What a contrast between these glorious valleys—in which Rasselas might well have lived—and the rugged heights of the silver city, Ceno Pasco: its dirty streets, and half-savage people; its unhealthy mines, and blackened smelting-furnaces; its bare rocks and scrubby patches of brown herbage affording a scanty subsistence to its flock of shaggy llamas.
It is a charm to travelers among the Andes, that, within their limits, these vast mountains enclose every climate. Within the range of one degree of latitude, we may sit and burn under a palm-tree, or lie down upon a bed of Alpine moss.
BETTER DAYS.
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BY LYDIA L. A. VERY.
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Was it a dream that came to me,
That men’s care-worn faces seemed to be
Clothed with a calm serenity—