Sunbeam of summer, oh what is like thee, 
    Hope of the wilderness, joy of the sea.

Wednesday, October 18th. - At 3.30 a.m. we were close to the land lying south of the Bay of Lota; at 4 a.m. the engines were stopped on account of the mist; and at 6 a.m. we began to go slowly ahead again, though it was still not very easy to make out the distance and bearing of the coast. The passage into the bay, between the island of Santa Maria and Lavapie Point, is narrow and difficult, and abounds with sunken rocks and other hidden dangers, not yet fully surveyed. Tom said it was the most arduous piece of navigation he ever undertook on a misty morning; but happily he accomplished it successfully. Just as he entered the sun broke through the mist, displaying a beautiful bay, surrounded on three sides by well-wooded hills, and sheltered from all winds except the north. One corner is completely occupied by the huge establishment belonging to Madame Cousino, consisting of coal-mines, enormous smelting-works, and extensive potteries. The hill just at the back is completely bare of vegetation, which has all been poisoned by the sulphurous vapours from the furnaces. This spot, from its contiguity to the works, has been selected as the site of a village for the accommodation of the numerous labourers and their families. It is therefore to be hoped that sulphur fumes are not as injurious to animal as they evidently are to vegetable life. As we drew nearer to the shore we could distinguish Madame Cousino's house, in the midst of a park on the summit of a hill, and surrounded on all sides by beautiful gardens. Every prominent point had a little summer-house perched upon it, and some of the trees had circular seats built round their trunks half-way up, approached by spiral staircases, and thatched like wigwams. The general aspect of the coast, which is a combination of rich red earth, granite cliffs, and trees to the water's edge, is very like that of Cornwall and Devonshire.

We had scarcely dropped our anchor before the captain of the port came on board, and told us we were too far from the shore to coal, which was our special object in coming here; so up went the anchor again, and we steamed a few hundred yards further in, and then let go close to the shore, in deep water. Captain Moeller waited to go ashore with us, introduced our steward to the butcher and postmaster of the place, and then accompanied us to Madame Cousino's gardens.

It was a steep climb up the hill, but we were well rewarded for our labour. Tended by over a hundred men, whose efforts are directed by highly paid and thoroughly experienced Scotch gardeners, these grounds contain a collection of plants from all the four quarters of the globe, and from New Zealand, Polynesia, and Australia. Amid them were scattered all kinds of fantastic grottoes, fountains, statues, and ferneries; flights of steps, leading downwards to the beach, and upwards to sylvan nooks; arcades, arched over with bamboos, and containing trellis-work from Derbyshire, and Minton tiles from Staffordshire; seats of all sorts and shapes, under trees, in trees, and over trees; besides summer-houses and pagodas, at every corner where there was a pretty view over land or sea.

One of the heads of the establishment, a great friend of Madame Cousino's, was unfortunately very ill, and as she was nursing him, she could not come out to see us; but she kindly gave orders to her gardener to send some cut flowers and some ferns on board the yacht, to decorate the saloon; and as she was unable to invite us to luncheon at the big house, she sent some champagne and refreshments down to the Casa de la Administracion, where we were most hospitably entertained. She has had the latter place comfortably fitted up for the use of the principal employes on the works, and has provided it with a billiard-table, a very fair library, and several spare bed-rooms for the accommodation of visitors.

After luncheon we went to see the copper-smelting works, which were very interesting. The manager walked through with us, and explained the processes very clearly. He could tell at once, on taking up a piece of rough ore, fresh from the mine, what percentage of copper or iron it contained, the amount varying from ten to seventy-five per cent, of the gross weight. The furnaces are kept burning night and day, and are worked by three gangs of men; and the quantity of copper produced annually is enormous. In fact, three parts of the copper used in Europe comes from here. The ore is brought from various parts of Chili and Peru, generally in Madame Cousino's ships; and coal is found in such abundance, and so near the surface, that the operation of smelting is a profitable one. Our afternoon, spent amid smoke, and heat, and dirt, and half-naked workmen, manipulating with dexterous skill the glowing streams of molten ore, was a great contrast to our morning ramble.

