CHAPTER XX.
FROM THE ANDES TO THE PACIFIC.
At daylight we breakfasted on dried beef and maté tea, and soon started on our journey, which was now rapidly drawing to a close. The sun was high in the heavens, although we could not for a long time see his face, for the mountains shut us in completely. We continued down the valley, passing near some fine springs of water, which, from the peculiar manner in which they burst forth from the ground, are called “Los ojos de Agua,” or Eyes of Water.
The first signs of civilization that we reached on the Chili territory was at a place called “El Guarde Viejo,” the old custom-house of the Chilian government.
This was occupied by a farmer, a new government building having been erected farther down, at the mouth of the valley. Beyond the Guarde, at intervals, little huts were seen, the inhabitants of which were garrulous and hospitable.
As we emerged from the valley, and encountered troops of mules and parties of country people, I observed the peculiar characteristics which distinguish the Chilians from the people of the country behind us. The muleteers on the eastern side of the Andes were grave in deportment, and slow in speech and movement.
The Chilians were more energetic and intelligent,—perhaps from more extended intercourse with foreigners. Yet they have the discredit of being less honest than their brethren of the pampa provinces. The men of Chili wore a short poncho, mainly covering the wearer’s hips. The Argentinos’ poncho is of the longest kind—longer than those of the people of any other South American republic. The Chilian’s lasso hangs in coils from the saddle behind the rider; the gaucho’s is carefully coiled up, and rests on the horse’s croup.
The farms now became more frequent as we travelled along; the buildings were neatly roofed with red tiles, and furnished a striking contrast, to those of Mendoza and San Juan, which were generally of canes and mud.
As night came on, we reached an irrigating canal, which conveyed water to the town of San Rosa; thrifty little farms were fed by its waters all along the road, and neatness and good order and management were everywhere discernible. The little houses were shaded by groves of fig and orange trees, and the reader can imagine our thoughts and happiness to be travelling through a country bright with blossoming fruit trees, when but a few hours before we had slept near snow-drifts.
Groups of young people were often seen seated beneath the trees, or under the verandas, singing, or playing on the guitar. Before one of the farm-houses we drew up, and, after being welcomed by one of these happy groups, we led our animals from the road, and prepared to remain for the night. An abundant supper was furnished us, and I do not remember a pleasanter night’s rest that I ever had, than that.
The next morning I went out to the pasture to bid my old horse adios. I found him cropping the rich alfalfa on the irrigated field; and as I approached him he seemed rather disinclined to any familiarity, for he had associated me with all the hardships of the journey; and now to leave a land of plenty with me was evidently not to his taste. I lost no time in assuring him that my intentions were pacific, and when I left him he gave a pleasant whisk of his tail and shake of the ears, apparently thanking me for leaving him so literally “in clover.”
My pedestrian journey was ended. I would have liked to continue on foot to the sea, which I could easily have reached in a couple of days; but my kind friend Don Fernando would not permit me to leave his troop. I must keep him company.
“You must come with me, my son,” he said. “I wish to introduce you to some very nice people. I am a Chilian by birth, and I desire that you shall form a good opinion of my countrymen.”
A mule, richly caparisoned, was furnished me by the don, and, mounting our animals, we soon rode into the town of Santa Rosa. Drawing up his mule before the entrance of a large mansion, before which paced a soldier with musket in hand, Don Fernando inquired if Don José Ynfante, the governor of the department of Santa Rosa, was at home.
The soldier replied that that gentleman was at Santiago on official business, but that his son Don Manuel was at home. While a servant went to announce our arrival, I had time to note that the national flag of Chili floated above the stately mansion, while a peep within the yard revealed beds of beautiful flowers and well-kept walks.
In a moment Don Manuel appeared, and, cordially embracing his uncle, exclaimed, “Welcome to Chili, and to Santa Rosa!” The don introduced me to the other gentleman, who greeted me warmly, uttering at the same time many expressions of good feeling for me and my countrymen. We then entered the house, and passed a most pleasant day in social intercourse, to which the agreeable and cultivated manners of the young don added no little charm. Don Manuel, as if to bring our recent hard fare more strongly to our imaginations, feasted us upon strawberries and sherbet; and the reader can form some faint idea how acceptable they were to us. The ice for the sherbet had been brought down from the Cordillera on the backs of mules.
On the following day we mounted our animals, and, bidding adios to Don Manuel, resumed our journey for the coast. Leaving Santa Rosa, we passed over an interesting country, and in the afternoon crossed a fine bridge of foreign construction, and entered the town of San Felipé,—which has a population of about twelve thousand inhabitants,—where we passed the night.
The River Aconcagua irrigates the gardens and farms in this district, and the soil is very fertile, yielding abundant crops of grain, potatoes, melons, maize, beans, walnuts, figs, peaches, tobacco, and grapes. The town is about eighty miles from Valparaiso.
Resuming our route on the next morning, and travelling all day, we entered, at dusk, the town of Quillota, which contains about ten thousand souls, and is about thirty-five miles from Valparaiso.
Here we found some large and well-cultivated farms, and the whole country was quite interesting.
On the following morning Don Fernando started in advance of our party, to prepare for our arrival at Valparaiso, this being the last day of the journey.
I remained with the people of the troop, and kept them company during the whole day. No incident occurred worthy of record here; and before the twilight had begun to fall upon the heavens, we were descending the high cuestas that overlook Valparaiso, which city lay stretched out below us on the shore of the great Pacific, its white plastered dwellings glistening like silver in the rays of the declining sun.
Winding down the stony path, we entered the city before dark, and were soon ensconced in comfortable quarters.
On the following day I presented my letters of introduction to the United States consul, George Merwin, Esq., who, after giving me a kind reception, and warm congratulations on the success of my long journey, interested himself so much in procuring me a berth in an American vessel, that before twenty-four hours had passed I was comfortably settled on board the fine ship Magellan, Captain Charles King, and I once more entered upon the routine of life before the mast. A few weeks later, and we were scudding down the western coast of Patagonia, and “going around the Horn” on our journey home.
Reader, my story is told. If you have been enabled in these pages to glean a little instruction or amusement for your leisure hours, I shall feel well rewarded; and if, when in imagination you followed me in my weary journey, you, perhaps, felt some little sympathy for the hardships I sometimes experienced, I shall never regret my pedestrian trip across the “Pampas and the Andes.”