Sailing north, we entered the Bay of Callao, the port of Lima.  Before us lay Callao, with rich green plains on either side, covered with white farms and willow-trees, with the high cliffs of Morro Solar to the south, and below it the bathing-place of Cherillos.  Six or eight miles inland appeared the white towers of Lima, surrounded by orange-groves; while above them, far into the blue sky, rose peak beyond peak of the ever-glorious snow-capped Andes.  Such is the scene which, for many ages past, has been looked on; but a change--a great and important one--is taking place in the land; and what was our surprise, when we went on shore, to see English omnibuses and broughams--and more than that, the terminus of a railway, the carriages of which ran rattling on to Lima.