Having seen the works, and received a curious and interesting collection of copper ore, as a remembrance of our visit, we started in a little car, lined with crimson cloth, and drawn by a locomotive, to visit the various coal-mines. First we went through the park, and then along a valley near the sea, full of wild flowers and ferns, and trees festooned with 'copigue,' the Chilian name for a creeper which is a speciality of this country, and which imparts a character of its own to the landscape during the month of May, when its wreaths of scarlet, cherry, or pink flowers are in full bloom. We went to the mouths of three coal-pits, and looked down into their grimy depths, but did not descend, as it would have occupied too much time. They are mostly about 1,000 yards in depth, and extend for some distance under the sea.

We next visited a point of land whence we could see an island which closely resembles St. Michael's Mount. It is quite uninhabited, except by a few wild goats and rabbits. The sea-shore is lined with trees to the water's edge, and there are many bold rocks and fine white sandy caves in different parts of it. Some boats were drawn up high and dry on the beach, along which several picturesque-looking groups of shell-fish collectors were scattered. The mussels that are found here are enormous - from five to eight inches in length - and they, together with cockles and limpets, form a staple article of food.

A steam-launch had been sent to meet us, but it could not get near enough to the shore for us to embark. A rickety, leaky small boat, half full of water, was therefore, after some delay, procured, and in this we were sculled out, two by two, till the whole party were safely on board. Outside there was quite a swell, and a north wind and rain are prophesied for to-morrow. Mr. Mackay returned with us to the yacht, and stayed to dinner. Before he left, the prognostications of bad weather were to some extent justified; for the wind changed, and rain, the first we have felt for some time, began to fall.

Thursday, October 19th. - We have been persuaded by our friends here to try and see a little more of the interior of Chili than we should do if we were to carry out our original intention of going on to Valparaiso in the yacht, and then merely making an excursion to Santiago from that place. We have therefore arranged to proceed at once overland to Santiago, by a route which will enable us to see something of the Cordillera of the Andes, to have a peep at the Araucanian Indians on the frontier, and to visit the baths of Cauquenes. Tom, however, does not like to leave the yacht, and has decided to take her up to Valparaiso, and then come on to Santiago and meet us, in about five or six days' time. The anchor was accordingly hove short, and the mizen hoisted, when we landed this morning, in a drenching rain.

A coach runs daily from Lota to Concepcion, the first stage of our journey, but a special vehicle was engaged for our accommodation, and a curious affair it was to look at. It seemed to be simply a huge wooden box, suspended, by means of thick leather straps, from C springs, without windows or doors, but provided with two long, narrow openings, through which you squeezed yourself in or out, and which could be closed at pleasure by roll-up leather blinds. Inside, it was roomy, well-padded, and comfortable.

The rain had made the road terribly greasy, and several times the carriage slewed half-way round and slid four or five feet sideways down the hill, causing us to hold on, in expectation of a spill. At last we reached the bottom in safety, and, crossing a small river, emerged upon the sea-shore at Playa Negra, or Black Beach, along which we drove for some distance through the deep, loose sand, the horses being up to their fetlocks in water most of the time. Then we forded another little river, and, leaving the beach, proceeded up a steep road, not more than three yards wide, with a ditch on one side and a steep precipice on the other, to the little village of Coronel, overlooking the bay of the same name. While the horses were being changed, we walked down to the little wooden pier, on the sea-shore, and saw the 'Sunbeam' just coming out of Lota Bay.

Drawn up by the side of the pier was a picturesque-looking market-boat, full of many sorts of vegetables, and little piles of sea-eggs, with their spines removed, and neatly tied up with rushes in parcels of three. The people seemed to enjoy them raw, in which state they are considered to be most nutritious; and when roasted in their shells, or made into omelettes, they are a favourite article of food with all classes. Coronel is a great coaling station, and the bay, which is surrounded by tall chimneys, shafts, and piers, connected with the mines, was full of steamers and colliers.

Our road now ran for some time through undulating pasture-land, in which were many large trees, the scene resembling a vast park. Masses of scarlet verbena, yellow calceolaria, and white heath, grew on all sides, while the numerous myrtle, mimosa, and other bushes, were entwined with orange-coloured nasturtiums, and a little scarlet tropaeolum, with a blue edge, whose name I forget. Beneath the trees the ground was thickly carpeted with adiantum fern. The road over which we travelled was of the worst description, and our luncheon was eaten with no small difficulty, but with a considerable amount of merriment. Once, when we jolted into an unusually big hole, the whole of our provisions, basket and all, made a sudden plunge towards one side of the coach, and very nearly escaped us altogether.

