Henry Stephens, Ph.D.

Locust Pest in Argentina

Estancia, Santa Isabel, Province Buenos Aires

Snow in the Tropics

Plaza Pringlés, San Luis, July, 1913

Reflection of Aconcagua Volcano in the Clouds above Valparaiso

This rare phenomenon is occasionally seen in April and September at dawn. The mountain itself is invisiblefrom Valparaiso.

Colonia, Uruguay

Congress Building, Buenos Aires

This is the finest building in South America. It cost $20,000,000. All the marble for its facing was imported from Italy

Buenos Aires Types

Avenida de Mayo, Buenos Aires

This view is looking west from Calle Santiago del Estero

Mr. Oliver H. Lane

This photograph was taken on roof garden of the Hotel Majestic

Calle Bartolome Mitré, Buenos Aires

Looking east from Calle Florida

Fireman and Policeman, Buenos Aires

Zoölogical Garden, Buenos Aires

Scene on the River at Tigre

Station of the Southern Railway, La Plata

Old Railway Station, La Plata

Bank of the Argentine Nation, La Plata

Bank of the Province of Buenos Aires, La Plata

Allegorical Statue of La Plata

Unfinished Cathedral, La Plata

Plaza San Martin, Mercedes

Street in San Luis

Bank of the Argentine Nation, San Luis

Capitol, San Luis

Matriz Church, San Luis

The tree in the distance is an algorroba. To it San Martin tied his horse in 1816 on hiswestward march across the Andes to Chile

Estancia near San Luis

Statue of San Martin, Mendoza

Avenida San Martin, Mendoza

Monument to the Army of the Andes, Mendoza

Waiting for the Train at Cacheuta

On the Terrace at Cacheuta

Thermal Establishment at Cacheuta

One of the Diversions at Cacheuta that is Neither Bathing nor Gambling

The whole trip to Santiago over the Andes so often describedis one of great scenic beauty on the Chilean sidewhere the descent is very abrupt and where one can lookdown the whole length of the valley of the AconcaguaRiver which is cultivated where nature will allow. Thaton the Argentina side is grand with the giant peaks in theneighborhood, and also awe-inspiring, but it is apt to betedious. The last stop of importance in Argentina isPuente del Inca, where there is a thermal establishmentand electrical works. Here there is a natural bridge underwhich the Mendoza River flows and which gives the placeits name. High up on the mountain side are curiousgroups of rocks which from the valley appear like peoplepraying. They are named the Penitentes. The crest ofthe Andes is pierced by a tunnel at an altitude of 10,364feet. This tunnel is 9848 feet long, 5460 feet of it beingin Argentina and the remaining 4388 feet being in Chile.It takes eight minutes to run through it on the train. Inthe winter time when snow blocks the passes so it isimpossible for trains to run, travelers between Argentinaand Chile ride through this tunnel on horseback. About1500 feet above the tunnel at the summit of the Cumbrethere is a statue of Christ the Redeemer (Cristo Redentor),seen by me on several occasions as I have crossed themountains on horseback. It was designed by the Argentinesculptor Matteo Alonso. It is of bronze and is over[97]twenty-nine feet in height. It was unveiled at a mass saidon the top of the Cumbre in March, 1904, as a monumentof perpetual peace between Argentina and Chile in thepresence of the presidents of the two republics. Therehad been a scrap over the boundary question and bothcountries were on the verge of war. It was a case of onebeing afraid and the other dare not, Chile probably holdingthe pole. Chile was unable to obtain a loan and thereforewar was averted. The image of Christ with his armsextended is looking southward and the boundary line ofthe two countries runs through His center. Since thetraffic on the Cumbre has greatly lessened on accountof the tunnel, this bronze Christ has fallen into neglect.Storms have knocked the cross out of his hands, and inmany ways have damaged it. The Chilean mozos who[99]cross the Andes to work in the electrical works at Puentedel Inca, use this statue as a target when they pass by itand when I saw it, it was quite pock-marked with thebullets from their revolvers. One hundred meters northand one hundred metres south of the statue are two ironpoles named "itos" which demark the boundary.

Steps at Cacheuta Leading from the Railroad Station to the Hotel

The poor travelers still go over the Cumbre. They hiremules for fifty pesos Chileno apiece ($4.90) at Los Andes,leaving there early in the morning long before daybreak and[100]arriving at the Argentine station of Las Cuevas in the afternoonin time to catch the afternoon train to Mendoza.

At Santa Rosa de los Andes down the valley of theAconcagua at an altitude of 2698 feet, we changed trainsfor here we reached the broad gauge of the Chilean StateRailways. It is a pleasure to be able to travel again inclean and comfortable cars. Those of Argentina areterrible; they are dirty, old, and worn. The toilets aredirty and the lavatories are generally lacking in towels.In Chile are Pullman cars of American manufacture; thelocomotives are local, or are made in Germany. I camefrom Cacheuta on the special car sent by the ArgentineGovernment to convey the special ambassadors and envoyswith their distinguished guests to the inauguration ceremoniesand installation of the new President of Chile, Sr.Luis Sanfuentes, who succeeded Sr. Ramon Barros Luco,whose term expired December 23, 1915. This partyincluded Romulo S. Naón, special ambassador, ColonelCarlos S. Martinez, military attaché, Captain José Moneta,naval attaché, Sr. Iriondo de Irigoyen and Sr. Albertd'Alkaine, secretaries to the Embassy and myself. Brazilwas represented by Senhor Luis Martins de Souza Dantas,special ambassador. Portugal sent her minister toArgentina, Colonel Botelho, a very quiet miniature oldman and his military attaché, Colonel Martin de Lima, amiddle-aged small gentleman. At Los Andes, we weremet by the welcome committee of the Chilean government,its units being the pick of the land politically, socially, andfrom rank in military and naval affairs. After beingphotographed and presented with flowers by comelymaidens dressed in white, who came to greet us and whosang a song especially composed for our honor, we wereescorted to a private train where we were dined and winedon the way to Santiago.[101]

CHAPTER V
SALTA AND TUCUMÁN

Mr. William Boyce, of the Chicago SaturdayBlade,made a trip to Tucumán and wrote a chapter about it inhis book,Illustrated South America. This book I readwith pleasure and determined that I should visit that cityif ever an opportunity presented itself. One morning,armed with credentials and letters of introduction toprominent personages in the far provinces, I boarded thetrain for Tucumán. Two railroads connect Buenos Aireswith Tucumán, the Central of Córdoba and the Central ofArgentina. I traveled by a train that runs over the railsof the latter.

Mariano Saavedra, 288 miles north of Buenos Aires isthe town where the River Plate scenery ends, and the vast,monotonous plains begin. Up to here through the broadexpanse of corn fields, whose limits are bounded by thehorizon; past funereal towns of unpointed red brick buildings,the open doors and windows of which have the aspectof morgue entrances and apertures; past mournfulcemeteries of blackened crosses; and past peasant housesembowered in groves of weeping willows, the dirty tri-weeklyexpress train sped us by in a cloud of stifling, blinding,eye-smarting, ear-filling dust. At Mariano Saavedrawe come to the unbounded, limitless plain of coarse greengrass on which myriads of cattle graze. This, the province[102]of Santa Fé, is the true plain of Argentina. Fromhistory and from fiction we imagine the great plainsto be the central and the southern provinces, consistingof what is geographically the western part of the provinceof Buenos Aires, the Province of San Luis, and the territoryof Pampa. This is not the true fact. In all thesegeographical divisions are rolling hills, and streams indeep-lying canyons. Here in Santa Fé, I doubt if there isa single hill. A broad landscape, dry and dusty but by nomeans rainless, and yet fruitful, meets the eye of thetraveler. A dark cloud on the horizon approaches, andwhen overhead breaks into a swarm of locusts, which inmany instances destroy in a single day the whole untiringyear's work of the farmers. They are not such a pest asthey were in former years, but yet a terrible scourge.

At 10:30P.M. the town of Ceres is reached. This place,a railway division point, is built at the corners of theprovinces Santa Fé, Córdoba, and Santiago del Estero,the last-named province being that which the train nowenters and which it takes all night to cross. Do notimagine that this dusty, smoky town is named afterthe Goddess of Agriculture. It is a synonym of all that isevil among human inhabitants, namely overwhelmingdust, locomotive smoke, and locusts which dart throughthe empty windows of the coaches like hot coals, and arepulled out of ones food, beer, hair, pockets, and evenunderdrawers, of all sizes and shapes from three inchesdownwards, never failing to expectorate a dark brownsputum, like tobacco juice but purulent.

I sat in the dining car with a young dentist namedHallmann, of German birth but who had an Americandiploma. He resides at Santiago del Estero where hemade twenty thousand dollars at his profession duringthe last two years. There is only one other dentist in that[103]city, an American, but Hallmann says the latter has notrade because he is drunken. He told me that in Santiagodel Estero he was always obliged to accept cash before hepulled a tooth on account of the swindling tendency of thenatives. Several months later, I accidentally met Hallmannon the Avenida in Buenos Aires. He had madeenough money in Santiago del Estero and was on his wayto Philadelphia, where he had formerly practiced, to openup an office.

The Province of Santiago del Estero has an area of39,764 square miles and a population of 264,911. Itis a plain varying from 450 to 550 feet above sea level.Its climate is extremely hot. Most of the surface ofthe soil is covered with a dense brush of mesquite andquebracho trees, which are cut into cordwood and used asfuel on the locomotives. The capital city is Santiago delEstero, frequently spoken of in Argentina as Santiago.It is an antiquated city of seventeen thousand inhabitantsand is one of the oldest towns in the republic having beenfounded in 1553 by Francisco de Aguirre on the DulceRiver. It is the seat of a bishopric, which was created in1908. The present incumbent is Dr. Juan Martin deYañiz y Paz. On account of its isolation, Santiago delEstero has not prospered as it should have.

The inhabitants of the Province of Santiago del Esteroare mostly dependent for a livelihood on the sale of quebracho.This wood which rarely attains a growth ofthirty feet is of a deep red color and is used as a dye wood.Its supply seems inexhaustible but its export is now at astandstill on account of a slump in the market. It thrivesin dry climates for in this province where it frequentlygoes for a stretch of seven months at a time without arain, it attains its perfection. The northern provinces ofArgentina have it over its southern neighbors in the fact[104]that no matter how dry the country is, if it lies within theproper altitudes it is forested.

I have heard the Province of Tucumán spoken of byArgentinos as having a tropical climate. Such is not thetruth, but it is, in climate, the nearest approach to thetropics of any of the other Argentine provinces, withthe exception of the lowlands of Salta that lie within theLa Plata watershed. All nations are apt to exaggeratetheir endowments of nature, therefore one should not toosharply criticize the Argentinos when they speak of Tucumánas tropical. The Germans call part of Saxony,"Sächische Schweiz," when it bears no more resemblanceto Switzerland than does a pot of ink to a bucket of milk.The Uruguayans love to style their land "The Greenlandof South America," and even the Paraguayans call theirmountains the "Himalaya Mbaracayu." The onlysimilarity of Tucumán to the tropics is the excessive heatin summer, and the prevalence of fevers, the most noteworthybeing a form of malaria, namedchuchu which isalso in Santiago del Estero, Jujuy, and Salta. A morefever-free country is hard to imagine from the lay of theland, yet I am sorry to say that the Argentine Board ofHealth statistics belie it. Malaria is one of the foremostdeath-causing ailments in northwestern Argentina. Iwould, however, class these provinces as being healthy, asthere are no other epidemics excepting an occasionalsporadic outbreak of smallpox.

Entering Tucumán province from Santiago del Estero,the scenery abruptly changes from the quebracho thicketto large open fields of sugar cane. It was summer whenI visited it and the cane was nowhere near its growth.Compared with Cuba, the soil is poorer, the cane sicklier,and the establishments smaller. It is a go-between Cubaand the other islands of the West Indies.[105]

From the city of Tucumán northward the scenery isbeautiful. Seated in the dining car of the narrow gaugeCentral Northern Railroad with an overflowing glass ofRubia beer in front of me, and gazing at the fleetinglandscape, I was entranced by the works of God. Anendless forest of hardwood, with magnificent spreadingtops, yet too small to make saw timber, formed an excrescenceon the reddish clay thicker than bristles on Tamworthswine. The undergrowth is thick like that ofsouthern Chile, but here nature is like that of a warmerclime. No towns and but few farmhouses are visible,yet this is a populous country. The houses are hiddenaway in the forest, and their owners make their living bystock raising, their herds roaming at random in the woods.High green mountains grace the landscape, their lowerreaches wooded, while their tops uplifted above the treeline are verdant with grasses. They are like the Paraguayanmountains in contour, domed or serrated but neverflat. The rainy season is from December to April. Thenthe country looks its best. Under such conditions I sawit. The seven months from May through Novemberconstitute the dry season, and I was told that then thelandscape has a dreary appearance owing to its parcheddryness. The cattle seem to thrive even then. Theyare gaunt, rawboned creatures and even when fat, a mancan nearly hang his hat upon their haunches. Theyhave great endurance and are driven across the northernpasses into Chile where they sell for nineteen cents apound live weight. Even with their great shrinkage enroute there is quite a profit to this. In the Province ofSalta where land cannot get irrigation, it is worthlessexcept for cattle raising owing to the seven months'drought, as water is absolutely necessary for their crops.

To the stations, on the approach of the train, lean dogs[106]and fat sows come, and standing on the platform in frontof the dining car, they look longingly at the windows,and with barking and squealing let their presence beknown. These animals know exactly what time the trainsare scheduled to arrive and depart, where the dining carstops, and at which end of the dining car the kitchen is.This sagacity comes from intuition covering a long period.They are at every station and are especially noticeable atthe stop named Virgilio Tedin. The cook and waitersnever throw them anything, but instead occasionallydouse them with the contents of a bucket of dish water.The passengers are more compassionate, and alwaysthrow a piece of biscuit or bone at these animals whopounce upon the castings with squeals of delight. Thedogs are afraid of the sows, which although fat are of goodfighting material.

Güemes

A typical town of northern Argentina

Güemes, a town of two thousand inhabitants is thejunction for Salta and for Jujuy. Although Salta is on abranch line and Jujuy is on the main one, all throughtrains go to Salta for it is the largest place. For Jujuy,you have to change. Jujuy, the capital of the small provinceof the same name, is a miserable, squalid place of sixthousand inhabitants, in a hot but healthy valley. It usedto have twenty thousand people in the Colonial period,when it was the outpost of Spanish civilization of the LaPlata provinces; it then did a brisk trade with Bolivia.The town has no future. Midway between Güemes andJujuy is the junction of Perico from which place a railroadextends in a northeasterly direction to Oran, in theprovince of Salta. This is also an old place with manyhouses in ruins. It has but twenty-five hundred inhabitantsand is a shell of its former opulence. It now has a goodfuture because a railroad is being built to connect it withFormosa on the Paraguay River, and much timber and[107]tropical products will be brought in to be exported. NowOran exports oranges and bananas. Another old Colonialtown of crumbling houses is Santiago del Esteca nearMetan, a station of the Central Northern Railroad southof Güemes. Santiago del Esteca lies in the midst of athick forest and communication with the outside world iscarried on over a rough wagon road. The Central NorthernRailroad ends at La Quiaca, the frontier station atthe Bolivian boundary line. From Jujuy northward it is agradual climb to Abrapampa, over thirteen thousand feetabove sea level and then a drop of about three thousandfeet to the terminus. The railroad is in some placesrack and pinion but the trip for scenic beauty affords butlittle interest to the tourist for it is over bleak and barrenmountains. The trip from Buenos Aires to La Paz,Bolivia, can be made in one week, owing to the excellentstage-coach service of a Bolivian company connecting LaQuiaca with Uyuni on the Antofagasta to Bolivia Railroad.[108]

Live hogs in northern Argentina are shipped in thebaggage cars of passenger trains, although there seems tobe plenty of empty swine wagons. The animals aretrussed up by a noose slipped over their snouts, drawntightly and slipped around their front feet which arebound; the rope is then extended to their hind feet whichare already hobbled. I saw half a dozen of these creaturesbound this way being taken from the baggage car atGüemes and laid in the sun on the depot platform,when the thermometer stood at 108° Fahrenheit in theshade.

On the spur to Salta the first stop is Campo Santo,meaning "holy ground" or "cemetery." I am told thatit is very appropriately named as the fevers here areexceedingly common and are of great virulence.

He who has been to Argentina and has failed to see theLerma Valley is to be pitied. I have been told that theCauca Valley in Colombia is one of nature's rare masterpieces,and I would like to have it compared with that ofthe Lerma by somebody who has seen both. Midwaybetween Güemes and Salta we reach the Lerma River,and the high wooded hills narrow down to a defile, comingto the water's edge in some places which necessitates thetrain in some places to pass through tunnels. An occasionalcharcoal burner's hut is seen, but no other habitations.Suddenly the defile ends, the river is crossed,and a long valley several miles wide is entered, its wholefloor in a high state of cultivation and dotted with farmhouses.Near at hand are green foothills, which affordpasture for stock. Behind are wooded mountains. Thewhole panorama is beautified by the high Andes to thewest and north whose summits are capped with perpetualsnow. The city of Salta is approached; its many towersand Gothic spires, together with its setting at the base of[109]wooded mountains, brings to one's mind visions of citiesof Central Europe.

Cathedral and Bishop's Palace, Salta

The Province of Salta has an area of 62,184 square milesand had 185,643 inhabitants according to the last census,that of 1914. It is divided into twenty-one departmentswhich are analogous to the counties of our states. Thereis a great variation of soil and climate ranging from barrennessand frigidity in the high Andes to exuberant vegetationand torrid heats in the department of Oran. Theprincipal industry is the exportation of stock into Chile.A railroad to Chile seems to be the want of the inhabitants.They say that if one were built to Antofagasta, they wouldneed no trade with the rest of Argentina for then all theirexports would be sent north by the Pacific boats, and theirimports from the United States would be brought in thatway, saving a great expense in freight. This is only tootrue. Argentina is willing that such a railroad should bebuilt, but the Chilean Government has refused permissionon the grounds that there would be a great exodus ofpopulation from their barren northern provinces to thefruitful country across the Andes, namely Salta and Jujuy.There has always been more or less enmity betweenArgentina and Chile over a national boundary disputeregarding the limits of the Province of Salta, whose productivesoil the first-mentioned country is jealous of. Thequestion once nearly precipitated a war and the statue ofthe Cristo Redentor is a monument of the pact of peace.

Whenever nature bestows opulence on a country, itinvariably endows it with setbacks. This it did in Saltaby giving it fevers and venomous snakes. The chuchufever is the commonest disease and although not so prevalentas in the Province of Tucumán, it is here in a moremalignant form. It is conveyed by the bite of the mosquitoand much resembles ague, excepting that the body is[111]racked by pains, each day in a different place. It issupposed never to leave the system, quinine availing butlittle. It weakens the heart and in this way death iscaused, but only after several or more years. Some peoplenever have it, and, by the healthy looks of the inhabitantsand by the number of aged people to be seen in Salta, I donot believe its effects are as dangerous as is claimed.Among the snake family there are some venomous species,notably the viper and the cascabel. The bite of the latteris synonymous with sure death.

