CHILE AND HER PEOPLE OF TO-DAY

Uniform with This Volume

L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
53 Beacon Street, Boston, Mass.

A CHILEAN GIRL WITH THE MANTA.

([See page 90])

CHILE AND HER
PEOPLE OF
TO-DAY

AN ACCOUNT OF THE
CUSTOMS, CHARACTERISTICS, AMUSEMENTS,
HISTORY AND ADVANCEMENT
OF THE CHILEANS, AND THE
DEVELOPMENT AND RESOURCES OF
THEIR COUNTRY

BY
NEVIN O. WINTER

Author of “Mexico and Her People of To-day,”
“Guatemala and Her People of To-day,”
“Brazil and Her People of To-day,”
“Argentina and Her People of
To-day”

ILLUSTRATED FROM ORIGINAL AND SELECTED
PHOTOGRAPHS BY THE AUTHOR

BOSTON
L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY
MDCCCCXII

Copyright, 1912
By L. C. Page & Company
(INCORPORATED)

All rights reserved

First Impression, January, 1912

Electrotyped and Printed by
THE COLONIAL PRESS
C. H. Simonds & Co., Boston, U.S.A.

PREFACE

To the jealousy of Francisco Pizarro was due the discovery and conquest of Chile. Reports having reached Pizarro that there were regions to the south yet virgin, and teeming with wealth richer than that of Peru, he sent Diego de Almagro, one of his lieutenants, with an expedition to conquer these unknown lands. Almagro failed, and later he sent Pedro de Valdivia with another expedition. There was another reason for sending these expeditions, for Pizarro hoped that neither of these men would return to Peru, since he feared their shrewdness and popularity.

Valdivia succeeded in establishing a permanent settlement, but himself fell a victim to the hardy tribesmen of the central valley of Chile, who were far different from the soft and mild Incas enslaved by Pizarro. He had found that it was no easy task he had undertaken, and the sturdy race of Araucanians was still unconquered when the Spaniards were driven out of the country by the generations that had grown up from the time of its first settlement.

The Chileans have ever been independent in thought and action, and they have proved to be the best soldiers of South America. The temperate climate, the mountainous character of the country and its isolation, and the admixture of blood with the unconquerable Araucanians, who most nearly resemble the North American redmen of any of the aborigines of South America, have all contributed to the development of this characteristic.

The government is now as stable and hopeful as that of any of the South American nations, and, because of its natural formation, Chile has developed into the strongest maritime nation of that continent. Its fine bays and harbours, its coal supplies and its long seacoast, undoubtedly destine Chile to be the master of the southern seas in the ages yet to come. Furthermore, its vast and fertile valleys, where every product of the temperate climate grows, and where immense herds of cattle may be fed, its mineral wealth and vast nitrate fields, undoubtedly destine it to a greatness on land as well as on the sea.

The history of Chile has always appealed to the writer, in common with thousands of other people, and it has been a pleasure to trace the development of the country from its incipiency to its present condition. The same care has been exercised in the preparation of “Chile and Her People of To-day” as in the other books of the series, which have been so well received. Any repetitions that appear of expressions or ideas are intentional and not the result of hasty or careless preparation.

The author wishes to acknowledge his obligation to The Pan-American Bulletin for two or three photographs which appear in this work, and also to the Bureau under which it is issued for many courtesies received at the hands of the Director and his associates.

Nevin O. Winter.

Toledo, Ohio, January, 1912.

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

CHILE AND HER PEOPLE OF TO-DAY

CHAPTER I
THE COUNTRY

The republic of Chile has one of the strangest configurations of any country on the globe. It stretches over thirty-eight degrees of latitude, thus giving it a coast line of twenty-six hundred and twenty-five miles from its northern border to the most southerly point on the Fuegian Archipelago. It is a long and narrow ribbon of land, at no place wider than two hundred miles, and in places narrowing to sixty-five miles. It has an average width of only ninety miles, while the length is fully thirty times the average width. Placed on the western coast of North America, in the corresponding latitude, this republic would extend from Sitka, Alaska, to a point on the Pacific coast opposite the City of Mexico. If the state of Texas should be stretched out into a narrow strip of land two thousand and five hundred miles in length, it would give a fair idea of the peculiar shape of Chile. It follows quite closely the seventieth parallel of longitude, which would correspond with that of Boston. This strange development has been due to the Andean mountain range, which, with its lofty peaks and numberless spurs, forms the eastern boundary throughout its entire length. For a long time the boundary lines with its neighbours were in dispute, but these have all been successfully adjusted.

Transcriber’s Note: The map is clickable for a larger version, if the device you’re reading this on supports that.

Within these boundaries there is naturally a wide divergence of climate. In the north, at sea level, the vegetation is tropical, and it is semi-tropical for several hundred miles south. If one goes inland the mountains are soon encountered, and the line of perpetual snow is reached at about fifteen thousand feet, but this line descends as you proceed south. On the Fuegian Islands snow seldom disappears from sight, although at sea level it may all thaw. The temperature everywhere varies according to altitude and proximity to the sea. In the north it is milder than the same latitude on the eastern coast, because of the Antarctic Current which washes the shores, and at the south it is warmer than the same latitude in North America. Within these extremes, from the regions which are washed by the Antarctic seas to the banks of the Sama River, which separates it from Peru, and between the shores where the Pacific breakers roll and the Cordilleras of the Andes which mark the boundary with Argentina, there are two hundred and ninety-one thousand, five hundred square miles, and supporting a population of three and a quarter millions of people, of many shades of colour.

One-fourth or more of the territory of Chile is made up of islands. The largest of these, of course, is Tierra del Fuego, of which a little more than one-half is Chilean territory. The coast from Puerto Montt to the southern limits of the continent is notched and indented with fiords and inlets, and scores of islands have been formed, probably by volcanic action. Few of these have claimed any attention, and, of all those lashed by the waves of the Antarctic seas, Tierra del Fuego is the only one that has received any development. The sheep man has taken possession of portions of that island, and hundreds of thousands of sheep now graze on its succulent grasses. The island of Chiloé, near Puerto Montt, is one of the most important of the islands, and several small foreign colonies have been located on its rich soil. Some of the islands are very remote from the mainland. The most isolated one is Pascua, or Easter, island, which is at a distance of more than two thousand miles from the coast. It is almost in the centre of the Pacific Ocean. The San Felix and San Ambrosio groups, and that of Juan Fernandez, the reputed home of Robinson Crusoe, are also at a distance of several hundred miles from the shores of the republic.

From the northern boundary to Concepción, the coast line is generally uniform and indentations are rare. There are only a few bays of any considerable size, and only an occasional cape or promontory. From Chiloé to Tierra del Fuego is a stretch of coast five hundred miles in length, which a glance at the map will show is a perfect network of islands, peninsulas and channels. This is the Chilean Patagonia. It provides scenery as grandly picturesque as the famous fiords along the coast of Norway, and greatly resembles that broken and rugged coast. The bays and gulfs cut into the shores to the foothills of the Andean range. They are of great depth. The Gulf of Las Peñas furnishes an entrance to this labyrinth at the north, and the Straits of Magellan at the south. Some of the passes are so narrow that they seem like gigantic splits in the mountain ranges—grandly gloomy and narrow. Through these openings in the rock the water rushes with terrific force owing to the action of the tides. But, once within, the opening broadens out into little bays, where the waters are as calm and serene as a mountain lake. These channels are a vast Campo Santo, or God’s Acre, of wrecked vessels. Numerous as the disasters have been the sight of a stranded boat is rare, for the grave is usually hundreds of fathoms deep. In every case, however, the wrecked vessel has given her name to the rock that brought disaster, and the official charts are dotted with the names of rocks, which thus form eternal headstones for the unfortunate vessels. One writer has given the following account of these channels:—

“If one can imagine the Hudson River bordered continuously by verdure-covered mountains descending precipitously into the water, and jutting out here and there in fantastic buttress-like headlands, one has some idea of Messier Channel. But add to this a network of long, thin cataracts threading their way thousands of feet down through gullies and alleys from mountain crest to water edge. Far up the mountain sides they are so distant as to seem motionless, like threads of silver beaten into the crevices of the rocks; but near the water their motion can be both seen and heard as they fall amid the rocks to reach the sea.”

The southern portion of the republic terminates in two peninsulas, known as King William and Brunswick, which are separated by the gulfs of Otway and Skyring. The Straits of Magellan then separate the mainland from the Fuegian Archipelago. This channel, which varies in width from one to twenty-five miles, is three hundred and sixty-two miles in length from Cape Pillar to Cape Virgenes, the latter being the eastern, or Atlantic, terminus. It affords a safe passage for vessels, and is used almost exclusively by steamers bound from one coast to the other.

THE ANDES FROM SANTA LUCIA.

After forming the plateau of Bolivia, the Andes, the backbone of South America, stretches down to the lower end of the continent. It is formed by a succession of high mountains, with lofty peaks covered with the eternal snows. At intervals passes are found which permit of access from one side of the mountain to another. The highest point of this mighty range is reached just opposite Valparaiso, Mt. Aconcagua, and from there it descends until, at the Straits of Magellan, it reaches sea level. It probably continues still farther, but its highest spurs are engulfed beneath the ocean. The width also varies greatly, from forty-five to one hundred miles. Along the Chilean border there are more than fifty definite peaks exceeding thirty-three hundred feet in height, and twenty-nine of more than ten thousand feet in altitude. Four are above twenty thousand feet. Most of these were originally volcanoes, but they are nearly all now extinct or quiescent. South of Aconcagua is a succession of lofty volcanic peaks, such as San José de Maipu, San Fernando, Tingueririca and others, all apparently extinct. Then follow Nevado del Chillan, Antuco, Villarica and Osorno, all of which occasionally emit vapour, and, lastly, the Tronador (thunderer) near the southern extremity of the country.

By reason of its peculiar shape easy access is given to all parts of the republic, and the exploitation of its resources has been comparatively easy. In no place are the mountains far distant, and short spurs of railway connect the mineral deposits with the sea. Along the coast there are no fewer than fifty-nine ports, between which regular communication by steamer is carried on. Fourteen of these are ports of entry, in which customs houses are located, and the others are minor ports, at which only national coasting steamers stop.

There are very many rivers in the country, but only a very few of them are any aid to navigation. They are mostly short streams which are formed by the melting snows of the Andes, and then rush onward toward the sea by a more or less direct route. The principal rivers are all in the southern half of the country. In the deserts of the northern section the waters formed by melting snows are evaporated or are absorbed by the parched soil long before they reach the sea. The Yelcho and Palena are the largest rivers of Chile. The latter is the longest, for it cuts through a pass in the Andes and runs back into Argentine territory for seventy-five miles. Others are the Maullin, Calle-Calle, Bio-Bio, Bueno and Maule. Some, such as the Bio-Bio and Maule, are navigable for short distances by vessels of shallow draft. Their importance to commerce is insignificant, however, when compared with the great rivers of the eastern coast. The Bio-Bio, for instance, is only one hundred and sixty miles long. They do furnish water for irrigation purposes, only a small portion of which has as yet been developed. There are several lakes in Chile, of which Llanquihue, Todos Santos, and Ranco are the most important. The two first mentioned have steam navigation.

There are many valleys of very fertile land which can be made among the richest agricultural lands of the world. As a rule these valleys are small and irrigated by streams flowing from the east to the west. The great central valley, which runs in a southerly direction for several hundred miles from Santiago, is one of the most remarkable features of the country and the garden of the republic. This valley is almost six hundred miles in length from north to south, but varies considerably in width. Its average width for the entire length is probably thirty miles. This is the granary of the country, and the source of its principal food supply. All of the cereals grow to perfection in this climate and on this soil. Wheat, barley, corn, rye and oats are cultivated in large quantities. All of the vegetables and fruits that flourish in the temperate zone of the Northern Hemisphere also grow to large size. Alfalfa makes a fine pasture. And yet even this fertile valley has only been developed in part. Not more than one-fourth of the landed surface of Chile is fitted for cultivation, but of this portion not more than one-fourth has been touched by the agriculturist or ranchman. Hence there are great possibilities of development yet unexploited in this republic. Cattle and sheep are profitable and are increasing in number. The waterfalls, also, give great possibilities of cheap power for manufacturing purposes, and the future will probably find all of the railroads operated by electric power, because of the cheapness with which current can be produced. This result seems to be only the natural outcome of existing conditions.

Such a country, with such a long extent of sea coast, would ordinarily be an almost impossible country to handle. It has, perhaps, been fortunate that the coast is easily reached in all parts, from the inhospitable deserts of the northern regions to the dense forests of the south. No country of equal size in the world has such a marvellously varied configuration. The humming-bird follows the fuchsia clear to the Straits of Magellan, and the penguin has followed the fish almost as far as Valparaiso. The government has done well in managing this ribbon-like country. Coast service has been built up and a longitudinal railway promises an interior development. Cross lines and transcontinental routes will provide much needed facilities for the interchange of commerce. The telegraph and telephone have linked together hitherto remote sections, and a creditable postal service has been created.

Chile is a republic, with the customary division into legislative, executive and judicial branches. It is not a confederation of provinces, as in Brazil and Argentina, but is a single state with one central government. It is divided for governmental purposes into twenty-three provinces and one territory. These are again divided into departments, districts and municipalities. Congress is composed of a Senate and Chamber of Deputies. The former is at present composed of thirty-two members and the latter of ninety-four. Deputies are elected for a term of three years by direct vote, in the proportion of one to every thirty thousand inhabitants. Senators are elected for six years in the proportion of one to every three deputies, and the terms of one-third expire every two years. Members of the House of Deputies must have an income of five hundred dollars a year, and a Senator must be thirty-six years of age and is required to have an annual income four times that sum. Congress sits from June 1 to September 1 each year, but an extra session may be called at any time. A peculiar feature is that during the recess of Congress a committee consisting of seven from each house acts for that body, and is consulted by the President on all matters of importance.

The President is chosen by electors, who are elected by direct vote, for a term of five years. He serves the state for a salary of about eleven thousand dollars, including the allowance for expenses. He is ineligible to serve two consecutive terms and may not leave the country during his term of office, or for one year after its expiration, without the consent of Congress. He has a cabinet of six secretaries, who are known as Ministers of Interior, Foreign Affairs, Justice and Public Instruction, Treasury, War and Marine, Industry and Public Works. The Minister of the Interior is the Vice-President, and succeeds to the office of President in the event of his death or disability. Elections are held on the 25th of June every fifth year, and inauguration of the new President follows on the succeeding 18th of September. The cabinet may be forced to resign at any time by a vote of lack of confidence by Congress, to whom they are directly responsible. In addition to the cabinet there is a Council of State consisting of eleven members, six of whom are appointed by Congress and five by the President, who assist that official in an advisory capacity. Furthermore, when Congress adjourns, it appoints a standing committee of seven from each house, which acts as the representative of that body during vacation. The President must consult with it in certain matters, and the committee may request him to call an extraordinary session if, in their opinion, such a course is advisable.

There is a national Supreme Court of seven members that sits at Santiago, which is the final judicial authority. Courts of appeal consisting of from five to twelve members also sit at Santiago, Valparaiso, Tacna, Serena, Talca, Valdivia and Concepción. There are also a number of minor courts which are located in the various provinces and departments. Each province is governed by an intendente, who is appointed by the President of the republic. The departments are governed by governors, who are subordinate to the intendentes, and the districts by inspectors, who are also appointed. The only popular element is the municipal district, or commune, which is governed by a board composed of nine men, who are elected by direct vote in each municipality.

When the Spaniards reached Chile they found native races occupying it. In the northern portions the tribes were under at least the nominal sway of the Incas, although separated from them either by the inhospitable Andes or dreary desert wastes. In the great central valley, however, the land appeared a pleasant garden, and so rich that nowhere had the Spaniards seen anything similar either for its fertility or the wealth of its fruits and herds. “It is all an inhabited place and a sown land or a gold-mine, rich in herds as that of Peru, with a fibre drawn from the soil rich in food supplies sown by the Indians for their subsistence”—so wrote the chroniclers. They lived in comfort and had a certain civilization. Each cacique had his own ranch house, the number of doors indicating the number of his wives, of which some had as many as fifteen. These people were the Araucanians, who proved to be a brave and courageous race. The Spaniards immediately began their usual cruelties and efforts to enslave these people, but succeeded only temporarily. The natives soon rose in rebellion. Three hundred years of warfare decimated their ranks, but did not subdue them, and when the Spanish rule ended these people were as unconquered as when it began. Their history has been written in blood, but it is the struggle of a heroic race, and it is not dimmed by the excesses and cruelties that attached to the Spaniards in their efforts to subjugate and enslave these valiant people.