Half-way between Coronel and Concepcion, we met the return stage-coach, crowded with passengers, and looking as if it had just come out of the South Kensington Museum or Madame Tussaud's, or like the pictures of a coach of Queen Elizabeth's time. It was a long low vehicle, with unglazed windows all round it, painted bright scarlet decorated with brilliant devices on every panel, and suspended, like our own, by means of innumerable leather straps, from huge C springs. The seats on either side held three passengers, and there was a stool in the middle, like the one in the Lord Mayor's coach, on which four people sat, back to bask.

Soon after we drew up to rest the horses at a little posada, kept by two Germans, called 'Half-way House,' and seven miles more brought us to a rich and well-cultivated farm belonging to Mr. Hermann, where we stopped to change horses.

It was six o'clock in the evening when we reached the Bio-Bio, a wide shallow river, at the entrance of the town of Concepcion; it had to be crossed in a ferry-boat, carriage and all, and as it was after hours, we had some difficulty in finding any one to take us over. At last, in consideration of a little extra pay, six men consented to undertake the job, and having set a square-sail, to keep us from being carried down the river by the current, they punted us over with long poles. Sometimes there was nine feet of water beneath us, but oftener not more than four or five. The boat could not get close to the opposite shore, and it was a great business to get the carriage out and the horses harnessed, in some eighteen inches of water. First the carriage stuck in the sand, and then the horses refused to move, but after a great deal of splashing, and an immense display of energy in the way of pulling, jerking, shrieking, shouting - and, I am afraid, swearing - we reached the bank, emerged from the water, struggled through some boggy ground, and were taken at full gallop through the streets of the town, until we reached the Hotel Comercio, where we found comfortable rooms and a nice little dinner awaiting us.

This was all very well, as far as it went, but when we came to inquire about our onward route we were disappointed to learn that the line to Angol was closed, owing to the breaking down of a bridge, and would remain so until next month, and that, with the exception of a contractor's train, which runs only once a week, there was nothing by which we could travel. 'To-morrow is Friday,' added Monsieur Letellier, 'and that is so near Monday, what can Madame do better than wait here till then?' By way of consolation, he informed us that there were no Indians now at Angol, as the Araucanian [6] Indians had recently all been driven further back from the frontier by the Chilenos, but that, if we were still bent on trying to get there, we could go by boat as far as Nacimiento, where we might, with some difficulty, procure a carriage. The river just now, however, is so low, that the boat frequently gets aground, and remains for two or three days; therefore, taking everything into consideration, we have decided to abandon this part of our programme, for otherwise we shall not reach Santiago in time. In any case, the journey will be a much longer one than we expected.

[Footnote 6: I have lately received a letter from a friend in Paris, who says: 'Strange to tell, it is only a few days ago that poor Orelie Antoine I., ex-King of Araucania, died at Bordeaux, in a hospital. He reigned for some years, and then made war upon Chili, which gave him a warm reception; even captured his Majesty and sent him back to his native land. I met him here a few years ago, surrounded by a small court, which treated him with great deference. I found him a dignified, intelligent sovereign. He attempted to return to his kingdom, but was captured on the high seas by a Brazilian cruiser, and sent back to France to die a miserable death.]

Friday, October 20th. - We went out for a short stroll round the Plaza before breakfast, which meal was scarcely over when Mr. Mackay arrived in a carriage, and took us off to see what there was to see in the town. The Plaza was full of bright-looking flower-beds, in which were superb roses, and many English flowers, shaded by oranges, pomegranates, and deutzias. Each plot belongs to one of the principal families in the town, and great emulation is displayed as to whose little garden shall be in the best order and contain the finest collection of plants and flowers.

Concepcion has suffered, and still suffers, much from earthquakes. The existing town is only thirty-five years old. The houses are all one story high only, and the streets, or rather roads, between them are wide, in order to afford the inhabitants a chance of escape, should their dwellings be thrown down by a sudden shock. In summer everybody rushes out into the street, no matter what hour of the day or night it may be, as soon as the first symptoms of an earthquake are felt; but during the winter, when the shocks are never so severe, the alarm caused is not so great. The old town was about two miles distant from the present site, near a place now called Penco, but after being demolished in the ordinary way, an immense wave rolled up and completely destroyed all traces of its existence.

