Callao is a filthy, ill-built, small seaport. The inhabitants, both
here and at Lima, present every imaginable shade of mixture,
between European, Negro, and Indian blood. They appear a depraved,
drunken set of people. The atmosphere is loaded with foul smells,
and that peculiar one, which may be perceived in almost every town
within the tropics, was here very strong. The fortress, which
withstood Lord Cochrane's long siege, has an imposing appearance.
But the President, during our stay, sold the brass guns, and
proceeded to dismantle parts of it. The reason assigned was, that
he had not an officer to whom he could trust so important a charge.
He himself had good reason for thinking so, as he had obtained the
presidentship by rebelling while in charge of this same fortress.
After we left South America, he paid the penalty in the usual
manner, by being conquered, taken prisoner, and shot.
Lima stands on a plain in a valley, formed during the gradual
retreat of the sea. It is seven miles from Callao, and is elevated
500 feet above it; but from the slope being very gradual, the road
appears absolutely level; so that when at Lima it is difficult to
believe one has ascended even one hundred feet: Humboldt has
remarked on this singularly deceptive case.
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