“What rogues!” he exclaimed. “In Mendoza they charged me three times that sum. Tell me, friend, why did you neglect to bring some with you? You would have been a rich man soon.”
The day was the Sabbath, which is regarded as a holiday in this country. The pulperias by the roadside were thronged by the gauchos, some gambling, and others dancing to the sound of the guitar, while a few lay drunk upon the ground. About two o’clock, after leaping several streams of water that ran along the streets, I entered Mendoza, and, after many unsuccessful inquiries, found myself in the calle de comercio, where I luckily met with a Frenchman who spoke a little English, and to him made known my wishes regarding my proposed journey across the Andes to Chili.
The Frenchman informed me that an English physician, Dr. D., who had resided several years in Mendoza, and had ingratiated himself into the favor of the government, was just the person to apply to, as he could give me any information relative to the Chili road. At the moment the doctor himself came up, mounted upon a fine horse, and returning from a visit to the country.
I handed him the letters given me by Mr. Graham, and inquired if either of the two persons to whom they were directed were in Mendoza; he returned them to me, rather brusquely saying that he was not an American physician; and as for Mr. Allen Campbell, he had left two months ago for Santa Fé. In as delicate a manner as possible, I informed Dr. D. of my object in visiting his adopted country; that I was a stranger, and unacquainted with the language, and hinted that if some person conversant with the dialect would make inquiries regarding troops of mules that might be leaving for Chili, he would be doing me a favor that I could not too highly appreciate. To this the doctor drew himself up stiffly, and replied, impatiently,—
“If you wish to cross to Chili, the only method of procuring necessary information is to inquire of the native merchants, who often send troops across the Cordillera. According to the last accounts the mountains were passable, though the Chili mail has not yet arrived.”
I answered, “Doctor, I am unacquainted with the language, save the little I have acquired upon the road; and if several days are lost by me in fruitless inquiry, the mountains will be closed, and I shall be obliged to remain here for the next six months.”
“Very well,” he answered, touching his horse at the same time with his silver spurs. “It is only among the merchants that you will receive the information.” And he was soon out of sight.
The Frenchman, who had been a listener to the conversation, exclaimed, energetically, “Vat a tam fool! He might speak one word, and find plentee mules going to Chili: he much puffed up with practeese. Come to my home, and I will find you a troop of mules to-morrow. I loves the Americans; they is tam goot fellows!”
On our way to his lodgings, my new acquaintance suddenly remembered that there was a party of North Americans in town, and at my request he led me to their house. They were professional gentlemen, my guide said, but of what particular branch of science he could not tell. Never was I more surprised than when the Frenchman introduced me to four young men, whose flag, as it waved above their house, announced them as the Circo Olimpico (Olympic Circus), from North America. The director of the company, Mr. Daniel H., of Utica, New York, had left the States for Mexico thirteen years before, and was with the American army through the war between the two republics.
After peace had been established, he freighted a small vessel, and, landing upon the northern coast of South America, had since travelled over nearly all the countries of the continent.