We drove out to Puchacai, Mr. Mackay's hacienda, a pretty little thatched cottage, surrounded by a verandah, in the midst of a garden, where laburnums and lilacs bloom side by side with orange-trees and pomegranates. Round the garden are groves of shady English oaks (the first we have seen since leaving home) and Norfolk Island pines, the effect of the whole scene being strangely suggestive of the idea that a charming little bit of English rural scenery has in some mysterious manner been transported to this out-of-the-way spot in Chili. The interior of the house, which is simply but tastefully furnished, and at the time of our visit was full of fresh flowers, arranged with an artistic eye to colour, bears the same indescribable homelike air. We were kindly received and regaled with luncheon, including, amongst other good things, fried pejerey (king of fish), deservedly so called.

In the afternoon we strolled about the garden, and looked at the farm and stable, and were shown the probable winner of one of the prizes at the forthcoming race-meeting. In the cottages on the estate some specimens of minaque lace were offered to us - a lace made by most of the peasants in this part of the country. It varies considerably in quality, from the coarse kind, used for covering furniture, to the finest description, used for personal adornment It is very cheap, wears for ever, and strongly resembles the torchon lace, now so fashionable in Paris and London for trimming petticoats and children's frocks. The women also spin, dye, and weave the wool from the fleece of their own sheep into the bright-coloured ponchos universally worn, winter and summer, by the men in this country. These ponchos are not made of nearly such good material as those used in the Argentine Republic, but they are considerably gayer and more picturesque in appearance.

After dinner, there was nothing to do except to stroll about the town and buy photographs. They are extremely good in Chili - both views and portraits - but proportionately dear, the price being double what would be charged in London or Paris for the same thing.

Saturday, October 21st. - Having wished good-bye to Mr. Mackay, and taken our seats in the train for Linares, we were now fairly launched on our own resources in a strange country, I being the only one of the party who could speak even a little Spanish. At San Romde we stopped half an hour to allow the train from Chilian to pass. Most of the passengers took the opportunity of breakfasting, but as we were not hungry we occupied the time in having a chat with the engine-driver, a very intelligent Canadian. He told us that, as it happened, we might have gone to Angol to-day after all, as a special car and engine were going there to take a doctor to see a patient, returning early to-morrow morning.

The railroad runs alongside the Bio-Bio all the way to San Romde. On either bank are low wooded hills, on whose sides vines are cultivated in considerable quantities. The wild flowers grow luxuriantly everywhere: calceolarias, especially, in huge bushes of golden bloom, two or three feet high. At San Romde we left the river, and travelled through a pretty and well-cultivated country to Chilian, which derives its name from an Indian word, signifying 'saddle of the sun,' and is so called from the fact that the sun shines upon it through a saddle-shaped pass in the chain of the Andes.

Like Concepcion, the existing town has been recently built at a distance of about a mile from the remains of the old place of the same name, which was overthrown by an earthquake about thirty years ago. The destruction was, however, not so complete as in the case of Concepcion, and some few of the better-conditioned houses are still inhabited by very poor people, though the walls have great cracks in them from top to bottom, and they are otherwise in a deplorable state. A large cattle and horse market is held at Chilian every Saturday, and it is said that, on these occasions, 100,000 dollars frequently change hands in the course of the morning, in the open market-place. All the business of the day was over by the time we got there, and there was nothing to be seen but a few stray beasts and quaint bullock-carts, and some peasants selling refreshments, minaque lace, and other trifles. In several of the old-fashioned shops on the Plaza there were curious-looking stirrups, bits, spurs, and other horse-gear, all made of solid silver, roughly worked by the Indians themselves.

Having had our baths, we returned to the hotel, where we found dinner laid out in my bed-room, which happened to be the largest, for our host did not approve of our dining at the table-d'hote, as we should have preferred to do. He gave us an excellent dinner, with good wine, and attended to us most assiduously himself.