The city of Salta, whose population is estimated attwenty-eight thousand exclusive of a garrison of twothousand soldiers, is one of the best built cities and,for its size, one of the liveliest towns in Argentina. Itsstreets are paved with creosote blocks as in Paris; ithas an electric car system and all the progressive improvements.Its buildings are modern two-story structures,and old houses of the Colonial period with ornate carvedwood entrances. On February 20, 1813, General Arenalesdefeated the Spaniards on a plain north of the town, and afew years ago at a Centennial to celebrate the event, ahandsome monument of stone with bronze martial bas-reliefs,surmounted by a female statue of Liberty holdingaloft a cross, was unveiled on the battle ground and isregarded by the Saltenos as the pride of their town. Theprincipal plaza of the city is named in honor of the hero,Arenales, and a monument is soon to be placed on thebrick base in the center of this square which formerly wasgraced by a squat obelisk. The principal club of the cityis likewise named after the victory, its nomenclature beingthe 20th of February Club. This edifice faces the plazaand is by far the most modern building in Salta; it is theonly building in the city that is three stories high. Manycities of half a million inhabitants cannot boast of so fine[112]a club regarding interior furnishings. The wood carving,which is of Salta oak and cedar is of native workmanship;the Saltenos are famous in that art and I doubt if anywherewoodcarving by hand is done better. The parquetflooring of the club ballroom makes the visitor gasp withamazement when he is told that the work and the wood areall local. On the furniture of this club, which is evenequipped with a gymnasium, no expense has been spared.The ballroom chairs of Marie Antoinette style are upholsteredwith silk, and the massive candelabra are of thechoicest Venetian glass. The toilet room, I am pleased torelate, is one of the very few that I visited in Argentinathat is kept clean.

The buildings around the Plaza Arenales are all arcaded,but the only one of architectural interest is the old Cabildo,or city hall, of Spanish times. It is a low, squat, longstructure of massive walls and with rounded arches formingthe arcades. A low, pointed tower rises above thecenter. The lower floor of this building is now given upentirely to stores while the upper ones are leased fordwelling purposes.

Tomb in Cemetery, Salta

The Hotel Plaza of Ramon Terres is a two-story buildingat the northeast corner of the square and, although itis by no means a St. Regis, it is good enough for Salta.Unfortunately most of the bedrooms face a glass-roofedcourtyard, which besides making them dark, does notallow the entry of much fresh air. The pillows are so hardthat the guests are apt to wonder if they are stuffed withbrickbats. One of the curious figures that haunted thehotel café was a very old, tall, and thin gentleman of adecidedly noble and dignified appearance. His hair whichwas abundant, and his well-trimmed beard were silverywhite. His clean features, neat black clothes, and derbyhat would deceive a person into believing that this old[113]man was a retired Scots professor or German scientist.There was something uncanny about his appearance, forI had never before seen so well-groomed and active a manof an age that I imagined him to be; it was as if he had longago passed the age limit in which old men die, and yetdecided that he would remain on earth a good spell yet.He was always one of the last persons to leave the cafésnights, and the first to enter them mornings; he made the[114]rounds with regularity, and always had a drink beforehim. I asked the Spanish bartender who he was:

"He was once a very rich man who made his money bycattle dealing in Chile. He spent most of it and now ison an allowance from his relations. He has been in Chileover one hundred times trading stock, and is thinking ofgoing again soon. He is an expert horseman. He is overone hundred years old, and," said the waiter in a confidentialundertone, "he is a devil with the women. Hechases after all the servant girls and has lewd designs onthe chambermaid." This chambermaid, by the way, wasterribly good-looking, with dark brown eyes, and rosy redcheeks. I admired the old man's choice.

Salta has some remarkable religious edifices. It is thesee of a bishop, who has a palace adjoining the cathedral.The diocese was created in 1806 and comprises the provincesof Salta and Jujuy. The present bishop, JoséGregorio Romero, has been the incumbent only since 1915.The inhabitants have the reputation of being very devout,although I observed that all the Catholics with whom Iwas brought into contact with in Salta, ate meat onFriday. This also applies to the clergy. In the rich, cool,and lofty cathedral, there is a shrine with an image ofthe crucified Savior, which has a most peculiar history.Years ago there was found on a lonely beach in Chile, twoboxes, which had evidently been washed ashore from anunknown shipwreck. One was labeled with the addressof a person in Córdoba, and the other was addressed to aSeñor del Milagro in Salta. On being opened, the boxdestined for Córdoba was found to contain an image of theVirgin, while that for Salta contained the Christ. His halois of wrought gold, and the cross on which He is nailed is ofiron. As there was no such person in Salta as "delMilagro," the church appropriated the image which is[115]known as the Cristo del Milagro, and is shown by thesexton.

Two of the oldest churches are those of Merced and ofSan Bernardo. The church of the Candelaria has thefinest façade with a detached campanile, but the mostinteresting of all is the church and monastery of SanFrancisco. The cloister has massive walls, seven feetthick. It houses fourteen brown-robed monks of theFranciscan order. Most of them were an unwashed,unkempt lot; the quantity of empty wine and beer bottlesin the kitchen yard bore testimony to many libations ontheir part. The whole monastery is a maze of halls,porches, passageways, staircases, cupolas, belfries, cells,courtyards, and gardens. This confusion arose because anew part was added each time the growth of the monasterywarranted it. Into the large garden is turned nightly alarge bloodhound, kept ugly by being constantly fed onraw meat. This is to prevent the townspeople from scalingthe walls to steal the luscious fruit and grapes whichthe monks cultivate. In the daytime the dog is keptchained up, but only two or three of the inmates are onfriendly enough terms with this modern Cerberus toapproach it. The tall campanile of San Francisco is thehighest church tower in Argentina.

Calle Mitre, Salta

This is the main street of the city

I had a letter of introduction from Dr. Manuel deIriondo, president of the Bank of the Argentine Nationand one of the most prominent men in the republic, to themanager of the Salta branch, Señor Francisco Pereyra.I have never met a finer gentleman that Señor Pereyra.Not only did he wine and dine me at his own residence,but he went at great length to entertain me, introduce meto his friends, to the mayor of the city, to the governor ofthe province, took me out for automobile rides, and whenI left Salta loaded me with literature, both statistical[116]and historical of the province and city. Señor Pereyramade me a present of a hardwood cane, the tree from whichit is made being indigenous to the Province of Salta, andnamed San Antonio. Mariano Posse is the name ofPereyra's eighteen-year-old brother-in-law who is goingto Buenos Aires in a year to study medicine. I tried topersuade the young man to come to the United States totake a course in one of our universities, which I think willeventually materialize. At the time of this writing, SeñorPereyra has left Salta and is manager of the Bank of theArgentine Nation at Catamarca, the capital of the Andeanprovince of the same name. He had recently, shortlybefore leaving Salta, the misfortune to lose by death, hiswife, an estimable lady. I met Dr. Waldino Riarte, afriend of Señor Pereyra's. Both men were originally fromTucumán. Dr. Riarte is one of the wealthiest and higheststanding men in the province, to which position he rose[117]through his own efforts. One of the Salteno's with whomI became acquainted was Dr. Sola, a graduate of the OhioState University, class of 1904. He has not been in theUnited States since he graduated. He was sent there tostudy, by the Argentine Government, and liked it so wellthat he wants to go back to the United States. He wasanxious to hear the results of the collegiate football gamesfor the past few years, as he played on the 'varsity whileattending Ohio State.

"Chopp" (pronouncedschop) is a coined word supposedto be the Spanish translation of the German wordschoppen.Its nearest English equivalent is our coined word "schuper."Under the arcades of the old Cabildo, a German hasestablished a saloon which he has named "El BuenoChopp," meaning "The Good Schuper." A native seeingthe volume of business which came to the thrifty German,thinking that it all came from the name he gave his place,hung out a sign styling his liquid refreshment emporium,"El Mejor Chopp," which means "The Best Schuper."It happens that in this latter resort, it is impossible to getdraught beer in schupers, as the proprietor deals only inbottled goods. He does a poor business compared to thatof the German.

In the Bueno Chopp saloon where I would occasionallygo for a libation, I met a Dantziger named Holzmann.He inquired of me the names of the North American magazinesmost widely read by the higher classes of women,whereupon I told him theLadies' Home Journal, Harper'sBazaar, and others, giving him their addresses. He laterconfided to me that the reason for his asking was that hewished through their columns to make an announcementthat he intended to get married and he wanted a NorthAmerican woman for his wife. He said he had taken apassion for women of that nationality, and would accept[118]no others. This passion, I found, had developed from hishaving become enamored of the photograph of one ofour well-known society queens that is frequently flauntedbefore our eyes in the newspaper columns of the Sundaysupplements. Holzmann told me that when he resided inEast Africa, he occasionally gave his former wife, whenshe was unruly, a beating with a hippopotamus hide whip;so I see what sort of fate is in store for his American bride.

Salta years ago had a brewery owned by a man namedGlueck. Through mismanagement it failed. The cityhas 120 automobiles which speaks well for a town of its sizeand isolation in South America. The wine grown there issupposed to be the best in Argentina, although there hasbeen little done towards putting it on the market.

While I was a guest of the Pereyras' I witnessed a novelsight. After dinner a bat was turned loose in the diningroom. This phyllostome Señor Pereyra kept in a largecage and occasionally turned it loose to eat the mosquitoeswhich are a curse to Salta.

Midway between Salta and Tucumán is the station ofRosario de la Frontera near which are some famous mineralbaths. It is quite a winter resort and its waters arebottled and sold all over the republic. Palau is the nameof the most widely distributed brand. These waters arenaturally carbonated, but are not as strong as Apollinarisor White Rock. One of the finest waters in Argentina isthat of Ghino from Tucumán province. It is somewhatlike Vichy in taste but is slightly medicated. Its sale,however, is unfortunately local.

The Province of Tucumán derives its name from alegendary Indian cacique named Tucuma, who is supposedto have lived in the plain of the Rio Monteros which flowsthrough the province and which joins the Rio Salí near thecity of Tucumán. It is the smallest province of Argentina,[119]having an area of only 8926 square miles. Three-quartersof its surface is level, the remaining quarter which is thewestern part being hilly and mountainous. Tucumánis the most densely settled portion of Argentina, its populationbeing, according to the census of 1914, 373,073. Onaccount of this density of population the Tucumános liketo call their province "The Europe of Argentina." Inmost of the republic the railroads preceded the settlers;here and also in Salta this is the reverse, for the settlersin these provinces came first. In 1560 the Viceroy of Peru,to whose dominions this part of the country had belonged,declared Tucumán an independent state. It then comprisedwhat are now the geographical divisions of Santiagodel Estero, Tucumán, Catamarca, Salta, Jujuy, and Córdoba.In 1782 Salta, Jujuy, and Córdoba were separatedfrom it. In 1821 Catamarca and Santiago del Estero followedsuit.

The capital city, also named Tucumán, was foundedSeptember 29, 1565, by Diego de Villarroel at the confluenceof the Salí and Monteros rivers. In 1585 it wasmoved to the site that it now occupies. It is situatednear the middle of the province, at an elevation of 1453feet above sea level. The city itself has a population ofabout one hundred thousand inhabitants, but it is a distributingpoint for a much greater population for at nogreat distance from it are numerous towns, large sugarfactories with their colonies of workmen. In shape thecity is nearly square. It is eighteen blocks long from northto south and fourteen blocks wide from east to west. Thestreets are wide, and the newer ones, especially the boulevardswhich bound the limits, are lined with trees, sycamoresbeing in the majority. Four blocks west of theeastern city limits is the Plaza Independencia, the centerof mercantile, religious, and diverting activity. On it[120]stands the cathedral, another church, the capitol, atleast ten large cafés, and a couple of moving picture shows,while in the neighborhood on a street named Las Herasare the best shops.

Las Heras, an east and west intersector, is the mainbusiness street, although the one which parallels it oneblock to the south, and which is named Calle 24 de Setiembre,is the street which divides its intersectors intodifferent nomenclatures in the manner of the Calle Rivadaviain Buenos Aires. South of Calle 24 de Setiembre,the streets that cross it have different names than theelongations of them that run north of it. On Calle LasHeras are the important banks. The next business streetsin order according to their commercial worth are Mendoza,which parallels Las Heras one block north of it, Laprida,and Maipu, the two last named being cross streets. CalleMaipu is devoted to second class-shops; the third-classshops and the slums, which are vile, although not sovile as the slums of Córdoba, are at the extreme westernend of Las Heras near the Central of Córdoba Railroadstation.

The religious edifices, although their external appearancesare imposing and have double towers and domes oflight blue porcelain tile, are not worth visiting unless topray in, as their interiors offer no more artistic attractionsthan thousands of their kind elsewhere.

The capitol is by far the finest building in the city. It isthree stories high on the outside, and four on the inside(for the courtyards are sunk one story below the streetlevel), and occupies a considerable area. It is by no meansthe finest capitol building that I have visited, but as it isthe newest, having been just completed, it is probably thebest equipped. Though it is built in the business sectionof the city where it cannot show off to its best advantage,[121]it however, makes the capitol at Lansing, Michigan, looklike 30 cents. In Argentine, as it is almost impossibleto get marble, all the provincial capitols are built of brick,solidly, so as to stand forever. The Argentine brick isnot pleasing to the eyes, as it is rough. To embellish thebuildings of this material they are given a coating of drabstucco cement.

Capitol, Tucumán

I visited the Governor, Dr. Ernesto Padilla, a tall,handsome, affable man about forty years old. He is quitean archeologist, and in a room adjoining his private officein the capitol he has installed his private collection ofIndian antiquities of the province. It is a most remarkablecollection of pottery, ornaments, etc. Near Tafí alarge stone has been recently discovered with Indianscrolls, hieroglyphics, and drawings. A North Americanphotographer residing in Tucumán went out to see thisstone. With chalk, he outlined the rather indistinctdrawings and then took a photograph of it. This photograph[122]is reproduced on pages 635 and 637 of my previouswork,Illustrated, Descriptive Argentina.

Dr. Padilla introduced me to General O'Donnell, themilitary commander of the province. A curious fact isthat this general cannot speak the English language, havingbeen born in Argentina. I held a letter of introductionto Señor S. A. Wyss, manager of the Hilaret y Ciasugar mill at Santa Ana, the largest in South America, andalso one to Mr. Stewart Shipton, manager of the Coronamill at Concepción. Both mills are several hours' distantfrom Tucumán, and in trying to catch the train for Concepción,I went to the wrong depot. Dr. Padilla afterwardstold me that it would have been useless for me to havegone to either of those places, because there were sugarmills much nearer to the city. He wrote me a letter ofintroduction to Señor Alfredo Guzman, the richest man inthe province, who has a mill at a town also named Concepción,which is only a twenty minutes' drive from the capital.He likewise wrote me a letter to Dr. Juan C. Nougués,who has a mill at San Pablo, which I visited. There aretwo kinds of sugar districts in the Province of Tucumán,one on the plains like that of Señor Guzman's estate, andone in the hills like the one at San Pablo.

Tucumán is a hot place, both climatically and morally.In the latter line are the Crystal Palace and the MoulinRouge, while in the former line, the thermometer oftenrises above the comfortable point. The night I arrivedit registered 106° Fahrenheit in the shade. It was so hotthat I thought I would cool off by walking down theCalle Laprida. The one-story houses are so constructedthat in front of each window an iron balcony extends to thesidewalk; the railings of these are of wrought iron, ormarble. Here sit the belles on hot summer nights airingthemselves. They certainly need to, for as I strolled down[123]the street the stench that was wafted from them to mewas nearly asphyxiating. It is the odor that is present inthe summer when the human body is unfriendly to soap,water, and the scrub brush. Some of these beauties satbehind shutters in the darkness, but I was aware of theirpresence, although I could not see them.

Calle Laprida, Tucumán

Behind the iron balconies, such as has the house on the left, the women of Tucumán areseated on hot summer evenings airing themselves

In 1914, there was founded in Tucumán a university,at the head of which is Dr. Juan B. Teran. So far, theuniversity is incomplete, for of the five departments ofinstruction which it will have when completed, only twoare at present running. These are the pedagogicaldepartment, and that of mechanics, agriculture, andchemistry. The latter has an agricultural experimentalstation near the city, at present in charge of a NorthAmerican, Dr. William E. Cross. Its chemical andbacteriological laboratory is the best in the republic.[124]The University of Tucumán to-day is more like a polytechnicalinstitute and agricultural combined than thatwhich we generally think of by the word "university."

As to hotels, Tucumán has one of the best in SouthAmerica, the Savoy. It, together with two separatebuildings, one a roulette casino, and the other a largetheater, is the property of the Da Rossa Company, aPortuguese syndicate. The Savoy is leased to a Frenchman,R. Eluchand, and is managed by Señor Scheindl formerlyof Vienna. It is Mr. Scheindl's sister whose portraitappears on the Austrian twenty crown note; she was supposedto be the most beautiful girl in Austria. The Savoyis a large affair of 116 rooms, most of which have a bath inconnection. It is on the Boulevard Sarmiento in an excellentbut not central location. It is finely equipped, and islike a palace with its large courtyard enclosed by pillaredbalconies. The hotel has been a "white elephant"because it is too fine for the city. Mr. Scheindl tells methat in the hotel line, the Tucumános always want somethingfor nothing, and when the inhabitants give their bigballs at the Savoy, he either runs behind or else onlybreaks even; otherwise, if he insisted that they pay whathe thought would be just, they would boycott him in thefuture. The other hotels which are in the central part ofthe city are the Europe, the Paris, and the Frascati, thefirst mentioned being the best. The Frascati is owned bythe Palladini brothers, one of them, Attilio, having beenformer manager of the Savoy. When I knew AttilioPalladini several years ago, he was the courier of theParque Hotel in Montevideo, and quit it to be head portierof the Hotel Savoy in Buenos Aires.

In Tucumán itself, there is nothing of interest for thesightseer. It is only a large commercial town in a fineagricultural district dependent on the sugar industry.[125]Contrary to the fabrications the stranger will hear elsewherein Argentina knocking it, saying that it is a feverhotbed, it is a sanitary place for the person that has theprice to indulge in mineral waters as beverages, for its ownwater is not potable, owing to the sediment and dust thatit contains. Talking with business men about investmentof capital in Tucumán, there does not seem to be muchencouragement in the manufacturing line. A flour millwould undoubtedly pay, and there is a splendid opportunityto start a steam laundry, as there is a constant complaintabout the present one. It does its work poorly andcharges exorbitant prices. It is said that a small ice plantin one of the neighboring towns, which would supply thewants of the inhabitants of the thickly inhabited districts,would also pay. A brewery has started in Tucumán,named the Cerveceria del Norte (Northern Brewery). Itis controlled by the Quilmes people and has a large enoughcapacity to supply entire Argentina if necessary. Itsbrands of beer from light to dark are Rubia, Tucma, andOran. Rubia is very palatable.

