In New Granada | Page 3

at Guayaquil, he heard that in the region of the little town of Loja, three days' journey off, grew in the greatest profusion the cinchona, or Peruvian bark tree, at that time but comparatively little known in Europe. Although my father was well acquainted with the beneficial effect produced by the bark in cases of intermittent fever, he was anxious to ascertain, by personal examination, the other peculiarities of the tree. He obtained leave, therefore, from the governor, to proceed in the first instance to Loja. That place he reached without difficulty. On his arrival in the town, he found that a Spanish doctor was residing there for the same object, but that he was now laid up by a severe attack of illness, unable to continue his researches. My father immediately called on him, and found that he was no other than Doctor Cazalla, a physician widely celebrated for his scientific knowledge and talents. Introducing himself as a medical man, my father offered to prescribe for his brother physician, and in a short time had the satisfaction of restoring him to health. The two doctors then set out together on an expedition of botanical research, in which both Dicky and Paul accompanied them.
The time thus spent together having resulted in the establishment of a warm friendship between my father and the Spanish doctor, the latter prevailed upon him to visit Popayan, his native place, on the way to Cartagena. Their journey over that mountain region amid which Chimborazo towers to the sky, was interesting in the extreme. I have often heard my father speak of it. Popayan was at length safely reached, with the botanical treasures they had collected; and here my father was induced to remain for some time, in order to assist his friend in their arrangement. Before their labours came to an end, my father and Dicky were taken seriously ill. It now became the turn of the Spanish doctor to attend to them. He, however, was aided in his task by two ladies,--his sister and a young niece; the latter taking Dicky under her special charge. The result was that my father married the doctor's sister, and Dicky fell desperately in love with his niece. The war with Spain was by this time over, and the Zebra had returned to England, so my father and his young charge, believing that they had little prospect of getting on in the navy, determined to remain where they were. As Doctor Cazalla was engrossed in scientific pursuits, he gladly yielded up his practice to my father, his brother-in-law, whose fame as a physician was soon established in the town and throughout the surrounding district.
Richard Duffield, for I ought now to give him his proper name, in the course of a few years married Dona Maria, the girl who had so affectionately tended him, and who proved to be the heiress to a nice estate in the neighbourhood, to the improvement of which, when he became the proprietor, Richard devoted his time and attention; while Paul Lobo remained with my father as his personal attendant and general factotum.
CHAPTER TWO.
OUR STUDIES INTERRUPTED--DON JUAN DE LEON--A RIDE TO VISIT DON RICARDO, ACCOMPANIED BY HUGH AND OUR TUTOR, MR. LAFFAN--DESCRIPTION OF POPAYAN-- TYRANNICAL TREATMENT OF NEW GRANADA AND VENEZUELA BY THE SPANIARDS-- PREVIOUS STRUGGLES OF THE COLONISTS FOR LIBERTY--FEARFUL CRUELTIES INFLICTED ON THEM BY THE SPANIARDS--MY UNCLE, DR. CAZALLA, A KNOWN LIBERAL--HIS DANGEROUS POSITION--HOW MR. LAFFAN BECAME OUR TUTOR--JUAN EXPATIATES ON THE PERFECTIONS OF DONA DOLORES, AND INVITES ME TO ACCOMPANY HIM ON A VISIT--PASS A PARTY OF INDIANS--DON RICARDO'S HACIENDA--FRUITS OF NEW GRANADA--INVITED TO STAY--JUAN, OUR TUTOR, AND I SERENADE DONA DOLORES--THE INTERVIEW--DONA DOLORES ENDEAVOURS TO AROUSE JUAN'S PATRIOTISM--MUSIC VICTORIOUS--A HEROINE--JUAN DEVOTES HIMSELF TO THE CAUSE OF FREEDOM.
"Holloa! mio amigo Senor Duncan, come down! I want to have a talk with you. You can spare a few minutes from your books."
Leaving the table at which I was seated with my brother Hugh and our tutor, Mr Michael Laffan, I went to the window, which looked out into the court of our house at Popayan, when I saw that the person who had hailed me was our friend Don Juan de Leon. He had just ridden in, mounted on a fine black horse, his special pride; and as he gracefully sat his steed, he looked a remarkably handsome young fellow. His costume, too,--a broad-brimmed sombrero, a feather secured to it by a jewelled buckle, a richly-trimmed poncho or capote over his shoulders, broad leggings, ornamented with braiding and tags, and large silver spurs,--became him well.
"Come down, Duncan, I want to speak to you," he said, beckoning to me.
Having obtained permission, I descended to the courtyard with a hop, skip, and jump. After shaking hands, I begged him to come in, as I