LAUNDRESSES OF QUITO.
"In the course of our wanderings we came to the bank of the river which flows past Quito. It is an insignificant stream, ordinarily, but swells to a torrent at certain seasons of the year, when the rains fall in the neighboring mountains. Laundresses were at work at their trade, and from the way the linen of Quito is washed, it is certain to need frequent renewal. The garments are dipped in the river, and then spread on the rocks, where they are pounded with mallets or bowlders until the desired condition of cleanliness is attained. It reminded us of the way the Bengalee dhobies at Madras washed our clothing, and accounts for the large importation of cotton goods into Ecuador in proportion to the population.
"While we were passing a potato-field Dr. Bronson reminded us that we might consider ourselves near the birthplace of an intimate friend.
"We tried to think what friend of ours was born in Quito, but could not remember any. We said so to the Doctor, and he then explained that the one he referred to was the potato.
"'Certainly,' exclaimed Frank, 'I remember, now you mention it, that the potato was found at Quito by the Spaniards and taken by them to Europe early in the sixteenth century. From Spain it was carried to Germany, France, Belgium, and Italy, and last of all to Ireland, where it was introduced by Sir Walter Raleigh on his estate near Cork.'
"'You are quite right,' said the Doctor. 'The so-called "Irish potato" is really a native of South America.'
"'The descendant is worthier than the parent,' Frank remarked, as he pointed to the potato-field we were passing. 'The potato of Ireland and of the United States is much larger and finer than that of Ecuador. Cultivation in a foreign land has done a great deal for this vegetable.'
"We both agreed with him, as we had already remarked the diminutive size of the potatoes of Quito. The same comment applies to the cherries, pears, peaches, strawberries, and tomatoes, which do not seem to enjoy the climate, but there are other fruits and vegetables that get along better. The finest fruit here is the chirimoya; its name comes from chiri (cold), and moya (seed). It grows in Peru and other parts of South America as well as in Ecuador; the fruit often reaches a weight of sixteen pounds, and has a thick green skin enclosing a snow-white pulp, in which about seventy black seeds are imbedded. Professor Orton says its taste is a happy admixture of sweetness and acidity; Hamke calls it 'a masterwork of nature;' and another traveller describes it as 'a spiritualized strawberry.' We have tried to find a description of it, but must fall back upon that of our predecessors. Dr. Holmes says all the pens in the world cannot tell how the birds sing and the lilacs swell; no more can we give in words a satisfactory account of this prince among fruits.
