The three States whose boundaries include to-day the Segovia Highlands and the Coro Lowlands represent the greater part of the original province of Venezuela, as known to the Welser Governors. The region is for the most part high, with no exceptional peaks, and therefore may be considered as an elevated plateau, separated from the sea by a belt of plains. In Yaracuy there are fertile valleys, as well as in the northern part of Lara and the south of Falcón; in Lara, too, round Carora, we have llanos for cattle-grazing, and Barquisimeto receives much wheat from the surrounding country. The Coro plains are mostly dry and barren, covered with cactus, which nourishes thousands of goats.

The towns and cities of this region are, almost without exception, of sixteenth-century foundation, and include, therefore, the majority of the earliest settlements in Venezuela. Despite the fact that a railway connects Barquisimeto with the coast, communication with much of Lara is only carried out by primitive means. A projected branch line to San Felipe, capital of Yaracuy, will further open up that fertile valley, and the products of northern Falcón are mainly shipped through La Vela and Curaçao. Both upland and lowland plains are very suitable for wheel traffic, and natural carreteras there contrast favourably with the bridle paths of the hills, though little labour has been expended upon them.

Barquisimeto was founded in 1552, at the northern edge of the plain, which extends thence to Tocuyo, in appearance like the dry bed of an ancient lake. As the centre for the produce of the northern Andes, as well as Lara, the town has a busy aspect, busier even than Maracaibo. In the recent troublous years the conflicting parties seem to have met in and around Barquisimeto, and as a result one is struck by the heavy iron doors, often pitted with bullet marks, of the big commercial houses, which were thus at times turned into fortresses. The plains and valleys of Lara sent to the markets of Barquisimeto their wheat, coffee, cocoa, beans, sugar, and sugar-spirit, while the aloes of this region furnish not only cocui (a spirit distilled from cocuiza) but also fibre for the manufacture of sacks, bridles, and hammocks, for which the town is celebrated.

The British built and owned Bolivar Railway connects Barquisimeto with its port of Tucacas, and a steamer of the Company carries goods and passengers thence to Puerto Cabello, Tucacas being only an internal port without a custom-house. The gauge of the line is only two feet, but a considerable amount of traffic is carried. Leaving the open and dry plains of Barquisimeto, it climbs through scrub (probably excellent cotton land) to Duaca, and then begins the ascent of the humid coastal slope, along a valley full of coffee, sugar, and cacao plantations, but little cultivation has been carried on away from the line, the country on either side being as wild and as unknown as any in Venezuela. Near Tucacas the swampy forest gives place to open sandy plains, as on much of the northern coast of Venezuela.

Below Duaca, a well-built and picturesque but apparently sleepy little town, the railway enters the State of Yaracuy, and so continues to beyond the important junction of El Hacha, where the Barquisimeto line joins that from the copper-mines of Aroa. Originally the line was built from Tucacas to Aroa, the El Hacha-Barquisimeto extension being known as the South-Western of Venezuela; now both are united, and El Hacha to Aroa is regarded as a branch line.

The copper-mines of Aroa have been known from early colonial days, and even in 1800 some ore was exported. The greatest output was recorded after the concern was conceded to an English Company in 1880, and in 1891 (the maximum year) 38,341 tons of ore, with a smaller quantity of 25 per cent. regulus, was shipped from Tucacas. Three years later the production began to decrease greatly, and smelting-works and mines alike fall into disuse. They have now been reopened by an English syndicate, and, under Mr. Scrutton’s energetic management, have already commenced to pay well. In the eighties the mines of Aroa sent to Swansea so much ore and regulus that in the statistics they ranged next to Chile.

The mines, or the entrances to them, are in a beautiful limestone gorge, full of the blue and green tinted pebbles and boulders which led the pioneers to search for the source of the mineral. On the left bank there are some cottages situated under an overhanging rock which would give a nervous inmate qualms, but presumably here as elsewhere familiarity breeds contempt. The manager’s and other white houses up the valley look charming with their girdles of orange-trees, bananas, and papayas.

Wash-outs in the gorge sometimes cause considerable damage, and at the time of our visit the mine was temporarily closed owing to the disablement of the centrifugal pumps buried under the debris brought down by exceptionally heavy rains; four inches in an hour was, I think, the fall during part of the downpour, which also carried away or buried big pieces of the Bolivar Railway.

As one walks through the galleries with a little acetylene lamp clouds of bats brush past, and the floor is alive, where dry, with cockroaches. The most recently opened parts develop a very high temperature owing to the oxidation of the copper pyrites, and in “El Purgatorio,” as it is called, one finds it difficult to breathe for a moment until a slight effort of will forces the lungs to take in the hot air. In many of the older workings there are quantities of beautiful stalactites and stalagmites in all shades of blue and green. Unfortunately, the copper-salts which colour them also make them brittle, and it would be difficult to bring one away without injury. After these the ore looks very black and dingy, though the freshly broken surface glitters brightly enough.