After he had conquered Peru, Pizarro sent an expedition south to explore the country and take possession of it in the name of the King of Spain. One of his lieutenants, Diego de Almagro, was placed in charge. He crossed the great nitrate desert and reached as far as Copiapó, where he was driven back by hostile Indians. He had reached a valley called by the natives Tchili, which signified in their language beautiful, and that name was given to the country. A few years later, in 1540, another expedition was fitted out under Captain Pedro de Valdivia, which was more successful. He marched as far as the present city of Santiago, and founded a city, which has ever since remained the capital. Although colonists came from Spain, little progress was made for a long time because of the hostility of the Araucanian Indians. These attacks continued until 1640, when a treaty was concluded with these indomitable natives by which the Bio-Bio River was established as the boundary, and both together were to resist the English and Dutch buccaneers, who had begun to harass the coast. Early in the nineteenth century the spirit of independence reached Chile, and insurrections against the Spanish authorities broke out.

On the 18th of September, 1810, the Spanish authorities were deposed and a provisional government was set up. Troops were poured in by Spain, and it was not until 1818, when the Spanish troops were defeated in the battle of Maipu by the Argentine general, San Martin, that freedom from the foreign yoke was secured. General Don Ambrosio O’Higgins, an Irish patriot who had greatly distinguished himself in the war for freedom, was chosen as the first President, and he introduced many reforms and endeavoured to ameliorate the condition of the natives. The Jesuit missionaries followed in the wake of the soldiers and began their work of converting the natives. Since that time there has been considerable internal struggle between rival political factions, and some foreign troubles. There was a brief war with Spain, a frightful conflict with the neighbouring republic of Peru, and disagreements with Bolivia and Argentina. A few years ago war with the latter country seemed inevitable over the international boundary, but wise counsels prevailed and the matter was successfully arbitrated. At the present time peace prevails, although there are continual mutterings in Peru, and that country only needs a hot-headed leader to bring about another war with Chile over the lost revenue from the nitrate fields.

The Chileans are a brave and a courageous people. The natural boundaries have no doubt aided in developing a national spirit and love of independence. Truly no people in South America have fought so long and so hard to achieve national independence. The Araucanian mixture has brought virility and industry into the race—a far different element than the Inca blood farther north. These Yankees of the South American continent have accomplished much, and there is still greater promise for the future.

CHAPTER II
THE WEST COAST

Cruising along the west coast of South America is a delightful experience. It is the perfection of ocean travel. One is always sure of fine weather, for it neither rains nor blows, and the swell is seldom strong enough to make even the susceptible person seasick. In defiance of our idea of geography the sailors speak of going “up” the coast, when bound towards the south. The boats along this coast are built for fair weather and tropical seas. They have their cabins opening seaward, and the decks reach down almost to the water’s edge. Some swing hammocks and sleep on deck, and it is very comfortable. Such vessels would not be adapted for the stormy Atlantic, and would not live long in a storm upon the Caribbean Sea. Sailors say that the wind is never strong enough to “ruffle the fur on a cat’s back,” and this immense stretch of sea might be likened unto a great mill pond. It is this part of the ocean, between the Isthmus and Peru, that suggested to the Spaniards the name of Pacific.

Near the equator the days and nights are equal. The sun ceases doing duty promptly at six, and reappears at the same hour the following morning. There is no twilight, little gloaming, and darkness succeeds daylight almost as soon as the big red ball disappears in the western sea. At night beautiful phosphorescence may be seen. The water is so impregnated with phosphorus, that each tiny wave is tipped with a light and the vessel leaves a trail of fire. From above the Southern Cross looks down upon the scene in complaisance. And thus the days pass in succession one after the other. The temperature is not uncomfortable, as the Antarctic Current tempers the tropical sun, and there is generally a southerly or southwesterly wind that aids. It is a pleasanter ride, and subject to fewer inconveniences than the ride along the eastern coast of the continent.

THE WEST COAST.

When the Stars and Stripes have faded from view at Balboa, and the jagged backbone of the continent has disappeared into the mists on either horizon, towards Nicaragua and Colombia, one feels that a new world has been reached. The real South America has been entered, and, when the good ship crosses the Line, about the third day out, home and the rest of the world seem very far away. It is a long journey to Valparaiso, Chile, if one takes a steamer that stops at all the intermediate ports, as it lasts more than three weeks. There are swifter vessels, however, that avoid Ecuador and make the journey in twelve days. The slower vessels follow the coast line, and the passenger is given many a view of the Andes, whose peaks are crowned with eternal snows but are frequently wrapped in fleecy clouds. At Guayaquil, the westernmost city of South America, it is even possible on occasions in clear weather to see Chimborazo, eighty miles from the sea. Nowhere in the world is there a greater assembly of lofty peaks than will be seen as the vessel proceeds along the coast. The Spaniards called these “sierras,” because their uneven summits resembled the teeth of a saw. Some of the peaks are regular in outline, but more often they are irregular and even grotesque, so that the imaginative minds of the natives have fancied resemblances to works of nature and have given them corresponding names. Nowhere in the world are there stranger freaks in geological formations, or more startling contrasts. Near the coast run the foothills, which gradually become higher and bolder until they end in the loftiest peaks. Back, and beyond all, an occasional volcanic peak may be seen lifting itself in solitary grandeur.

At the mouth of the Guayas River, in Ecuador, there is a dense growth of tropical vegetation. It seems to be a veritable hothouse of nature, where plants and trees wage a desperate war for existence against the vines, mosses and other parasites that attack them. This is the end of such scenes, however, for days and days. It would be difficult to find a more dreary aspect than the coast of South America from the boundary of Ecuador almost to Valparaiso. From the water’s edge to the Andes chain of mountains stretches a yellow and brown desert, unrelieved by a tinge of green, except where irrigation has been employed. At midday all is clear, but in the evening a purple haze covers the whole landscape. It bears a close resemblance to parts of Arizona and New Mexico in general characteristics. Cliffs three hundred to four hundred feet high, and which are scooped out into fantastic shapes, often form the water’s edge. The distant mountains look gloomy and forbidding. It very seldom rains there, perhaps once in six or seven years is a fair average. In other places a generation can almost grow up and pass away without an experience with rain. When it does rain, however, the desertlike plains and slopes immediately spring into life. Where for years there has been nothing but drifting sands appear meadows of nutritious grasses, and flowers and plants spring up in great confusion. Wherever the seeds come from is a mystery, but every nook and corner is soon ablaze with vegetation.

The boats stop at many ports from Ecuador to Chile. These little towns will be found nestling in little hollows at the foot of the hills, or tacked on the hillside. Each one is walled away from the other, and each is a gateway to a fertile valley or rich mining section. Sometimes a narrow gauge railway runs back into the interior, but there are no connections coastwise. The steamer furnishes the only communication with the world beyond, and the arrival of the boat is an event of great importance. Each town has its own specialty. At Guayaquil and Paita many merchants will come aboard with Panama hats, and good-natured bargaining will then be carried on with the passengers. Buying a hat is a tedious matter. The seller does not expect more than about one-third of the price he asks. If the passenger looks indifferent the native will hunt him up and reduce his offer. “How much would the señor give?” “Thirty soles! That would be robbery.” But the ship’s gong strikes and the time of departure is at hand. “Here, señor, is your hat. Muchas gracias. Adios!” The deal is concluded, and you have your hat at the price you offered, if you are shrewd enough to see that a cheaper hat was not substituted at the last minute. Deck traders board the vessel and stay with it for days, doing a good business in almost everything from vegetables and fruits to dry goods, and jewelry. Parrots, monkeys and even mild-eyed ant-eaters are offered the passengers for pets. Passengers join the boat at every stop, and, instead of hat boxes, as American women would be burdened with, the women here all bring on board their bird cages with their noisy occupants. Swarthy Spaniards and the darker-hued natives join the boat, many of them dressed in gay attire, and particularly wearing gaudy neckties and waistcoats. The boat always anchors at some distance from the shore, while passengers and freight are brought out either in lighters or row-boats. At some places a dozen lighters may be filled with freight for the steamer. The ship’s crew bring up from the hold scores of bales and boxes with labels familiar and unfamiliar. International commerce becomes real—almost a thing of flesh and blood. Each sling load brought up from the hold has its own tale to tell, and everyone becomes commercialized. The crowing of roosters at night, the bleating of sheep and bawling of the cattle remind you of a country barnyard at times, for the boat carries its own live stock, which are killed as the conditions of the larder demand. Thus it is that these slow galleons float along the coast past Paita, Pacasmayo, Salaverry, Pisco and the rest of the little ports. Five minutes after the ladder would be lowered the deck would become a floating bazaar.

Guayaquil is the port for the equatorial republic of Ecuador. Quite a business is done there, for more than one-third of the world’s supply of cacao beans, from which our chocolate is made, comes through this port. It is generally infested with more or less fever, and most people prefer to make their stay as short as possible. One of the curious things to attract the traveller’s attention is to see the mules with their legs encased in trousers. This is not due to any excessive modesty on the part of the inhabitants, for children several years old may be seen without as much clothing on. The purpose is to protect the legs of the animals from the bite of the gadfly, which is very numerous here. It was near Guayaquil that Pizarro landed with one hundred and eighty men to conquer the empire of the Incas. The capital of Ecuador, Quito, lies in a saucer-shaped cup at the foot of Mt. Pichincha, with many other lofty peaks in sight. It perhaps retains more of the original characteristics than any other city of South America. It vies with the City of Mexico the distinction of being the oldest city of the Americas. For centuries prior to the coming of the Spaniards it was the capital of one of the branches of the Incas, and Atahualpa used to eat his meals off plates made of solid gold. Hitherto accessible only over a long and difficult mountain trail, which was impassable during half of the year, Quito can now be reached by a railroad—thanks to American enterprise. No less than twenty volcanoes are visible from the track, of which three are active, five dormant and twelve are classed as extinct.

Callao (pronounced Cal-ya-o) is the principal port of Peru. It is always full of steamers and masts and has a general aspect of business. More than a thousand vessels touch here every twelve months. Its history has been exciting and there are many monuments to its heroes. Some warships are generally floating in the harbour. Lima is distant but seven miles from Callao, and it is a ride of only twenty minutes by an excellent electric road of American construction throughout. To the hum of the trolley one is hurried past irrigated fields, beautiful gardens and villas, and Inca ruins many centuries old. As the boats remain at Callao for a day the traveller is able to spend a few hours in the “City of the Kings,” as Pizarro christened it. Lima is a wonderfully interesting city, and its history is full of romance. It preserves in wood and stone the spirit of old Spain as it was transplanted into the New World. Carved balconies, which were patterned after their native Andalusia, still overhang the narrow streets of the Peruvian capital. Up-to-date electric cars whirl past old monastery walls where life has scarcely changed in three centuries. The Limaños are an easy-going, pleasure-loving people, among whom the strenuous life has few disciples. It has been the scene of many revolutions, and the marks of street fighting are numerous. Churches and ecclesiastical institutions abound on every hand, and ecclesiastics are numerous on the streets. The cathedral, in which the sacristan will show the alleged bones of Francisco Pizarro, is a fine specimen of architecture—one of the best in the world. On another corner of the plaza is the passageway from which the conspirators emerged on their way to assassinate the conqueror. The building which was the headquarters of the Inquisition in South America occupies still another site on the plaza.

A MILK BOY IN PERU.

Pisco is the next port of importance, and it is situated near a rich and fertile irrigated valley where sugar-cane grows abundantly. It is the port also for the interior towns of Ayacucho and Huancavelica, where numerous rich mines are found. Just a few miles out at sea are the Chincha Islands, from which Peru obtained such a large revenue for the guano found there. These deposits, once considered inexhaustible, because in places they were eighty feet or more in depth, have been almost exhausted. The great wealth received from them and nitrate has been dissipated.

At Mollendo, the last Peruvian port, there is a railway that runs to La Paz, the capital of the inland republic of Bolivia. It is a surf-lashed port where vessels are sometimes unable to land their passengers and freight. In fact the landing is through a “sort of Niagara Gorge gateway of rock, which gives to the mere landing some of the noise and a good deal of the excitement of a rescue at sea.” It takes three days’ travel to reach La Paz from Mollendo, as the train only runs by day. The first stage of the trip, as far as Arequipa, is over an almost trackless desert, where the wind piles the sand up in movable half-moon heaps. The sand-storms of the centuries have covered everything with these whitish particles, and the dusted peaks and hillocks stand out without relief of any kind. The second day brings the traveller to Lake Titicaca, the sacred lake of the Incas, which is crossed by boat, and a side trip will take the traveller to Cuzco, the capital of the Inca confederacy. Lake Titicaca is the highest and one of the most wonderful lakes in the world. It is larger than all the lakes of Switzerland together, and lies in a hollow two and one-half miles above the waters of the ocean. Lying in a peaceful valley, in a scene of desolate grandeur, where the trees are stunted and only a few of the hardiest plants survive, lies La Paz. The City of Peace, its name indicates, but this city has been the scene of turmoil and strife entirely foreign to its name ever since the Spaniards invaded these solitudes. Bolivia is another Tibet—one of the highest inhabited plateaus in the world, as well as one of the richest mineral sections.

In no part of the world, perhaps, is there such an abundance of life in sea and air as along the coast of Peru. Soon after leaving Callao the tedium of the voyage is relieved by the flight of millions upon millions of birds. There are gulls, ducks, cormorants, divers of all kinds and great pelicans with huge pouches under their bills. The sea is as animated as the air, and schools of fish, innumerable in numbers, may be seen darting through the water with their fins showing above its surface. Danger besets them from above and from beneath. The divers poise on wing every few minutes and then drop suddenly into the sea like a flash. For a few seconds they disappear beneath the surface, and then reappear with a fish in their bills. The lumbering and stately pelicans drop with a mighty splash that sends up a dash of spray. These greedy birds continue this foraging process until their pouches are so filled with fish that they are unable to rise out of the water until the load is digested or they disgorge themselves. The seals and sea lions keep themselves as busy as the birds, and constantly display their sinuous and shiny bodies above the surface, as they pursue the fish or come up to breathe.

We passed by the famous guano islands just before nightfall. The air was filled with birds, all of which were flying toward a great island that lifted up its rocky surface above the blue of the sea. At some distance above the sea were the smaller birds, which, at a distance, looked like mere specks against the sky. A little lower were the pelicans flying in single file, and in flocks of from twelve to thirty. They seemed to play the game of “follow the leader,” for if the leader poised his wings or lifted himself higher all did the same. Near the surface were divers, called “pirates” in the local parlance, in flocks of a thousand or more. They sailed along just above the surface of the water and continually altered their formation. With the naked eye the number of birds was myriad, but the telescope showed ten times as many. As far as one could see there was the same multitude of birds, all heading for this one island. The island itself was black with the birds already settled for the night, but each new arrival seemed to find a resting place either on the surface of the rock or in the caves underneath. For countless ages these birds have occupied these sterile volcanic rocks as their resting place, and have deposited the guano which has brought millions of dollars of wealth into the Peruvian treasury. A glimpse of this remarkable bird life shows how the guano has accumulated in such enormous quantities.

ROW BOATS CROWDING AROUND A STEAMER.

The northern part of Chile contains the dreariest section of this forlorn coast. There are no harbours, and a tremendous surf which rolls half way around the world before it strikes a breakwater dashes into foam upon these beaches. Several prosperous towns are located here as a result of the workings of nature’s laboratories. To reach these ports it is necessary to trust yourself to one of the boatmen, who crowd around the ladder as soon as the vessel drops anchor. Judicious bargaining is always advisable, and never pay the boatman until he has returned you safely to your floating hotel. The boat is guided through the surf with amazing skill, and it is very seldom that an accident occurs. They sometimes crowd each other off, however, in their eagerness to get the best position at the bottom of the ladder and secure the first passengers. But all these men are good swimmers, and the only result is a good wetting and much amusement for the steamer’s passengers who welcome any diversion.

Arica is the first port of importance in Chile at the north. It is only a day’s journey from Mollendo, the last Peruvian port. The Peruvian heaves a sigh when he enters Arica, but there is some hope in it, for he trusts to add this province to Peru’s possessions at some time in the future again. But at Iquique the hope fades, for sovereignty is lost for ever. Although not a large town, Arica has been the scene of several memorable events. It was here that were built the boats which carried the troops for the conquest of Chile. It was at that time a place of some importance among the natives, and the valleys back of it were densely populated and were cultivated by means of irrigation. Sir Francis Drake touched at this place in 1579, and found a collection of Indian huts on the shore. It is supposed to have been founded in 1250 by the Incas. It is like an oasis in the desert to the traveller who has coasted along the shore for days or weeks without seeing vegetation. At the present time it is famous for its oranges. They are grown in the rich valleys that lie behind the rather unattractive and forbidding hills next to the coast, and through the opening in the flat-topped hills one is permitted to catch glimpses of these valleys. Near the coast is a prehistoric cemetery filled with dead bodies, which were embalmed with almost as great skill as the mummies of Egypt.

