Restless, chirping guinea-pigs—constant inmates of every wretched hut,—persevered during the early part of the night in a bold attack on our bread magazines; pulling at our wallets, placed under our heads, and nibbling at their contents with a degree of boldness and fearlessness which we believe hunger only could inspire. These assailants had scarcely left us to repose in the silence of night, when the wakeful cock from a chink in the wall (originally occupied by an image or household saint) began his repeated crowing at unmeasured periods till well on towards grey morning, when all were in motion: the shepherd rounded his flock, guarded all night against the hostility of the fox and other enemies by the faithful dogs inseparable from the sheep; the muleteer shook himself in his poncho, and went to collect his mules; and the housewife left her sheep and llama-skin bed, and commenced her daily task of boiling the caldo, or soup, for breakfast, and smoking her guests from their uneasy couch. With so many incitements to bestir ourselves, we were glad to turn out and breathe the fresh air, while things were getting ready for our departure on a fresh day’s journey, with only a headache left for our common annoyance. The writer had frequent occasion afterwards to cross this same part of the Cordillera, and, profiting by his first lesson, he took care always to start early in the morning on his day’s journey, so as to arrive early in the evening at his quarters for the night. He got refreshment, and turned into bed as soon as possible after his arrival; and took care that he slept warm and dry. By thus avoiding cold and wet, which check perspiration and overload the deep-seated blood-vessels, he ever after on this route avoided the Cordillera sickness. More than once we have witnessed the most affecting scenes of moaning and suffering, without the additional misery of the veta, when some wet and cold traveller arrived at Casacancha[29] at a late hour, and threw down as his couch his already half-soaked pellon on a damp mud floor, or earthen bench, and covered himself up for the night with his drenched ponchos. In the morning, a traveller so circumstanced may find his ponchos half-frozen over him; and when he arises, and looks out, he often sees the plain covered with snow which has locked up the herbage from the reach of the shivering cattle that stand fettered on the plain.