Lead, iron, antimony, sulphur, copper, and tin abound in this department; the tin is found on the surface of the plain.
The climate of Oruro is cold, and the soil very unproductive. Potatoes, quinua, with a little barley, are raised in some places. Llamas, alpacas, vicuñas, guanacos, and the skins of the chinchillos, are used as exchanges on the coast of Peru for rum and wine.
From shallow lakes salt four inches thick is gathered, and exchanged for grains and flower. The pasture is so scarce that few cattle are raised. Jackasses being more economical than horses, pick up a living on the plain as they carry salt to the cattle districts, or journey over the mountains with silver and gold, a distance of one hundred and eighty-three leagues, to the seaport of Cobija, where they meet ships from the United States loaded with flour.
Cobija is a free port of entry, and merchants send this distance for many articles of trade, in preference to paying duty from Arica through the territory of Peru. As the jackass travels very slowly, and the Indian driver generally accommodates his pace to the loaded animal's, the cargo from Cobija requires thirty-five days. It is difficult to find men willing to make the trip over that barren country.
The inhabitants of Corocoro were generally intoxicated on our arrival; neither the postman nor the governor appeared. Two persons, incorrectly supposing they were sober, called for our passports, saying the governor was absent, and they were the authorities next in power. One of them encountered some difficulty in reading the document.
He inquired of José the reason it was not presented at the governor's house? José answered, "It was usual for the authorities to call upon strangers." The man became very angry, and abused José. Being requested to read our papers and take his departure, he said "he did not know whether we were English or French gringos." We pointed out to him the words "Los Estados Unidos;" when looking up with surprise, he bowed, touched his hat, and bidding us good evening, they quietly and quickly walked off. I mention this fact solely because it was the only case throughout our route where a personal difficulty with the authorities was encountered; having to deal with such a number, it was the only exception to politeness and accommodating manners—possibly occasioned by some foreign importation.
The town is on the decline; it looks so dilapidated, and like the dusty, unproductive country round about, that had it not been for the church steeples and the chicha, we might have passed without having seen it. A cura, travelling with his servant, left his intended road and joined us for company. He had been on a visit to La Paz from Sucre, the capital of Bolivia, with a remittance from the church. As we rode along on the table-lands, he would point out an unusually level piece of ground, and say, "What a beautiful place for a battle between two armies." The man who had carried the remittance to La Paz trotted on foot after us, and travelled every day as fast and as far as the cura with his fine bay mule. We read each other's passports.
Stopping on the plain at a small hut, the only habitation in sight, except a large stone church, we inquired for water; there was none, but a fat woman said she had chicha. The cura purchased a gallon for the same price other people usually pay for a pint. The woman said "she had chewed the maize for it herself;" so we had the manufacturing apparatus before us, established without wheels or water. She kissed the cura's hand, and asked for his blessing. With one hand on her head and the other occupied with the chicha jug, he uttered a short prayer, tossed off the beverage and mounted his mule.
Our course is now east; we leave the table lands and enter a small narrow pass in the Andes. As the sun goes down over the Cordilleras, the hawks go to roost among the rocks. All is still as we ride up to a lonely hut—the post-house of Condorchinoca; while the Indian attends to our mules, his wife cooks supper, and his little child plays with the post dog. The night is clear, calm, and cold.
Ascending the western side of the Andes we come to a spring at the temperature of 68°; the water flows westward. We are now about to leave the Titicaca basin, which contains an area of thirty-nine thousand six hundred square miles. It is a curious basin; all round its edge snow is found, from which numerous streams of water flow and wash away the soil, so as to show that the earth is partly made up of silver.