I became acquainted with a photographer in Tucumán,Mr. Henry A. Kirwin of New York. He came down hereas a photographer eight years ago, and wants to get backhome. He says it is much easier for a man to get downthere than to get back. He seems to have a fair business,photographing machinery at the different mills and at therailroad yards at Tafí Viejo. Many of his photographs offamily groups have yellow chemicals smeared over the facesof the clients on the plates. I asked him why this was.

"You see," said he, "most of the natives have Indianblood. It is supposed to be much nicer if this originwould be unknown, therefore I have to put this chemicalon the plates so their faces will have a decidedly Europeancast in the photograph."[126]

It is customary for the relatives of dead persons to havephotographs taken of their once beloved. Mr. Kirwin hada choice collection of these local corpses which he insistedon showing me; there were over sixty. Among them weresome "tasty" specimens, some being victims of the bubonicplague in 1913. Some were unrecognizable, charredmasses of flesh that had been human before the subjectsperished in a fire, while others were the gruesome countenancesof cadavers whose faces were partially eaten awayby cancer.

While in Mendoza, I thought the canine population wasexcessive. It is small compared with that of Tucumán.In this city every criolla has two or more Mexican hairlessdogs, and the number of hybrids between bulldog, GreatDane, whiffet, and old hound is appalling. Three hundredthousand dogs is, I think, a low estimate of thecanine inhabitants of the city. None are muzzled; butfew are fed; and all run after bicycles, automobiles, andwagons. They make night hideous by howling, andfighting about the possession of putrid bones, mule dung,and garbage.

From Tucumán there is a trip that the visitor shouldnot fail to miss. This is the twenty-mile automobile rideto the settlement and summer resort of Villa Nougués,4225 feet above the plain on which the city is built.Nougués is situated not far from the summit of the woodedmountains southwest of Tucumán. The road leads duewest, and then swerves to the south past populous farmingcountry and through the village of Yerba Buena to thesugar mill and colony of San Pablo, where Dr. Nougués hashis palatial mansion, and private church. His beautifulestate lies on gently sloping ground two miles east of thewooded mountains. All provisions for the summercolony and hotel at Villa Nougués must be taken up by[127]wagon or by automobile from Tucumán. Most of theheavy trucking is done by means of ox carts. Early in themorning we met at San Pablo several of these oxcartsplodding slowly up the country road, and at night on ourreturn to the city we met these same teams only halfwayup the mountain, so hard is the pull on the beasts.When the road reaches the mountains it makes a serpentine,and then zigzags upward through the semi-tropicalforest abounding with orange and crimson cannas. Everyso often through the umbrageous trees and giant ferns, apanorama is to be had of the plain of Tucumán with itsrectangular fields of sugar cane and small towns with theirusines.

Residence of Dr. Juan C. Nougués, San Pablo

The gentleman in the foreground is Señor Scheindl, manager of the Hotel Savoy inTucumán

Country House at Villa Nougués

Arrived at the settlement of Villa Nougués is the hotelwhere parties from the city come up on hot days to enjoythe cool invigorating air. Seated on the porch of Dr.[128]Teran's house, which is near the hotel, in company of Dr.Teran, Governor Padilla, Señor Scheindl, and a rich sugarplanter named Rouges, we looked across the broad longplain, styled the "Europe of Argentina," and I learnedmany interesting facts. The valley of the Rio Salí whichcrosses the province from north to south, is fed by twenty-fiverivers which flow into it from the west to the east.The Salí flows southward and is finally lost in a largebrackish lake, the Mar Chiquita in the Province of Córdoba.The great industrial and agricultural plain, with itssugar mills among which are the usines of San José, SanAntonio, San Pablo, Paraiso, and countless others and itsrailroad workshops at Tafí Viejo, has a cultivated area oftwo hundred and fifty thousand acres. It was originallythickly forested as can be testified by occasional unclearedpatches. Here civilization preceded the railroad, and onlyin the poorer part of the province in the direction ofSantiago del Estero did the railroad come first. This[129]valley is the cradle of Argentine liberty, for here theSpaniards having gone through the country like a steammower, were finally decisively beaten in battle, and July9, 1816, at Tucumán, the Argentine Confederation wasborn.

Three kilometers west of Villa Nougués is the summitof the foothills. Looking west from this summit, the vistaof the San Javier Valley, with its forested mountains,and with its wooded detached hills rising from the midstof cultivated river bottoms, Alpine pastures, and numerousstreams, is like that of the Inn in Tirol, although it is hereeven more beautiful. The Catamarca mountains, snow-cappeddomed Aconquija, and the bleak Andes form thewestern background, behind which the sun sinks in theaureate splendor of a fireball. This is one of the finestviews in the world and should be seen in the late afternoon.[130]

CHAPTER VI
CÓRDOBA

Córdoba is the third province of Argentina in population,it having had in 1914, 732,727 inhabitants. Inarea it contains 62,160 square miles. It is the heart ofArgentina, being situated in the center of the republic.The eastern part is pampa while the western part is ahigh, dry plateau, traversed from north to south bymountain ranges notably among which are chains ofPocho and Ischilin. These mountain ranges which aretwo hundred miles in length are isolated from the Andeansystem; their southernmost extremities are named theSierra de Córdoba and are a veritable karst like theKuestenlande of Austria, gray granite boulders beingeverywhere. The eastern slopes of this karst are coveredwith a thick vegetation of mesquite and other shrubs dueto the moist Atlantic winds, while their western slopes aredestitute of vegetation. The air here is dry and refreshingand the Sierra de Córdoba enjoys the same rôle in Argentinathat Colorado does in the United States, being the hauntof consumptives. Likewise the Sierra is the playgroundof many wealthy Buenos Aires families, for it is a treat tothem to get away from the level monotonous plain uponwhich their city is built. West and northwest of theisolated mountain chain is a vast barren desert, part of itbeing called the Salinas Grandes on account of the white[131]surface of the soil due to saline deposits. Córdoba iswatered by five rivers named the Primero, Segundo,Tercero, Quarto, and Quinto (which means First, Second,Third, Fourth, and Fifth). These rivers are used for irrigatingpurposes, for water power, and for electricity. Thewhole province is noted for the pureness of its well water,artesian wells abounding. Every few years the locust orgrasshopper plague hits Argentina, and when it comes itstrikes Córdoba unusually hard. One of the frontispiecephotographs shows a locust trap on a Córdoba farm.This is the catch of two days, the corrugated iron plateshaving been spread with honey mixed with poison. Iconsider this one of the most remarkable photographs everpublished.

The trip from Tucumán to Córdoba is an 11 hours' tripof 340 miles by the Central of Córdoba Railroad. Thetrack is narrow gauge, but the sleepers, dining car, andservice are the best that I have ever chanced on in Argentina.All trains between the two cities make the trip bynight, for in the daytime the heat and glare of the sun onthe Salinas Grandes, a great salt desert midway betweenthe two cities, is unbearable. This desert abounds withrattlesnakes, called "cascabel." I met a tramp whowalked from Tucumán to Córdoba; he was afraid to liedown by the wayside to rest on account of these reptiles.In one day he killed over fifty of them.

The first eighty miles of the journey crosses about aspleasant a country as can be found anywhere, passingthrough the cities of Bella Vista, La Madrid, and SanPedro. At the latter place, the first town in the Provinceof Catamarca, desolation begins and continues until daylightthe next morning when the traveler awakes at thelarge town of Dean Funes, the junction for San Juan,capital of the province of the same name. Low rocky[132]hills now rise in every direction; the soil, dry, parched, andsomewhat stony is overrun with pampa grass. It is cooland a wind is invariably blowing. The nature of thecountry continues this way almost to Córdoba, althoughbefore reaching that city, the hills to the southwest takethe form and acquire the height of mountains.

Córdoba, the third city of Argentina, has a population,exclusive of its suburbs, of one hundred and sixty thousandinhabitants. It was founded in 1573 by Luis Geronimode Cabrera, and has always been noted as a seat of learningand of religion. Its university, which vies with that ofSan Marcos in Lima in being the oldest in the WesternHemisphere, was founded June 19, 1613, by a Jesuit father,Fernando de Trejo y Sanabria. The first printing pressin Argentina was brought to this university from Limain 1765. Gaspar Rodriguez de Francia, Paraguay's abledictator, was a graduate of Córdoba's university. Thechurches, cloisters, convents, and religious institutions ofthe city are innumerable, and it is estimated that oversix thousand of its inhabitants are connected with thereligious orders and organizations. Córdoba is one of thecleanest cities in America, and it is difficult to find a placewhere civic pride, park system, cleanliness of house exteriors,public buildings, pavement, hotels, cafés, departmentstores, banks, residences, religious edifices, and watersupply taken as a whole can equal that of it. Manycities may excel it in one or two of the above mentionedinstitutions but not in the majority. Personally I wouldnot care to live there unless engaged in some business, asthere are too many "lungers," and the surrounding countryis but a dry and rocky karst; the diversion of streetlife would soon become irksome, for with the exception ofcafés, moving picture shows, theaters, and an occasionalhorse race, no Argentine city possesses any real live amusement[133]places, excepting those that are synonymous withlights seen through carmine transoms, and they happilyare not in my line.

Northern Market, Córdoba

I can see no reason for Córdoba's existence and growth.The soil of the country is poor and rocky, while the rainfallis slight. In the year 1915, seven months elapsed withouta drop falling. The city is situated to the west of theproductive part of the province, and from it westward toSan Juan at the foot of the Andes, the country is thepoorest in the republic. Yet Córdoba has had a rapidgrowth recently. In the manufacturing line, it has threebreweries, that of Pollak and Brueck, generally called theCórdoba Brewery; that of the Ahrens, and the main breweryof the Rio Segundo Company. There is a large flourmill owned by Minetti, an Italian, and several brickyards.Here are also located the shops of the Central of CórdobaRailroad.

The chief industry of Córdoba is brewing, this beinglargely due to the remarkable pureness of its well waterwhich is artesian. Señor Nicolas J. Oderigo, manager ofthe bank of the Argentine nation, wrote me a letter ofintroduction to Mr. C. Davis, president of the Rio SegundoBrewing Company, which I visited in the company of SeñorStange, an employee of Oderigo's bank, and whom he hadthe kindness to send with me to accompany me. Thislarge brewery has a branch at the town of Rio Segundo,which was the original brewery. The Rio II. Brewery isan independent brewery, not being allied to the Quilmesoutfit as is generally supposed. Mr. Davis received mecourteously and after having shown me the establishmentinvited Stange and myself to his house where he entertainedus at dinner. Señor Stange is either a German or ofGerman descent, but when I asked him about it he deniedit, and also told me he could not speak a word of that[135]language. A day or two later I passed by him while hewas seated in animated conversation in a café with twoother men, and the language he was conversing in wasGerman. As Mr. Davis is an Englishman, Stange evidentlyhad private reasons to cover his nationality. Thebrewmaster of the Rio II. Brewery told me that brewingwas not a profitable industry in Argentina, because theQuilmes company was a trust and its members beingaffiliated with the political party that is in power, it hasthe capital and the means to drive the smaller breweries tothe wall, by stringent legislation and usurious taxation.This Rio II. Brewery is smaller than the large breweriesof Detroit, yet it pays more taxes than does the Anheuser-BuschBrewery or the Pabst or Schlitz breweries.

The Córdoba Brewery as I have mentioned is owned byPollak and Brueck. Pollak is an Austrian Jew who marrieda Córdoba woman, and who turned Roman Catholicto get prestige, but like most people who are members ofthe race he abjured, his business methods are not consideredsynonymous with good faith.

His beer, to my idea, is the most palatable of any of theCórdobese beers. Amber is the name of his light product,while Muenchen is that of his dark. With the townspeoplehis product is the most popular, notwithstandinghis personal unpopularity.

The approach to Córdoba by rail is similar on a smallscale to that of La Paz, Bolivia, for both cities lie in apocket in the hills and their presence is not visible untilthe ground of the plain above them drops away, and theyare seen below you. The pocket which contains La Pazis ten times deeper, the surprise of the traveler on firstviewing the city being that of astonishment; but here inCórdoba, although the scale is exceedingly miniature, theconditions are analogous. The growth of Córdoba has[136]been such that there is no more room left for building inthe pocket, so now the new resident who wishes to build ahome of his own is obliged to do so on the plain above thecity. Several suburbs have sprung up and go by the namesof Alta Córdoba, Alberdi, and Nueva Córdoba.

Alta Córdoba can be likened to the station Alto de LaPaz, although here there is quite a large town. Here issituated the Central of Córdoba railroad station with therailroad workshops, and a market named Mercado delNorte. A fine, broad avenue winds from Alta Córdoba inbig curves, down a cleft in the hillside, passes under astone railroad bridge, and reaches the river bottom at thebeautiful shady park of Las Heras. It now crosses theRio Primero over a new stone bridge, named the Centenario,at whose end is the Avenue General Paz. This iswhere begins the city proper, which on the floor of thevalley is twenty-one blocks wide by thirty-one blockslong, and which does not include the other suburbs in thepocket which are named San Vicente at the eastern andVilla Paez at the western ends of the original town.

The Plaza San Martin is in the center of Córdoba and isthe nucleus of the city life. From here run straight streetseast and west, and north and south which are the busyones of the capital. On the plaza is the cathedral, twoof the leading banks, and the best hotels. The businessarrangement of this particular section is like that ofTucumán. The great show street is the aristocratic andsuperbly beautiful Avenida General Paz, beginning at theplaza of the same name at the Centenario Bridge andcontinuing ten blocks southward to the Plaza VelezSarsfield. This street is the handsomest in Argentina.From the Plaza Velez Sarsfield there is a continuation ofit to the heights beyond the city proper, and which is herenamed the Avenida Velez Sarsfield.[137]

Cathedral of Córdoba

From the Plaza Velez Sarsfield the new Avenida Argentina,destined to become the most exclusive residentialstreet of the city on account of the high price of the terrain,ascends to the plazas Centenario and Dean Funes atthe entrance of Sormiento Park, Córdoba's playground.Halfway up the Avenida Argentina on the left-hand sidestands a magnificent and imposing mansion, that ofSeñor Martin Ferreyra. It is a landmark, and seen fromthe plain at the opposite end of the city, it looms up as ifit dominates over the city and no other building seems aslarge. It has already cost its owner over three millionpesos ($1,281,000) and is not yet completed.[138]

"How did Señor Ferreyra make his money?" I asked thechauffeur.

"His father left a large sum of money which had beenhanded down from several generations. Martin Ferreyrawas made administrator of his father's estate and cheatedthe other heirs out of their share," was his answer.

Residence of Martin Ferreyra, Córdoba

The zoölogical garden at the Parque Sarmiento liesin a cleft of the ridge and was laid out in 1914 by a Germanengineer. It is open to the public Thursdays andSundays and is entered by descending in a funicular or bya circuitous way on foot. Although it is planned to housemany animals, the only large mammals there at presentare some seals which sport beneath the spray of an artificialcascade, and a pair of lions which a Montevideogentleman presented to an ex-governor of Córdoba, whohas loaned them to the city, probably at the expense of thelatter.

Church of Santa Teresa, Córdoba

Debreczen, Hungary, is nicknamed locally, "Rome of[139]the Protestants"; Córdoba is nicknamed "Rome ofArgentina" on account of its numerous churches, convents,monasteries, other religious institutions, and multitude ofpriests. There are several thousand of the latter body ofmen; they and the soldiers are not reckoned in the nationalcensus of urban population for they are constantly movingfrom place to place. There are fourteen large churchesincluding the cathedral, and sixteen other Catholic Housesof God which would be considered large in the UnitedStates, but which are here classed as mediocre. In contrastwith the churches of all the rest of South America,excepting those of Brazil, those of Northern Argentina aremuch more beautiful with their splendid façades, domes,and towers, the latter being roofed with variegated porcelaintiles; blues predominating. Córdoba, Tucumán, andSalta are especially rich in the appearance of their churches,Tucumán taking the lead in the ornateness of the tiles.In Córdoba are the large churches of Merced, JesuitFathers, and Santo Domingo, but by far the largest andfinest church in all Argentina is the cathedral, three centuriesold, its architecture being that of the current Spanishstyle that was in vogue at the time it was built. There area few cathedrals in America larger, those of Montreal,Mexico City, Lima, New York, Santiago, Bahia, Montevideo,and Rio de Janeiro in order of their size, but noneexcel that of Córdoba in proud richness.

It is one of the finest churches in America with the bestmural paintings of any. In this latter respect it is onlyexceeded by those of Italy. Its towers and dome are nottiled, as that art was copied from the Portuguese andBrazilians only during the last century. DecadentRomanesque, it has a solemn dignity of its own.

Zoölogical Garden, Córdoba

Of the hotels, the Plaza is the best. It is on the northeastcorner of the Plaza San Martin, and is new. It is a[141]solid four-story structure, with good rooms, and is wellfurnished but poorly managed. There is a sunparlor onthe second floor. The manager told me that most of therooms have baths in connection, but in this he lied. I donot believe that any of the rooms have a private bath.This same manager, an Engadine Swiss, was formerly thehead portier of the Hotel Savoy in Rosario. I knew himof old, and crookedness is, with him, second nature. Therestaurant of the Plaza Hotel is the best in the city. It ison the ground floor and has a street entrance; in connectionwith it is a café and a confectionery store. The meals areà la carte, but I understand that people staying at thePlaza for any length of time may getpension. The caféis a large one, on the Viennese style, and connects withthe restaurant by a passageway under a platform on topof which are stationed the orchestra, so that the musicalwants of both the eaters and drinkers can be satisfied atthe same time. The bar is on the United States style,[142]and as is seldom the case in South America and not frequentenough in North America, the back bar is deepenough to give the bartenders working space, and allowsthem enough room to reach for a bottle without gettinginto each other's way.

Corner of Plaza San Martin, Córdoba

Across Calle San Geronimo from the Hotel Plaza is theHotel San Martin, a good house, and managed by theformer manager of the Plaza. This manager holds theunenviable reputation of cheating his foreign help. InArgentina, a native or a naturalized citizen always winsout in a lawsuit. When I asked some of the ex-employeesof the San Martin why they did not sue the manager fortheir back wages which they claimed were deliberatelywithheld, they said:

"We would look fine as Spaniards and Austrians goingup against an Argentino in court here. The managerwould trump up some lie, and have us arrested on somefalse charge and it would work."[143]

Another good hotel is the Roma, two stories high andbuilt on the patio system.

The Central Argentina Railroad and the Central ofCórdoba both print luxurious illustrated folders and domuch advertising relative to the beauties and charmingmountain scenery of the Sierra de Córdoba, an uninterestingrange of quasi barren hills in the neighborhood of thecity. My advice to strangers is to pay no attention tothese deceptive advertisements and not to go there, forthe person that "bites" feels afterwards like "the foolwith his money parted." This last might apply topecuniary losses that are apt to befall him at the greencloth tables in Alta Gracia. This Sierra de Córdoba isan irregular mass of rocky hills, which in some placesattains the form of mountains. The summits are overfour thousand feet high and where this altitude is reachedin the mountains to the west, the Córdobese call them LosGigantes (The Giants) for they have never seen anymountains that are greater. They are covered withbrush, while here and there is a small tree. As for scenicbeauty they are not worth three cents.

