Those very few well-tempered spirits that have outgrown every obstacle to their full mental developement, have that inborn thirst after knowledge which even knowledge itself cannot quench; for, the more they learn, the more they aspire to know; and these men, with little external incitement to forward or nurture their literary tastes and pursuits, are like those plants on arid land, which only require a few fleeting showers to quicken their energies, develope their form, and unfold their beauty. Such choice persons are the delight of their friends, and worthy of that better state of society for which they daily sigh, as they see the best laws and institutions of their country trampled upon by military despots, whose nod they must obey, while they say in their hearts, “Vetitum est sceleri nihil!” On the 24th of June, (Dia de San Juan,) all Lima annually assemble along the windings of the “Great Alamada,” and between orangeries now prettily laden with fruit, to the romantic mountain recess of “Amencaes,” only about one mile from town, and beautifully adapted for pleasure-grounds, if only supplied with water, which it might have at some expense. This spot commands a fine view of the capital, with its towering spires; of wide fields, innumerable orchards, the Rimac, and the fine lagoon at its mouth; the island of San Lorenzo, and the shipping at Callao; and it has, in its back-ground, a set-off in the acclivities newly clothed with vivid vegetation, among numerous crags and many a ridge and chasm. Here, on the day of San Juan,—a day of festivity and joy,—men, women, and children, of all ranks, all ages, and all colours and occupations, meet. Mirth is the object of one and all. Their horses, their asses, and even their own persons, are adorned in their best manner; and the rational as well as the irrational members of the ever-moving crowd are bedecked with the flower of Amencaes taken from the favourite clefts and nooks of these hills. In this place there are tents and sheds, that supply seats and refreshment for those who love the thoughtless and bawling mirth of the “jarrana.” There is at this exhibition a dunning confusion of musical discord kept up by drumming, piping, shouting, harping, and guitaring, singing, laughing, and dancing; but no fighting. Here too we may see the popular “paseo,” or promenade, of the “_chuchumecas_,” (women of immoral character,) who mingle freely and good-humouredly with the crowd, to the infinite amusement of the multitude. The national taste is on this, as on other occasions of festivity, eminently displayed by the loud and simultaneous laugh, or “_carcajada_,” of cheering voluptuaries when the samaqueca—a favourite dance—is exhibited in a free and masterly style.