On the bleak Puna, or high table-land between the parallel chains of the Cordillera and the Andes, is situated the famous mining town of Pasco. Surrounded by a crescent of steep and naked rocks, its straggling buildings extend over an uneven ground, bordered by small marshes and lagunes. The shivering traveller, descending from the windy heights, is at first agreeably surprised by the sight of a large town in the midst of these dreary solitudes; but a nearer inspection of its narrow crooked streets, and of its miserable huts, with here and there a stately mansion, soon dissipates the fancies he may have formed at a distance. The wild, forbidding aspect of the neighbourhood, and the rigorous climate, only a short day’s journey from the loveliest valleys, prove the greatness of the subterranean treasures which could induce so large a population to settle in so harsh a region. The mines of Pasco, like those of Potosi, were discovered, it is said, by an Indian shepherd, who, accidentally lighting a fire where the ores cropped out, found silver among the ashes. There are two chief lodes, with numerous branches, so that the whole neighbourhood may be considered as resting on a subterranean network of silver. The entrances to most of the mines are situated in the town itself; and, as every proprietor thinks only of his present profits, they are worked in so slovenly a manner that they frequently fall in. Tschudi, who visited some of the deepest of them, always thought himself extremely fortunate when, after descending on half-rotten steps or by mouldering ropes and rusty chains, he returned again to daylight without accident, and mentions an instance where three hundred workmen were buried in the ruins of a mine, in which the necessary props had been shamefully neglected.