Alta Gracia is a great gambling establishment licensedby the provincial authorities, and as these railroad companiesknow the bend of the native mind, advertise thisplace which besides the gambling house is nothing but alarge hotel, a hamlet, and an old mission church. I visitedall the advertised places which include Dique San Roque,Cosquin, La Falda, Tanti, and Capilla de Monte and foundnone worth the while. Dique San Roque is a dam somewhatsimilar to the Sweetwater Dam near San Diego,California, where a greenish lake empties its waters intothe Calera River to supply electrical power. It is twentymiles from Córdoba, the last five being the only part of thetrip that can come anywhere near to being classified under[144]the title scenery. The hills here are wooded with smalltrees, and the dangerous automobile road runs aroundpromontories on ledges where the slightest mishap withthe steering would shoot both passenger and chauffeurinto eternity.

Bridge on Road to Dique San Roque

Beneath the arch of this bridge some gipsy families have taken their abode

To go to Cosquin, thirty-seven miles from Córdoba,keep straight ahead until you reach the stone markedkilometro 28, which is the turning-off place for Dique SanRoque. Keep straight ahead and you will come to thehamlet of San Roque where is a church and the residenceof the jefe politico. A road to the left leads to AltaGracia, but that to the right goes to Cosquin. After along drive over the rocky karst, the village of Villa BialetMasset is reached. It consists of a long dusty streetflanked by sordid one-story houses. A National ConsumptivesHome on a grandiose scale is here. The sceneryhas become better as there is a green, although dusty[145]valley watered by the Cosquin River. Cosquin is anunattractive town of three thousand inhabitants. TheHotel Mundial serves good meals but there is no diversionfor its guests, who pass the time of day reading novels onthe veranda or slumber in the garden.

The inhabitants of the Province of Córdoba talk in asing song manner and are known by their fashion of articulationin any part of the republic they may chance tofind themselves in.

It is a ten hours' ride on the accommodation train fromCórdoba to Rosario, although the express trains whichrun by night only shorten the time by a couple of hours.The country is a dry but productive plain, and is fairlythickly settled; every few miles there is a town. Theserange from a few hundred to a few thousand inhabitants.In the summer of 1916 the whole region had been plantedto corn, but the locust pest had been so busy that therewas nothing left but the bare stalks. This disasterreached to the outskirts of Rosario. The locusts had eveneaten all the leaves off the trees, their naked brancheshaving the appearance of their winter garb. Millionsof dollars had gone to waste on account of them, andI know anestanciero in the Province of Buenos Aires whoin a single year had destroyed by them sixty-five thousanddollars' worth of crops. They attack everything but thegarden truck, and by their sputum poison the streams.A man should never buy land for crops in Argentina withoutreckoning on this plague.

The Province of Santa Fé had, according to the lastcensus, a population of 1,111,426, ranking in this linethe second of the Argentine provinces. Its area is 50,916square miles and has as its capital city, Santa Fé, whichhas a population of 91,636. Rosario, frequently calledRosario de Santa Fé to distinguish it from Rosario de[146]La Frontera in the Province of Salta, is the largest city.Its population is 316,914, it being the second city of Argentina,and the sixth in South America, those largerin order being Buenos Aires, Rio de Janeiro, São Paulo,Santiago, and Montevideo.

Rosario was founded by Francisco Godoy in 1725, butits growth dates from recent years. Although its aspectwas practically the same as when I saw it three yearspreviously, I could not help noticing that now there weremuch greater crowds on the streets than formerly, andthat the principal business street had changed from theCalle General San Martin to its intersector, Calle Córdoba.It is the outlet to a grain country superior to thatbehind Buenos Aires, and is the livest commercial cityin Argentina. There are quite a few local industries suchas car shops, a sugar refinery, grain elevators, flour mills,and breweries. The largest importing house in Argentina,that of Chiesa Brothers, is located here as well as thelargest drug firm. The city is essentially Italian, itsinfluence predominating, although numerically the otherforeigners and natives together have a larger populationthan the immigrants from the Lavinian shores. Rosariois also a center for artisans, their sculptors vying withthose of Genoa in the chiseling of marble for tombs andstatuary in Buenos Aires and in different parts of SouthAmerica. The city is by no means beautiful nor can it everbe on account of the flatness of its location. There areeight small plazas but none of them are near the centerof business. The streets are narrow, and are solidly linedwith buildings many of which are imposing. This withthe absence of plazas as breathing spaces, together withthe street crowds give to Rosario an entirely commercialatmosphere. The courthouse is a large, long pile with ahigh domed tower surmounting the center, and is one of[147]the most imposing buildings in Argentina. It is on thenorth side of the Plaza San Martin about a mile from thehub of activity of the city. On the east side of the sameplaza, and just completed, is the Police Headquarterscovering an entire block and undoubtedly the most modernand largest of its kind in the world. Two other finebuildings are the Jockey Club and the Centro Español,both also recently completed.

Courthouse, Rosario

Street Scene, Rosario

The Hotel Italia is the best, although its situation on aside street, the Calle Maipu, between Calles Rioja andSan Luis is poor. The Savoy where I stopped, wasformerly Rosario's Blackstone, but it has greatly deterioratedin all respects. The only thing attractive about itis the chambermaid on the second floor, a pretty gigglingSpanish damsel. The Hotel de Mayo is a good second-classhouse and serves the best meals of any of the hotels,its restaurant rivaling that of the Rôtisserie Sportsmanwhich is above the Bar Victoria. This Bar Victoria is the[149]finest refreshment parlor in South America. Its walls aredecorated with tapestry, its furniture is of mahogany, andits fixtures are of brass, kept well-polished. It gave oneof the Catalan waiters great pleasure to see me cross itsthreshold after an absence of three years and enjoy a glassof foaming Germania in the dull cathedral light of a waningday.

Plaza 25 de Mayo, Rosario

Street Scene, Rosario

Tributary to Rosario, which is their shopping center,and inland some distance in the heart of good farming[151]lands, are three towns: Pergamino, seventy miles to thesouth, Casilda, thirty-three miles to the southwest, andCañada de Gomez, forty-one miles to the west. Pergamino,the largest of all, is in the Province of Buenos Aires,being directly across the provincial line and is a railroadtown. It is the junction of several branch lines of theCentral of Argentina Railroad and is on the main line ofthe narrow gauge General Railroads of the Province ofBuenos Aires. It has a population of twenty-eightthousand inhabitants and owes its prosperity to stockraising and corn growing.

Calle San Nicolas, Pergamino

The building at the right is the Hotel Roma

This city I visited, choosing it as a good example ofcampo town for such is styled the Argentine prairie, andstopped over night at the excellent Hotel Roma, whichis not only remarkable as being one of the finest buildingsin the city, but strange to say is one of the few hotels inArgentina, excluding Buenos Aires, Rosario, and Tucumán,[152]which has private baths in connection with the sleeping-rooms.

Plaza 25 de Mayo, Pergamino

Viewed from the housetops, Pergamino appears a cityof windmills; they rise everywhere. Water being scarcemakes them a necessity. The city which is compactlybuilt is fundamentally Italian. It is compactly built buthas only one main street, that named San Nicolás, whichis paved with wooden creosote blocks. The buildingsare mostly but a single story high, and the nomenclaturesover the store entrances savor of the River Po or theEtruscan Hills. With the exception of Calle San Nicolás,the other thoroughfares are unpaved. The edifices thatflank them are of reddish brown brick with a minimum ofmortar or lime between the cracks. Like the outskirtsand side streets of most of the small towns of Argentina,the aspect is hideous and dismal, for the edifices are merebrick hovels bordering dusty lanes, abounding with mongrelcurs that munch offal and garbage thrown from the[153]front windows of the morgue-like habitations. There isin Pergamino a plaza, named 25 de Mayo, several blocksfrom the business section. It is large and poorly kept up,and is bordered on all sides by double rows of pine trees,which have attained a tall but slender growth, largeenough however to make saw timber. These trees wereplanted thirty years ago; at home it would take them onehundred years to have attained the same proportions.

Street in Mercedes

From Pergamino to Buenos Aires, 166 miles by theGeneral Railroad of the Province of Buenos Aires, onlytwo towns are passed that have any pretext for importance.They are Salto, thirty-six miles from Pergamino,and Mercedes, sixty-nine miles from Buenos Aires.Mercedes has a population of more than thirty thousandinhabitants, and strange to say its streets are numberedinstead of being named. This system is different fromours for 1st Street crosses 25th Street, and 34th Streetcrosses 16th Street, and so forth. It is so arranged that[154]the high-numbered streets are in the center of the townwhile the low-numbered ones are on the outskirts. Whenthe trains make their first stop it is at the 25th Streetstation. The stranger traveling through is apt to say:"Gee, but this is quite a town," judging by the highnumbers of its streets, while in reality 1st Street is wayout in the meadows far from the activity of central life.Mercedes was formerly the stamping ground of Irishimmigrants. Many of these have become rich and powerful,and to-day retain their Hibernian names withoutspeaking a word of English. I met a girl in BuenosAires whose patronymic was O'Grady, yet she was conversantin no language but Spanish. Some of theIrish settlers did not prosper as well as the minority ofthe rich landed proprietors of Mercedes; this is testifiedby the native born whiskered Irish bums who immigratedfrom Mercedes to Buenos Aires who are seen wanderingabout the streets of the Argentine capital, garbed in ragsand invariably drunk on ginevra, a low-grade gin.[155]

CHAPTER VII
ASUNCIÓN

Overeating, oversleeping, and overindulgence in liquidrefreshments (this applies to soft drinks as well as toothers) constitute the whole time of the stranger in BuenosAires, who has nothing else to do, than, seated at a table infront of one of the cafés on the Avenida de Mayo, to studyhuman nature, and watch the endless stream of humanity,horses, cabs, and automobiles pass by. Tiring of this Ithought of going to Mar del Plata and from some goodpoint of vantage gaze in admiration at the attractions ofthat spa, and look with pleasure at the latest Parisian andBonaerense creations that bedecked and showed off toadvantage the well-molded female forms of the higharistocracy as they pass in parade in front of the HotelBristol and the Casino.

Quite suddenly, and very unusual for this time of theyear, for it was late in February, a great climatic changetook place and the temperature which had been hoveringaround the 100° mark dropped into the fifties. Onegloomy morning, as I stood gazing from the balcony ofmy room into the Avenida de Mayo, watching the boulevardiersbeing hurried along by the strong wind, I decidedthat Mar del Plata would be no place for me. Mythoughts diverted to warmer climes, Paraguay and Brazil.There is a Paraguayan store on the Avenida, a favorite[156]shopping place for ladies and curio seekers. It has displaysof egrets, feathers, stuffed birds, stuffed toads,crocodiles, iguanos, armadillo shells, yerba maté leaves,native headdresses of parrot wings, and beetles. Butby far the most attractive of anything in the store is thefine Paraguayan girl, about twenty years old, who waitson the customers. I cannot call her beautiful, yet thereis something so hypnotically fascinating about her that,after I first saw her, I was always returning to the storeagain to feast my eyes on her with the pretense of makingsome trivial purchase. Whether it was her eyes, her face,her voice, her figure or her natural complexion, or all theseattractions combined that charmed me, I am unable tosay, and my friends whom I called in to look at her all saidthat she exerted over them the same spell. Every timeI saw this girl I had the longing to revisit Paraguay, andthis, combined with the horrid weather, decided me at onceto visit the land where San Martin, Francia, and FranciscoSolano Lopez first saw the light of day.

I had been in Paraguay before, once when Asuncion wasunder martial law, and although I now knew that I wouldsee nothing new in visiting the country, there are alwayssome places that the traveler enjoys seeing more thanonce. Upon my leaving there before, great was my rejoicingwhen I saw the blue, white, and blue flag of Argentinafloating from the flagstaff over the custom-house atCorrientes, for I knew that I was once more in a country oflaw and order. At that time Paraguay was at the heightof one of the many revolutions that have continuouslystained her history for the last forty-five years, and Asuncionwas like a tomb. Now since everything was tranquilI would enjoy myself more.

It is now possible to travel from Buenos Aires toAsuncion without changing cars on a through vestibuled[157]train with sleeping cars and a dining car. The time enroute is but fifty-three hours, for the train leaves BuenosAires thrice weekly at 3P.M., and arrives at Asuncion twodays afterwards at 8P.M. Formerly Posadas was theterminus of the trains from Buenos Aires, and the travelerswere obliged to wait in that stamping ground of Heidecker,Rohrsetzer, and Barthe anywhere from two tofive days in order to make connection with the ParaguayCentral Railroad, which ran at irregular intervals of timeto Asuncion from Villa Encarnacion, the Paraguayanriver port about two miles across the Alto Paraná Riverfrom Posadas. The through train is now taken on a ferry-boata short distance above Posadas and is steamedacross to the Paraguayan railway terminus at Pacu Cua.

Three hours after leaving the Chacarita Station atBuenos Aires, the lonesome town of Zarate is reached,where the train is transferred onto a car ferry that plies toIbicui, a trip of nearly five hours through the estuariesthat form the delta of the Paraná River, past marshesabounding in wild fowl who have their nests on theswampy islands. Although this delta is but three hoursfrom Buenos Aires, it might as well be in the center of thecontinent as far as civilization is concerned. The crossingof this delta is always made obnoxious on account of themosquitoes which abound here. In making this crossingmost of the passengers were in the dining car. Hereone could observe types. Most were Paraguayans of theupper classes returning home after a week's visit in theArgentine metropolis. Although all had just left BuenosAires that name was but infrequently mentioned. Inevery sentence of their conversation was heard the word"Asuncion," a name which to the true Paraguayan meansmuch more to them than does New York to us, or Paristo the Frenchman. It is the focus of all Paraguayan life,[158]and although it would be but a mediocre city in thiscountry, it is the only one of size in Paraguay.

There are two distinct types of Paraguayans. The firsttype of men are good sized, fairly stout, with round faces.Their eyebrows and moustaches are straight and have theappearance of being penciled. The noses of these peopleare Roman and their facial characteristics are strong andsensual. This type is only met with among the veryhighest social classes such as were the occupants of thedining car the night we crossed the delta. One of thesemen has one of the largest importing and general merchandisestores in Asuncion. His surname is Angulo. Theother type of Paraguayan, which comprises the masses,and with whom one does not come into contact in a casualway, are swarthy, flat-chested, and narrow-shouldered.They have large ears and low foreheads, bushy eyebrowsand thin noses. The middle class is not native. It iscomposed of Spanish, German, Italian, and French merchants.Mr. James Bryce in his book,South America:Observations and Impressions, said in speaking of La PazBolivia: "It has probably a larger aboriginal populationthan any other city in the New World, although thepercentage of Indians may be somewhat greater in Asuncion,the capital of Paraguay." There are no Indians,and there is but little mixed blood in Asuncion. Theearly settlers originally married with the natives but thetaint of miscegenation has long run out. The Asuncenosare a white folk in every respect. Indians predominate inthe Bolivian capital and Bryce has never been in Asuncion.

During our evening meal on the dining car, a largebeetle or bug, in circumference the size of a tea cup, flewin through the open window and made a terrific buzzing,the noise being equal to that of those toys for childrenwhich one winds up and then lets go. It flew all over the[159]room and as its bite would undoubtedly be poisonous, itput all the occupants of the car in a pandemonium as eachone was trying to get out of the way of it. It seemed to bein several different places at the same time.

It was near midnight when we reached the Entre Riosshore. The Entrerrieno landscape as far as Concordia isgently undulating, and the soil which is sandy is givenover to the pasturing of herds of horses. There is notmuch grain grown and it is just as well, for occasionallya dark cloud was seen approaching on the horizon, which,when it broke, it was seen to be billions on billions oflocusts on their way to Uruguay. They flew into the trainwindows, into the food, into the dining car, up one'strouser legs and coat sleeves. The noise of their crunchingwas most disgusting as one trod upon them while theylittered the aisles of the cars. When seized, they expectoratea dark brown fluid of a most nauseating odor. Theyfly into the streams and wells, poisoning the water.Before arriving at Concordia, we crossed a palmettowilderness called, in this part of the country, apalmar.Concordia, although not the capital, is the largest city ofEntre Rios. It has passed in population Paraná and nowhas 48,500 inhabitants according to the latest estimate.It is the largest and liveliest town in Argentina east of theParaná River and is connected by a bridge over the UruguayRiver to Salto in Uruguay, which was only contemplatedat the time of my visit to these cities three yearsbefore. A street-car line has been recently built and withits beef-canning establishments and as the center of a wineproducing region, Concordia has some future, althoughthe soil is sandy. This soil is much better adapted for fruitthan for grain. Oranges, apples, and olives are grown.

From Concordia the train ceases to run over the railsof the Entre Rios Railroad but runs on the track of the[160]Northeastern Argentine Railroad as far as Posadas.After leaving Chajari, the Province of Corrientes isentered and the landscape immediately changes. Thecountry is still undulating, but the soil is rich and evensoggy in places from frequent rains which are prevalenthere. Everything is green and as far as the eye can see,horses and cattle graze on the short grass. Water iseverywhere. There are puddles in the fields; there aresmall lakes; numerous streams are crossed. The bluewater of the Uruguay River is at one's right beyondwhich, so near that you feel as if you could reach out yourhand and grab them, are the rolling green hills of Brazil.Monte Caseros is reached at 4:20P.M., a town of abouteight thousand inhabitants which contains the head officesof the Northeastern Argentine Railroad. Paso de losLibres is reached at 7:18P.M., whence one can cross byferry to Uruguayana, a Brazilian city in the State of RioGrande do Sul on which Francisco Solano Lopez, Paraguayandictator, tried to march his army in 1866. Thistown has its name handed down to posterity by thecepouruguayana, a barbaric method of torture which originatedthere and which was frequently employed by Artigas,Rosas, Lopez, and by other tyrants of a similar caliber.At bedtime the train stops at Alvear, an important livestocktown.

The peasants are now Indians. They live in adobe andcane huts in the fields and are a peaceable, pastoral people.The men, both whites and Indians, wear great baggytrousers, not unlike a couple of potato sacks; these are tiedto the leg above the shoe by a leather strap or cord. Fromthe discoloration of some of these trousers, I would not besurprised to hear that they came over with the SpanishConquistadores.

At daybreak of the second day, a train was ferried[161]across the Alto Paraná River to Pacu Cua. The onlychange that I noticed relative to the train, and this wasonly a detail, was that the beer now served was not the vileconcoction brewed in Buenos Aires but a clear amberliquid, purer in substance and fresh from the brewery ofVilla Encarnacion.