Arica is a pleasant little place of several thousand inhabitants. There is a handsome little plaza which encloses a plot of shrubbery adorned with morning-glories and purple vine trees. One of the striking features is the brilliant colouring of the houses. There is also a rather imposing parochial church which is painted in the gaudiest colours that I have seen in any country; and it would be hard to duplicate it anywhere, even in Spanish America, a land of rich colouring. It used to be a great market for the skins of the vicuña, which are so beautiful. In late years, however, the skins are becoming less plentiful and the prices have jumped accordingly. The harbour is commodious and well sheltered. Interesting glimpses of native life are afforded by the Indian women coming to town. Some of them ride astride, being almost concealed by the huge panniers containing their market produce. Others trudge along by the side of the animals.

From this city a highway runs into the interior of Peru and Bolivia, which was constructed by the Incas a thousand years ago and has been used ever since. To-day caravans of mules, donkeys and llamas may be seen constantly passing up and down this ancient trail. They bring down ore and take back mining supplies and miscellaneous merchandise. It is known as the “camino real,” and is several hundred miles long. Near here is supposed to be the underground outlet of Lakes Titicaca and Poopo. One argument advanced in favour of this theory is that a certain kind of fresh water fish that abounds in that lake is caught in considerable numbers in the ocean near this town. It has been the scene of several disastrous earthquakes. On August 13th, 1868, it was almost washed away, and many of its inhabitants perished in a tidal wave which came without warning and devastated the coast for a hundred miles. Two United States men-of-war, which were in the harbour at that time, were lifted from their anchorage by waves sixty feet high and carried inland a mile over the roofs of the town. One of the vessels, the Fredonia, was dashed against a ledge of rocks and entirely destroyed, while the other, the Wateree, was left lying in the sand. Everyone on the former boat was lost and about half of the latter. For many years the boat lying on the sand was used as a boarding house for the railway employees.

THE HARBOUR OF ARICA.

On June 7th, 1880, Arica was the scene of a furious battle and a terrible massacre. At one end of the town, and directly on the sea front, is a promontory, which rises six hundred feet above the sea almost precipitously. On this rock, which is known as the Morro, the Peruvians had erected a powerful battery to defend the harbour. The Chileans, however, landed a force of four thousand men several miles below at night. In the morning the Peruvians found themselves attacked in the rear with no means of escape. As their guns were pointed to the sea they were useless to defend against those back on the landward side. Although short of small arms and ammunition, the Peruvians made a heroic defence and engaged in a hand-to-hand contest that lasted for an hour. At the end of that time the commander leaped over the precipice into the sea, and his body was crushed to a pulp among the rocks. Several hundred of his soldiers followed him, preferring to die that way to having their throats cut by the Chileans. For months afterward their bodies could be seen lying where they had lodged on the jutting rocks below. It is claimed that seventeen hundred Peruvians were killed, as this was the total strength of the garrison and no prisoners were taken. On a slab near the slope of the rock is an inscription in whitewashed stone, “Viva Battalion No. 4.” It was placed there by the victorious Chileans to commemorate the heroism of the enemy.

Arica is in the province of Tacna, which is the most northerly province in the republic, and is about the size of New Jersey. Agriculture in this province is very limited, and there has not been much of mineral development. There are some veins of copper and lead, and some scattered deposits of nitrate as well that have not been worked. A railroad from Arica runs back to the city of Tacna, the capital, which is one of the oldest railroads in South America. It is quite an important town, and is situated in a valley made fertile by irrigation. A railroad is now being built across the Cordilleras from this city to connect with the Bolivian railways. When that is completed it is believed that this line will be the best one, as it is the shortest, and every traveller is anxious to escape as much of the dust in crossing the desert region as possible. It is only a little over three hundred miles from Arica to La Paz. This road will add to the importance of Arica, for it will be one of the main arteries of commerce from Bolivia to the outside world, but it is not likely to help Tacna any in its growth.

The next province adjoining Tacna is Tarapacá, which is one of the wealthiest sections in the Americas because of its nitrate deposits. It contains the richest nitrate region in the world. From Arica the cliffs rise up almost perpendicularly from the sea for the first day’s journey. Pisagua, the first port as you travel “up” the coast, is a city of about five thousand. This port does not differ much from a mining town in the States. Although considerable shipping is done here, Pisagua fades in importance beside its more important rivals.

“We do not want rain in Iquique.”

This statement was made to me by the manager of the nitrate trust, who lives in that prosperous city of thirty thousand or more inhabitants, and which is one hundred and eleven miles south of Arica. It was the first time I had ever heard of a community that did not desire rainfall. Water used to be brought by boat from more favoured regions, and was peddled through the streets at so much a quart or gallon. At times it is said to have sold as high as two dollars per gallon. A pipe line one hundred and fifty miles long now supplies this necessary liquid to this city, and it is sold by the metre instead of being put up in pint or quart bottles.

A walk through this city on the edge of the sea, with bare, brown and rugged hills for a background, showed not a blade of grass, except on the public squares and in a few diminutive courtyards within the houses, where the hand of man supplied the necessary water for growth. It is little wonder that lawn-mowers are a drug on the market in Iquique. The sun is fierce, and its unrelenting rays, absorbed and reflected by the vast area of desert waste, inflame the air to almost furnace heat. The streets are dusty and the fine particles get into your ears and nostrils, and you can almost taste it on your tongue. Many of the houses have a piazza on top, or a second roof, to break the force of the sun’s rays. The Arturo Prat Square has been made quite attractive, and is ornamented with a very creditable statue of that hero. Business around the shipping quarters is always lively, as it is bound to be where such an enormous export and import trade is carried on. In 1891, during the revolutionary fighting between the Balmacedists and Congressists, the custom house was the scene of a stubborn battle. The town was set on fire and confusion and disorder reigned supreme. At the present time Iquique is an important port and more than one thousand vessels enter it each year.

The dreariness and unattractiveness of the surroundings is hard to describe. Street cars with girls as conductors, good stores, the telephone and other modern conveniences, and even comfortable clubs do not make up for the lack of green vegetation. The groceries are filled with condensed milk from England, sardines from France, sausages from Germany, cheese from Holland, jellies and jam from Britain, and macaroni from Italy. But fresh vegetables and meats are at a premium, and unnatural tastes are developed. Many English live in Iquique. They are great brandy drinkers, and show discrimination “in not exhausting the wealth of the nitrate beds by taking too much soda in their brandy,” as one writer says. Nevertheless the people are happy, for wealth lies at their very doors and rain would cause great loss. By reason of this Iquique has grown until it is second only to Valparaiso in commercial importance. It has grown with a swiftness than can only be compared with our own western towns. In the first days of the saltpetre era nothing went slow and the town spread like magic. Much of the population is a rough one and hard to govern, but the authorities have done well. The battles that have been fought with fortune in Iquique and on this coast have cost many lives and much privation. A few have acquired fortune, but more have not even obtained a modest competence in return for the deprivation and sacrifice endured. Whatever has been gained at the cost of much labour and privation has been fully earned by some one—and perhaps by one who did not reap the reward.

A STREET SCENE, ANTOFAGASTA.

The province of Antofagasta joins that of Tarapacá on the south. Tocopilla is the first port of importance, but Antofagasta, a little over two hundred miles from Iquique, is the principal city. This province is a desert in appearance similar to the other, and this city can boast no advantages over its more northerly rival. Antofagasta is almost on the Tropic of Capricorn, and is in about the same latitude as Rio de Janeiro, on the Atlantic coast. It lies almost at the foot of some hills that are quite high, and is a city of about twenty thousand. The dull-coloured houses can scarcely be distinguished from the sombre hills at a distance. The dust is anything but pleasant. A great deal of nitrate and some copper are shipped from Antofagasta. There are several small wharves, but everything has to be transferred to lighters. The harbour is a wretched roadstead and, to get ashore, one has to brave a lashing surf. The pride of the city is a little plaza, where considerable coaxing has caused a little evidence of green from the grass and a few trees. A narrow gauge railroad, two feet and six inches in width, runs from here to La Paz, and a great deal of freight is transshipped to Bolivian towns.

The province of Atacama comes next, which does not differ much in physical characteristics from the three previously named. In some of the valleys, where water can be secured for irrigation, a little agriculture is attempted. There are also a number of minerals to be found, but not so much as in Tarapacá and Antofagasta. Caldera, the principal port, is two hundred and seven miles from Antofagasta, and has a well sheltered bay. The oldest railroad in South America connects this port with Copiapó, the capital of the province. This city is situated in a fertile valley on the banks of a river of the same name. It is an old and quite important town, and has a number of educational institutions. It will soon be connected with Santiago by the longitudinal railway.

The last of the northern provinces is that of Coquimbo. This province is really at the end of the dry zone, and there are a number of rich valleys where the land is fertile and agriculture flourishes. It is a mining province as well, and a great deal of mineral wealth has been discovered. Guayacan is a port, but the principal port is Coquimbo, which is only a couple of hundred miles from Valparaiso. It has a population of probably ten thousand. The city extends along the bay in an irregular manner for some distance. The capital of the province is La Serena, and it is only a few miles from Coquimbo. There is nothing especially in its favour, although an attractive little city, but it is a relief from the dreary places farther north which have been mentioned.

COQUIMBO, A TYPICAL WEST COAST TOWN.

Every one going this way is bound for Valparaiso. The voyager, who has journeyed twenty-six hundred miles along the Pacific coast, hails with delight the beautiful half-moon bay in which that city is located. He welcomes the splash of the anchor, which means a speedy transfer to the shore and the comforts of a good hotel. Many disasters have been recorded in this bay. In the winter terrific storms arise, and steamers oftentimes lift their anchors and steam out into the open sea for safety. The largest steamers are tossed about like eggshells, while the buoys bob around like water-sprites. The enthusiastic Chilean loves to compare it with the Bay of Naples. But it is not Naples. The waters are not so blue, nor the skies as perfect, but it has a charm all its own. A row boat or launch quickly transfers the traveller to the landing steps, and courteous officials promptly pass the baggage. Then a short ride in a rickety carriage, and the doors of the Royal Hotel hospitably open to receive the guests.

CHAPTER III
VALE OF PARADISE

Val-paraiso means the “Vale of Paradise,” and it is the name of both a province and a city. The name is so incongruous on this unattractive shore as to cause a smile, for the location of Valparaiso does not merit any such appellation. It was so named after a little town in Spain, which was the home of Juan de Saavedra, the man who captured the Indian village located at this point in 1536. There is only a narrow strip of land between the bay and the barren hills behind it, which, in places, rise up to a thousand or fifteen hundred feet in height. At one place it is wide enough for only two streets, which are very close together. At other places this ledge creeps back farther, but nowhere does the gap between sea and hills exceed half a mile, and a part of this has been reclaimed from the sea. Through the centre of this level space runs Victoria Street, which follows the coast line the entire length of the city and is several miles in length. It is the main commercial street, and is lined with business houses, public buildings and even private residences.

AN “ASCENSOR” IN VALPARAISO.

It used to be that all of the city was built on this narrow strip of land. Little by little, however, the city has crept up the side of the hills, and the streets rise in terraces one above the other. On the edges of the cliffs in many places the poorer classes have built for themselves dwellings of the rudest kind from all sorts of debris. Some of these are perched upon almost inaccessible rocks, and are propped up with wooden supports. On the extreme upper part of the rock has been built the real residence quarter, and many fine homes are found there. It is reached by steep and winding roads, which tire the pedestrian not used to them; but there are a dozen inclined elevators, or “ascensors,” as they are called in Valparaiso, which carry the passenger to the upper heights for a very small sum. Up the steep roadway the poor horses may be seen drawing their loads, while the drivers beat them and vociferously berate them with their tongues.

From the heights one has a magnificent view of the bay, which is like a half-moon, and is one of the prettiest bays in the world. It has a northern exposure, however, and is subject to terrific storms in the winter season, which lash the seas into a fury and the waves beat upon the sea front with destructive force. It is still to all extents and purposes an open roadstead, although plans have been drawn for a breakwater to provide a sheltered harbour. The drawback has been that the bay is very deep only a short distance from shore, and the problem of building such a protection is a difficult one. The surface of the bay is always dotted with vessels from almost every quarter of the globe. One can at any time see the flags of a half dozen or more different nations floating from the mastheads. Then there are hundreds of small lighters which are used to carry the freight between vessel and shore, as no docks have been constructed at which vessels can unload. In the far distance may be seen, on a clear day, the backbone of the continent, the Andes, with its serrated ridges and snowy summits glistening in the sunlight. The hoary head of Aconcagua, the highest peak of the Cordilleras, can easily be distinguished from the others by reason of its superior height.

Next to San Francisco, Valparaiso is the most important port on the eastern shores of the Pacific. This city of two hundred thousand has as much commerce as the average town of double that size, as it is the port for Santiago and the greater part of Chile. A business-like character is impressed upon the entire city. Here live the men who design and carry out the vast nitrate and mining enterprises of northern Chile, and practically all business, except that of politics, is managed from this city. The docks and warehouses are at all times busy places, and are crowded with boxes and bales from almost every commercial nation. Banditti-like rotos drive carts and wagons filled with merchandise. One of the first sights after being set down on the landing-stage is the two-wheeled dray of Valparaiso. It is drawn by two or three wiry and sweating horses, on the back of one of which rides the driver, who lashes the horses unmercifully. The ridden horse is hitched by a trace just outside the shafts, and he is trained to push at the shaft with his shoulder, or pull at right angles when the occasion arises, and in every way is as clever as any Texas bronco. One of these drays with the driver lashing his team might well figure on the escutcheon of this city.

The “U. S.” mark is less frequently seen in Valparaiso than that of Hamburg or London, for the United States has not become such an exporting country of manufactured products as those commercial nations of the older world; nor is the Yankee in flesh and blood. The predominance of the British is shown by the prevalence of the English language. Nearly every one engaged in business has at least a slight acquaintance with that tongue. One can not go far without crossing the path of some ruddy Briton or voluble Irishman. Many of the best stores bear English names, and one will see the same goods displayed as in New York or London. In fact it is more predominantly English in appearance than any other city of South America. There are cafés where they meet to drink their “half-and-half” or other beverages, and there is a club where the Times, Punch, and other favourites can be read. It is said that the foreign population almost equals the native in numbers. Only a small part of this foreign element is English, as there are many Italians, Germans and French, but the English are the bankers and tradesmen, and have impressed their characteristics more forcibly upon the city than the other nations. There are amusements in plenty, for there are clubs, concerts and an abundance of theatres to provide recreation as a relaxation from the strenuous life. There are tennis grounds, football fields and a golf course at Viña. There are many monuments over the city in the plazas and on the new alameda, erected to the nation’s heroes, and one to William Wheelwright, the American who did so much to aid Chile in developing her transportation facilities. The naval school, which crowns one of the hills, is one of the most attractive places in Valparaiso, and provides one of the finest views of the bay and surrounding hills.

“One of the great advantages of life in Valparaiso,” says Arthur Ruhl in “The Other Americans,” “is the absence of a professional fire department. The glorious privilege of fighting fires is appropriated by the élite, who organize themselves into clubs, with much the same social functions as the Seventh Regiment and Squadron A in New York, wear ponderous helmets and march in procession in great style whenever they get a chance. One comes upon these bomberos practising in the evening, on the Avenida, for instance, in store clothes and absent-mindedly puffing cigarettes, getting a stream on an imaginary blaze. In any emergency they perform much the same duties as our militia.

“It is the delightful privilege of the bombero to drop his work whenever the alarm is given, dash from his office to the blaze, and there man hose-lines, smash windows, chop down partitions, and indulge to the fullest one of the keenest primordial emotions of man. Inasmuch as buildings are seldom more than two or three stories in height and built of masonry, there is comparatively little danger of a large conflagration, and the average of one fire in four days is ‘just about right,’ as one of my Valparaiso acquaintances explained, ‘to give a man exercise.’ Their only unhappiness, he said, was that there were about fifteen hundred firemen in town, and they were getting so expert that what one could call a really ‘good’ fire was almost unknown.”

Like its commercial rival, San Francisco, Valparaiso suffered from a destructive earthquake in 1906. Slight quakes are quite common in this city, but the inhabitants do not seem to fear them, and go along the even tenor of their way as though such a thing as an earthquake was unknown. In one year as many as thirty-five shocks have been recorded, but the one mentioned above is the only one for a half century or more in which any lives were lost. In fact Valparaiso has had its full share of troubles and vicissitudes of all kinds. It was captured and sacked three times by buccaneers, twice by the British and once by a Dutch pirate. It has suffered severely from earthquake shocks on half a dozen different occasions, was destroyed by fire in 1858, bombarded by the Spanish fleet in 1866, and much property was destroyed in the Balmaceda revolution a little later. Few cities in the New World have had a career so troubled and diversified.