Near the edge of the forest on the Bolivar Railway is the station of Palma Sola, whence a branch is now being surveyed across the Aroa and up the Yaracuy Valley to San Felipe, a great boon to the agricultural interests of the State. There is a road from the town to Puerto Cabello, along which the merchandise now travels, but it is often impassable in the rains; the comparatively easy task of engineering a railway here to connect with the nearer port of Tucacas will probably enable it to be carried out profitably at the same time that it provides a cheap and rapid mode of transit for the coffee, cocoa, and hides of these rich agricultural and pastoral valleys.

In the State of Yaracuy, but south of the watershed at the western extremity of the coastal cordillera, lies Nirgua, founded in 1628 in the picturesque alluvial plain of the Buria. Copper-mines have been known and worked here from very early times, but I believe they are quiescent now; there are also, it is said, deposits of sulphur in the neighbourhood. The fertile plains and the surrounding hills send to the markets of Nirgua coffee, cocoa, beans, sugar, alcohol, cotton, and wheat, a goodly list for one small town.

Twenty miles away from Nirgua to the west in a straight line, though very much more by existing roads, is Yaritagua, the only other town of note in Yaracuy, connected by road with Barquisimeto. This is a good place for tobacco, and cigarettes used to be manufactured in considerable quantities from the local leaf; also it has its share of the ubiquitous coffee and sugar.

A natural cart-road enables the produce of Yaritagua to be shipped through Barquisimeto, the route passing by the small town of Cabudare. A similar road connects Barquisimeto with Tocuyo rather more than forty miles to the south-west.

Though the population of Tocuyo to-day is scarcely two-thirds that of Barquisimeto, it is the older town of the two, being founded by Carvajal in 1545. Its substantial, well-built houses bear witness to its former importance, and even now there is a continual stream of carts passing along the road to the capital, bearing not only coffee, sugar, and cocoa, which grow in the plantations of the valley near the town, but also wheat and temperate fruits from the hills. There are extensive potreros in the district, too, for raising sheep as well as cattle. The club building is a fine old mansion, comparable to any in Carácas, with a large patio and broad veranda.

The “road” to Barquisimeto is merely a casual track over the sand and gravel plains, but it serves its purpose, and one may make the journey in a strange vehicle, rather like a stage-coach in shape when seen from a distance, though without any outside seats, for the very good and sufficient reason that the apparently solid sides and top are of oilcloth and can be rolled up if desired. In leaving Tocuyo, el Señor cochero tells us we must be ready to start at 4 a.m., reserving to himself the right to turn up at two or five as may suit him best. This brings us to Quíbor, a little town, whose chief trade is in the temperate fruits (quinces, &c.) of the Sanare Hills, at about eight, and we leave again after midday, arriving dusty and sore at Barquisimeto by 5.30.

There are reported minas of metal and coal round about Tocuyo, and the latter certainly exists, though, like the less authentic minerals, it has never been worked.

If, in place of travelling to the capital of the State, we followed down the river from which Tocuyo takes its name, we should shortly find the cactus-covered hills replaced on the left bank by grass plains, the llanos of Carora, in the middle of which the town of the same name was founded in 1572. Like most of these more ancient towns of Venezuela, it contains many substantial buildings, and it is the market centre for the grazing lands surrounding it, where sheep as well as cattle are raised. From more remote districts come goats on the one hand, coffee and cane on the other, these last from the fertile valleys to the west. There are said to be outcrops of coal near by, a by no means improbable occurrence.

A whim of ex-President Castro’s led to the expenditure of a considerable sum on the surveying and construction of a cart-road over the Sierra Empalada to San Timoteo, on the Lake of Maracaibo. It was manifestly impossible that such a scheme could succeed, involving, as it did, the use of a hundred miles of road over a range of hills instead of some sixty miles across the level to the Bolivar Railway terminus at Barquisimeto; at the present time much of the road has fallen into disuse, the remainder forming a standing monument to misplaced energy.

In addition to the level road to Barquisimeto there is another which in some fifty miles brings us to Siquisique, the head of possible steam navigation on the Tocuyo River. Up to this point steamers were run for a short time, but the undeveloped country on either bank was not brought under cultivation as a result, and the produce of the rest failed to make the venture pay. Once again, want of population and of incentives to labour have proved the main drawbacks in a feasible project. The hills both north and south of the lower river produce, and are capable of producing more, wheat, coffee, and cocoa; downstream there are virgin forests of valuable timber, and on the north bank indications of petroleum over a wide area almost uninhabited and unexplored.

From Siquisique several roads cross the hills on the borders of Lara and Falcón to the towns of the latter. Only one town of any importance (San Luis) is situated in the hills, but about half the area of the State is accounted for by grass-clad hills and fertile valleys, the remainder being the better known coastal plain, with its dry climate and cactus vegetation, a repetition of the Barquisimeto plateau.