The Paraguayan landscape, until the half-way stationof Borja is reached, is a great semi-swampy plain with lowhills and ridges covered with tropical undergrowth, hereknown as "islands." By speaking of this plain as swampy,I do not mean that it is under water, for such is not thecase; some seasons of the year it is quite dry and afterheavy rains only it is soggy. It is always passable, but isovergrown with swamp grass. Countless herds of cattlepasture here; otherwise it is uninhabitable. It containsmany lakes and lagoons alive with wild ducks, plover, curlew,herons, and other water fowl; wild geese fly overhead,and when a clump of bushes is passed it is a commonsight to see the dark plumed, heavy limbedñandú, thenative ostrich, shading itself under a bough on thesewooded islets. Rising from the plain are many huts,the estancias of the natives, half hidden by the foliage.They are built of cane, plastered over, and with thatchedroofs.

At Borja the junction for the village of Charara,the scenery changes. The land now high and dry isintersected by numerous rivers. Mountains appear tothe north, and from here to Asuncion the country has awell-settled character with numerous well-built villages.Civilization in Paraguay started from Asuncion andfollowed the high ridge of land eastward. The railroadbuilt from Asuncion to Paraguari is one of the oldest inSouth America. From Paraguari onward to Borja,civilization preceded the railroad.[162]

Villa Rica has 34,297 inhabitants according to a Paraguayanestimate. Personally I think that this shouldbe cut in two. It is a mile northeast of the depot. At astation named Tebicuary is a sugar mill; at Caballero arethe railroad shops.

Scene from Railroad Station at Villa Rica

Paraguari, the anti-bellum terminus of the CentralParaguay Railroad, has, according to the census 11,328inhabitants, although I am doubtful if its populationexceeds five thousand. It is situated in the extremeeastern end of the Pirayu valley. This valley is boundby great basaltic hills, some of which are mountains.Some are conical in shape, but the majority are hugehills, whose tops are great stone outcrops. The floor ofthe valley is high and a cool breeze is generally blowing.The clover and grain, together with the mountains and thechurch steeples, remind one of the scenery in CentralEurope. Paraguari would be the best situated city inParaguay for its capital, both from a natural location and[163]from a military point of view. It was the camping groundof the Argentine army under General Belgrano in 1811.Formerly the Jesuits had a large stock ranch here.

The railroad, formerly owned by the government, butnow controlled by a Portuguese, had originally a six-footgauge. The depots in the villages from Paraguari toAsuncion are large and old-fashioned like the pictures ofthose stations depicted inHarper's Weekly Civil War Scenes.Their mere duplicates to-day are to be seen in some Europeancities such as those at Caen, Bar-le-Duc, Vicenza,the old station at Strassburg, and in the American citiesof Savannah and Macon. The English company whichhad control of the railroad before this Portuguese got itnarrowed the gauge down to the regulation broad gaugestandard which is narrower than that of the CentralArgentina and several other lines in that republic.

The Republic of Paraguay is divided into twenty districtsexclusive of Asuncion. I am giving their names andpopulation together with those of their capitals and theirpopulation according to the estimate of 1917 in Héctor F.Decoud'sGeografia de la Republica del Paraguay, Asuncion,1917. The population of these district capitalsincludes the commune as well as the town, for with theexception of six cities, Asuncion, Villa Rica, Caazapá,Villa Encarnacion, Villa Concepcion, and Villa del Pilarthere are no incorporated places in the republic:—

Total population, 828,130 inhabitants exclusive of about50,000 wild Indians living in the Gran Chaco.

The population of Asuncion has been estimated from80,000 to 125,000 inhabitants. Personally I think that100,000 would be more nearly correct. Asuncion of 1918is an entirely different city from Asuncion in 1913, so greathas been the visible improvement. This is largely due tothe enlightened ideas of the ex-dictator, Don EduardoSchaerer, a Swiss by birth, and who has infused Europeanprogressiveness into the Paraguayan nation, whose populationwas rapidly being exterminated by forty-five yearsof incessant revolutions on top of a five years' war whichcost Paraguay five hundred thousand lives. Schaererhas showed that he is the man for the job. His rule hasbeen benign but firm. No sooner had he assumed theexecutive power than some of his dissatisfied opponentstried the tricks on him that have been tried on other[165]dictators. This time they failed. The bomb that theytouched off underneath his residence failed to explode.The conspirators and other suspects were immediatelyclapped into jail. January 1, 1915, witnessed the close oftwo years' peace; it was too much of a good thing for thefire-eating populace so they started another revolution.This lasted but one day, the revolutionists losing overthree hundred men in a street fight in Asuncion. No moretricks have been tried on Señor Schaerer.

In Asuncion there live numerous ex-presidents, ex-dictators,and their political henchmen. No matter whois president of any country, there are always a number ofpeople who have grievances against the administration,but I have only heard one person express anything derogatoryagainst Schaerer. This man, very prominent inAsuncion, and the son of an ex-president, said that Schaererowed his power as Chief Executive to the FarquharSyndicate whose money placed him there in order for themto obtain in return valuable concessions. He said thatSchaerer was not president for his health, but was amassinga fortune on the side. If this is true, it is nothingextraordinary, but as far as I can glean, he is one of themost able presidents the country has ever had. Resultsshow it. Paraguay has a good constitution, but it isnever used. Changes have been constantly made to suitthe whims of each dictator. The presidential term isfor three years. Schaerer's term should have expiredNovember 25, 1915, but he saw to it that there would beno elections and two years after that date he retained hisoffice.

Since Señor Schaerer became president, there have beenmany changes for the better in Asuncion. Formerly onehad to go to the post office to mail a letter; now letter-boxesare on nearly every corner. The stranger is no longer[166]subjected to surveillance, neither are his valises searchedin the hotels, nor are his letters opened and read in thepost office before transmission. The police have newcrash uniforms as well as many of the soldiers; previouslytheir garments were nondescript. It is necessary in Paraguayto maintain a semblance of an army, for otherwisea dictator's life would hang on the thread of Damocles.In order to pay this army, the present government wasobliged to sell their two gunboats, as the country is in abad financial condition. Its unit, thepeso fuerte is worthonly 2½ cents American currency. Five years ago it wasworth 7 cents. This depreciation of money is current allover the southern republics of South America with theexception of Uruguay and Argentina. The Chilean pesowas worth 23 cents in 1913; now it is worth 17 cents; theBrazilian milreis which was then worth 33⅓ cents is worthnow only 25 cents. In Brazil, and in Chile although thecurrency depreciated, the price of articles dropped inratio, so that now in those countries the articles for salecan be bought cheaper than formerly. Not so in Paraguay.When the peso fuerte took a drop, the staple goodsremained the same in price, so now a person has to paythree pesos for what formerly cost him but one.

The electric lighting system of Asuncion is excellent,and it now has the best trolley car service of any SouthAmerican city. Every principal street has car tracks andthe tramcars run in the daytime every five minutes.There is also a suburban system. Before Schaerer'sascendancy, the city had mule cars, and a suburban steamroad that ran through the streets of the city, as in Debreczen,Hungary, the engine of which puffed and emittedmuch smoke to the tune of squeaks and much whistling.The lawn is kept up in front of the Capitol; new streetshave been opened and paved; statues have been unveiled[167]in public places, and there has been considerable buildingdone.

Casa de Gobierno, or Capitol, Asuncion

At first sight, Asuncion seems small. This is due tothe grass that grows between the stones of the streetpavement, and to the fact that cows graze in the plazas.On account of the richness of the soil and the frequentrains it is impossible to keep vegetation down. Unfortunatelythe plazas are not well kept up, and have gone towaste and ruin. The city is compactly built, and coversconsiderable ground. Like Belgrade, Servia, it is built onthe side of a hill; like Belgrade the stores are similar inwindow decorations, for their proprietors specialize indisplaying there articles that are favorite to the Paraguayanmind as well as to the Servian: firearms andknives. There are a few large buildings of modern construction,but what is most observant are the colonnadesof pillars and piers which support the roofs. If a building[168]has no colonnade along the street, it is sure to have onearound the patio. These colonnades are built thus (seedrawing).

Drawing Showing Construction of Colonnades on a Paraguayan Building

a. Side wall; b. Pillar; c. Beam; d. Rafter; e. Stringer; f. Tile

Pillars (fig. b) lower than the main wall (fig. a) areerected about twelve feet or less in front of it. Acrossthe tops of these pillars and connecting them lies a beam(fig. c) from which rafters (fig. d) at regular intervals slantup to the top of the wall of the building. Horizontallyacross these rafters are laid stringers (fig. e) about a footapart. On top of these stringers are laid tiles (fig. f).In many cases a thin layer of bricks is laid across thestringers, above which are laid the tiles.

The worst feature of Asuncion is the paving of the streets.Black flint stones of all sizes and shape are pounded tightlyinto the ground, and their crevices are filled with the redearth of the country; they are then treated with a coatingof dirt. For the first three months this pavement makesexcellent driving. Then when the copious rains havewashed the dirt out, the stones settle or are loosened. Anoccasional wagon-wheel knocks one out of place, and it isseldom replaced. Incessant wear now makes ruts amongthe loosened stones, and in the part of the road wherethere is not much traffic, vegetation grows up, likewiseforcing the stones up. The city is built on the side of ahill sloping down to a lagoon which is separated from theParaguay River by a swamp. There are no conduits tocarry away the rain water, nor any ditches at the sides of thestreets. Accordingly when it rains, the water runs downthe hill through the crevices between the paving stones, andby the time it reaches the main street, Calle Palmas, theside streets are turned into rivers. Eave troughs projecthorizontally from the roofs over the streets, and the pedestrianshave a choice between two evils, walking in theflowing road or getting a dousing from many hydrants.[169]

With the exception of an English church in the suburbsand a German Lutheran one in the city, both of which areso small that it seems a shame to rank them under the titleof church, there are only three Houses of God in Asuncion,the cathedral, San Roque, and that of the Church of theEncarnacion. The cathedral is an old, weather-beatenaffair facing the lagoon. San Roque is very old and facesa small plaza of the same name behind the railway station.The most imposing building in the city is the mammothunfinished red brick pile which goes by the name of theChurch of the Encarnacion. If ever completed it willhold a place among the world's great religious edifices.It is built on the summit of the hill above the businesssection of the city and is a landmark for many miles. Itis reached by a double flight of steps from the street.It was started during the reign of Francia, and the moneyhaving long since given out, it is left but half completed.It is built very solidly of tightly fitting red brick, and wasintended to be stuccoed over. A place is left for a towereach side of the main door but they have never been commenced.The interior is plain, has been given a fresh coatof plaster, and exudes the funereal tuberose smell which ispresent in the casino at Monte Carlo to counteract thearoma of corpses in the private morgue beneath theroulette room of that establishment. As matters nowstand the Church of the Encarnacion is a hideous pile.The earthly remains of Dr. Gaspar Rodrigues de Francia,Paraguay's most famous dictator, 1816-1840, were buriedbeneath the vestibule of this church. The relatives ofa person whom he had executed had his bones dug up anddesecrated them by flinging them into the lagoon.

The plazas of Asuncion are a disgrace to the city. ThePlaza Uruguaya is the largest. It is planted with treeswhich are scattered at random. A brick wall separates[170]one side of it from the street. At the opposite side is thelarge, graceful, colonnaded, battle-scarred railway stationwith its illuminated clock tower. Pedestrians avoidtraversing this plaza after nightfall on account of footpads,many of whom would commit murder for a paper peso.In the center of the plaza stand the fragments of a marblestatue shot to pieces in the revolution of 1904. ThePlaza de la Republica is on top of the high banks thatskirt the swampy ground that forms the shores of the[171]lagoon. In some places it is like a big field, especiallythat part of it in front of the artillery barracks where itis the dumping ground of tin cans and refuse, and is traversedby cattle paths. Near the House of Congress, amorbid appearing porticoed edifice, it assumes the natureof a lawn which in turn becomes a park in front of theancient cathedral. In this plaza is a cheap looking brickcolumn named the Statue of Liberty. This monument issurmounted by the image of San Blas, the patron saint ofParaguay, in whose honor is celebrated on February 3dof each year an orgy that beggars description. The baseof the statue has the dates of different events and revolutionspainted in black letters on each of its four faces.One of these dates tells the reader that Asuncion wasfounded August 15, 1536. Another date tells of theousting of the Spanish domination. A third one informsus of the end of Francia's rule, while the fourth bearstestimony of the end of the reign of Lopez II.

Cabildo, or City Hall, Asuncion

This building was formerly the capitol

One of the features that attracts the eyes of strangers[172]is that there is scarcely a building in the downtown districtthat is not pitted with holes from a Gatling gun. In somesections whole walls have been shot away by cannon balls.One of the beautiful trees common to Paraguay is thedark fern-leavedparaiso tree. There are a great many ofthese in Asuncion, especially in the Plaza San Roque.Their foliage is thick and gives delightful shade.

Plazoleta del Puerto, Asuncion

One of the landmarks is the brick domed basilica on theCalle Palmas called the Oratory of Lopez. The tyranthad it built for the receptacle of the image of the Virginof the Assumption (Asuncion). The Five Years' Warcame on, and the oratory was never completed. It standsto-day without a coat of stucco, with the carpenters' scantlingaround its dome in the same condition now as whenwork suddenly ceased in 1865. It is owned by the governmentwhich is too poor to complete it; its floor is usedfor the storage of municipal timber, brick, plaster, andso forth, in charge of an ancient pensioner. Bats roostbeneath its dome, and theamberé lizards crawl betweenthe cracks of the bricks. The oratory is surrounded by a[173]wall over which projects a papaya tree whose lusciousgolden fruit, shaped like a woman's teat, hangs in pendulentclusters from its crown. This fruit is known in Paraguayasmamon which in the Guarani language means tit.

Calle Palmas, Asuncion

The dome in the background is that of the Oratory of Lopez

The Asuncenos are early risers. The stores open at6A.M., and an hour later is when the greatest crowds areto be found on the streets. The stores close again at 11A.M., and remain so till 2P.M. They close for the day at7P.M., and remain shut all day Sunday as well as on thenumerous holidays. During the three midday hoursthere is hardly a person to be seen on the streets. Asuncionis never activity, excepting during periods of revolutionand at the annual yearly carnival; on Sundays theliveliness of the streets can be compared with that ofthe interior of a cemetery receiving vault. It is a triflebetter than Valparaiso, Chile, or Detroit, Michigan, onthose days because at least the cafés are open. Theamusements of the city are paltry, the main one being tosit evenings in one's shirt-sleeves on a chair placed on thesidewalk in front of one's residence and by the illumination[174]of the electric lights watch the greatcucurús (large, disgustinglooking native toads) hop along the sidewalk insearch of bugs. The other amusements are two movingpicture shows, one at Belvedere and the other at theCafé Bolsa.

Calle 15 de Agosto, Asuncion

This is a typical side street. The photograph was taken from the balcony of thesecond story of the Hotel Hispano-Americano

Street Scene, outskirts of Asuncion

The climate of Asuncion is hot, terribly so, and damp.In heat it compares very favorably with Panama. It isenervating and gives the people amorous inclinations,especially when it blows from the north and east. Manyforeigners cannot become acclimated on account of theirinability in adapting themselves to a change in their modeof life, and many of the wives of foreign diplomats have toreturn home on account of the heat. Many people havered spots on their faces and bodies caused by the heat.The hottest month is December. The rainfall is heavy,and in Asuncion it is regular. March is the wettestmonth, with April and October following in order. July[175]is the driest month. The average annual rainfall is 60.2inches. (The average for Detroit is 37 inches.) Thedriest year recorded in Asuncion was 1883 when 44.7inches fell and the wettest year was 1878 with a precipitationof 101.9 inches. The rains are of short duration,but several are apt to occur in one day. They are tropicaland come straight down in sheets as if a bucket of waterhad been turned upside down in the sky. These rains,which are heaviest in summer, come up suddenly, and ifthere are any clouds to be seen, it is advisable to carry anumbrella for it often happens that these showers are local,there being a great downpour in one part of the town andno rainfall at all in the other. After and between rains,the sun comes out and steam arises from the earth.Many a hacking cough heard from behind the shutters of awindow and many a gob of phlegm seen on the streetsidewalk has its origin from this climatic change. Hurricanesare unknown although water spouts are an occasionalphenomenon. The thunder makes terrific crashings,and at each loud blast, the inhabitants make the sign of the[176]cross. Even on days when it does not rain, the sky isfrequently overcast and the atmosphere has the muggyfeeling that is always present before a storm.

Perspiration runs from one in streams, not like theheavy sweat of the hard-working laborer but a malodorousvitality sapping sweat which takes the place of urine,making it necessary to change one's under-clothing severaltimes daily and to indulge in frequent shower or spongebaths. For the omnipresent prickly heat, one shouldnever besmear himself with ointment nor take cold baths;these have the tendency to augment it. One shouldbathe in warm or lukewarm water. Clothes sent to thelaundry come back damp and the bed linen seldom dries.The houses are covered with a black mold which noamount of frequent painting can stop coming back. Duringthe summer if you draw your finger across the wall of achurch interior it will leave a streak on the dampness.Regardless of the heat, for sanitation's sake, hot air furnacesshould be installed in the hotels and residences anda drying out should be given them once a week.

With the rains come myriads of bugs and beetles. Ablack-winged one, half as big as a saucer, whose aviationproduced a noise like a rip-saw, assailed me one nightwhile at dinner in the Hotel Hispano-Americano. It flewon my coat, and as I tried to brush it away it implanted asting on the back of my hand that made me wince inagony. A lady, at a neighboring table, thought it wasfunny, for she smiled at my discomfiture. God punishedher, for presently a huge green darning-needle shaped buglighted on her neck and the sting it gave her made her emitsquawks that rivaled in rancorousness those of a carrioncrow. Bugs, beetles, reptiles, etc., the Paraguayansand Correntinos callbich and the large ones they callgran bich without any distinction as to their specie. A[177]person cannot fondle with impunity the cucurú as one canthe common American garden toad. The cucurú will biteyou and then close its jaws. It has to be killed to pry itsmouth apart and its bite is said to be poisonous. Thesuburban sidewalks of Asuncion teem with them evenings.The village of Areguá near Asuncion is especially prolificin this variety of amphibian. It would not take many ofthem to fill a bushel basket. I got about a dozen of theseby dropping my hat over them and chloroforming them.I had them stuffed and brought them home as mantelpiecepresents for my friends. Paraguay is also abundantin ophidians; the nasty, poisonousmboy-chumbé or black,white, and red-ringed coral snakes being the most common.There ismboy-jhoby, a green snake; theñuazo, a darkbrown snake; the viper; theñandurié, a small stick-likesnake and the rattlesnake are common venomous species,while the huge boa, orcuriyu, and themboy-yaguá, orwater snake, belong to the unpoisonous kind. The greatviper calledñacaniná is semi-poisonous. Among thequelonians is thecarumbé a Brobdingnagian snappingturtle and in the hydrosaurian class is the crocodile, caymanalligator, and the iguana orteyú, the latter being esteemedfor its white meat not unlike spring chicken in taste.