The most disastrous experience in the history of Valparaiso occurred in 1906. On the 16th of August of that year, only four months after the destruction of San Francisco, the greater part of the city was destroyed by an earthquake and the fire that followed. The day had been unusually calm and pleasant. About eight o’clock in the evening the first earthquake shock was felt, which was almost immediately followed by others. The whole city seemed to swing backward and forwards; then came a sudden jolt, and whole rows of buildings fell with a terrific crash. The electric light wires snapped, and gas and water mains were broken. The city was left in intense darkness, which was rendered all the more horrible by the shrieks of the injured and terrified inhabitants. Fires soon started which, fanned by a strong wind, soon became conflagrations. Between the fires and earthquake a large proportion of the lower town was completely destroyed, but the upper town was practically uninjured. Many of the better-built business houses withstood the earth’s tremblings, and the wind blew the flames in the opposite direction.

The authorities acted promptly in the matter, so that patrols of troops and armed citizens were soon on guard. The progress of the fire was impeded by the use of dynamite. Appeals for help were sent to Santiago and other cities, which were responded to as promptly as possible. There was necessarily some delay, for telegraph lines and the railroads had likewise suffered. The shocks continued for the two following days at irregular intervals, which likewise interfered with the work of cleaning up the city. A terrific downpour of rain also added to the confusion of the first night, for the vivid flashes of lightning and the clanging of the fire-bells made it a night not easily forgotten by the inhabitants. The killed and injured numbered at least three thousand persons. But fifty thousand or more were rendered homeless. Thousands of these were camped on the barren hills above the city, and thousands more were cared for by boats in the bay.

Strangely enough no damage was done to the shipping in the bay. The destruction was not confined to Valparaiso alone, but extended inland as far as Los Andes, and many of the small inland cities near Valparaiso suffered more or less damage. The property loss in Valparaiso has been estimated at one hundred million dollars. Like San Francisco, however, a new Valparaiso is arising which will be superior to the old. The greater part of the destroyed district has been rebuilt in a better and more enduring manner. The national government has advanced large sums of money to the municipality, which, in turn, has given it under certain conditions to those who suffered losses. To-day in the business section of Valparaiso it would be almost impossible, after only five years, to find evidence of this disastrous earthquake, but a little farther out its handiwork can quickly be traced.

There is a quaint side to life in Valparaiso. A visit to the market reveals many things of interest. One will first be impressed by the fine fruits of Chile, for nowhere in the world can one find more delicious pears, peaches and plums. The marketers bring their produce in huge two-wheeled carts drawn by the slow-moving ox. The stalls presided over by men and women fill every available inch of space, until it is almost impossible to force one’s way through. Everywhere are groups bargaining over fruits, vegetables or household articles, for these people dearly love a bargain. Many show by their faces a tinge of the Indian blood that runs in their veins.

A CHICKEN PEDDLER, VALPARAISO.

The peripatetic merchants, who carry supplies from door to door, come to the market for their stock in trade. It is invariably carried on the back of a donkey or mule, as it is difficult to draw a loaded wagon up the steep ascents. Their quaint cries may be heard in almost any part of the city during the morning hours. As a rule this merchant carries only one article, or possibly two or three, if it is vegetables. The chicken peddler has built little coops for his birds which take the place of a saddle. It is interesting to watch him gesticulate and praise the excellence of his fowls to the good housewife, or the servant who comes out in answer to his warning cry. The scissors-grinder and dealers in notions swell the list of perigrinating business men who make the streets vocal with their calls. The milkman carries the milk in cans swung over the back of his mule or donkey, or else drives the cows themselves from door to door.

“Leche de las burras y vacas,” meaning donkey’s and cow’s milk, was the cry that reached my ears one morning in Valparaiso. On looking around I saw a man leading two donkey mares and three cows through the streets. Each donkey mare was closely followed by its pretty but comical little colt. This is a custom imported from Spain and Italy, where goats are also taken from door to door and oftentimes up three or four flights of stairs to be milked. It might even be possible to find a milkman with donkeys, cows and goats in his collection, so that a regular department store variety of milk could be provided his customers. Add to these the camel and reindeer, and you have the sources of the world’s milk supply. Donkey’s milk is used a great deal for babies in South America, as it is considered better for them than the milk of either cows or goats. Milk delivered in this way does not need a sterilized label upon it, or a certificate from the department of health. Furthermore, there is very little danger of adulteration. The housekeeper reaps the benefit of this style of milk delivery, but it must be a slow and costly method for the dairyman. It is another evidence that primitiveness has not entirely disappeared from Chile.

A VENDER OF DONKEY’S MILK, VALPARAISO.

One other peculiar feature of life in Valparaiso is that the conductors on all the street cars are women. This innovation was introduced in the time of war with Peru, when men were hard to secure for that work. They did the work so well that they have been employed continuously ever since. It can not be said of them that they are especially attractive, or even look very jaunty in their uniforms of blue surmounted by a sailor hat. The fares are the cheapest I have ever found. The cars are all double-decked. For two cents one can ride inside, and it costs only half that rate to ride on the upper deck, which is a far better way to see the city. The service is good, and there are more than twenty-five miles of trolley in and about the city. The electric current for this as well as lighting is generated by water power a few miles north of the city, where a huge dam has been built across a stream.

A night view of Valparaiso from the bay is delightful. The many electric lamps in all parts of the city illuminate the otherwise dark shadows, and are reflected in the waters near the shore. Here and there move streaks of light in the lower town, as the electric cars dash along from one end of the city to the other; similar lines of light move up and down in a dozen places, as the “ascensors” carry their loads between the upper and lower town. At such times Valparaiso looks like a city of enchantment, a chosen bit from fairyland.

A trolley line leads out to the aristocratic suburb of Viña del Mar, where the rich people of Chile also have their summer residences. There are some beautiful homes in this city, of splendid architecture and surrounded by luxuriant foliage. In these villas the wearied and worried man of business finds rest after business hours. For a few months in the summer this resort is the centre of the social life of the republic, and the hotel is so crowded that it is difficult to secure accommodation, unless arranged for beforehand. There are delightful drives, when not too dusty, and then there are tennis courts, golf links, polo grounds and other places of recreation. A fine club building has been erected, where the devotees of games of chance can find the alluring games that their natures seem to crave. At Miramar is a small bathing resort, but it is extremely dangerous, for just a short distance from shore the bottom seems to drop to a great depth. It is used principally as a place for promenades and dress show for the society folks, and every day a long line of carriages wend their way out to that pleasant little bit of beach.

AN ATTRACTIVE HOME, VIÑA DEL MAR.

The great attraction of Viña, however, is the race course. Sunday is, of course, the gala day, and the race course is crowded with lovers of the sport. The people of Chile have passed the bull-fight period in civilization, for the bull-fight and lottery have both been banished by statutory enactment, and the horse races have taken their place. They vie with the residents of Buenos Aires in their devotion to this sport. The residents entertain house parties on that day and all attend the track. They become very enthusiastic, and few who have the money neglect an opportunity to stake it on the horses, for all are posted on the records of the various animals listed in the races, and each one has his or her favourite.

The province of Valparaiso does not extend quite to the Cordilleras, but it does reach out several hundred miles into the Pacific. Some four hundred miles west of Valparaiso lies the island of Juan Fernandez, which is generally known among English-speaking people as Robinson Crusoe’s Island.

“Poor old Robinson Crusoe! Poor old Robinson Crusoe!

They made him a coat of an old Nanny goat,

I wonder how they could do so!”

Thus runs the old nursery rhyme with which all of us are familiar. There are few reading people, young or old, who have not read that fascinating tale of adventure, written by Daniel Defoe, which depicts the adventures of Robinson Crusoe. And yet, perhaps, there are not so many who are familiar with the location of the island which Defoe pretends to describe.

The island of Juan Fernandez, generally known among Chileans as Mas-a-Tierra, is a great mass of rock almost twelve miles long by seven miles wide, a large part of which is as barren as a desert. One side, however, where fruits grow and the wild sheep and goats find their sustenance, is covered with a luxuriant vegetation. It is in a desolate location, for it is away from the trade routes and there are few vessels that pass that way. The fishing boats that ply between Valparaiso and the island keep up communication with the mainland. The waters of the Pacific teem with fish, and the fishermen have found the little bays of this small island profitable waters for their trade. It is a great lobster-fishing ground also, and the largest lobsters by far that I ever have seen were caught at this island.

Even to-day there are very few people who live on the island of Juan Fernandez. Only about half of it is fertile, and access to it is so difficult that it does not appeal to many. There is one settlement at San Juan Bautista—St. John the Baptist—where the boats land, and one or two other little groups of houses where a few colonists live. The attempt that has been made by the Chilean Government to colonize it cannot be called a success, for fewer people live there to-day than there did a few years ago.

Were it not for the story woven about the island few people would be interested in it to-day. It was here among these barren hills, and in the natural caves which abound on the island, that Alexander Selkirk lived for four years and four months, more than two centuries ago. It was here that he met and adopted a lone Indian, whom he named Friday, because of the day he first found him. It is little wonder that existence was lonesome, and it is even a greater wonder that he did not lose his mind from lack of association with other human beings. At last his watch fires attracted the attention of a passing schooner and the lone wanderer was taken to England, where, for a time, he became quite a hero. He was found, as the captain of the boat said, “clad in goat-skins and was running about as though he were demented.” There is a rock on the island which is called “Robinson Crusoe’s Lookout,” because it is said to be the place where the signal fires were built. It is on a high hill and commands a view of the sea for many miles. A large cave, which is as large as the average parlour, is supposed to have been his home. In the sides of this rock are rusty nails said to have been driven into it by pirates who used to make the place their rendezvous.

A marble tablet has been erected on the “Lookout.” This was placed there by some English naval officers in 1868, for Selkirk himself was a naval officer. Among other things this tablet says:

IN MEMORY OF
ALEXANDER SELKIRK
MARINER.
A NATIVE OF LARGO, IN THE COUNTY OF FIFE,
SCOTLAND, WHO LIVED ON THIS ISLAND,
IN COMPLETE SOLITUDE, FOUR YEARS
AND FOUR MONTHS.

HE WAS LANDED FROM THE “CINQUE PORTS”
GALLEY, 96 TONS, 18 GUNS, A. D., 1704, AND WAS TAKEN
OFF IN THE “DUKE,” PRIVATEER, 12TH FEBRUARY, 1709.

HE DIED LIEUTENANT OF H. M. S. “WEYMOUTH,” A. D.,
1723, AGED 47 YEARS.

THIS TABLET IS ERECTED NEAR SELKIRK’S LOOKOUT
BY COMMODORE POWELL AND THE OFFICERS
OF H. M. S. “TOPAZ” A. D., 1868.

Although Defoe’s tale is not wholly true, and some of the descriptions are incorrect, yet the story was suggested by the adventures of the marooned mariner, and the terrors of loneliness, solitude and fear which overwhelmed Robinson Crusoe were the same as those undergone by Alexander Selkirk.

Pascua, or Easter, Island is situated considerably farther out in the ocean than Juan Fernandez, and farther north. It was so named by a Dutch navigator, who landed on the island on Easter morning, in 1722. He carried back with him to Amsterdam the first record of its strange monuments. The greatest length of this island is eleven miles, and its greatest breadth is four miles. Yet here on this little speck in the ocean, an island no larger than Manhattan Island, where the sun is warm both summer and winter, and the climate is enervating, at one time lived a strange and marvellous people. None of the inhabitants of the island at the time of its discovery knew anything about the monuments or the race that built them. The traditions which were handed down from father to son shed no light on that subject. Some claim that they were a race of giants, evidently inspired by the gods whom they worshipped. Others claim they were a race that antedated the flood. There is also a theory, based on these monuments and those on other islands of the Polynesian Islands, that this entire group were once a part of a continent now submerged.

These people hauled mammoth stones from quarries that face the sea, carved on them faces and cut with rude implements upon all the four sides the story they wanted to tell. These stones were transported to chosen sites and set up with engineering accuracy, until almost the whole island became a gallery of monumental sculpture. Then came a new era; the race of builders disappeared, and no one is now able to decipher the hieroglyphics. In all there are over five hundred of these carved statues, colossal heads and other samples of the art of these prehistoric people. Except in a few cases the monuments face the sea, and to the east, and they range in size from a mammoth monolith seventy feet in height to a pigmy the size of a small boy. Some of them weigh several tons and were transported from quarries distant as much as eight miles. How this was done without the aid of mechanical devices is a mystery.

Besides the statues there are several immense platforms constructed of large cut stones piled together, as if they had been shaped to conform to the plan of an architect, and all are set with true edges without cement and plaster. These platforms are about thirty feet high, and from two hundred to three hundred feet in length. After a fashion they look like immense banquet tables or council platforms. Around or upon these tables the prehistoric chiefs may have sat in stone seats and deliberated or made plans to conquer enemies.

On this island there are some peaks which rise as high as twelve hundred feet above the surface of the sea, and there are walls of stone formed from lava which for scores of centuries have lain there, and small lakes formed in natural cups and bowls which were probably once the open mouths of volcanoes. There are the remains of what was once a house of stone. As the tumbled blocks now lie they mark out a structure one hundred feet long, twenty feet wide, with walls five feet thick. Some of the slabs are marked with geometrical figures and with representations of animals and birds. These suggest a gigantic species, larger than any that exist to-day. In fact all their representations of life suggest a heroic mould. But the peculiar feature of this house is that the ceiling was not more than five feet high, which would seem to render it unsuited for a dwelling place. It might have been intended for a storehouse of some sort. At the present time there are only a few hundred people living on the island who are of the Sawaiori race, and resemble very strongly the natives of Tahiti.

CHAPTER IV
THE CITY OF SAINT JAMES

“We will call this city Santiago (Saint James), for he has guided us thus far,” said Pedro de Valdivia, as he staked out the level ground surrounding a lofty rock into square blocks, one of which was given to each of his followers.

Few cities in the world have as fine a location as this City of Saint James. It lies in the centre of a magnificent amphitheatre, about forty miles long and perhaps eighteen miles wide, which is enclosed by a mighty wall of mountains on all sides save one, half of which are covered with perpetual snows. The Mapocho River, which flows through the city through an artificial channel, escapes from the valley through the opening on the south, which leads into the great central valley that forms the real heart of the republic. The great amphitheatre in which Santiago is situated is divided into large haciendas, on which are erected magnificent mansions that resemble the ancient baronial homes of England. In these the owners live and rule almost like lords of old.

Santiago was founded as the first town in Chile. Valdivia erected a stronghold on the rock, which he named Santa Lucia, and then set to work to build the city at its base, which he had named after the patron saint of Spain. The squares were laid out with the lines running east and west, north and south. Each of his followers to whom was given a square for a garden, was required to construct a house for his own use. Thus it will be seen that Santiago is not a new city, nor has its growth been of the mushroom variety. Founded in the sixteenth century, it preserves in wood and stone, to a great extent, the spirit of old Spain transplanted to the New World. The Spanish cavalier stalked in complete mail through the streets of Santiago before the Mayflower landed the pilgrims on the shores of Massachusetts. The priests were chanting the solemn service of the church here long before the English landed at Jamestown. Dust had gathered on the volumes in the municipal library of this city centuries preceding the building of the first little red school-house in the United States. Before New York was even thought of, the drama of life was being enacted daily in this beautiful valley after Castilian models.

SANTA LUCIA.

But let us take a look at this ancient capital. At one side of the city is El Cerro de Santa Lucia, a mass of volcanic rock almost as high as the Washington Monument. It has a base of several acres, but gradually narrows as it rises precipitously above all the buildings, until it ends in the jagged piece of rock which crowns the summit. After the fortress was removed it became the burial place of Jews, Protestants, infidels and all who were forbidden burial in consecrated ground. When these bones were finally removed they were dumped in a corner of one of the Catholic cemeteries, and the church authorities erected a monument with the inscription “exiles from both heaven and earth.” This freak of nature, which geologists say was dropped by some wandering iceberg, has been made into a delightful place, partly by private subscription and partly at public expense. The summit is reached by several winding roads and walks that are enclosed by walls in a most picturesque manner. In the crevices of the rocks flowers, bushes and curious plants are growing. Eucalyptus trees rise up, and gigantic ferns reach out so that the hill seems a veritable garden in the air. At intervals are kiosks for music or refreshments, and half way up is a theatre where vaudeville entertainments are occasionally given for the entertainment of the people. Terraces, fountains, winding walks and steps cut out of the rock add to the beauties and comforts of Santa Lucia. On the summit is a little chapel where the remains of Mr. Benjamine Vicuña Mackenna, who planned this scheme and gave large sums towards its completion, lies buried. On the way up one passes one wonderful rock formation after another, delightful grottoes and cozy nooks, until at last all Santiago is spread out before you like a panorama.