While the gentlemen were smoking, I went to see a poor engine-driver who had met with a bad accident, and who was lying at this hotel. He is a fine healthy-looking Englishman, and he told me that, until this misfortune, he had never known a day's illness in his life. It seems that, at four o'clock in the afternoon of this day week, he was sent off with a special engine to convey an important message. Something going wrong during the journey, he slackened speed, and, in stepping off the engine to see what was the matter, his foot slipped, and the wheel of the tender went over it. He had no one with him who could manage the engine alone, so he was obliged to get up again, and endeavour to struggle on to Talca; but after going a few miles further, the engine suddenly ran off the track, at a part of the unfinished line that had not yet been sufficiently ballasted. They could not get it on again unaided, and one of the men had to start off and walk many miles before he could procure assistance. Altogether, poor Clarke underwent forty-two hours of intense agony from the time of the accident until he received any medical attention. In spite of this he is now doing well; and though the foot, which is in a bath of carbolic acid and water, looks very bad, he is in great spirits, because the three local doctors, in consultation, have decided that amputation will not be necessary. He spoke in the highest terms of the kindness of our French host and his Spanish wife, the latter of whom, he says, has nursed him like a mother. He certainly has the one large room in the house, and when I saw him his bed was comfortably made and arranged, flowers and fruit were on a table by his side, and everything looked as neat and snug as possible. It was a treat to him to see some one fresh from the old country, and to hear all the news, and our voyage appeared to interest him greatly. While I was with him one of his friends came in, who remembered me quite well, and who knew one or two people with whom we are acquainted, including the manager of Messrs. Bowdler and Chaffers' yard, where the 'Sunbeam' was built.

Sunday, October 22nd. - Though it was Sunday, we had no choice but to travel on, or we should not have been able to start until Tuesday. We were therefore up at five o'clock, and at the station before seven. From San Carlos, where we arrived at 8.15 a.m., we started for Linares, which was reached a couple of hours later. It is a much smaller town than Chilian, but is built on exactly the same plan - Plaza, cathedral, and all. To-day the streets were crowded with men on horseback, who had brought their wives in, seated pillion-fashion on the crupper behind them, to attend mass.

Our road lay through a rich country, intersected by small rivers; with the distant snowy chain of the Andes as a background, and through thickly planted groves of poplars, growing in long shady avenues, fragrant with perfume from the magnificent roses which blossomed beneath their shade. In the course of our four hours' drive, we crossed a great many streams, in some of which the water was deep enough to come in at the bottom of the carriage, and cause us to tuck ourselves up on the seats; there was always a little pleasing excitement and doubt, as we approached one of these rivulets, as to whether we were to be inundated or not. We met a good many people riding and walking about in their holiday clothes, and at all the cabarets groups of talkers, drinkers, and players were assembled.

The cottages we have seen by the roadside have been picturesque but wretched-looking edifices, generally composed of the branches of trees stuck in the ground, plastered with mud and thatched with reeds. Two outhouses, or arbours, consisting of a few posts and sticks, fastened together and overgrown with roses and other flowers, serve respectively as a cool sitting-room and a kitchen, the oven being invariably built on the ground outside the latter, for the sake of coolness. The women, when young, are singularly good-looking, with dark complexions, bright eyes, and luxuriant tresses, which they wear in two plaits, hanging down their backs far below the waist. The men are also, as a rule, fine-looking. In fact, the land is good, and everybody and everything looks prosperous. The beasts are up to their knees in rich pasture, are fat and sleek, and lie down to chew the cud of contentment, instead of searching anxiously for a scanty sustenance. The horses are well fed, and their coats are fine and glossy, and the sheep, pigs, and other animals are in equally good condition. It is therefore a cheery country to travel through, and at this spring-time of the year one sees it in its highest perfection.

Before reaching Talca we had to cross the Maule, a wide, deep river, with a swift current. The carriage was first put on board a large flat-bottomed boat, into which the horses then jumped, one by one, the last to embark tumbling down and rolling among the legs of the others. With a large oar the boat was steered across the stream, down which it drifted about 200 yards into shallow water, where the boatmen jumped out and towed us to a convenient landing-place. Here we found several people waiting to be ferried over. A troop of mules having been driven into the water, which they seemed rather to enjoy, swam across safely, though they were carried some distance down the river.

About five o'clock we arrived at Talca, and went straight to the Hotel Colon, kept by Gassaroni. Every Italian who starts an hotel in this part of the world calls it, as a matter of course, 'The Columbus Hotel;' for they are very anxious to claim the great navigator as a countryman, though the Spaniards dispute their right to do so, on the ground that Genoa, where he was really born, was at that time an independent State. While we were waiting for dinner we walked about the town, which so exactly resembles Concepcion and Chilian in the arrangement of its streets, buildings, and trees, that I doubt whether any one familiar with the three places could tell immediately which town he was in, if transported suddenly to the middle of the Plaza, though I believe Talca is rather the largest. It still retains its old Indian name, meaning 'thunder,' doubtless on account of the frequency and violence of the thunder-storms by which it is visited.