There are two species of jaguar called tiger by thenatives, theaguareté and theyaguareté-popé. The wordjaguar is derived from the Guaraniyaguareté. There areseveral kinds of wild-cat, misnamed by the natives "lions,"plenty of tapirs ormborevi, ant-eaters, wild pigs, armadillos,deer, monkeys, besides many species of phlebotomistssuch as the vampire-bat and the common belfry-bat.The trees are alive with owls, macaws, parrots, toucans,zorzals, and wild-pigeons, while in the swamps and clearingsare found egrets, martinets, sarias, cassowaries,flamingoes, herons, and ibises.[178]

Asuncion has several fair hotels; the best in my estimationbeing the Hotel Hispano-Americano, the propertyof the firm of Rius & Jorba which is rented to thepresent proprietors, the Grau Brothers, two Spaniards, tothe tune of ten dollars a day, which, for Asuncion, is anexorbitant sum. This hotel is not recommended tostrangers by the natives for the innate jealousy that theaverage South American has for the Spaniard, who is hisbusiness superior, is not lacking in Paraguay. The foreignersrecommend to the stranger the Hotel Saint-Pierre,a French hotel, or the Cancha (formerly the Gran Hoteldel Paraguay), a stock company hotel under Germanmanagement.

The Hispano-Americano was built by the dictator,Francisco Solano Lopez for his mistress, Madame ElisaLynch, and here he lived with her and here were his offspringsby her brought up. As I lay in my bed, or walkedthe arched galleries of this edifice, I could nearly see thefestivities, banquets, and parties that took place in thegreat salon (now the dining room) fifty-three years ago,hear the laughter of the beautiful women in hoop skirtsand the popping of corks of champagne bottles, and smellthe somniferous perfume of theñandeyara-guazús (highgrade Paraguayan cigars) as their aroma was waftedupwards with the smoke. Visions came to me of officers,their uniforms resplendent with epaulettes and gold braid,brave men who met valiant deaths on the field of battle orthrough exposure in the soggy palmetto and mangroveswamps of the interior, of foreign diplomats, of dark,beautiful women wearing delicate, luxuriantñanduti laceshawls, of the short and corpulent bearded dictator withthe perpetual strong cigar between his lips, and of theIrish asp, his mistress, whose power and influence uponher naturally progressive and ambitious paramour was[179]greater than that of Theodora on Justinian. J. F. Mastermanin hisSeven Years' Adventures in Paraguay states thatMadame Lynch could drink more champagne than anyperson he ever knew and not seem to feel any effectstherefrom. I would like to have matched her in a contestwith a friend of mine, now dead, whom I saw drink sixquarts of champagne one after another standing at a bar inSan Francisco one evening in September, 1910.

The Hispano-Americano is a large structure two storieshigh of imposing appearance on a corner of Calle Palmas,the main street. It is well situated for it is near all thebanks, business houses, and government buildings. Ithas a large patio paved with black and white tiles, wherethe dining tables are placed. Bedrooms open off fromthis patio. On each side of the entrance thirty-fourmarble steps lead up to the second story which has abalcony surrounding the patio, the arches of which aresupported by stone Doric columns. Onto this balconyopen tile-floored, high, and cool bedrooms. The balconyis paved with brick and from it rise more Doric columnssurmounted by arches which support the roof. Thereis a second patio, this one open, which is reached by ashort hall behind the first patio. On this are the cheaperrooms. On my former visit this hotel was not well keptup nor overclean, but now it was all that could be desiredand the Paraguayan cooking, with its abundance of oil,peppers, tomatoes, and hot sauces, was excellent.

The proprietors own two Case automobiles, and oneevening as I sat in conversation with the Señor Grau, whoassumes the active management of the hotel, he suggestedthat I should take a ride with him for a couple of hours.This was fine and I hastened to accept. The machine wasbrought in front of the door, Grau and myself had got intoit, when the assistant manager came out and said something[180]in an undertone to Grau. The latter replied in a loudvoice:

"Give everybody a room that asks for one except theSpanish consul. Give him nothing."

I thought this was queer but said nothing, thinkingthat later on Grau would explain what was up. He didnot do so, however, until we returned which was aboutten o'clock at night. There were about a dozen people infront of the hotel; on the threshold stood a tall, thin,good-looking man about thirty-five years old, dressed inblack. When Grau got out this man approached him andsaid:

"What is the matter with this fellow?" pointing atthe assistant manager. "He refuses to give me a room."

"My instructions!" bellowed Grau. "You can getnothing here!"

A small crowd began to collect. The Spanish consul,for he was the tall man in black, asked Grau to explain.

"Explain nothing!" yelled Grau. "You can get nomore service here. You have come to this hotel three orfour different times, each time with a different woman,and each time you have registered as man and wife. Howmany wives have you anyway? I am not running ahouse of prostitution. What do you take me for? Getout!"

There was a general peal of laughter from the crowdat this. The Spanish consul, unabashed, with a smilewalked away, stating that there were other hotels in thetown, where he could take his women, that were just asgood as Grau's and that he would do so now.

The Hotel Saint-Pierre is near the harbor on the CalleColon, a cheap business street. Many people prefer it fortheir sojourn in Asuncion as it has the reputation forhaving the best cooking. In this respect I found it lacking[181]in the abundance and in the variety of that of theHispano-Americano. There is no bar; the rooms aresmall, and the proprietor frequently tells the guests toretire to their rooms by a side entrance as he is engagedentertaining friends in the hotel parlor and main entrance.The proprietor is named Saint-Pierre, hence the name ofthe hotel. He claims to be a French count, but the consensusof most people is that he is crazy. He is a little,bald-headed old man about sixty-five years old, with a graymoustache and imperial. He orders the guests around asif he was bestowing upon them a favor for allowing themto get lodging there. Many people desiring to obtainrooms there are expected to furnish a pedigree. ColonelDavid Brainard, U. S. A., military attaché to the UnitedStates Embassy at Buenos Aires, a very distinguished manand one of the survivors of the famous Greely expeditionthat attempted to discover the North Pole some timeago, was on an extended trip through Paraguay with hisfriends. From Villa Rica he telegraphed to Monsieur lecomte de Saint-Pierre engaging rooms. The latter worthybefore he would allow his distinguished guests-to-be totake up their domicile at his establishment looked up theircharacter and antecedents much to the amusement anddisgust of Colonel Brainard and friends.

The Gran Hotel del Paraguay occupies several singlestory buildings in a large lawn on a hill, a twenty minutes'ride by cab from the business section of Asuncion. For aman it is too far away to be handy, but it is an ideal placefor ladies with yarn to knit and novels to read. TheAmerican consul rooms there. The bad feature of thishotel is that the pedestrian at night in walking or drivingthere should never take his finger from the trigger of hisDerringer, for thieves often lurk behind the giant locusttrees on the Avenida España. After 2A.M. the street[182]lights go out; walking then up the umbrageous road isnearly impossible.

Natives stop at the Hotels Kosmos, Español, Palermo,and other similar dumps conducive to vermin, mosquitoes,and malodorous toilets.

A Dutchman runs an excellent high-class pension namedVilla Colombia, where Argentine highbrows such as DonNicolas Mihanovich sojourn while visiting the city. Thisis in a large lawn across the street from the Belvederegardens. While I was in Asuncion, there was a big hullabaloobecause some thief stole eleven thousand dollarswhich the Dutchman had hidden in an envelope in hisresidence.

The Capitol is a large barnlike rambling building withbroad verandas and is crowned with a square cupola. Itwas built by Carlos Antonio Lopez and is the pride of theinhabitants; its picture adorns the postage stamps of highdenominations and also the two peso paper currency.

Asuncion is the only South American city which hasstone sidewalks. They were originally built during theregime of Lopez I., who was the patron of modernity.Asuncion as well as Villa Encarnacion has brick sidewalkslike the Massachusetts towns. The bricks and tile are ofgood quality and shape. The brick layers and stonemasons do better work here than in Argentina and therough brick buildings do not look as dilapidated as in thelast named republic. The red soil of Paraguay is adaptedto the manufacture of good bricks and a specie is turnedout akin to Bradford red.

There are three breweries in Paraguay: the one ownedby Bosio Brothers being the large fine one at the port.There is a branch brewery at a suburb named PuertoSanjonia which is now closed down. This brewery andthat of the Cerveceria Montevideana at Montevideo,[183]Uruguay, brew the best beer in South America. The 14 deMayo brewery at Villa Encarnacion likewise turns out agood product and there is a small German brewery atSan Bernardino in whose beer spring water is used. Thislast mentioned brewery caters solely to family and localtrade like that of Ahrens in Córdoba and those of Petersand of Degen in San Antonio, Texas. The Asunciondrinking water of the hotels is the limit. They have nowells but instead they have tanks on their roofs to catchthe rain water. These tanks are never cleaned and thesides are covered with green fungus. A dead cat bloatedbeyond recognition was found in the tank of the Hispano-Americano.I drank the water without knowing it. Athome we eat frog's legs. The Asuncenos delight in eatingthe body of the cucurús, the great garden toad. TheChaco Indians rejoice in stewed monkey and fried slicesofgran vibora, a snake peculiar to that swamp, while theiguana is held in edible estimation by the white population.Locust pies and boiled parrot also find their way downthe alimentary canals of the aborigines.

The two places of the greatest interest to the stranger inAsuncion are the cemetery of Mangrullo and the market-place.The former is located beyond the city limits onthe road to Puerto Sajonia. It is on a high-road hill fromwhich an excellent panorama can be had of the city, theriver, and the Chaco beyond. The origin of the name isunknown, but the word "Mangrullo" is always used todenote the military lookout tower.

This cemetery is redolent with the thoughts of spooks,banshee, ghosts, and other phantomic gentry of likespecies. In daytime it is a lugubrious place nearly surroundedby high walls, from above which tower slendercypress trees, and at night it must be doubly so, especiallywhen the moon plays on the mortuary chapel from the[184]tree limbs. This cemetery is where the poor people areburied; the wealthy are interred in the aristocraticRecoleta.

Mangrullo Cemetery, Asuncion

On the path, long before reaching Mangrullo, wailingis heard coming from within the enclosure. At theentrance seated on the ground are aged women sellingfruit withpoguazú cigars in their mouths. A leper ortwo adds charm to the scene. They are not begging, butexpect everyone waiting for somebody to slip a peso bill(2½ c.) into their spotted hands. From the iron entrance,the only road in the cemetery leads to the chapel in thecenter. Black clothed persons wander ghoulishly amongthe tombstones, their hats in their hands. A concourseof people is assembled in front of the building. Nearby isa wooden tower, and on a platform underneath its roof ahunchback is ringing the bell, making it peal at slowintervals. The bell stops and the wailing of the bare-headed[185]assembly begins. This lasts about five minutes;the hunchback then tolls the bell anew, this time in a rapidsuccession of clangs. The men lift up the rude boxcontaining the dead person from which the olfactory aromaof putrid flesh arises and carrying it to the shallow grave,they bury it to the tune of the great bell which has againstarted ringing. When the bell stops, the women startwailing again and the men stand aside to smoke, talkpolitics, and watch the scene. The wailing is not causedso much through grief as it is to see who can make theloudest noise.

A woman had lost her two weeks' old baby and herrelations as far removed as the fourth generation ofcousin had come to mourn. The shrieks emitted werenot human. They sounded more like the snarling andgrowling of animals, the howling of hyenas and ululationsof owls. The women worked themselves into a frenzy ofhysteria, and the bereaved mother threw herself on thegrave and, lying on her back, kicked, struggled, and writheduntil she became unconscious through her own emotions.One of these wailing fests that I witnessed came to asudden and untimely end. While the family and relativesof a murdered man had reached a soprano in the shriekingtest, a ñacaniná (large viper) crawled from a hole beneatha tombstone and, frightened at the lugubrious wails,attempted to escape by safely crawling away. It tookits course among the mourners, and the hurried scamperof footsteps to the tune of blasphemous and ungodly oathswas now the order of the funeral aftermath.

The graves in the Mangrullo cemetery are so multitudinousand so close together that it is impossible for afuneral procession to reach the newly dug grave withoutcrossing numerous mounds. There are but few monuments,iron crosses painted black taking their places.[186]Iron fences surround the graves of those who have well-to-dorelatives. But few inscriptions tell the age of thebeloved deceased; instead there hangs at each crossa photograph likeness of the dead.

The market-place of Asuncion probably offers moreattractions to the stranger than in any other city. It issituated in the middle of the town and has a large coveredframe building where meats are hung. Making a circumvallationof the butcher shop are benches where sit women,white, black, Indian, and mixed breed, offering for salecigars of their own manufacture. Outside on the groundsquat the rabble who cannot afford a chair at the benches.They sell parrakeets, divers song-birds, the succulentstubby native banana, curiously shaped peppers, avocados,herbs, pineapples, and cooked viands. At theentrance to the market are kiosks where caña or nativerum is dispensed. At 8:00A.M. the market-place representsgreat animation. Lazy, fat lousy dogs, hundreds innumber, their bellies gorged with rare meat and offal, liein glutinous stupor in the aisles and under the shade oflarge stationary umbrellas. They lick the grease fromthe roasted meat for sale and urinate in the frying pans.Ignorant natives purchase these meat roasts and greedilydevour it, unconscious of its flavoring. This is the oneplace in Asuncion where meat and fresh vegetables are forsale, and the private families and hotel guests are obligedto partake of it or starve.

But few foreign women visit Asuncion; it should betheir paradise because here for a song can be purchasedthe ñanduti, the most delicate silk and cotton embroideryin existence woven by the native women. This wonderfultexture represents much labor and is in great demand.Theguayaba flower is a popular design, a round blossomwith a starlike center. Stuffed alligators and cucurús[187]adorn the store windows and live parrots sell for a fewcents apiece. In buying a parrot, one should previouslyenlist the services of a native. Birds under one year aremost precious and those with the yellow head commandthe highest price. In order to make the old birds appearwild and hearty, the natives feed them with rum. Thismakes them flutter and their antics then create a grandshow off. En voyage a few days later they die of old ageand the innocent purchaser is unaware that rum was usedto produce unnatural activity. It is better to purchaseparrakeets in Buenos Aires because the pick of Paraguayis exported to the bird stores on the Calle Moreno. AtSan Bernardino can be bought lovely egrets and butterflywings. Monkeys cannot stand transportation and soondie.

The physicians of Asuncion are poor and but few holdgenuine degrees. Every bowel or stomach complaint thatthe patient gets, they are likely to diagnose as appendicitis,and they are anxious to operate with dirty instrumentswhich they carry loosely in their pockets. Iknow of a case of a woman having a dull pain high up onher left side which they claimed was appendicitis andthey wanted to operate on her for it, telling her it was areflex pain, when in reality it was nothing but a commonfatty tumor.

One of the curses in Asuncion and so acknowledged bythe English residents are the missionaries from Australiaclassed as the Plymouth Brethren, which belief is akin tothat of the Methodists. No missionaries are needed inParaguay. These Plymouth Brethren, numbering twofamilies, were sent to Asuncion with free transportationand a monthly salary of twenty pounds to teach religion tothe poor benighted heathen which there does not exist.They hold services at their pleasure in a room in their houses[188]to a congregation that scarcely reaches six in number. Theremainder of their time they spend in indolent ease, for aperson in Asuncion can live like a king on one hundreddollars per month. One of the chief Paraguayan industriesis the manufacture of cigars. The native womenmake two classes, thepoguazú andpohí. The first mentionedare long, large, strong cigars which sell at 2½ c.per half dozen. This is a favorite one with the nativewomen who invariably have one poked half-way downtheir muzzle, the ashy end just protruding. The pohísare small cigars with outside wrapper grown from Havanaseed. They are more aromatic and sell for 2½ c. a dozen.The factories made five cigars, that of La Veguera turningout one named "Don Alfonso" which sells for 120pesos ($3) for twenty-five, or 12 c. apiece. This samebrand sells in Buenos Aires for 50 c. apiece and is equalto the best Havanas that sell in the United States for $1apiece. The ñandeyara guazú is a fine cigar that sells for 30pesos (75 c.) a hundred. Paraguay is a smoker's paradiseand the advantage of the tobacco is that it never causessore spots on the tongue nor any other vocal irritation.

The inhabitants are extremely lazy, and on the estanciasthe men live in indolent ease, their many concubinesdoing the real labor. Strangers living in Paraguaybecome in time like the natives, taking their siesta at noonand putting off all work until the morrow. The businessis in the hands of the Spaniards, Germans, and Italians.There are over five thousand Germans in the republic butlike the Spaniard they are unpopular with the natives.There is much wealth in Asuncion according to the Paraguayanstandard but very little according to the Europeanstandard. The town teems with millionaires but amillion pesos Paraguayan amounts to only twenty-fivethousand dollars. These people can make a great splurge[189]and live in great style in Asuncion where food is plentifuland good, qualifying a luxury. The women of thesepeople assume great airs. There are only two real millionairesaccording to their wealth in North Americancurrency. One is Saccarello, an Italian estanciero andthe other is Jorba, a Spaniard, who has a general storeand who is an extensive exporter with an office in Barcelona.Angulo, another exporter and storekeeper, iswealthy as well as Urrutia and Uguarte, bankers; butthese last named people are not millionaires. For $7500can be built a palace of a house. Land is cheap all overthe republic. There is a market for all native productswhich are lumber, cattle, mandioca, sugar cane, tobacco,yerba maté, and tannic acid. But little is exported onaccount of the scarcity of labor for the men will not work.What labor there is, is cheap. For example, the old Spaniardwho is bartender, table waiter, floor sweeper, andgeneral factotum of the Hotel Hispano-Americano onlyreceives $10 a month, with practically no income fromtips. With this, he supports his English wife and fourchildren. Poverty in Paraguay is unknown. About5000 acres of rich soil can be purchased for $10,000.

Paraguay is one of the few South American countrieswhich has iron but as yet it is not exploited, although inthe period of the Five Years' War it furnished materialfrom which the cannon were manufactured in Asuncion.The language of the country is Guarani, phonetic, expressiveand rich in vowels. Foreigners learn it easily and it isthe vernacular of all excepting those people dealing withstrangers. The newspaper was formerly published in itand Lopez was at one time thinking seriously of makingit the official language of the country. Outside of Asuncionit is essentially spoken throughout the country andin certain districts Spanish is of no avail.[190]

Some of the Asuncenas are gems. If the reader of thiswork has previously read mySouth American Travels hemay remember of my stating that I saw in the telegraphoffice in Asuncion, working as clerks, two of the mostbeautiful girls that I have ever gazed upon. This timewhile in the city I returned to the telegraph office ostensiblyto send a message, but in reality to see if the samemaidens were still on the job. The youngest was there, amarvelous work of God, but three years' lapse of timehad slightly undermined her beauty. Although we hadseen each other but one brief moment before and had metthousands of people in the interval, recognition was atonce mutual. I told her how beautiful she was, how sheattracted me and how I longed to make her acquaintance.She reciprocated my attentions, told me that her namewas Marcelina Espinosa and that I had permission to callon her. This happened on the eve of my departure forMotto Grosso, and I assured her that when I returned toAsuncion in the course of two months that I certainlyshould avail myself of the pleasure of her kind invitation.