ALAMEDA DE LAS DELICIAS, SANTIAGO.

Below is a vast expanse of flat roofs, out of which here and there rise trees and a wealth of green. These are in the patios, or inside courts, of the larger houses. Here and there rise the towers of the numerous churches with which Santiago is provided. The many streets cross each other in checkerboard fashion, thus dividing the city into square blocks. At one side can be distinguished the Alameda de las Delicias, with its double rows of great poplar trees, which furnish an arbour of dense shade from one end of the city to the other, a distance of three miles, and which leads out to the parks known as Quinta Normal and Cousiño. This avenue, which was formerly the principal road leading into the city, has been laid out as a broad highway more than three hundred feet in width, with a promenade in the centre and a wide driveway on either side. Fronting this Alameda are many very fine residences—the finest in the city. Some of the houses are very large, containing fifty rooms or more, and the furnishings are elaborate. The ceilings are very high, which gives ample opportunity for decorative effect. One striking feature is the absence of chimneys, for the Chileans are averse to artificial heat. In the winter time it is nothing unusual for a guest to be received by the host and his family wearing furs and heavy wraps. A few of the newer houses have installed heating plants. With these homes the best and most attractive part is usually hidden from the street. There are several stands along the Alameda at which military bands discourse music frequently. The promenade is broken by many statues of Chile’s heroes, and others commemorating events important in Chilean history; and at every few feet throughout its length are stone seats on which the people rest.

One of the finest private residences in South America is that belonging to the Cousiño family, which was erected by the late Señora Isadora Cousiño. It was designed by a famous French architect and will compare favourably with those of New York. It is built of brick, stuccoed in the usual manner to resemble stone, and is imposing. Its interior decorations are elaborate, but rather the style one would expect in a public building than in a private home. They are all French scenes, as the work was done by French artists. It is still one of the show places, although the señora has been dead for many years, and her descendants have more modest taste. She was a remarkable woman, and her chief concern seemed to be to expend her enormous income. Her extravagance was frequently the gossip of Europe as well as her native land. Herself the richest woman in Chile before marriage, she married the richest man, and all his wealth was willed to her at his death. She had millions of dollars in herds, mines, railroads, steamships, real estate, etc. Another magnificent château at Lota was built by her, and the estancia of Macul, an hour’s ride from Santiago, was almost a principality in itself. The land stretched from the environs of the city to the distant Cordilleras with their mantle of snow.

DANCING LA CUECA, THE NATIONAL DANCE.

Señora Cousiño did one good thing for Santiago; she presented to the city beautiful Cousiño Park. It is a large park of several hundred acres, which is the popular playground of the masses. It has cheap cafés, merry-go-rounds and other amusements, and is the nearest approach to a Coney Island that the capital affords. There are a number of stands for dancing where, on a Sunday especially, one may see the Chilean national dance, La Cueca, which is a sort of refined can-can. The couples pair off with handkerchiefs in their hands, and dance face to face, while the musicians sit on benches near-by and thrum guitars, pick mandolins, or play other instruments. Each dancer waves his handkerchief in the air with graceful gestures, and sways around in attitudes which are supposed to show grace and suppleness. A race track has also been constructed in the centre of the park, called the “Club Hippico,” where races are held almost every Sunday afternoon and frequently on holidays. This is the most popular amusement in Chile. Another park, the Quinta Normal, has been provided for the people, and in it is quite an extensive zoological garden. Among the many “strange” and “fierce” animals kept in cages are several species of dogs and cats, which seem very much out of place in such surroundings. A very interesting museum also occupies a pretty site near the entrance. A botanical garden and experiment station is also maintained here, and an exposition building in which agricultural fairs are held each year.

There are a number of very fine public buildings in Santiago. Perhaps the finest is the Palace of Congress, which is a large building of modern classical construction covering an entire square—not differing much from many public buildings that one will find in the United States. I attended a session of the Senate and the proceedings seemed very strange. The members talked at random without even addressing the chair or rising from their seats. In fact the proceedings were the most informal of any legislative body I ever attended. Not infrequently, however, the sessions are very stormy, and the reputation of the Spaniard for excitability is well maintained. The National Library is almost opposite this building, but is not an imposing building, although it contains an interesting and valuable collection of books. La Moneda is the name given to the residence of the President, and it also contains the offices of many of the government departments. It is a large three-story building with quite imposing surroundings. The President is generally attended by a military guard during his drives around the city. Other buildings are the Palace of Justice, in which the highest courts sit, the Army Building, and the Intendency, or City Hall.

At one place in Santiago a beautiful marble monument has been erected on the site of a church that was burned in 1863. Church festivals have always played an important part in the social life of the capital. At the time of the Christmas festivities of that year a gorgeous fête was in progress in the Jesuits’ church, which was known as the Feast of the Virgins. The interior was festooned and decorated everywhere with light gauze, wreaths of paper flowers and other inflammable material. Candles had been attached to these flimsy decorations. The church was crowded with women while high mass was being celebrated by the bishop. Suddenly the hangings caught fire, the burning candles fell among the crowd of worshippers and everyone rushed for the doors. As usual, the doors opened inward, and the crowds, jammed against them, made it impossible for them to be opened. It is claimed that almost three thousand women and girls lost their lives in this terrible holocaust. After the fire the bodies were found packed in a solid mass against the doors. The church was afterwards razed to the ground by order of the government, and this monument erected on the site. Scarcely a leading family in Santiago escaped bereavement, and the Feast of the Virgins has ever since been celebrated with mourning in Chile.

There are many worthy charitable institutions in Santiago. Some of these are municipal institutions and others are church charities. Among these are numerous hospitals for the care of the sick and unfortunate. There is one very large orphan asylum, which cares for many hundreds of unfortunate children—many of them of unknown parentage. The method of reception of these unfortunate, and generally unwelcome, infants is unique. In the rear wall is an opening with a wooden box in it which swings in and out. The mother wishing to get rid of her baby places the little mite in the box and swings it in. The automatic ringing of a bell notifies the nuns inside and the baby is taken charge of by them. No effort is ever made to find the mother, and she is thus enabled to rid herself of her charge. Some moralists would criticize this practice, but it is certainly better than infanticide, which is said to be an almost unknown crime in Chile, where the ratio of illegitimate births is very large.

The Opera House is a municipal institution and is a very fine building. During the season opera is given here several nights each week, and generally by Italian companies. Not only is the building furnished free, but a good subsidy is given the management each year in order to bring good talent here. The seats and boxes are sold by subscription for the season as a guaranty fund and are paid for in advance, although many sell their seats occasionally if there is a demand for them. The audiences are very interesting, for the people dress exceedingly well and are lavish in their wearing of jewels. There is a large foyer in which the people promenade between acts and there are refreshment rooms where all kinds of refreshments are served. A special box is reserved for the President of the republic and the intendente of the city. There is also a mourning box protected by screens, where those in mourning may watch the performance without being themselves seen.

The city of Santiago is a municipality within the province of the same name. A little more democracy has been infused into the government than used to prevail. The city is divided into ten sections or wards. Each of these wards, called circumscripciones, elects three councillors, all the members together constituting the municipal legislative body. They must be citizens of at least five years’ residence in the city, must not have any interest in national or municipal contracts, and must not hold any other public office or commission. The three members from each ward have certain local powers and duties principally in connection with the elections. From its members the council elect three alcaldes, or mayors, fixing the order of precedence among the three, also a secretary and treasurer. The powers and jurisdiction of this body extends to the entire government, subject only to the constitution and the organic act under which the municipality is organized. The principal revenues are derived from a personal tax levied for school purposes, a tax on liquors and tobacco, a license for industries and professions, revenues derived from city property and an annual grant from the national Congress.

A GROUP OF NEWSBOYS, SANTIAGO.

It is in the market-places that one can best study the common people. There are two markets in Santiago, both of them on the bank of the Mapocho. At the newer one one will be sure to find some newsboys plying their trade. “La Union” and “El Mercurio” are the cries of these busy little newsboys, as they flit in and out among the marketers of Santiago. They are barefooted ragamuffins, most of them, but they industriously ply their trade. Their complexions are of different shades, for some of the boys have Indian blood in their veins, which gives them a deeper colouring. I posed two small boys for a picture, but before I could take it a half dozen had crowded into it, making an interesting group. The boys of South America, just like their counterparts in the United States, want to take a part in everything that comes within their range of vision.

It would be difficult to find a more interesting place in Santiago than the old market, which will soon be abandoned. Around it will be seen the huge, two-wheeled market carts in which the produce has been brought. Many of these marketers have been on the road for two or three days, bringing in the products of their fertile fields for the people in the city. The meek-eyed oxen stand or recline while chewing their cud, no doubt enjoying to the full the brief respite from their work. The produce displayed in the market is good. The fruits of Chile are simply delicious in flavour, and they are large in size. The pears and peaches of California are not better than those grown here below the equator, and yet they have been grown with very little care in their cultivation.

One must bargain with or pay an exorbitant price to these market men and women. If it is only a melon, or a dozen juicy pears, twice as much will be asked as is expected. If you shake your head when a price is given, the man or woman in charge of the stall will immediately ask, “What will you give?” On the outside of the market building dozens of women will be seen seated on the ground with a little pile of tomatoes, radishes, potatoes or melons heaped up in front of them. The housewife or servant will pass around among them making purchases and gradually filling up the basket which she carries, or hires some boy to bear for her.

A MARKET SCENE, SANTIAGO.

The poorer Chileans are a hard working people—the most industrious of the South Americans. A walk through the sections of the city occupied by them shows much grinding poverty. Across the Mapocho penury stretches on all sides. The dwellings are low, with floors oftentimes below the street level, and the interiors show unsanitary conditions and an entire lack of the comforts of life, let alone the decencies. The improvement of such surroundings should command immediate attention from the authorities. The wages paid this class are not very large, so that they are compelled to live in comparative poverty. They drink a great deal on Sundays and holidays. Monday is a bad day to get anything done, for the peons must have a few hours to recover from the previous day’s celebration. It is a sort of a “dias non,” a day that is not. Holidays are greatly desired, and it takes five of them to properly celebrate the “diaz y ocho de Setiembre,” the 18th of September, the anniversary of Chilean independence. Fiestas are held in every park and plaza, and all the banks and business houses close. Everybody, young and old, engages in the festivities with zeal and enthusiasm. The poor people save up their money for weeks and months in order to celebrate this occasion in the only way that seems appropriate to them—that is, by carousing. Saturday is beggars’ day, and every mendicant in the city is out with open palm. On other days only the licensed beggars appear. Some beggars even come out on horseback, for horses are remarkably cheap in Chile.

Another good view may be had of the poorer classes on the occasion of a church celebration, such as the festival of Corpus Christi. Both church and state take a part in this fiesta. The troops appear in their finest uniforms. The infantry are gorgeous in their blue and yellow, with helmets surmounted with white plumes. The cavalry wear blue plumes and the bands are adorned with red plumes. The religious procession consists of the Procession of the Cross, which is composed of various societies, the Dominicans, Franciscans, Augustinians and other orders. The parochial clergy follow with the Archbishop in the lead. During the procession hundreds of women and children, and some men, kneel in the streets. Some men doff their hats, while others look on in seemingly idle curiosity without any special attitude of reverence.

The wealthier people take life easy. The real life is only for this class. After breakfast, which is served from eleven to twelve o’clock, comes the siesta. This meal is frequently an elaborate and formal function if guests are present, and is more like a dinner. On the door of many business houses one will see the sign “cerrado de las 12 a 1½ horas,” which means that they are closed between these hours. Business calls are usually made between two and four. At six o’clock every person who owns or can hire a carriage goes out to Cousiño Park. Everyone dresses in his best, the men wearing silk hats and frock suits, and the women having on fashionable gowns and large hats. In the park the carriages parade up and down the principal drives and the occupants nod to their acquaintances. It is quite the correct thing for men to make audible remarks about the personal appearance of ladies, if they are complimentary. After about half an hour of this parade they adjourn as by mutual consent to the Alameda, which is twice as wide as Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, and the parade continues up one side of the imposing avenue and down the other for another half hour. There are all kinds of vehicles—drays, victorias, landaus, four-in-hands and automobiles. The driving is superintended by mounted policemen, and the scene is quite imposing, though rather stilted in the eyes of an American. The parade then breaks up and all drive home to partake of the dinner, which is the principal meal of the day. The politeness of the Chileno is excessive. He will always give the lady the inner side of the street, and would cheerfully step off the sidewalk in order to render this courtesy. The man always extends the first greeting also to a lady of his acquaintance.

Club life is greatly enjoyed in Santiago, for the resident of that city is very much of a night-hawk. The Club de la Union is the best club in the country. It was my privilege to be entertained there a number of times. The real life does not begin until rather late, and there is always a representative crowd of men to be found there after ten o’clock, and gambling is sure to be indulged in in some form. While the men are at the club the women stay at home, or attend the theatre.

When Italian opera is not being given, one-act comedies are the favourite plays. Going to the theatre, however, usually means looking in for a zarzuela or two during the evening. Three or four of these one-act pieces, or zarzuelas, are usually put on in an evening, and the house is cleared after each performance. Those who dine late usually drop in for the second turn, which begins about half-past nine; or one can catch the last one, which does not begin until about eleven o’clock. Some of these zarzuelas are one-act musical plays, abridged from popular operas, but most of them are melodrama or grotesque comedy. The audiences are very alert and are quick to respond to appeals from the stage.

“Oh, Mamacita, let us go around the plaza once more, for the band has not yet quit playing,” plead the little girls and young ladies of Santiago. On Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday evenings a band plays in the Plaza de Armas, which is the centre of life and business in the Chilean capital. Then occurs the paseo, or promenade, so common in Spanish towns. It usually begins before the light has yet faded from the highest peaks of the Andes, and while the newsboys are still calling out “Las Ultimas Noticias.” The girls and young ladies, the boys and young men, all come here on these evenings. The former are always accompanied by their mothers, as the social customs are very strict and the girls do not enjoy as much freedom as their cousins have in North America. The mothers sit on the benches, while the younger women and girls walk around the plaza in pairs and groups. The young men, among whom are many officers in German uniforms and with clanking swords, walk around in the opposite direction, and pass audible comments on the girls who pass. Their remarks are irritating to an Anglo-Saxon who understands the Castilian lisp, but the girls only laugh or smile, for they are quite accustomed to it. The same attentions bestowed on young ladies on the average American street would result in an interference by a man in blue uniform, and possibly a gentle use of the “big stick.” The young men exchange a few words with those with whom they are acquainted, but not for long, for mamma keeps her vigilant eyes on them. The girls, even little tots, are finished coquettes, and they aim to attract attention. This is one of the few opportunities afforded to the young people to see each other. If a young man observes a girl by whom he is attracted he will begin inquiries as to who she is, and perhaps even his folks will aid him in his effort to make the acquaintance of his inamorata.

THE OLDEST BUILDING IN SANTIAGO.

Within almost a stone’s throw of the Plaza is all of Chile—those who rule and those who own—the principal club, theatres, public buildings and residences of diplomats. The chief business streets converge at this plaza, and the leading business houses are near it. The great cathedral and archbishop’s palace occupy one entire side, the post office and a government building another side, and the portales, or corridors, under which are many booths and stores, fill up the remaining two sides. The stores around the plaza are small and like those of old Spain. This is the oldest business section in Santiago and was in existence two centuries before our own national capital. Some of the stores are like holes in the wall, with goods stacked up in the doorway and even on the street outside. They are far different from the larger and more modern establishments near the corner of Ahumada and Huerfanos, a block away. There one will find splendid stores where goods from all parts of the world can be purchased. A fine large department store has recently been opened up in the city, which is a great improvement over any of the old establishments. The prices in the windows look very high, but an article marked five dollars means only about one-fifth that amount in United States currency.

During the day many shoppers may be seen. The women trip along two by two or roll up in their broughams, victorias or automobiles. In the morning the women wear black gowns and the mantas, which are shawls folded into a sort of bonnet which gives a very demure setting to the black-eyed, oval, and, oftentimes, beautiful faces underneath. This is the dress worn to the morning mass, and is not changed until after the breakfast hour. One may sometimes see the roguish eyes of the wearer peering at him from beneath this manta, even while the owner is fingering her beads and uttering her prayers in the cathedral. Some one has described the manta as “that graceful euphemism which shields the poor and disarms the vain, hides bad taste and clumsy waists, and wrapped about the head and nipped in in some marvellous fashion at the nape of the neck, envelops all femininity in gracefulness and mystery.”