Monday, October 23rd. - Soon after midnight I was aroused by a great noise. At first I thought I was dreaming, but a very brief reflection convinced me of the existence of an energetically played big-drum, somewhere in the immediate neighbourhood of my bed-room. I at once got up and, peeping through the window in the door, saw a military band of twenty-five performers, standing on the other side of the courtyard, blowing and hitting their hardest. It must be confessed that they played well, and that their selection of music was good, but it was, nevertheless, rather annoying, after a long and fatiguing day, and with the prospect of an early start, to be kept awake until half-past three in the morning, while they serenaded and toasted the prima donna, and each of the other members of the theatrical company who are staying here. The noise was, of course, increased by the reverberation from the walls of the courtyard, and, finding it impossible to sleep, I abandoned the attempt, and took to writing instead. At last the welcome notes of the Chilian national air gave me hope that the entertainment was over for the night - or rather morning - and soon afterwards all was once more quiet.

We left Talca by the 7.30 train, Mr. Budge, who had business at Curico, accompanying us. All the engines and rolling stock this side of Santiago are of American make and pattern. Mr. Budge had secured one of the long cars, with a passage down the centre, and a saloon at each end, for us, so we were very comfortable, and he told us a great deal about the country as we went along. Like all Chilenos, he is very patriotic, and is especially proud of the financial stability of his country. He often said,' If English people would only invest their money here, instead of in Peru or the Argentine Republic, they would get eight per cent, on good security.' We heard the same thing from many other sources; and it certainly does seem that this country is the most settled, and the least liable to be disturbed by revolutions, of any in South America. At Curico[7] we breakfasted at a little restaurant on Chilian dishes and the wine of the country. The latter is excellent and of various kinds, but it is so cheap that none of the innkeepers can be persuaded to supply it to travellers, whose only chance of tasting it, therefore, is at some small inn.

[Footnote 7: An Indian name, signifying 'black waters,' having reference to the mineral springs in the neighbouring mountains.]

Mr. Budge left us at Pelequen, the next station to San Fernando, having put us in charge of the conductor, who promised to see after us at Cauquenes, but who wofully betrayed his trust. There was no regular station at the latter place, but as the train stopped, and we saw 'Bains de Cauquenes' on an hotel close by, we jumped out just in time to see it go on again. Luckily the other passengers were kind enough to interest themselves on our behalf, and shrieked and hallooed to such good purpose that the engine was once more brought to a standstill, and our luggage was put out. Half-a-dozen little boys carried it to the inn, where I had to explain to the patron, in my best Spanish, that we wanted a carriage to go to the baths, seven leagues off. In a wonderfully short space of time, four good horses were harnessed to a queer sort of vehicle, which held four inside and one out, besides the driver, and which had to be entered by means of a ladder. Having all packed in, and paid our fare beforehand, we were rattled off at a merry pace towards the Andes. The road went up and down and round about, and crossed many rivers, but was fairly good throughout. We changed once at a large hacienda, where a man went into a large yard, containing about sixty horses, and dexterously lassoed the particular four required for our use. Several horsemen were waiting about, and I looked at their saddles, which were made of a dozen or more sheepskins, laid one on the top of the other, forming a soft seat to ride in by day and a comfortable bed to sleep on at night.

Early in the afternoon we saw some buildings in the distance, which we rightly guessed to be the baths, and soon afterwards we passed in at the entrance gate of the establishment, by the side of which was a rock with the word 'Welcome' painted upon its face. The whole distance from the station was twenty-three miles, which we had accomplished in a little over two hours. Driving between hedgerows of roses in full bloom, we were not long in reaching the door of the hotel, where we were received by the proprietor. He told us he was very full, but he managed to find us some small rooms, and then conducted us to the luxuriously fitted bathing establishment. After this came the table-d'hote, to which about seventy sat down, though many of the visitors were dining in their own rooms. In the evening we walked about the garden and chatted with several people, who all seemed to have heard of us and our voyage, and to be anxious to know what we thought of the Straits. We saw some English papers too, which was a great treat, though there did not seem to be much news in them.