Not wishing to seem egotistical in making this statement,I was not long in Asuncion, before I discoveredthat I appealed to Paraguayan womanhood. Oftentimesof an evening while passing along the residential streetsI would notice women in the act of closing the doors orthe shutters. On seeing me they would desist from thisoccupation and regard me longingly and sympatheticallyuntil I had disappeared from sight. At a printing establishmentwhich had picture postal cards for sale, a finelooking woman on whose face was depicted latent passionswhich only needed encouragement to become a reality,waited on me. As I paid her for a trivial purchase, shelet her hand linger in mine looking at me appealingly forreciprocation.[191]

An old native woman in the market-place admired agold ring with jade setting which I always wear as a luckystone. She was not content only in admiring it, but shewent through the market and got her friends to comeand look at it. Many of these were comely girls. Theynot knowing that I understood a word of Guarani remarkedon its beauty, and then fell to discussing me inmost charming terms.

Although most Paraguayans are born out of wedlock,the inhabitants are not immoral. Like the majority ofLatin Americans they are unmoral because they never hadany morals to begin with. It is quite the thing in Asuncionfor men forty years old and more to have lustfulintentions on twelve-year old girls. Women frequentlymarry at fourteen years of age, but men seldom do sobefore they are thirty years old. Many women remainsingle for there are nine women to every man in Paraguay,owing to the decimation of the latter in the numerousrevolutions that have taken place, and with such a disproportionateratio on the side of the women, it is easyfor the men to satisfy their desires without marriage.Excepting among the highest social classes virtue amongwomen has no value and men who are old enough to begrandfathers lasciviously ogle girls that have scarcelyreached the age of puberty. This great disparity of agesdoes not have the evil results that are often the case incolder countries. The women soon lose their good lookswhile the men seldom change until they reach old age.The girls for generations have been taught to marry menconsiderably older than themselves; thus the caned andbespatted young fops that haunt the cafés and movingpicture shows are obliged to form mesalliances with younghalf-breed girls. The latter are too ignorant to make anyobjection to being seduced as they have been taught that[192]it is the natural state of affairs. No matter how unmoralthe people are, a Paraguayan girl is rarely to be found in abrothel. Many men going by different names are halfbrothers, having had the same mother but different fathers.As in all countries of lax morals, syphilis is rife. But veryfew of the inhabitants show outward symptoms of it, for itis so much inbred in the people that it has lost its virulence.

I had met on the train coming from Buenos Aires aman who was so Teutonic in appearance and in style of hisclothes that I had supposed him to be fresh from Germany.He sat across from me at the table in the dining car afterleaving Villa Encarnacion, and I was surprised to hear himanswer "Chileno" when the Paraguayan immigrationinspector asked him his nationality. He was the grandsonof a German who had settled in Southern Chile. Thisman that I met was about forty years old and is so prominentin financial circles that his name is famous all overSouthern Chile. He was now on his way to Asuncion tolook over one of the two Paraguayan gunboats which thegovernment wished to sell in order to obtain sufficientfunds to pay off the army with. If the gunboat suitedhim he could have it shipped to Chile and have it remodeledas a freighter or a passenger ship. His namefor obvious reasons I shall designate as M——.

Señor M—— was a very entertaining man, had traveledall over the world, and appeared to have a good knowledgeof sociology. I invited him to the Hispano-Americanoto have dinner with me and he in turn invited me to dinewith him at the Saint-Pierre where he sojourned. Wewent a couple of times to the moving picture shows andto the Belvedere gardens. His discourse was alwaysof the most moral and elevating character which was amarked contrast to that of the natives. One night Isuggested that we should take in a vaudeville entertainment[193]that was being staged at the Belvedere. He agreedand I went to the Hotel Saint-Pierre to meet him. As itwas a nice evening he suggested that we should walk,although it was nearly two miles there. Soon afterstarting out, a tropical thunder storm, so common tosouthern latitudes, came up, and rain fell in such a delugethat we were obliged to take shelter in a doorway. Thestreet became a veritable river and owing to the violenceof the downpour the street cars stopped running. Just assuddenly as the storm had broken, it stopped. It was toowet to continue walking and as we were trying to arriveat a decision as to how we could best get to Belvedere, alittle girl about fourteen years walked by. M—— noticedher and straightway walked out of the shelter wherewe were standing to say something to her. I supposedthat he had gone to question her about the car service, butas they conversed at length and as I saw her smile, Ithought I would walk up to see what the joke was. Imaginemy astonishment when I heard M——, whom I hadsupposed to be so moral and before whom I was alwayschoosing my language, in conversation with this childinducing her to allow him to seduce her. My astonishmentwas still greater when she accepted his approachesand walked off with him in the direction of the HotelSaint-Pierre where we had just come from.

About two o'clock the next afternoon as I was returningto my hotel from a walk, I saw M—— on the marblestairs of the Hispano-Americano offering pecuniaryinducements to any of the old women (none were underfifty) who daily sat on the bottom steps displayingñandutiembroidery for sale, if one would come up to a bedroomfor a half hour. M—— did not make such a hitwith theseñanduti women as he did with the little nativegirl, for none would accept his terms.[194]

I upbraided M—— roundly for his actions telling himthat he should be ashamed of himself for making suchpropositions to young girls. "Es costumbre" ("It's thecustom") he would answer, and that was all the excuse hecould give for his actions. He informed me that he haddiscovered that the Paraguayan native was much likethe Chilean of the lower stratum, and that for a few pesoshe could "fix" any policeman or irate parent in Asuncionthe same way as he could at his home town in Chile.This man thought he was doing nothing unnatural or tobe ashamed of. I later found out that M—— was tellingthe truth as far as it was "costumbre," for Chile andParaguay have among their respected citizens, men whoemulate the same acts as M—— and are not arrested forthem, while here in North America they would be safelybehind the bars of some institution for doing the samething.

About twenty miles northwest of Asuncion is theentrancing Lake Ypacara-i, twelve miles long by fivebroad. Its shores are dotted with the summer residencesof the Asuncene aristocracy. San Bernardino is a Germancolony and is the most delectable place in all Paraguay.It is reached by train from Asuncion to Areguá,another summer resort where cars are changed. A coupleof miles from Areguá is a station named Kendall, whenceone can cross by launch to San Bernardino, where arelocated the Hotel del Lago and the Hotel Rasmussen,the first mentioned being the best. The scenery isbeautifully pastoral and brings to one's mind Virgil'sBucolics, for here like the scenery he described in hisimmortal work, shepherd boys watch their ovine flocksplaying melodies on slender reeds.[195]

CHAPTER VIII
TO THE SOURCE OF THE PARAGUAY RIVER

Strolling down to the dock one day I saw a sign statingthat the steamerAsuncion would be sailing for Corumbá,Brazil that same evening at six o'clock. I inquired howlong it took to reach its destination, and upon being toldfour days, bought a ticket. I once had the misfortune ofbeing a passenger on the S. S.Asuncion when it ranaground on a mud bank in the Paraná River and wasmoored twenty-six hours in midstream. It is one of theolder ships of the Mihanovich Line and formerly pliedbetween Buenos Aires and Asuncion. It has no salon andthe guests are obliged to sit in the dining room. Twoother steamship companies run to Corumbá. The BrazilianLloyd with fortnightly service and the Vierci Lineowned in Asuncion. The latter boats and those of theMihanovich Line touch at all the river ports, while theonly stop besides Asuncion that the Brazilian Lloyd makesin Paraguay is Villa Concepcion.

It became dark soon after sailing, and at nine o'clock wetied up to the dock at Villa Hayes, a small town on theChaco side of the river and named in honor of RutherfordHayes, ex-president of the United States, who was thearbiter in a boundary dispute between Argentina andParaguay. He rendered a decision in favor of the lattercountry. A high wind blew all night, and without itthe heat would have been nearly unbearable.[196]

The next morning when I awoke I saw that the sides ofthe river were bounded by a tropical forest. The steamerhugged the east bank for here, the river a mile wide at thispoint, was the deepest. Beautiful racemose clusters ofred lilies grew from tall slender stalks; from water oakswere suspended air plants and purple orchids; lianasropelike, hung from the tree tops to the ground. At teno'clock the steamer anchored off the mouth of a smallstream named the Cuarepoti up which, a mile or so, is thesettlement of Rosario. Several rowboats came up withpassengers. About two o'clock in the afternoon, the wideand swiftly flowing Jejuy River is reached on which isthe now dismantled fort of San Pedro. The ParaguayRiver widens out and is filled with many islets, some ofthem large. The forest had receded and the swampyland was flooded; from the islets in the marshes rosegroves of hiaty palms and the lagoons were covered by thewonderful aquatic plant, the Victoria Regia. The leavesof this plant are round and flat, and they resemble hugefloating dishes. Where the edges are turned, turtles crawlup on the leaves and bask in the sun. Besides the VictoriaRegia there are lotus plants and I saw a reed resemblingpapyrus. As the steamer passes, crocodiles flop in theriver with a heavy thud and hissing ñacaninás crawl intothe dank undergrowth.

At ten o'clock that night, Villa Concepcion was reachedwhere we remained nearly two hours. I stopped at thathellfire town for three days on my return trip and regrettedit. I imagine that in the winter it is a pleasant enoughplace as far as climate goes, but at the time of my visit itwas fierce. The rains had swollen the river, which hadoverflowed its banks and practically left the town anisland in a fresh water sea from which emerged treetrunks. It was hotter than the fictitious Hades and a low[197]gray vapor shrouded everything from sight mornings andevenings. The sun came out torrid several times a day,alternated by thunder showers. Bugs, reptiles, andinsects were galore.

Villa Concepcion is the fourth city in Paraguay inpopulation, although the unincorporated place of Luqueis larger. Its estimated population is 15,600 although Ithink one half these figures would be nearer the mark.In importance, it is the second town in the republic for inthe hinterland are sugar mills to which a railroad extends.The terminus is Horqueta, about forty miles inland. Concepcionis built on the left bank of the Paraguay Riverwhich here is a mile wide, and facing the town is an island.A few miles south of it, the Ipané River empties into theParaguay.

The Ipané gives the name to Concepcion's main street,a miserable thoroughfare of one story brick and woodbuildings plastered over. There are, however, a fewbuildings of size on this street and on the other principalstreet, whose name is Aquidabán. A ditch runs alongeach side of Calle Ipané, and there is one in the middle ofCalle Aquidabán. These are crossed by planks beingthrown across them. The water had washed some of theplanks away which made the streets impassable. Strangeto say, Villa Concepcion boasts of one automobile, a Ford.As in Asuncion the market-place is of interest, although itis on a much smaller scale than that of the capital. Themain breathing place is named Plaza de Libertad from theStatue of Liberty which graces its center. It stands on anoctagonal base with funeral wreaths in bas-relief, while ona ledge on top of the base are perched eight cement lions.The allegorical goddess reposes her hand upon a shield.Her picture, taken from this statue adorns the Paraguayanjubilee postage stamps of a few years back.[198]

Sometime during the night that we left Villa Concepcion,we passed by the mouth of the Aquidabán River.It was up its valley that Francisco Solano Lopez retreatedwith the remnants of his brave army in 1870 closelypursued by the Brazilian cavalry, and it was at the baseof a mountain named Cerro Corá at the headwaters of theAquidabán, many miles distant in the tropical forest thathe met his death, being pierced through the body by thelances of the enemy. Among his retinue was his mistress,Madame Lynch and some of her henchwomen. Strangeto say when they were captured they were found cladin silken dresses of the latest Parisian creation andwearing low ballroom slippers, and this in the midst of thedeepest imaginable water-soaked jungle miles away fromcivilization.

Early in the morning we reached the village of SanSalvador with its beef-packing plant. Thesaladero is astock company composed of North American and Germancapital. They slaughter the long-horned native cattle,which are cheap here. At the outbreak of the World War,the British Government ordered from them $240,000worth of canned beef which was delivered and consumed bythe British Army. This beef is still unpaid for. GreatBritain refuses to pay on account of the majority of theshares of stock being held by Germans. By this refusalit is also hurting the interests of the North Americanswho have stock in the company, which amounts to nearlyone half. This defalcation of payment has put thesaladeria on the hummer and it is now in the hands of areceiver.

At the time of my visit, the whole town of San Salvadorwas wrought up by an incident that had occurred theday before, and which was the only topic of conversation.The foremen of the saladero pay off the laborers with[199]time checks which they present at the company officefor currency. A native forged one of these checks andmade such a poor job of it that he was refused paymentand threatened with arrest. Angered, he whipped out abig knife, long and thin with a razor edge, with the intentionsof annihilating the manager, a North American.The latter grabbed a revolver which scared the Paraguayan,who started to run down the road.

Leaning against a fence post, with his hand on the rail,stood another North American, a mere boy, and a friendof the manager who had arrived from the United States,but three days before on a visit, and not at all connectedwith the company. The route of the fleeing native ledby this young chap, and as he ran by him, he raised hisarm and aimed a blow with his knife at the young fellow'shand, which was so powerful that it completely severedit at the wrist. The Paraguayan was caught and lodgedin a temporary jail. The next morning, the day of myarrival, he was to be taken in a rowboat to Villa Concepcionto be tried.

The sequel to this event which I heard on my returntrip was as follows: His guards not relishing the longrowboat trip to Concepcion, for it would take them severalhard days rowing upstream on the return journey, pitchedthe native overboard in midstream. A few bubbles cameup as asaurian closed its jaws upon him, and a red tingerose to the surface of the river.

From San Salvador northward, occasional round hillsare met. The first of these is Itapucumi (sleeping giant),two hours above the settlement. Here the ParaguayRiver makes a great bend and narrows to one-half mile inwidth. It is studded with green islands, some of themfloating. Puerto Max, where there is another saladeria,is stopped at and farther on, we passed the stockade[200]of an old penal settlement. At dusk we passed anothercluster of isolated hills on the east bank; the west bank isnow a great dismal swamp. The River Apá is reachedwhich is the boundary line between Paraguay and theBrazilian state of Matto Grosso. We now have Brazilon the right and the Paraguayan Chaco on the left.

Next to Amazonas, Matto Grosso is the largest statein Brazil. Its area is 539,092 square miles and its populationis estimated at about 245,000. Only three SouthAmerican republics (excepting Brazil, of which this stateis a part), Argentina, Bolivia, and Peru have a largerarea than Matto Grosso. It occupies the very center ofSouth America and its capital, Cuyabá, is more geographicallysituated in the center of that continent than anyother town. The main industry of Matto Grosso is stockraising, there being over 2,500,000 head of cattle within itsconfines. In this respect it is third among the Brazilianstates, Rio Grande do Sul and Minas Geraes outrankingit. The name given to the native cattle iscuyabára; theyare noted for their viciousness, are red and unlike the Paraguayanbreed, are short-horned. A saladero or saladeria(the name for the whole establishment), is in Brazil namedacharqueada and there are several of these in the statebesides a factory where beef extract is made at São Luiz.The eastern part of the state is a plateau with severalhigh ranges of hills; the western part is a forest; greatareas being flooded at certain seasons on account of poordrainage. The word Matto Grosso means "big forest,"matto being a covering of trees and bushes. Besidesstock raising, rubber plays an important part of the state'sindustries but this latter is confined to the northwesternregion where is located the Madeira-Mamoré Railroad.The only other railroad in the state is a few miles of trackoutside of Corumbá. It will form part of the Mogyana[201]system when completed, as the present intentions are toconnect Corumbá with São Paulo. There was a telegraphline to Cuyabá and to Corumbá, via Goyaz but it is frequentlyout of commission. It takes three weeks of travelto reach Cuyabá from Rio de Janeiro and this trip is madeby the Paraná and Paraguay rivers.

On the third morning we reached an estancia, thesettlement of Porto Murtinho with its swampy background.There were numerous wild ducks and plover tobe seen. This is the starting place for egret hunters;many of these birds abounding in the back country.Shortly after leaving the place, two hills rise on each sideof the river. The one on the right being so much higherthat the eminence on the left appears low. These are respectivelyPao d'Assucar and Fecho dos Morras. Furtherup and on another hill is the Brazilian Fort Barranco-brancoand beyond it on an eminence on the Paraguayanside is Fort Olimpo. In the afternoon, we stop atPuerto Ledo, Puerto Esperanza, Puerto 14 de Mayo, andPuerto Boggiani, all in Paraguay, and at dark reach aplace where the river widens into a lake which is namedBahia Negra. This is formed by the junction of theParaguay and the Otuquis rivers. The last mentionedstream being commonly called Rio Negro. We here leftParaguayan territory as the Brazilian boundary line isarrived at on the left bank. In the night we passed FortCoimbra and when I awoke the following morning therewere hills on the west bank. The river had narroweddown to one quarter of a mile. In the afternoon wepassed Fort Albuquerque and late at night arrived atthe wretched but lively city of Corumbá, commercialcenter of Matto Grosso and the synonym of lawlessnessand disorder.

This vile town with its diseased population and a jumping-off[202]place of commercial riffraff, has a population ofnearly twenty thousand inhabitants. It is built on thehigh banks of the west shore of the Paraguay River. Thewater is six feet deep at the docks when the river is low butthe project has long been contemplated of deepening thechannel so that vessels drawing twenty feet can anchorthere. Nineteen hundred and eighty-six miles from themouth of the La Plata River, it is the head of navigationfor large boats and it has an immense trade, consideringthe size of the place, on account of its being the sole distributingpoint for southern Matto Grosso. The tortuousmuddy road leads up the bank to the town which iswell built with morgue-like edifices. The structures aremostly of one story and many have semicircular round-topwindows, which are uncommon in all South Americancountries excepting Brazil, where they are characteristic.The Hotel Paris, where I stopped, was nothing at alllike Paris and the slovenly waiters had a cutthroatappearance.

Corumbá has a widely established reputation for disorder.It is so far from the Federal capital of Brazil thatit might be anywhere else in the world as far as theinhabitants having any fear from that quarter of punishmentsfor their misdeeds. Matto Grosso is run verymuch as if it were an independent country, and on accountof the low caliber of the native potentates and politicians,lawlessness is rampant. Nearly every man in the citycarries a long thin razor-edged knife and many of thepopulation give testimony of a one-time fight with thiskind of weapon by the scars to be seen on their visages.There are some whose nose has been severed and otherswho are minus an ear. There is but little public safetythere from murder or robbery or both on the back streetsafter nightfall. The natives like to pretend that they[203]are atheists but I have noticed that this same tribe eitherslink away in a hangdog fashion when they see a priestapproaching or else are quick to drop on their knees andmake the sign of the cross.

As to industry, besides having a charqueada, Corumbáhas a brewery and the Ladario naval arsenal. The town, Ithink, has a good future on account of its central location.The surrounding country is swampy so there is apt to bemalaria but otherwise it is fairly free from epidemics.Most of the inhabitants are syphilitic or are afflicted withother diseases due to lax morals. The climate, thoughhot, is better than that of Villa Concepcion, and it isdoubtful if in the summer months the thermometer risesas high as it does in Asuncion.