One’s visit is not complete without seeing a sunset from Santa Lucia. Santiago is situated in a valley, surrounded by lofty mountains on every side. At its back are the Cordilleras of the Andes, with their lofty peaks which lift their eternal snows far up into the blue ethereal canopy overhead. As the sun creeps slowly into the western sky it illumes the red tile roof of the city and the many spires. Then its rays fall full upon the snow-clad peaks, and long after the fiery ball has dropped behind the lower range of mountains, which separate Santiago from the sea, its rays continue to glisten upon the loftier peaks that form the eastern horizon. Then, as darkness slowly falls over the landscape, the electric lights of the city flash forth beneath you like visions in fairy land. The whole scene, with its variations and transformations, is one that will long linger in memory.

CHAPTER V
THE GRANARY OF THE REPUBLIC

The heart of Chile lies in the great central valley which extends south from Santiago, through Concepción and beyond, for a distance of almost six hundred miles. It lies between the Andes and the less lofty range of mountains that follows the coast line. This used to be Chile almost, but the development of the nitrate industry to the north has made that section of much greater importance than formerly. The climate in this valley is delightful, neither too cold nor too wet, and its nearness to the charms of the capital has made it an attractive dwelling place for the Chilenos for several centuries. The climate is very similar to that of California. The same crops and fruits are raised in both places, and the conditions of farming are also very much the same.

After leaving Santiago the railroad passes through numerous orchards and extensive vineyards which grow around this proud city. Over the fences of mud and stone trail the branches of peach trees, and along the roads stretch eternal rows of solemn poplars and stiff clumps of the eucalyptus. The waters of the Maipo ripple along near the track. There is an appearance of enterprise and industry everywhere. Great carts drawn by oxen, some of them with solid wheels like those of Pharaoh’s time, are lined up at every station, as well as pack mules awaiting their burdens. As a contrast a luxurious French or Italian automobile may be seen. Fine estancia buildings surrounded by vineyards loom up prominently along the route, while, as a contrast, are the rude buildings inhabited by the peons, which show absolutely no advance over centuries ago. There is the same contrast in farming methods. Rude ploughs which merely scratch the ground may be seen at work nearer to outfits which are strictly modern.

The valley varies in its outline, for in places the surrounding mountains press in and diminish its width. Numerous streams which have their origin in the Andes cut across it, and their milky-white waters restlessly rush onward to the sea. Among these are the Cachopoal, Maraquito, the Bueno, the Maule and the Claro (clear), whose waters are more transparent than the others. The altitude becomes lower and the temperature correspondingly warmer. On the eastern side the lofty volcanoes of Maipo and its companions are plainly in sight. Cattle may be seen grazing on the rougher lands, while great fields of wheat and other grains grow in the more tillable portions. At the stations farther down girls, who show by the darkened complexion their admixture with the Indians, offer baskets of all shapes and sizes, from one the size of a pea, to the passengers as souvenirs. In this admixture the natives have conquered the would-be conquerors.

One of the most important places passed is Talca, which is one of the largest cities of Chile. It has plenty of rainfall and is surrounded by wheat farms. It has a very pretty plaza, and is ornamented with some statuary brought from Peru at the time of the war with that country. Two snow-clad volcanoes lift their hoary heads to the skies on the eastern horizon, although at a considerable distance. It is situated at a distance of about one hundred and fifty miles from the capital. The streets are many of them lined with poplars, and magnolia trees lend their fragrance. Vegetables and fruits grown here are of the finest, and the inhabitants of Talca are able to live on the good things of life after approved fashion.

As old as is this valley, there is still much undeveloped land in it. This land is partly covered with the bramble or other scrub growth. The only trees to be seen for hundreds of miles are those that have been planted. Some of the soil is very rich, while some is stony and hard to cultivate. Where irrigation has been developed the soil responds readily to the hand of the agriculturalist. The silt carried down from the mountains by the streams acts as a fertilizer when deposited on the surface of the valley. South of the Bio-Bio River no irrigation is employed, or is necessary. The coast range gradually becomes lower until it disappears. Evergreen trees take the place of the common forms of deciduous trees. The Rio Itata is quite an important stream, but all the rivers of this valley fade in importance by the side of the famous Bio-Bio. Up to 1884 this river was the frontier boundary, all the land beyond being under the sway of the Araucanian Indians, who were a sturdy and independent tribe. Many battles have been fought near this stream with the Indians, who resisted Spain and the succeeding republic for more than three hundred years. The iron horse has now crossed it and opened up the regions beyond, although all of the southern section has a much newer appearance than that on the other side of the river. The newer towns remind one very much of the frontier communities in the United States. Many of them are settlements of Europeans, and some of them have had hard struggles for existence. Onward the route leads through Victoria, Temuco, and Valdivia to Puerto Montt, a port and the last town of any importance until Punta Arenas is reached. It is also beyond what might be termed the valley proper. Nearly all of this region is extremely fertile, and contains some of the richest land in the republic. It only needs irrigation in the north, and a clearing of the forests in the southern portions, to make it blossom with wheat and other valuable grains for the support of mankind. From the orange groves of Santiago to the apple orchards of Temuco this valley ought to be one immense garden.

A PLANTATION OWNER.

This great central valley is parcelled out among large landowners, many of whom own almost princely estates. As agriculture has always been the chief occupation of the Chilenos, fully one-half of the population being engaged in it, these estates have been held in the same family for generations in many instances. A farm of a thousand acres is small, and there are many which number thirty or forty thousand acres. Upon the product of these broad acres the owner lives in luxury almost like the feudal lords of old. Hundreds of peons work on the haciendas, just as their forefathers did before them, and they really form a small army of retainers, who used to be ready to fight the battles of the hacendado at a moment’s call. Now they work for them for small wages, and are always in debt. So long as they are indebted to the master they can be compelled to remain and work it out.

Irrigation has been considerably developed in some parts. Each hacendado is a subscriber to or shareholder in an irrigation canal. These have been constructed at a great expense and are protected by very strict laws. They consist of main canals starting well up among the hills, and are pierced by many small outlets, called regadores. Each of these has an outlet of a fixed number of litres per second. The fields are traversed by parallel and intersecting smaller channels, and the water is thus conducted from place to place. Movable dams of canvas stop the flow into these intersecting channels, so that the amount flowing can be regulated as the needs require.

DRAWING AN AMERICAN THRESHER.

It is seldom that one will see fences of wire or boards, for most of the estates are hemmed in with walls of stone. The absence of barns on the landscape is a striking feature, and the only buildings of any size are the low, rambling structures which form the residence of the hacendado, his administrador, and other heads. These usually consist of one-storied buildings, which are built around a central patio, and have wide porches floored with brick. The patios are laid out in pretty little gardens, in which the palm is sure to have its part in the attempt at ornamentation. Great avenues of lofty trees usually run out in every direction along the roads or irrigation channels. The most of the estates are fairly well kept, for the Chileans are quite progressive agriculturalists. One will find on many of these great farms the very latest of farming implements, including steam or gasoline tractors for certain phases of the work. Especially is this true of their harvesting machinery, which includes the latest North American patterns. But in one respect there are some antiquated features, and that is in transportation. If animal power is employed it is almost invariably oxen, and not horses or mules. They plough the ground, haul the timber, and behind them the thousands of bushels of grain produced in this valley are conveyed to market. These animals are yoked by the horns, which seems a very cruel way to treat these humble but faithful servants of man. It looks to the onlooker as though every jar of the great carts must give pain to the oxen, and oftentimes their eyes seem almost darting from their heads.

The vineyards of this valley cover thousands of acres, for the Chileans drink wine as the Germans drink beer. A meal without the white or red contents of a long-necked bottle would be incomplete. The vines are dwarfed, and are planted in rows five or six feet apart. In many cases they are trained upon wires, and the vineyards are not unlike those in some parts of France. The abundance of a certain species of snail is said to be one of the worst enemies of vitaculture. The Chilean wines, both red and white, have quite a reputation, and the exports are increasing each year.

The abundance of dogs about these Chilean haciendas impresses the traveller. The Chilenos are very fond of these animals, and everybody seems to keep many of them. Most of them are obliged to forage for a living. They naturally become rather unsavoury scavengers under such circumstances. It is not advisable to approach a farm, especially at night, without being accompanied by some one connected with the place, as the dogs seem to consider it their duty to protect the household from intrusion. Furthermore, the people living there are free to fire at any unauthorized person, because of the prevalence of petty thieving.

Temuco is at a distance of a little less than five hundred miles from Santiago. It is situated on the Cautin River, and is the capital of the province of that name. Only thirty years old, this city already has a population of twelve thousand, and covers about as much space as an American town of the same size. Like an American town, also, its houses are mostly of wood, a striking contrast to the older towns, farther down the valley toward the capital. Although the temperature becomes quite cold here at times the houses are built without chimneys, for the people believe that fires are unhealthful. Churches, clubs and hotels have been built, and there are saloons where almost pure alcohol is dished out to the poor peons.

Back into the wilderness from here and other places the government has pushed short spurs of railroads in order to open it up. The government locates the stations and lays out the lots, which are sold at low prices to actual settlers. The lands round about are sold at auction in good sized blocks of fifteen hundred acres or more. This land will bring from one to twelve dollars per hectare (about two and a quarter acres). A farm of two thousand acres of choice land could probably be secured for five thousand dollars in United States currency. The sales are generally made upon the basis of one-third cash, and the balance is distributed over a period of years. The only provision exacted by the government is that the purchaser must fence in his newly-acquired possessions, but this is oftentimes a great expense. This land when heavily stocked with cattle is said to yield very good returns.

A few years ago every new immigrant was promised one hundred acres of land, a team of oxen, a barrel of nails and enough boards to build a small house. He was also advanced the money necessary for his transportation. All of this had to be repaid, however, and the land alone was the only actual gift. Under these terms many Germans were induced to come to this land of promise. Many of these settlers have done well, and some towns, such as Valdivia and Puerto Montt, are largely German cities.

The first German settlers arrived about 1850, and they continued to come in considerable numbers for the next decade. The first emigrants arrived in the German barque Hermann, after a journey of one hundred and twenty days from Hamburg. She brought seventy men, ten women and five children. They had been lured by the promises of an immigration agent who described the country as flowing with milk and honey. When they arrived everything was in hopeless confusion, for titles were uncertain and the country was an almost unbroken forest. The colonists began work under these discouraging conditions and the face of the country soon showed alteration. Puerto Montt was founded, and a good road built through the trackless and swampy woodland to Lake Llanquihue. The influx of Germans has continued even to this day, and many will be found who can speak no other tongue than that of the Vaderland.

On the journey from Santiago to Puerto Montt no less than a dozen provinces are passed. Many of these are comparatively small, such as O’Higgins, which is about the size of Delaware, to Llanquihue, which corresponds with our own state of Indiana. Most of them run from the Andes to the coast, but Arauco and Maule are purely coast provinces. The names of the provinces in this section, and their order beginning with the one adjoining the province of Santiago, are as follows:—O’Higgins, Colchagua, Curico, Talca, Maule, Linares, Nuble, Concepción, Bio-Bio, Arauco, Malleco, Cautin, Valdivia, and Llanquihue.

Along the coast between Puerto Montt and Valparaiso are several ports of more or less importance. Among these are Constitucion, situated at the mouth of the River Talcahuano, and Coronel. The latter is the Newcastle of Chile, for it is in the midst of many coal mines. Many of these mines run out under the Pacific for long distances. The seams of coal are from three to five feet thick. They are under a strata of slate and shale, which is so compact as to be absolutely water-tight. It is a strange experience to run out in these mines, which form a veritable catacomb of corridors and chambers, and realize that perhaps at that very moment some of the great ocean steamers are majestically sailing the blue waters directly over you. I know of no similar mines except those of Whitehaven, England, where the galleries run out several miles under the sea and seem to be headed for the Isle of Man.

Lota is also another mining town on this same bay, and is a town of about fifteen thousand people. This city and Coronel are really twin ports. Lota was founded by Matias Cousiño, who opened up the mines and established smelter works in 1855. The company owns a large amount of property and employs several thousand men. It furnishes huts, free medical attendance, a church, schools and a hospital for its employees. The sight of this town is the wonderful palace built by his widow, which was constructed at a cost of many thousands of dollars. It is a château of white Italian marble, and stands in the centre of a French landscape garden. There are ravines, fountains, statuary, arbours, terraces, grottoes, artificial lakes and a small zoological exhibit on the grounds. It blends French and English landscape gardening with some original ideas. Few country homes in Europe can compare with it. It is said that all the material was brought from France in the Señora Doña Isadora Goyenecheo de Cousiño’s own ships, and the interior is adorned with fine furniture and decorations by famous French artists. Cousiño Park at Lota has become the pride of Chile.

By far the most important town is Concepción, also in the coal district, and which is known as the southern capital. It has had many serious struggles with the Indians, gaunt famine and the still more terrible earthquake. It is really a fine city of about fifty thousand inhabitants. The last serious earthquake occurred in 1835, when nearly the whole town was destroyed. It is situated on the banks of the Bio-Bio River, and has for its port Talcahuano at the mouth of that river. Talcahuano has a splendid harbour, and is better protected than Valparaiso, as it is sheltered by the island of Quiriquina. Whaling ships now leave it for the Antarctic seas and bring back considerable oil and whalebone. There is a factory here for the manufacture and refining of whale oil. It is the Chilean Annapolis, as it is the principal naval harbour, with arsenals and dockyards, and is also the site of a naval school. It will eventually be the Pacific terminus of a transcontinental railroad running to Bahia Blanca, in Argentina.

Concepción is the supply centre of Southern Chile, and does a large wholesale business as well as some manufacturing on a small scale. Quite a foreign colony is found there, and there are as good clubs and hotels as in Valparaiso, its northern rival. It has forgotten all about earthquakes and has risen above its former disasters. It is arranged very much as other Chilean cities. There is an alameda bordered with poplars, and there is a plaza. Lord Cochrane (pronounced Coch-rah-ne by the Chileans), and Admiral O’Higgins are remembered in the nomenclature of the streets. You can sit under municipal vines and fig-trees, or the pear or cherry loaded with blossoms, if you happen to be there in September. The markets are overflowing with fine vegetables, such as cauliflower, lettuce, artichokes, carrots, radishes, potatoes, cabbage, etc., etc. Indian faces are very numerous at the market and on the streets. Bands play two or three nights in the week and the music is good. The flat plain on which the town is situated is not especially beautiful, but it gives unlimited opportunity for growth, and the Bio-Bio, especially when at flood, is an impressive stream. The galvanized iron used so extensively in construction does not add much to the beauty of the town. As Southern Chile develops, Concepción becomes of greater and greater importance, and it has a steady and healthy increase each year.

Osorno is a thriving city a little ways inland on a branch of the Rio Bueno, and was a place of considerable importance in the Spanish days. Corral is at the mouth of the river that leads back to Valdivia, a dozen miles inland. It has a trade of considerable importance with the other ports, and is distant from Valparaiso almost five hundred miles. The coast is not so densely wooded as farther south, and the tide is not more than one-fourth as high on the average. Puerto Montt is a prosperous and progressive little town situated on Reloncavi Bay. It has a well protected harbour and enjoys a considerable trade in lumber, wheat and leather. The lofty Andes are plainly visible on a clear day, especially the volcano Cabulco, which is only twenty-two miles distant. A half century ago this port had a commerce of considerable value and was even then exporting food products, although its population did not much exceed a couple of thousand.

VIEW OF PUERTO MONTT.

Courtesy of Bulletin of the Pan American Union.

There are innumerable islands, which lie close to the mainland, from Puerto Montt to the Fuegian Archipelago. The largest of these is Chiloé, which is a hundred miles long by from thirty to fifty miles in width. It is generally considered to be one of the sloppiest islands in the world, for that was the reputation the naturalist Darwin gave it, and his opinion has been corroborated many times. Its length runs parallel to the mainland, from which it is separated by a quite broad bay. The shores are generally wild and rather inhospitable. If one lands any place, excepting where a settler is located, the dense growth will be found almost impenetrable, with all branches dripping with moisture, and only an occasional sunbeam being able to push its way through the openings in the evergreen shrubbery. Moss-covered bogs abound in which one may sink to the waist in the mire. On this moist land everything grows with wonderful rapidity that does not require a great amount of sunshine. Moss, yards in length, and of great delicacy and beauty, hangs from the branches, while ferns and polypodia scramble up the trunks. Beautifully scalloped lichens, in brown and gold and lavender, decorate the fallen trees wherever they can take hold, and fungi covers the larger trees. Tough-fibred climbers of great length also decorate the trees. They are oftentimes employed to tie up the fences instead of nails, and are also used in weaving some of the beautiful baskets made by the natives. Brooms made of it are likewise exported. This dense growth abounds everywhere, with the exception of barren pampas which sometimes stretch for a quarter of a mile or so. Cattle will sometimes wander into these thick meshes, and no one but an Indian accustomed to the tangle can penetrate with anything like facility in their efforts to find the recalcitrant animals.

