[Street in Quito.]

Whatever may have been the plan of Quito in the days of Huayna-Capac, it is evident that the Spanish founders were guided more by the spurs of Pichincha than by astronomy. The streets make an angle of forty-five degrees with the meridian, so that not a single public building faces any one of the four cardinal points of the compass. Two deep ravines come down the mountain, and traverse the city from west to east. They are mostly covered by arches, on which the houses rest; but where they are open, they disclose as fit representatives of the place of torment as the Valley of Hinnom. The outline of the city is as irregular as its surface. It incloses one square mile. Twenty streets, all of them straiter than the apostolic one in Damascus, cross one another very nearly at right angles. None of them are too wide, and the walks are painfully narrow; but, thanks to Garcia Moreno, they are well paved. The inequality of the site, and its elevation above the Machángara, render the drainage perfect.[21] The streets are dimly lighted by tallow candles, every householder being obliged to hang out a lantern at 7 P.M., unless there is moonshine. The candles, however, usually expire about ten o'clock. There are three "squares"—Plaza Mayor, Plaza de San Francisco, and Plaza de Santo Domingo. The first is three hundred feet square, and adorned with trees and flowers; the others are dusty and unpaved, being used as market-places, where Indians and donkeys most do congregate. All the plazas have fountains fed with pure water from Pichincha.

Few buildings can boast of architectural beauty, yet Quito looks palatial to the traveler who has just emerged from the dense forest on the coast, "crossing bridgeless rivers, floundering over bottomless roads, and ascending and descending immense mountains." He is astonished to find such elegant edifices and such a proud aristocracy in this lofty lap of the Andes. The Indian habitations which girdle the city have no more architectural pretensions than an Arab dwelling. They are low mud hovels, the scene within and without of dirt and disorder.

As we approach the Grand Plaza, the centre of the city, the buildings increase in size, style, and finish. The ordinary material is adobe, not only because it is cheap, but also because it best resists earthquake shocks. Fear of a terremoto has likewise led to a massiveness in construction which is slightly ludicrous when we see the poverty which it protects; the walls are often two or three feet thick. The ground floor is occupied by servants, whose rooms—small enough to be called niches—surround the paved court-yard, which is entered from the street by a broad doorway. Within this court is sometimes a fountain or flower-plot. Around it are arches or pillars supporting a gallery, which is the passage-way to the apartments of the second story. All the rooms are floored with large square bricks. With few exceptions, the only windows are folding glass doors leading to balconies overhanging the pavement. The tiled roofs project far over into the street, and from these project still farther uncouth water-spouts, such as used to be seen in Rio Janeiro, but have now been banished to the antiquarian museum. Only three or four private residences rise above two stories. The shops are small affairs—akin to the cupboards of Damascene merchants; half a dozen modern ladies can keep out any more customers. The door serves as entrance, exit, window, and show-case. The finest structures cluster around the plazas. Here are the public buildings, some of them dating back to the times of Philip II. They are modeled after the old Spanish style; there is scarcely a fragment of Gothic architecture. They are built of large brick, or a dark volcanic stone from Pichincha.

[Palacio de Gobierno—Capitol.]

The Government House, which serves at once as "White House" and Capitol, is an imposing edifice fronting the Grand Plaza, and adorned with a fine colonnade. On its right rises the cathedral; on the left stands the unpretending palace of the nuncio. The former would be called beautiful were it kept in repair; it has a splendid marble porch, and a terrace with carved stone balustrade. The view above was taken from this terrace. The finest façade is presented by the old Jesuit church, which has an elaborate front of porphyry. The Church of San Francisco, built by the treasures of Atahuallpa, discovered by an Indian named Catuna, is the richest. It is surmounted by two lofty towers, and the interior is a perfect blaze of gilding. The monastery attached to it is one of the largest in the world, but the greater part of it is in ruins, and one of the wings is used as a barrack. Those unsightly, unadorned convents, which cling to every church save the cathedral, have neutralized nearly all architectural effect.

[CHAPTER IV.]