land, he was struck beyond expression with the noble view of the valley of the Magdalena behind him, so vast that he failed in attempting to define the point at which the course of the river blended with the horizon. Like all travellers in the district, he noted the remarkable changes of climate and vegetation, as he rose from the burning plains towards the fresh breath of the mountains. From an atmosphere as hot as that of an oven he passed into delicious cool air; until, in his onward and upward journey, a still more temperate region was reached, the very perfection of climate. Before him rose the majestic Cordilleras, forming a rampart against the western skies, at certain times of the day looking black, sharp, and, at their summit, almost as even as a wall.