Several thousand Indians dwell on this large island. They have been semi-civilized for two or three centuries. They seem to have been less warlike than the Araucanians on the mainland. Their clothing is modelled somewhat after that of the rotos, for nearly all sport a white cotton or linen shirt, which is oftentimes worn under the gaily-coloured indigo-dyed poncho. The shoes are generally simply made of a piece of raw oxhide fastened to the feet with thongs of leather. Their houses are the very simplest of contrivances. The family that starves does so only through indifference. Land is cheap and nature productive. Most of them live near the seacoast or rivers, where fish are very abundant, and edible wild-fowl of many kinds, including ducks, geese and pigeons, are easy to capture. The forests yield a number of wild fruits and vegetables. Among the wild fruits may be mentioned strawberries of a delicious flavour, and a species of myrtle which bears a palatable berry. The fruit of the luma, or kow-chow, is very abundant, and is used in making a fermented liquor much used by the natives. They have remained as poor as when the Spaniards came, and the population has actually decreased in the last century. This island, as well as others, was a feudal holding and the tyranny of the proprietors and abuses of the merchants account for that. Justice and humanity were frequently unknown terms. Churches are not wanting, for at one place nineteen can be counted on islands and mainland when the weather is clear. The church is always an important and conspicuous building in every community. A few colonists, German, French and British, have located on this island, and have succeeded in carving a home out of the wilderness if sufficiently industrious. Nevertheless many of them have endured great hardships. The Chilean government brought them over but had neglected to provide the necessary roads.

Chiloé is the name of a province composed entirely of islands. In addition to the large island just described, it includes the archipelagoes of Chonos and Guaytecas, and embraces altogether no less than a thousand islands. Many of them contain only a few inhabitants, although the natural characteristics are similar to Chiloé itself. There are several towns on Chiloé. One of them is Chacao, which, for two hundred years, was the principal port. It was founded in 1567, but was practically abandoned three hundred years later. Castro was the capital until it was transferred to Ancud in 1834. These towns were plundered by Dutch freebooters and also destroyed by earthquakes. Ancud is situated pleasantly, but the bay seems to be filling up so that large vessels have to anchor several miles out at sea. Lord Cochrane once attacked this town and wrested it from the Spaniards. Living in this town is very cheap, for the necessities of life can be purchased in the ample market at very low prices. South of Ancud there is only one town of importance, Mellinca, on the Guaytecas archipelago. With the exception of Punta Arenas it is the most southerly settlement of any size in Chile. To-day it is much less important than formerly, although still somewhat of a village with probably less than a thousand population. The first establishment in these towns is usually a distillery of aguardiente (brandy), and its product is not a good friend of either native or settler.

The life both in air and water is very abundant. The sea is most lavish in life of all kinds, and can furnish an almost exhaustless supply of food for those living farther north. The robalo is a Chilean fish of fine flavour. The corbina, which is as large as a good-sized cod, is another good species. The pege-ruge is a sort of smelt, and the herrings abound in countless numbers. Oyster beds too are numerous. They are all natural beds, however, but systematic farming might make them as good as those along our own Atlantic coast. Other mussels and edible crabs of several species abound.

With such an abundance of sea life it is only natural that birds of the fishing tribe should be plentiful. Huge pelicans, those dirty, unwieldy birds, are attracted here by this abounding life. Cormorants are equally numerous, as they are all along this coast. Penguins are also found here. The grube, whose skin is in such demand, is also quite common. The Antarctic goose is abundant, and the white gander on guard is a rather beautiful black and white bird. He always occupies some prominent rocky point, keeping watch and guard over his mate intent upon domestic duties. Insect life is also very busy, and a red bee almost as large as some humming-birds is especially characteristic of this region. It flies rapidly and hovers around among the flowers almost like the humming-bird.

Opposite Chiloé, on the mainland, is the Palena River, the largest river in Chile. The excessive rains and melting snows from the lofty peaks, which are plainly visible when the mists have cleared away, keep the banks filled with water. Every cloud that sweeps in from the Pacific comes down in rain as soon as it encounters the mountains. The slopes are dotted with wood clear up to the snow-line. The woods here, as well as elsewhere, are seemingly impenetrable. There are many flowering trees which add their beauty to the scene. A tall cane from which the Indians used to make spears grows in great confusion almost everywhere. It grows in great stools like giant bunches of rushes. The genii of vegetation takes possession of the riches of the ground. The beautiful green of the Chilean pine predominates. The mouth of the river is a stretch of delta. Of course it cannot compare with the streams on the Atlantic coast, but it is a striking river. Dancing mountain streams join it here and there—sometimes with a leap from the hills, thus forming numerous cascades. These white streaks of the cascades are visible on the mountain slopes in many places. The mists keep shifting and shimmering around the various peaks,—now revealing and again hiding the silent glens or gullies. The abundance of wooding oftentimes almost overcomes the beholder with the helplessness of humanity in such a region. The north winds which bring the rains are usually warm, while the south winds which blow up from the Antarctic regions are dry and cold. These and the west winds, which have such a stretch of sea to blow over, bring the worst storms, for they are not impeded for thousands of miles.

These facts lead one to speculate on the possibilities of timber development in Chile. This republic probably contains almost as great a proportion of wooded land as any country in the world. From the Straits to Valdivia it is almost an unbroken forest. The trees are sometimes almost covered with parasites. In places they are almost matted together with the climbing bamboo, and at others they are covered with soft cushions of the graceful liverworts and green mosses. In the extreme southern part of the republic the trees become more stunted and gnarled, and are not large enough to be of commercial value for lumber purposes. This primeval forest probably extended along the coast as far as Valparaiso, since that place was originally selected as a seaport because the rich woods near at hand afforded material for shipbuilding. Those forests have entirely disappeared. In the southern part of the central valley they are being ruthlessly destroyed. It is simply cut down and burned, while the republic as a whole imports hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of timber products from other countries. It is quite probable that an important lumber industry is still awaiting development in Southern Chile. Much of it will certainly be valuable for wood pulp if for nothing else, so that of the making of books and periodicals there may still be no end. The dangerous nature of the coast may make navigation perilous. The Pacific Ocean down there is not always so pacific and peaceful as farther north. The change is felt soon after leaving Valparaiso on the journey southward bound.

Chilean Patagonia, which stretches along the Pacific coast for five hundred miles, is little known, but it is a region of wild beauty. It is a perfect labyrinth of channels and islands, to which there is an entrance at each end, and one near the centre through the Gulf of Trinidad. These entrances are through narrow channels which are difficult to find, as they are so similar to other channels which lead into cul-de-sacs. Powerful currents and cross-currents rush through these contracted channels, so that vessels have to make them at full speed or run the risk of being dashed helplessly upon the rocky barriers. Once within the enclosure, however, the waters are calm even when the most violent storms rage outside. Terrific rains which are veritable deluges frequently fall, and impenetrable mists at times enshroud everything. The barometer moves up and down by leaps and bounds. Suddenly a rift will appear in the clouds, denoting the breaking of the storm, and the blue sky and bright sun will be revealed. Then the scenery becomes glorious in its radiant beauty—an amphitheatre of overhanging mountains with glittering snow-dad crests against a sky of dazzling blue. Then all about will be seen little islets, covered with trees and bushes of brilliant green and flowers of many hues.

In spite of the snow-clad mountains the temperature is usually not extreme. The jungles will rival the Amazonian jungles. It is a perfect compress of hollys, ferns, beeches, orchids, vines and countless thorny bushes. It is indeed

“The silent wilderness,

Where the soul need not repress

Its music, lest it should not find

An echo in another’s mind.”

The surface is a spongy mass, and a foothold less than knee deep is rare. This exuberant vegetation is caused by the excessive moisture which is here precipitated. Flower-bearing bushes are numerous, and genuine field daisies are as plentiful in places as on a New England meadow. Cataracts are everywhere in sight and mark the mountain sides like long white streaks. At times when the boat is near the shore their roar can be heard. An occasional wreck may be sighted, but more of them lie unseen, buried beneath countless fathoms of water, for the shore descends down in an almost perpendicular line to fathomless depths. Few vessels thread these narrows, but it is a sight never to be forgotten by one who has had the privilege of making the trip.

The future of this great undeveloped region remains to be seen. At present there are no inhabitants, except occasionally a stray settlement of Indians. Exploring itself is no child’s play, and there are still tracts of untrodden forest, although the government has had numerous surveying parties in the field. The boundary commission has done a great deal in making this territory better understood. It differs widely from the broad reaches of pampa of Argentine Patagonia, where rain is scant and desert stretches are not uncommon. When development has taken place it may far exceed in fertility and wealth the eastern slopes, and the broad leagues of rich plain between the Andes and the Atlantic Ocean.

CHAPTER VI
THE LAND OF THE FIRE

“Tierra del Fuego,” meaning the land of the fire, exclaimed the followers of Magellan, as they saw the wreaths of smoke ascending through the frosty air. It was merely the signal fires of the Indians dwelling on one of the islands of that remote southern archipelago, when they beheld the strange white-winged vessels of Magellan sailing through the Straits, since named after him. The name has clung to the group of islands during the succeeding centuries, although thousands of white people have since placed foot on them and the name is known to be a misnomer, for no volcanic fires exist there.

Beginning in Alaska, a chain of gigantic granite vertebrae extends clear to Cape Horn. It clings close to the Pacific coast throughout the entire distance, and ends in grandeur near the Antarctic Circle. Some say that the lower end of this backbone of the American continents was shattered by a convulsion, in which mighty masses of rock were thrown off into the ocean, thus forming the numberless islands which lie at the southern extremity of South America. The better theory, however, is that they were formed by the submerging of the lower end of the Andes Mountains. When the land sank the stormy water beat through the valleys and chiselled the shores into incongruous shapes and labyrinths.

Between the islands and the mainland are the Straits of Magellan. Some of the finest scenery in the world is found in this intricate waterway, especially in what is known as Smyth’s Channel, which separates Southern Chile from the group of islands. Smyth’s Channel is very narrow, so that most vessels take the broader Straits. The depth has never been fathomed. There is a grandeur in the serrated peaks, and cliffs, snowy crests, cascades and the glaciers under a brilliant sun and deep blue sky that is simply overwhelming. Numerous mountain peaks reveal themselves, of which Mt. Sarmiento is the noblest, and lifts its snowy head to a height of over seven thousand feet. Its beauty is enhanced by numerous blue-tinted glaciers, which descend to the waters of the sea like a multitude of frozen Niagaras. Floating glaciers are common in the Straits, and vessels, unequipped with ice-making machinery, often tie up to one while the crew chop enough ice to fill the refrigerators.

Few places on the earth’s surface within easy reach can compare with the Straits of Magellan. This channel has become the great trade route between the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. Few boats, except sailing vessels, now take the longer route around Cape Horn, because of the storms that lash the Antarctic seas into fury. For several hundred miles the Straits furnish a succession of beautiful scenes; green shores alternating with the eternal glaciers of the mountain peaks, blue waters contrasting with the shimmering crystal of the floating icebergs. These masses of ice are as imperishable as the glaciers of Greenland, and they add a feature to the scenery that is not to be found elsewhere within the ordinary course of steamers. It is a region of marvellous sunsets as well as rugged scenery, when the weather is clear, but mist, snow or rain often dim the view.

IN THE STRAITS OF MAGELLAN.

The eastern entrance to the Straits lies between Cape Virgenes, on the mainland, and Cape Espiritu, on the island, a distance of about fourteen miles. For some distance the channel is wide, with the mainland gently undulating and covered with grass. Then come the first narrows, and afterwards the second narrows. These narrows are about two miles in width, and there is generally a strong current through them. In the spring the tides are thrown up to a height of fifty feet, and this is the reason sailing vessels prefer the open waters around Cape Horn, even though the seas are more tempestuous. When nearing Punta Arenas the mountains become higher, and at times the way seems blocked by them. Stunted bush and underbrush appear. After leaving Punta Arenas the shores grow bolder and more picturesque. The snow-covered mountains and glaciers resemble the Alaska coast or that of Northern Norway. The islands are as numerous as in the St. Lawrence or Georgian Bay.

Nodales Peak and Mt. Victoria lift their hoary heads on the mainland, while Mt. Buckland and Mt. Sarmiento rise to a still greater height on the islands. The latter beautiful and majestic peak is the noblest of them all. Its snowy head rises to a height of seven thousand three hundred feet, with a broad base and two distinct peaks. It is generally more or less hidden by vapour. The three Evangelistas keep their lonely vigil where straits and ocean join on the north. Cape Pillar, the western end of the Straits, is two hundred and forty-five miles from Cape Virgenes, but the steamer route is almost half as long again. Old voyagers were wont to take eighty days in this passage when the weather was a little unfavourable. The western end is the stormiest, and the pilot books give it a very bad reputation. South of them the Antarctic seas are seldom free from the storm king. The weather is nearly always bad, and oftentimes worse. In one recent year it is said that eighty-two sailing vessels and thirty-nine steamers were lost—a fearful toll claimed by old Neptune.

Fernando de Magelhaens, although of Portuguese birth, had entered the Spanish service. In charge of a fleet of five small ships, the largest of only one hundred and thirty tons, boarded and manned by a crew of sixty-two men, he sailed from Seville on the 10th of August, 1519. The voyage was an arduous one, and was beset not only with terrific storms at sea but mutinies among the sailors that were scarcely less terrifying. Only two of his vessels remained faithful, but he conquered the mutiny with the loss of only one vessel. On the 21st of October, 1520, he entered the eastern entrance of the channel, and it was a month later, after almost unheard-of difficulties, that he emerged into the broad Pacific. Of the subsequent expeditions that attempted this route the experiences were most unfortunate. In nearly every instance almost one out of every three vessels was wrecked, some in one channel and some in another, for there is a perfect labyrinth of channels around and between the many islands. Some of the names indicate the experiences or impressions of these early navigators. Fatal Bay, Port Famine, Famine Reach, Escape Beach, Last Wreck Point, Dislocation Harbour, Thieves Island, Useless Bay, Fury Islands, Breakneck Peninsula, Desolation Harbour, Preservation Cove, and last, Hope Inlet, are a few of the names that may be located on the map. In 1578, Sir Francis Drake, an English explorer as well as freebooter, by accident found the route by the way of Cape Horn. This great discovery stimulated navigation around South America, for the Spaniards guarded the Straits route to the best of their ability. The Spaniards described Drake as “a man of low condition, but a skilful seaman and a valiant pirate.”

The Fuegian Archipelago covers a goodly territory. The islands contain as much land as Nebraska, and are several hundred miles long from east to west. A perfect labyrinth of tortuous, wind-swept waterways separate the hundreds of islands which form this group. They are not all a desolate mass of ice and snow, however, but contain plains which are covered with succulent grasses, and slopes which are thickly wooded. The Chilean portion of these islands, and the mainland along the coast beyond the fiftieth parallel of latitude, is included in the territory of Magellanes, the largest territorial division in the republic. The largest island, called Tierra del Fuego, land of the fire, is half as large as Illinois. It is divided longitudinally between Chile and Argentina, by far the largest portion belonging to the former nation, and the best part of it too.

Thirty years ago this entire island was roamed and hunted over by the aborigines. The fact that the northern part consisted of open country, with few ranges of hills, caused the white man to look upon it with envious eyes, as it promised good pasturage for sheep. Then began a warfare against the Indians which almost resulted in their extermination. Thousands of sheep now quietly graze in the rich valleys and on the verdant plains, and thrive very well indeed. Very little of the land is cultivated, although probably susceptible of cultivation, but the marketing of the products would be a difficult feature at the present time, and the season is short. Its latitude is about that of Southern Greenland, but the climate is probably milder, and its longitude is approximately that of Eastern Massachusetts. In the summer the grass is green, but in the winter the chilly winds change it to a rich brown. The ground rats are a terrible nuisance to the farmer, as they burrow in the fields so much that they destroy half the usefulness of a good meadow. The mountain slopes are covered with a thick growth of trees, ferns and mosses up to a height of a thousand feet or more, due to the great amount of rainfall, but above that distance the growth is very stunted. It seems strange to see green trees and green grasses amid snows and glaciers, but such is the contrast offered by this “land of the fire.” The trees are mostly evergreen, not very high, but very close together. A deep bed of moss, into which a man may sink knee-deep, generally surrounds them, and large ferns with leaves a yard long grow in places otherwise bare. Even bright flowers make the sombre landscape seem almost gay when the sun shines on a summer day.

