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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.