The social and political condition of Ecuador presents a picture of the dark ages. There is not a newspaper printed outside of the city of Guayaquil, and the only information the people have of what is going on in the world is gained from the strangers who now and then visit the country, and from a class of peddlers who make periodical trips, traversing the whole hemisphere from Guatemala to Patagonia. These peddlers are curious fellows, and there seems to be a regular organization of them. They are like the old minstrels that we read of in the novels of Sir Walter Scott. They practise medicine, sing songs, cure diseased cattle, mend clocks, carry letters and messages from place to place, and peddle such little articles as are used in the households of the natives. It often takes them three or four years to make a round trip, going invariably on foot, and carrying packs upon their backs. When their stock is exhausted they replenish it at the nearest source of supply, and are ever welcome visitors at the homes of the natives. This internal trade does not amount to much in dollars and cents, but supplies the lack of retail establishments and newspapers. [Illustration: HOTEL ON THE ROUTE TO QUITO.] The capital and the productive regions of Ecuador are accessible only by a mule-path, which is impassable for six months in the year during the rainy season, and in the dry season it requires eight or nine days to traverse it, with no resting-places where a man can find a decent bed, or food fit for human consumption. This is the only means of communication between Quito and the outside world, except along the mountains southward into Bolivia and Peru, where the Incas constructed beautiful highways which the Spaniards have permitted to decay until they are now practically useless. They were so well built, however, as to stand the wear and tear of three centuries, and the slightest attempt at repair would have kept them in order.