Desolation Island, on the Chilean side, is a bleak and barren island well indicated by its name, while other names are Clarence, St. Inas, and Navarin. There are many others, from islands twenty miles in length to some so small that a good baseball pitcher could toss a stone clear over them. Cape Horn is a monster rock which thrusts its jagged outline into the Antarctic seas. It is a couple of hundred miles south of the Straits of Magellan, and more than a thousand miles nearer the undiscovered South Pole than the Cape of Good Hope. It is surrounded by waters that are tossed by terrific storms which mariners fear. The hulks of wrecked vessels can be seen on every hand as reminders of the terrible tribute which has been here levied. Glaciers are always in sight, and masses of ice hundreds of feet high are frequently seen, seeming to threaten the venturesome mariner for invading those beautiful waters.

A WRECK ON THE COAST OF CHILE.

A number of years ago a steamer was wrecked on these shores, but the crew managed to save sufficient provisions to sustain all those rescued for some time. While sinking shallow wells they discovered a strata of black sand that sparkled with particles of gold. Their reports led to great excitement over the discovery of gold on Tierra del Fuego. Although adventurers had sailed through the Straits for centuries, looking for the wealth that they might obtain either honestly or dishonestly, yet the gold deposits remained undiscovered until 1867. Their covetous eyes had gazed upon the gold-bearing shores, and they had even filled their water-casks in the gold-bearing rivulets without seeing the wealth. In the few years following a number of Argentine explorers visited that region, and found the source of some of the gold. The gold was almost exclusively found in free particles in a layer of black sand, which was found under the surface sand. As soon as the report of their find reached the settlements, a number of expeditions were fitted out and sent to that region. The best payings were found right on the beach, which was washed by the waves of the sea at a high tide and during storms. It was also found that the tides brought in fresh gold-bearing sands from the seas. The miners used to sit down and smoke their pipes until the storms passed, and then dig up the black sand with the gold in it after the surf had gone down.

It all seemed to be pockets, so that where the gold would be found in considerable quantities for a while, it would soon become so scarce that mining it under the crude conditions prevailing became unprofitable. The prospectors sailed in and out of the stormy and dangerous bays, and many of them lost their lives. The hidden reefs and whirling tornadoes form combinations that made navigation in the small catboats that were used extremely perilous. Many, who were wrecked, were obliged to live upon whatever wild food they could find for weeks, and others were killed by the hostile Indians. The original stories said that nuggets as big as kernels of corn were plentiful, but they were not true to fact. No gold quartz veins were ever discovered, but in all the finds it was simply particles mixed up with the black sand. Gold mining to-day is not prosecuted in that region as much as it was a couple of decades ago, although some gold is washed each year. If the whole story was known, it would probably be found that there were more skeletons of dead miners left on those inhospitable shores than records of wealth acquired in Tierra del Fuego. Most of those who did find wealth got no farther than Punta Arenas with it, for that city was to that region what San Francisco was in the early days of California, and mining prospectors are the same the world over.

The first attempt to establish a settlement on the Straits of Magellan was in the latter part of the sixteenth century. Pedro Sarmiento de Gamboa was placed in command of this expedition. His instructions were as follows: “For the honour and glory of God and of the Virgin Mary, His Mother and Our Lady, whom you, Captain Pedro Sarmiento, are to take for Advocate and Patron of the ships and crews under your orders for this discovery and enterprise in the Straits of Magellan.” After several narrow escapes from shipwreck the expedition landed, and established a settlement not far from the present city of Punta Arenas. From the very first misfortune seemed to follow the colonists, and the Indians soon became hostile. At the end of the second winter the three hundred or more colonists had dwindled to eighteen, who were finally rescued. They had been obliged to live on berries, shell-fish, oysters, and such other ocean life that they were able to catch. The Indians had driven the guanaco and other wild game into the interior where the colonists could not reach them.

GENERAL VIEW OF PUNTA ARENAS.

The continent of South America extends much farther south than Africa. The southernmost point is Cape Frowards, which is a dark mass of rock five hundred feet high joined by a low neck of land to snow-clad mountains. At almost the southernmost point of the mainland lies the little city of Punta Arenas (Sandy Point). It is situated on the Straits of Magellan, which is sheltered from the worst storms by the many islands that lie between it and the Antarctic seas. Punta Arenas is the southernmost city in the world, eight hundred miles farther south than Cape Town. There is plenty of building space left in this city still, but a few years ago, when the boom was on, the people had visions of a southern Chicago. Fabulous prices were asked for building lots, and real estate agents were almost as plentiful as the Indians. That time has passed, and the town has dwindled in population. Its latitude is about that of Labrador, but it is much more equable than that country and the weather is not so severe as many imagine. It is so named because built on a sandy beach that runs out into the Straits. It is now a city of twelve thousand people, and they seem to be contented. It is a very mixed population. You can hear Spanish, English, German, Italian, Russian and even the Chinese mingled with the guttural tongues of the Indians. The Scotch are probably the most thrifty of the inhabitants, and many of them have lived there two or three generations.

There are many rough characters in Punta Arenas, some even who have drifted from the mining camps of our western states. It is said to be bad policy to ask a man where he came from, or what his name was before his arrival, as it might be an embarrassing subject. The loafing places are the bars, where many brawls occur during the long winters. There are probably as many saloons to the number of inhabitants as in any other place on the globe, for nearly every other door seems to bear such a sign. Much gambling is also done at these and in the clubs. There are clubs, where the well-to-do gather and have their games just as they do the world over. The principal club is the Cuerpo de Bomberos, which means the Society of Firemen, and was organized as a volunteer fire department. Most of the buildings are cheap one-story affairs, frequently being built of the corrugated iron so common in this land. Punta Arenas is a free port, and this fact has aided in its prosperity. All the vessels passing through the Straits call there for supplies and coal, and this business, together with the trade in whaling products, wool and furs, furnish the inhabitants with employment. It is one of the great wool-exporting ports of the world, having shipped more than sixteen million pounds of that commodity in a single season, and four hundred thousand pelts. The trade in furs is very large. One of the prettiest things sold here is an ostrich robe made of the breasts of the young birds.

PORT FAMINE, IN THE STRAITS OF MAGELLAN.

Punta Arenas is the business centre of the region extending from Port Desire, on the Patagonian coast to Cape Horn, and from the Falkland Islands on the east to the westernmost limits of Chile. The little settlement that originally was established there was called La Colonia de Magellanes. On the 21st of April, 1843, Chile first planted her tri-coloured banner at a place near here, which was called Port Famine, because of the disastrous end of the Sarmiento settlement, which had been located there a couple of centuries previously.

Chile had a double purpose in establishing this post. One was its desire to hold the territory as a national possession, and the other was to establish a penal colony which would be so far away from the capital that the prisoners, even if they escaped, could not return. Several hundred prisoners were generally confined there, who were kept in subjection by a small company of soldiers. On two occasions the convicts rebelled and took possession of this settlement. On one of these the governor and many of the guards were killed and the mutineers boarded a ship that chanced to be in the harbour, but they were overtaken by a Chilean man-of-war and overcome. The men were hung, and it is said that a man was seen hanging from every yard-arm of the war-ship. After the first revolt a new settlement was established on the present site of Punta Arenas, which was given the old name. The tongue of sand there, however, the English-speaking people called Sandy Point, and thereafter the name Punta Arenas, which means the same in Spanish, was given it; at least it is entirely known by that name now.

In 1877 the last revolt occurred, when the convicts revenged the cruelties to which they had been subjected upon the commander of the garrison and many of the soldiers. When a man-of-war appeared they fled into the interior, where most of them died from starvation and hardships. The establishment of the Pacific Steam Navigation Company was the cause of the abandonment of this place as a penal colony. It proved to be a convenient stopping place for the steamers to take on coal and supplies, and this gave it a new life. Later came the discovery of gold, which brought many to the settlement. Still later a Scotchman brought some sheep from the Falkland Islands, and found that the region around Punta Arenas and on the island opposite was well adapted for sheep raising. Others took advantage of this experience, until the neighbourhood around became noted for its sheep culture. Some day, if a freezing establishment should be established here, Punta Arenas will become a still more important place, and it is undoubtedly only a question of time until such will be done. The town itself makes a poor foreground for the magnificent setting of nature. It is laid out on the usual checkerboard plan, with several streets running from the shores back up the hills. It has a plaza and the streets are unpaved. The beach is sandy and the streets are either filled with loose sand or mud.

Across the Straits the green hills of Tierra del Fuego may be seen rising, and over to the south the snow-capped peaks of Mt. Sarmiento and its neighbours appear above the horizon. To the west are mountains which are ever green and rise boldly up to the western edge, while to the north the hills are generally bare. At one time it was thought that coal had been discovered and the mine was opened up; some track was built and an old locomotive brought down. It proved, however, to be only lignite, and so the mine has been practically abandoned.

A considerable trade has been developed in Indian curios and goods. The Indians from the pampas and islands come here to sell their furs, feathers, bows, hides, etc. Passengers passing through the Straits on the various steamers usually lay in a supply of these goods, some of which are genuine and others are prepared especially for such passengers. One wonders at the number of palms and plants which are seen in this town so far beyond all other settlements, for even wild flowers of certain kinds seem to grow in great profusion, while ferns and lichens everywhere delight the eye.

South of Punta Arenas there is only one settlement of any importance, and that is Ushuaia. This town is situated on the Argentine side of Tierra del Fuego, and, small as it is, it is the capital of that territory. It stands nearer to the South Pole than any other civilized village in the world. The barriers created by nature are almost insurmountable. To the south is the unknown Antarctic, to the north the impassable barrier of snow-clad peaks, and in all other directions are the fathomless channels separating it from the other islands. Established first as a mission settlement, its site was selected as the capital of the territory. The Argentine flag was first unfolded over the first building erected for the use of officials in 1884. Shortly after that work upon prisons was begun, and it became a still more important settlement. Here, in this isolated quarter of the globe, guarded by a few score of armed men, are confined several hundred men, many of whom are the very dregs of humanity sent from Buenos Aires. These unfortunates work on the roads, dress stone for new and stronger walls, or make the garments worn by themselves and their fellow prisoners. Few attempt to escape and fewer still succeed, for the loneliness and desolation alone would keep a prisoner where human companionship may be found.

Small and unimportant as this town is to-day, and wretched as it would seem to many people, yet it has a full complement of officials with their secretaries and servants. There is a complete list of judicial officers and police officials, even though the police have no patrol to beat and the court has no docket. About the only part of the official equipment that has any work to do is the culinary department, for it takes a great deal of cooking and preparation to provide food for every one there. Out of a population of several hundred to-day, made up principally of prisoners and officials, there are only a very few plain common citizens who dwell there.

Most of the buildings in Ushuaia are frame structures, which have been erected near the bay that bears the same name as the town. It is situated on Beagle Channel. The houses consist of plain unpainted wooden walls, with a roof of corrugated iron. The governor’s palace itself is not much better than the other buildings. A few of the buildings have little green patches, enclosed with picket fences, in which they are able to grow a few vegetables. For a location so far south the climate is not so bad as one would expect, as the snowfall is not as great as in the same latitude in northern regions. In the winter time the nights are very long and the days short. The mountains just at the back of the town cut off the sunlight when the sun is low, so that the town only receives about four hours of daylight. It is certainly a cheerless sort of existence that the people lead in this southern capital. There are still one or two missions that are conducted by English missionaries on this coastland, but they have had very little influence upon the natives. One of the missions consists of quite a large ranch, where the minister in charge of the mission lives and employs the natives to do his work.

For several hundred miles north of Punta Arenas lies the formerly unknown land of Patagonia—the land of the Pata-goas, the “big feet,” as they were named by Magellan. One can see in that city almost any day descendants of that race in the Tehuelche tribe of Indians who come there to sell their furs and skins. Out upon the broad pampas away from the town, the traveller will occasionally stumble upon the toldos (huts) of the Tehuelches. These are simply made huts of the skins of the guanaco sewn loosely together at the edges, and supported squarely upon awkward-looking props, or posts, forked at the top to admit the ridge-poles. The skins are fastened to the earth by wooden pegs. The Tehuelches are the native Indians of Patagonia—the so-called giants—and are well built specimens of manhood. These Indians live almost as their ancestors did hundreds of years ago. They are still nomads, and exist entirely by the chase. They do not cultivate anything whatever, but sometimes own a few cattle. In general they still dress in skins, although some of them have purchased store clothes at the settlements. As a rule they are mild mannered, when sober, and do not deserve the name of being bloodthirsty savages. Their numbers have greatly decreased, since the first discovery of Patagonia, through dissipation and disease, and some have estimated that the total number yet remaining will not exceed a few hundred.

Only a few years ago the geographers labelled Patagonia “no man’s land.” To-day millions of sheep graze over its fertile plains. It is as large as several of our western states. It is a land of big distances and enormous holdings. In the pasture section it is often a ride of three or four days from one ranch to another. Most of these ranches are near the coast or along the few rivers. As one travels into the interior a white face becomes more and more rare; empty leagues surround you on every hand. One accustomed to cities only would find it very lonely indeed on these plains. One seems to stand alone with only the wind, the mirages and the limitless distances, and the blue sky above for a canopy. The last land to have been the habitation of the greater beasts of preceding ages, according to geologists, Patagonia is one of the last to receive its proper share of the human population.

There are three races of Indians who inhabit these Fuegian islands, the Yahgans, Alacaloofs and the Onas, all of whom are very low in intelligence. They are commonly known under the general characterization of the Firelanders. None of them are as far advanced as the Esquimaux, who build warm igloos for their habitation. Even though the climate is very cold the greater part of the year these aborigines formerly wore very little clothing, but greased their bodies with fish oil that keeps out the cold. In recent years, however, they have begun to wear warmer garments, when such can be obtained. The Yahgans are very treacherous, and many murders have been traced to them. They will mingle very little with white people, but always hold themselves aloof. Their houses are of the most primitive character, and are frequently little more than a rude construction of thatch on a skeleton of sticks stuck in the ground.

These Yahgans live almost entirely on sea food. They divide their time between these rude huts and canoes, or dugouts made from the trunks of trees, in which they paddle through the tortuous channels from one island to another. Should a storm overtake the boat and it becomes necessary to lighten it, the men show their instinct for self-preservation by throwing the women and children overboard. They are not particular about food, as to whether it is very fresh or not. There is frequently a dearth of food, and then it is that they are driven to eat the flesh of a stranded whale or of an animal found dead. Ground rats and the fishy-flavoured penguin are included on their regular bill-of-fare. Their camping-places can generally be located by the mounds of shells that accumulate. They are as near to primitive savages as it would be possible to find on the Americas. As usual among savage tribes, the women do the most of the work, and assist in the hunting and fishing as well as prepare the meat after it has once been caught. The Yahgans are short and muscular and below medium height. Their lower limbs seem rather stunted, but above the waist they are heavily built. Marriage is a matter of purchase and sale, and wives are sometimes exchanged. The marriage ceremony consists in painting the girl in a peculiar way, and then the husband takes her to his hut or that of his parents.

The Alacaloofs, or Alakalufs, occupy the western islands and are similar in their habits to the Yahgans. Their canoes are made of strips of bark or planks fastened together with vines and caulked with moss. Their huts look like New England haycocks made of boughs and covered with skins or bark strips. They frequently row out to meet passing steamers and beg for food. They are not an attractive people. In colour they strongly resemble the North American red men, but they are not much over five feet in height. The only domesticated animal owned by them is the dog. With this tribe, as well as the Yahgans, everything is held in common and it is no crime to take of your neighbour’s fuel or food.

The Onas are a hunting tribe and they are larger than either of the other tribes. They occupy the prairie lands and open bush of Tierra del Fuego. The men are active and athletic, and they are especially skilful in stalking the guanaco of that island. They are expert in the use of the rude bows and arrows which they make for themselves. The bows are fashioned out of a native wood cut with shell knives, and the arrows are made out of reeds armed with a flint or glass point. Horse meat is a great delicacy with them. The struggle for existence has made these people inexpressive in features and stoical in actions. A good fortune or an ill fortune is met in much the same way. Their homes are generally saucer-shaped hollows that have been scraped out, over which poles and brush are piled and guanaco skins are used as doors. All the family lie down together, and the dogs are included for warmth. They are nomads and wander from one place to another in search of food. Fire is made with bits of iron ore or flints and dry fungus. Some of this tribe are now employed as servants by the white people, but most of them prefer the wild life in the open.

With all the hardships that seem to fall to the lot of these Indians who live so far to the south, they seem to be fairly happy and are contented with their surroundings. This is truly fortunate. People who live in the temperate zones are inclined to think that they are the only truly happy ones. By travel one’s view is broadened, and at last he realizes the truth expressed by Oliver Goldsmith in the following lines:—

“If countries we compare,

And estimate the blessings which they share,

Though patriots flatter, still shall wisdom find

An equal portion dealt to all mankind.

The shuddering tenant of the frigid zone

Boldly proclaims that happiest spot his own;

Extols the treasures of the stormy seas,