Coro, now only the capital of a State, but once the capital of the whole province, is situated on the plains at the base of the peculiarly shaped peninsula of Paraguana. Next to Cumaná it is the oldest town in South America, and has frequently been the landing-place for troops both in the revolution against Spain and in the course of domestic quarrels. The old church, known as the Iglesia Matriz, is interesting as the first cathedral of the New World, but, like the rest of the town, it has fallen upon evil days.

The flesh and hides of goats are the chief articles of commerce in Coro. Bred at little cost on the cactus plains, they give returns said to be enormous. I heard of one owner of a ranch along the coast who, in the course of two or three years’ breeding of and trading in goats, accumulates sufficient wealth to travel extensively in Europe, returning when his money is gone to repeat the process. The coalmines and salinas of the region count for little in comparison with this simple form of stock-farming, but there are extensive coal deposits in the foothills of the Cordillera de San Luis, whose valleys produce maize, coffee, cocoa, and arrowroot, chiefly for local consumption. The greater part of the foothills is forest-covered, and the timber and vegetable products of these will continually add to the revenues of the State in the future. Last, but not least, the coastal plain near Coro is admirably situated for the cultivation of cocuiza and other aloes, and attempts are now being made to manufacture fibre equal in quality to that of Mexico. Already Coro makes sacks and hammocks from cocuiza, in addition to soap and cigarettes, the only other industries of the place. All the produce exported passes along the seven-mile railway to the harbour of La Vela, not to be confused with the cape of the same name far to the west in Colombia.

Capatárida, a small town on the coast some thirty miles west of Coro, is chiefly famed for the excellent quality of the tobacco grown in the valley south of the town. The plains of Falcón and the peninsula of Paraguana are, however, chiefly devoted to goat-farming, the character of the country being almost identical with that of Curaçao, and most of the other coastal islands.

Curaçao is, of course, Dutch territory, but the relations of the island with Venezuela are very close—too close, in fact, from the point of view of the Government. The legitimate and registered trade between the two is small, but an enormous amount of smuggling is carried on, while Willemstad has more than once proved a convenient base for intending revolutionaries.

The town is a strange mixture both in people and language, and in character a strong contrast to those of the Venezuelan coast. If one is up betimes on board, watching for the entrance to the harbour, one wonders if it is not really a confused dream of Flushing and a desert island, so much does the port resemble a homely Dutch town transported bodily into the heat of the West Indies, and set down on a barren rock. When the steamer has entered the harbour, and the pontoon bridge has swung back behind her, one can hardly believe that the land of mañana and dolce far niente is only a few miles away across the sea.

Harbour police, in plain but good blue uniforms and helmets, in place of dirty white ducks adorned with much gold braid, pronounce us, after some conversation in very guttural Spanish, fit and proper persons to enter her Majesty’s colony of Curaçao, and we go on shore to examine this fragment of Holland.

The very cleanliness of the town seems the cause of the only discomfort experienced as one lands, for the dry soil will not support avenues of trees, and the glare from the white stone pavements and walls is almost painful. The names over the shops are sometimes Dutch, sometimes Portuguese and Spanish, often combinations of these, while the people who fill the streets are largely negroes of a strong, healthy type, talking a language which sounds like Dutch as far as accent is concerned, but on fuller acquaintance develops a likeness to Spanish. Those who know it say that all languages contribute to genuine Curaçao, and I am almost certain that I heard a Russian word used by one dusky Dutch subject. The notice on the end of the bridge tells us alternately to “Langzaam rijden” and “Kore poko poko,” the latter being the genuine Curaçao “as she is wrote,” practically Spanish spelt phonetically.

On the east side of the harbour are the Government buildings, Post Office, &c., together with the large business houses and the Dutch Reformed Church. As it was August when I visited the island, most of the comfortable-looking mansions were empty, the owners being away on home visits.

The prosperity of Willemstad, it is evident, does not depend upon natural products, of which there are none; even the oranges with which the famous liqueur was made are not grown in Curaçao now, but the building of small sloops and supplies for these, with the custom of visitors who come to buy in a free-trade market and avoid the all but prohibitive prices behind Venezuela’s tariff wall, provide work for the numerous warehouses, not to mention the illicit trade with the mainland. The official returns show straw hats as the most considerable export, although formerly a fair amount of guano and phosphate of lime was shipped away. With a water supply dependent upon casual rains and a few shallow wells, there can be no drainage system, but the dryness of the climate and the stringent sanitary regulations combine to give Curaçao absolute freedom from epidemics and a deserved reputation as a health resort.

The smaller islands of the Las Aves, Los Roques, and other groups used, like Curaçao, to export a considerable quantity of guano, and phosphate produced by atmospheric action from coral limestones under the guano. Now, however, the few small settlements are mere fishing villages, whose catch is sold on the mainland.