than grazing purposes. Higher up, where the river banks are firmer and better defined, the soil is still of aluminum formation of immense depth and inexhaustible fertility; but for the most part it is yet very much as nature made it. A little farther up, it does not so much present the appearance of a "new country," as it does of a country that has been allowed to relapse into the bush and forest. And this merely accords with the facts of its history. For quite early in Spanish colonial times, when negro slavery was in vogue, this was a cultivated and productive region. It is now inhabited, where it is inhabited at all, by the negro and his mixed descendants, who, for the most part, live an aimless, idle, and shiftless life.

Neither this middle region nor that of the coast is necessarily unhealthful, though both have a bad reputation abroad. There is, of course, an abundance of malaria at certain seasons; but this would soon disappear under proper drainage and cultivation. What the country needs, therefore, is an industrious and enterprising population. Even as it is, its climate is not much worse than that in some portions of Mississippi and Louisiana; and with proper attention to the laws of health, the foreigner need not be alarmed about fever, which is generally of a mild type and yields readily to medical treatment. But here, as elsewhere in the tropics, one must live with constant care. There must be an adaptation to environment. There must be temperance in all things, regularity of habit, careful avoidance of exposure to sun and rain, and to night dews and draughts. If these conditions are strictly observed, the foreign tourist or sojourner need have no apprehensions about his health.

Some two hundred miles up from the coast, the valley branches off into that of the Cauca, one of the most

picturesque and beautiful regions on the continent. The upper part of this valley, near the town of Cali, has an elevation of some three thousand feet above sealevel, and the climate is therefore delightful. The temperature is rarely above 75° or below 65° the year round. The soil is singularly productive and well adapted to both sugar and cotton, though very little cotton is now raised there; and that little is generally of a very inferior quality, owing to want of proper cultivation. The foothills on either side are well adapted to wheat and maize, and indeed to most of the cereals of the north temperate zone. The river Cauca is a beautiful stream, navigable at all seasons by small steamers. In the old colonial days, this little valley was an Arcadia of wealth and luxury; possibly the most desirable spot for country residence in New Granada. It is now, for the most part, practically abandoned to the descendants of former negro slaves, and is, therefore, anything but a desirable place of residence for white families.

But to return to the Magdalena. As we ascend the river beyond the mouth of the Cauca, we observe that the banks are firmer and better defined; there are fewer swamps and bayous, and a greater number and a better class of houses. This was once a region of vast estates, now fallen into partial or complete decadence. Indeed, one somehow gets the impression that the country is gradually but surely relapsing into its primitive state. Occasionally you see the rudiments of an old plantation, the relic of a former civilization; and sometimes the pleasing evidences of a newer and better condition of society. But for the most part the houses are mere sheds with straw roofs, or rude mud huts with dirt floors, inhabited by negroes and their mixed descendants. Occasionally one sees what appears to be a new town or settlement, with neat tiled roof houses. These

are of comparative recent origin, and were brought into existence by the river trade which has been stimulated by steamboat navigation. About such places there is usually a large contingent of white men, mostly foreigners; but there are few white families. The negroes, mulattoes, and mestizos constitute the basis of the resident population. The few educated men among them are usually small politicians, who seem to have no thought of making a living other than by holding office under the government. The lower classes are idle, shiftless, and improvident. They have few wants above such as are incident to mere animal existence, and these are satisfied by the indigenous plantain and native fruits and fish.

Such was this region as I first knew it a quarter of a century ago. Since then, there has been considerable progress, but it has been almost imperceptibly slow. In some places there have been attempts generally by impecunious foreign promoters to build railroads connecting this part of the river with the mining and agricultural districts in the coves and on the plateaux of the remote interior; but generally all such enterprises have been failures, either for want of capital, or owing to some local "revolution," and the traditional pack mule is still about the only reliable means of overland transportation.

In some places small traders have established a profitable, though limited business. They buy up and ship to the coast for export such native products as chocolate, coffee, hides, ivory nuts, straw hats, vegetable dyes, and minerals; and import and sell in return, small stocks of foreign merchandise, such as cotton cloths, flour, petroleum, cutlery, shoes, ready-made clothing, stationery, brandy, and brass jewelry. This class of trade has greatly increased within the last few years; but with

one or two exceptions, it has never expanded much beyond small barter.

In making the ascent of the river from Barranquilla to Honda, one passes through three distinct belts of country; separate and well defined not only with respect to topography, soil, and climate, but no less so with respect to the general appearance and character of the population. First is the great dreary-looking, half-submerged region bordering on the coast, so sparsely populated even by half-naked negroes that it seems a wilderness. Next, in the region of greater elevation, we see groves of the golden mango, where the orange and citron are indigenous, where the plantain and the calabash are ever present, where the banyan tree flourishes, and where the nut-palm and the wild oleander grow to perfection.

Thence we pass up into the volcanic region, where grandeur of mountain scenery, fertility of soil, and salubrity of climate combine to make a most interesting and attractive country. Here one occasionally sees traces of the negro, but he is almost an exotic. The basis of the rural population is the native Indian, whose mother tongue he has now quite forgotten, and whose ancient civilization and religion has been lost in that of the Castilian.

The negro of the lower valley is not essentially different from the types of his race elsewhere, except perhaps that he is a trifle more idle and shiftless, and possibly more aggressive and quarrelsome. He is often coarse and offensive in language and manner, generally grossly immoral, and always very superstitious. And although constantly acting as if conscious of his inferiority, he is every ready on the slightest occasion to assert his fancied "equality," and seems to have an impression that some one is always trying to impose upon him.

The native Indian of this region is a copper-colored, short, stocky, broad-chested fellow, with beardless face, high cheek-bones, straight black hair, soft dark eyes, great white teeth, and small well-shaped hands and feet. He is naturally hospitable and civil, always dignified and courteous in manner, generally evasive and untruthful, but seldom disrespectful, either in language or bearing. He rarely enters into an angry altercation, and seldom drinks anything stronger than his native decoction of maize and molasses. He believes in dreams and angelic visitations, and is governed by a deep native religious sentiment, now directed by the Roman Church. In this he differs greatly from the Magdalena negro, who, while believing in witchcraft, charms, and incantations, generally pays very little attention to the teachings and requirements of the Church, and rarely consults a priest except when he falls suddenly ill and thinks he is about to die.

With

The river itself is not the least of the many physical curiosities of this curiously interesting region. its sources in the snow-capped ridges of the Andes, directly under the equator, at an altitude of more than two miles above the sea-level, it rushes down a succession of steppes and perpendicular cliffs till it reaches the head of the great valley, whence it flows in rapid whirlpools in general direction northward to the Caribbean, thus constituting the geographical complement of the Mississippi, which it somewhat resembles, and carrying down its rapid current a volume of sand and water nearly as great. It is always very muddy, whether at high tide or low, whether in the midst of the wet or dry season. It is no unusual thing, especially in the upper reaches of the river, during high tide, for the waters to be so heavily charged with sand and sediment as to cause a metallic, tinkling