Tuesday, October 24th. - This is a wonderful place, built entirely of wood. The centre part is a square, seventy yards in extent, surrounded by a single row of one-storied rooms, with doors opening into the courtyard, and windows looking over the river or up into the mountains. In the middle of the square are a pavilion containing two billiard-tables, a boot-blacking arbour, covered with white and yellow jessamine and scarlet and cream-coloured honeysuckle, plenty of flower-beds, full of roses and orange-trees, and a monkey on a pole, who must, poor creature, have a sorry life of it, as it is his business to afford amusement to all the visitors to the baths. He is very good-tempered, does several tricks, and is tormented 'from early dawn to dewy eve.' I remonstrated with our host on his behalf; but he merely shrugged his shoulders and said, 'Mais il faut que le monde se divertisse, Madame.' From the centre square, marble steps lead to a large hall, with marble baths on either side, for ladies and gentlemen respectively. A few steps further bring one to a delightful swimming-bath, about forty feet square, filled with tepid water. The water, as it springs from the rock, is boiling hot, and contains, I believe, a good deal of magnesia and other salts, beneficial in cases of rheumatism and gout; but the high temperature of the water makes the air very muggy, and we all found the place relaxing, though perhaps it was because we indulged too freely in the baths, which are a great temptation.

In the afternoon we went for a ride, to see a celebrated view of the Andes. Unfortunately it was rather misty, but we could see enough to enable us to imagine the rest. Some condors were soaring round the rocky peaks, and the landscape, though well clothed with vegetation, had a weird, dreary character of its own, partly due to the quantity of large cacti that grew in every nook and corner, singly, or in groups of ten or twelve, to the height of twenty or thirty feet. Though they say it hardly ever rains in Chili, a heavy shower fell this afternoon, and our landlord thoughtfully sent a boy on horseback after us with umbrellas.

Wednesday, October 25th. - The bath was so delightful this morning, that we felt quite sorry it was to be our last. One could very well spend a week or two here, and find plenty to do in the way of excursions into the valleys of the Andes, which look most inviting in the distance.

At half-past ten, we set out on our return journey to the railway, changing horses at the same place where we had stopped at coming up, and which we reached half an hour before the train was due; when it arrived we were allowed to get in with our belongings in rather a less hurried fashion than we had alighted. Luncheon was procured at Rancagua, and we finally reached Santiago at about 4.50 p.m. No sooner had we got fairly into the station than the car was invaded by a crowd of Porters touting for employment. They are all dressed in white, and wear red caps, on which is a brass number, by means of which they are easily recognised. The landlord from the Hotel Ingles, M. Tellier, met us, and we at once drove off, leaving our luggage to follow, in charge of one of the red-capped gentlemen. The drive from the station was along the Alameda, on either side of which were many fine houses; but the road was ill-paved and shaky as usual.

The Grand Hotel, which used to be considered the best in South America, is now shut up, the company who owned it having recently failed; so all the smaller hotels, none of which are very good, are crowded to overflowing. The Hotel Ingles is considered the best, though I cannot say much in its favour. The rooms are good, but the situation is noisy, being at the corner of two streets; the servants are attentive, but the cuisine and arrangements are bad. Independently of all this, we have great reason to complain of the conduct of the landlord, for my first question, as soon as he had introduced himself, was, of course, 'Have Mr. and Miss Brassey arrived?' 'Yes, Madame, and went away this morning.' 'What! and left no letter?' 'No; but Monsieur returns to-morrow.' Imagine my surprise and disappointment! But there was nothing to be done but to go to the hotel and wait patiently. We afterwards found that Tom had left a long letter, and that he had never said a word about returning. The wretched man would not give me the letter, because he thought he could detain us, and he never sent the telegram I handed to him to forward to Tom at once, asking for an answer.

Our luggage arrived just in time to enable us to dress for the second table-d'hote at six o'clock, after which we went for a walk through some arcades, paved with marble, and full of fine shops, past the Grand Hotel, which was situated at the end of the Alameda, and is built over an arcade of shops. It is a handsome building, and must command a fine view. The cathedral and the archbishop's palace, large but rather dull-looking brick buildings, are close by. The surrounding gardens looked pretty by gaslight, and the scent of roses pervaded the evening air.