The 280-mile trip from Corumbá to Cuyabá is made inanywheres from four days to a week and one half on smallsteamers of fifty tons. At their very best, they make anaverage of seventy miles a day of twelve hours as they tieup to the bank at night. These boats, owned locallyand also by the Vierci Brothers of Asuncion, carry twentyfirst-class and fifty third-class passengers. Since thetraffic is heavy, it is necessary for the traveler to boardthe steamer the day before to obtain a convenient placeto sling his hammock and then hire some roustabout towatch it for him. Otherwise somebody else would be aptto remove it. If a person waited until the morning ofdeparture before slinging his hammock, he would find allthe suitable places occupied. It is impossible to sleepin one of the few cabins which have bunks on account ofthe heat from the ship's engines combined with that of theatmosphere.

Corumbá is 384 feet above the sea level; Cuyabá is 401;thus the drop in 280 miles is only 17 feet or 7/10 of aninch to a mile. The swampy pasture which is entered[204]and which continues until the day Cuyabá is reached isone of the hell holes of this earth. This immense marsh,which is 350 miles across in an east to west line, extendsinto Bolivia and is a flat piece of ground grown to marshgrass in which countless herds of semi-wild cattle fatten.There are occasional stunted trees whose penurious shadeaffords the sole protection against the powerful sun andblinding rays. In the afternoon of the first day, wepassed a few huts named Tres Barras and at night pulledup to shore at a cape formed by the confluence of theCuyabá and Paraguay rivers. On account of the lowdrop in altitudes, there is such poor drainage that branchesof the Paraguay and Cuyabá shoot out in all directions,forming numerous channels in a great delta. The Paraguayis considerably wider than the Cuyabá and has amuch greater volume of water as well as a swifter current.It is navigable for small vessels as far as São Luiz deCaceres about 250 miles farther up.

The whole trip was uneventful through a most monotonouscountry. About a day and one half before wereached the capital, another river flowing from the northeastand about the same size as the Cuyabá entered it.This river was named the São Lourenço although I understandthat the natives are in the habit of giving this samename even to the Cuyabá River below its confluence.The heat was fierce but strange to say there were but fewmosquitoes. It is most peculiar that of the whole La Platariver system mosquitoes are most abundant in the delta ofthe Paraná River between Rosario and Buenos Aires, andthat up in the tropics of northern Paraguay and MattoGrosso where one would think they would be most likelyto be found, they are noticeable by their absence. Inother parts of Matto Grosso where the rivers belong to theAmazonian watershed, I understand they are legion. At[205]night fireflies came out in bunches and the swampy plainwas resonant with the croaking of frogs. One afternoonnearly a week after leaving Corumbá, hills appeared onthe right which took on the form of low mountains andthese continued in view until the capital in the midst ofa thickly settled country was approached.

Street Scene, Cuyabá

Cuyabá is an old city of one-story houses, strongly built,and boasts of wide grass-grown streets, and a spaciousshadeless plaza on which faces the cathedral. It is saidto have been founded a couple of hundred years ago byPortuguese prospectors who started out from São Paulo.During the eighteenth century it was the center of theplacer district and the headquarters of the miners whoequipped themselves here for their trips to the remoteparts of Brazil and what is now Bolivia. It was a livelyplace in those days, but a hundred years ago becamedecadent until recently when the cattle industry took aboom. In the last decade it has picked up, and its populationto-day numbers not far from twenty thousand.It is the seat of a bishopric, is electric lighted (on the main[206]street), and is in telegraphic communication (sometimes)with Rio de Janeiro. The Mogyana Railroad system fromSão Paulo is expected to extend here shortly which will bea great benefit to the place, as well as facilitate exportation.In many respects Cuyabá is a fine city althoughit falls far below the standard of a North American city ofthe same size. It has many fine residences, and an air ofproudness and of aristocracy enthralls it. It is the residenceof quite a few persons of wealth, and I am told that amongits inhabitants are three millionaires, who by the way preferto live in Paris and in Lisbon rather than in the stagnanttown where they first saw the light of day. Cuyabá is verynearly in the center of South America and it seems incrediblethat in this region so little known, the surroundingcountry is so thickly populated and well cultivated. It issaid that three quarters of the entire population of the tremendouslylarge State of Matto Grosso inhabit a radiusof fifty miles from Cuyabá as the center. The ChapadaMountains to the east rise to a height of 2733 feet. Cool[207]breezes blow from the plateau of which they form thewestern barriers, causing the temperature not to be over-oppressive.There is but little malaria away from theriver; the diseases common to the country seem to beberi-beri and leprosy. Many people afflicted with thelast-named malady are found in all parts of Matto Grosso,but not so much so in the cities as in the country. Thisform of leprosy is not supposed to be contagious. Manyof its victims also have elephantiasis.

Street Scene, Outskirts of Cuyabá

I was told that the springs that form the source of theParaguay River were about four days' horseback ridedistant, and as it has always been my ambition to gazeupon them, I decided to visit them. I had already seenthe source of the Amazon, and considered that my travelsin South America would be far from complete if Ifailed to also see the place whence the second greatestwater system in that continent took its source. I hadseen ancient woodcuts of the source of the river, the onewhich defined itself in my mind being from a drawing inthe works of Dr. Martius, 1832. It depicts a flat, grassyplain in which is a pool, of irregular shape, about a stone'sthrow wide by the same dimension long, encircled bysixty-three hiaty palms with slender trunks. Martius'works are long out of print but a copy of his woodcutis reproduced on page 60 ofAlbum Gráfico de la Repúblicadel Paraguay by Arsenio Lopez Decoud, Buenos Aires,1911. Many times during the long winter nights in myNorthern Michigan home I have sat in front of the fireplaceand gazed at this woodcut, always hoping thatit would be my fortune to gaze upon the original. Ibecame obsessed with this fixed idea in Buenos Aires,which was augmented in Asuncion, and it was solelyfor this reason that I went first to Corumbá and thence toCuyabá, getting nearer and nearer the goal of my quest.[208]In Cuyabá I was told that the source lay not many kilometersfrom the main traveled road from there to Diamantino,and was easily accessible. Little did I thinkthat in seeing it, the trip would be responsible for the lossof a life.

The second day after my arrival in Cuyabá I met aGerman commercial traveler named Huber who representeda Rosario importing house of harvesting machinery.He was bound to Diamantino and having heard thatI had the same destination, suggested that we should makethe trip together as he had but little use for the natives,thinking that they might murder and rob him en route.I agreed but said that in case he accompanied me hewould have to deviate from his route for a day to see thesource of the Paraguay. He said that it was a lot ofnonsense and that I could see these springs on my wayback. I replied that I had no object to go to Diamantinoexcepting to rest a day or so after having seen the springs,and that having come so far to see them I would do soanyhow, regardless of whether he would accompany me ornot. Huber became disgruntled and told me he would letme know that night whether he would go to the unnecessarytrouble to view this "dummheit" as he called it. Hespent most of the day interviewing the foreign elementof Cuyabá inquiring if anyone else in the place had theintention of setting out for Diamantino within the nextcouple of days. His inquiries evidently were met withnegative answers for as I was about to retire he came tomy room and stated that he was ready to set out with methe following morning.

Early in the morning we set out with two guides whichwe had engaged through the medium of the Italian consularagent and followed a cart road along the east bank ofthe Cuyabá River, which was becoming so narrow that[209]one could easily heave a good-sized stone across it. Atnoon we stopped at a miserable leper-infested placenamed Guia, the center of a stock country, and by nightfallreached the hamlet of Brotas. Not wishing to sharemy bed with the vermin that infested thebotequim whichwent by the name of hotel, I hung my hammock betweentwo trees in the rear of the establishment.

At the end of the second day we arrived at dusk atthe large village of Rosario da Cuyabá, finely situated ona height of land on the west bank of the Cuyabá Riverwhich we forded below the town. This Rosario is atthe foot of some low mountains and is a pleasant placealthough but a wreck of its former self. It was oncequite a placer center, and some diamonds were found herethat are now among the crown jewels of Austria. Thereis a fairly comfortable four-bedroom hotel where I spentthe night, but got but little sleep on account of the hootingof an owl in a nearby bush. The hotel is owned by aSpaniard who has resided for over thirty years in thecountry. In the meantime he took one trip back toSpain but returned as he preferred Matto Grosso. Rosariois 998 feet above sea level, being 597 feet higher thanCuyabá. I think its population is in excess of two thousand.There is a project on hand to inaugurate anelectric lighting plant and to build a charqueada.

From here to Diamantino it is a hard two days' ride ifone wishes to visit the source of the Paraguay owing tothe detour of about six hours. The road that wound upthe low mountains named the Serra Azul is no better thana cow path, and was extremely rocky and slippery. Theshrubbery is very thick and is covered with thorns, althoughthere are no large trees. Occasionally a clearingis met where languid natives have attempted to growenough legumes for their meager wants, together with the[210]omnipresent sugarcane patch which supplies them withenoughcachaca for their frequent debauches. Theirhuts are painted pink or white and can be seen from agreat distance, at which point of vantage they alwaysappear at their best. At one of these fazendas, as thefarms are called, we stopped for the night. A small streambut a couple of inches deep, filled with pebbles and wherepools were formed with watercress, trickled through thefazenda. It served the farmer with his supply of drinkingwater, water for his stock, the washing place of his clothes,as well as the washing place for the feet of his numerousoffspring. On each side of the rivulet were trees andfrom them we slung our hammocks. One end of my hammockwas tied to a tree on the left bank, the other endto a tree on the right bank; if the rope had broken orcome loose, I would have dropped into the creek. Thehospitality of the inhabitants of the tropics of SouthAmerica is in marked contrast to the stinginess and meanactions of those people that inhabit the Andean uplands.Nowhere in Paraguay or Brazil have I been subjected tothe discourtesy and suspicion that greet every travelerin the mountains of Peru or Bolivia. This particularfazendado not only insisted upon helping our guides cookthe meals, but also added canned goods which he hadbought in Cuyabá, and refused to accept any pecuniaryremuneration therefor. The next morning he accompaniedus for a few miles on his pony and also went to muchtrouble to point out to us where the best paths were.

From the top of the Serra Azul near where the fazendawas situated, a broad valley was seen to open out at ourfeet. It was swampy, and was carpeted with marshgrasses and rushes which were yellow. To the northwestthe sun reflected on a tortuous silver thread which wasthe river. In several places the stream lost itself behind[211]islets of mangrove while in front of us it was barely perceptibleon account of the tules in the bog which screenedit from view. Our guides pointed out what seemed to be agroup of palmettos several kilometers to the east andinformed us that there were the springs from which theParaguay had its source. Leaving the cart track wegalloped over the oozing sod of black muck at the risk ofgetting our horses stalled in the mire. Great blue herons,startled at our approach, rose from the tules, emitting shrillcries, and flew away to a place of safety, the noise of theirflapping wings sounding like that made by a person beatinga rug. Near the tops of some trees resembling wateroaks we observed some egrets, but unfortunately they wereat too great a distance to bring down with a revolver shot.

The appearance of the source of the Paraguay Riverwas much different in details from Dr. Martius' woodcut,yet in general aspects it had quite a resemblance. Thedrawing that I saw was made nearly a century ago, andduring that lapse of time the features of the immediatelandscape may have changed. It may have been thatthe drawing in Martius' work was made from memory,away from the spot, and that not being present at the poolwhen the drawing was made, his memory was not accurate.Some of the hiaty palms may in the meantime have diedand rotted. It was impossible for me to photograph it onaccount of the noonday shadowless sun, but I made a roughpencil sketch of the scenery.

Picture to yourself a great bog of yellow rushes wavingin the sweltering noonday heat with no trees in sight,excepting a nearly perfect circle of eleven hiaty palms;inscribe in this circle a pool of dark steel-blue transparentwater. This pool is about 150 feet in diameter, and on itssurface float several gigantic pan-like leaves of VictoriaRegia. From where I stood I saw that the pool abounded[212]with small fishes. Looking into the water, I saw severalfeet beneath the surface something that appeared to bea rocky ledge. At its side and beneath it from whichbubbles constantly rose was a black hole of Stygian darkness.This I conjectured was the main spring. On abranch of one of the palm trees perched an owl, the onlyliving thing in sight excepting ourselves and our horses.I was seized with a desire to take a plunge and a swim inthis pond, the zenith of my quest and the goal of manyyears' thoughts. Yet I had the feeling that this harmless-lookingwater might conceal some reptile, an alligator orgiant turtle, so I quickly gave up the idea, but lying on mybelly I gulped down several large swallows of the water,which sad to relate was not as cool as I had imaginedit to be and also had a rank taste as of decaying vegetablematter.

The water flowing from the pool does not take anydefinite bed, but at first spreads out over quite an area, afew inches deep, between the thousands of marshy islets,mere detached tufts of sod but a few feet wide. A quarterof a mile below the pool the numerous channels unite intotwo watercourses, which at a short distance farther convergeinto a single creek. This creek is but a few feetwide, and is clear and clean, a remarkable phenomenonon account of the muddy swamp which it traverses.

Leaving the pool we made for the northern horizondefined by a height of land resembling low hills, but hadsome difficulty on account of the horses continuallystumbling and tripping themselves on the roots of a speciesof creeper that had white blossoms and which covered thelandscape at the edge of the marsh. After an hour's ridewe reached the hills and came upon a distinct cattle pathwhich wound through a jungle and finally brought us outon a cart road.[213]

Source of the Paraguay River

[214]

At the pool Huber never dismounted from his pony,but sat leaning over in his saddle resting his head on hishand. I asked him why he did not get down but beyondmuttering a few words about "such nonsense" he neithersaid nor did anything. Several times on the ride from thepool to the hills he complained of having a headache, andalthough I gave him a couple of acetphenetidin tabletsthey did him no good. He became feverish and said hefelt as if he were burning up. He gradually became worse,and his pupils narrowed down to the size of a pin headwhile his eyes began to shine like coals. It was withdifficulty that he kept his saddle, and the last few milesinto Diamantino he had to be propped into position by hisguide.

Diamantino, whose name should not be confused withthe flourishing mining-center of Diamantina in the stateof Minas Geraes, is a town of about three thousand inhabitantsbuilt on the side of a red earth hill but a short distanceto the north of the Paraguay River, here a few rodswide. From a distance it resembles Tallahassee on accountof the red color of the soil, and the similarity oftheir respective townsites. It is one of the oldest towns incentral Brazil. Formerly it was important in the miningannals of the country on account of gold and diamondshaving been discovered in its vicinity, but mining has longsince played out, and it is only important commercially atthe present time through the exportation of vanilla beans.It is also the starting place for laborers to the rubber districtin the forests of the north and northwest. Diamantinois at the base of the great central plateau of Brazil,which extends eastward into Goyaz, its limits beingdefined by the Serra Azul. The latter is the watershedbetween the Amazon and the La Plata river systems.Beyond these mountains is a vast impenetrable forest[215]inhabited by Indians. The proximity is evident by thegreat number of members of this race, which I believeexceeds the white population of the village. But a day'sjourney northward, I understand, is the town of PortoVelho on the Arinos River which farther on becomes theTapajos, the latter being the boundary line of the extensiveStates of Amazonas and Para; the Tapajos finallyflows into the Amazon at Santarem.

Diamantino is one of the most funereal towns imaginable.Its houses are neatly whitewashed, but the absence ofpanes in the windows gives the impression of tombs.The doors are like black holes in a vault. The streets arewide and are grown to grass on which horses graze; thelawns of the better-class houses are set back in rank gardensenclosed by walls which have pillars at the gates.The whole impression is that of a country cemetery.

The three inns of the place, if such they can be called,run more to botequim (barroom) than to looking after theculinary welfare and lodging of their guests. A rubbertrain had just entered the town; the laborers had just beenpaid off and were now riotously and in good humor makingthe streets and botequims resound with their merriment.They were fast filling up onpiraty cachaca, a fiery rumlikeliquid made from sugar cane. A glass of this beveragewill make an ordinary man "fall under the table" andit is so cheap that it is within the reach of all. On it aman can get one of the cheapest jags known, and like a fewother intoxicants it goes down like oil. Only the peasantsindulge in it, although it can be obtained in the better-classbotequims of Rio de Janeiro. If a well-dressedstranger should stroll into a café in Rio and ask for someof it, the waiter would be apt to look at him in astonishment,wondering what sort of a common fellow he wasand how he got his fine clothes, for it is the drink of the[216]lower stratum of society. It is kept on the boats of theBrazilian Lloyd; at Montevideo Brazilian roustaboutsswim out to them, buy the beverage, and in a drunkenstupor have to be rowed ashore.

At the mediocre and filthy inn which was the best of thethree at Diamantino, where I obtained a lodging nobetter than a hen coop, I tried to get the best room in theplace for Huber who was now so sick that he could notstand. The landlord gruffly remarked that his place wasno hospital, and would not take him in. Watching overhim, I sent the guides to the other two places but theylikewise refused to shelter him. Somebody suggestedthat the priest might find a habitation for him, and uponmy instructions set out to find that worthy, who presentlyarrived in a semi-state of inebriation. The holy man,with filthy robes and an unshaven countenance, scrutinizedHuber minutely through his bleary eyes, and in asottish voice said he could be taken to the end house in thevillage where upon his recommendation and for aboutthirty thousand reis ($7.50) he would receive "everythingthat was to be desired." The price was terriblyexorbitant, but owing to the condition the commercialtraveler was in, there was no time to argue, so we set offto the place indicated, the two guides carrying him, whilethe drunken priest, myself, and what seemed to be halfof the male population of Diamantino followed. An oldwoman, toothless and humped, with the eternal black cigarbetween her lips, discolored with nicotine, came to anaperture which served as the door and gesticulatingfrantically refused admission. The priest called her aside,and said something to her which we could not hear, but itevidently appeased her for she came back saying that itwould be all right for him to stay there provided she waspaid in advance. I was on the point of accepting the[217]offer when a tall, handsome man in uniform appeared,and asked what the rumpus was about. A hundred voicestried to answer at the same time. He motioned them tobe silent, and heard me out. No sooner had I stoppedspeaking than the crowd again began to speak. He orderedthem to stop, and addressing me said that he was thechief of police as well as the mayor of the town, and thathis house was at our disposal gratis. I accepted his kindoffer, much to the dismay of the priest and toothless hagwho were now begging me to let Huber stay with them.

The two guides, who had laid the German down with acoat under his head as a pillow in the shade of a wall,picked him up and we set out toward the mayor's residence,but a short distance away. The crowd started to follow,but the mayor with some harsh oaths ordered them away.They all dispersed excepting a curious few who eyed usfrom a distance. The mayor's house was a long one-storybuilding facing a common grown to grass and milkweed.It had in front a wide tile-paved veranda whoseheavy roof was supported by square pillars. On thisveranda were benches where the family sat evenings, andwhere the functionary entertained his guests. The roomin which he ordered Huber placed was tile paved, high,and cool, with two windows, one of them at the side nearlycovered with vines. In it was an iron bedstead, a coupleof chairs, a table, and a wash basin. All the front windowsof the house had vertical iron bars. The mayor, aperfect gentleman, sent a boy whom I imagined to be hisson for a doctor while he invited me to be seated on abench and chat with him till the medico arrived. He wasparticular to inquire when and how Huber had been takensick, as he said he did not care to have anybody in hisplace who had a contagious disease.

The doctor was slow in coming, so slow that in the[218]meantime Huber had become delirious. He took histemperature, looked grave, and sent a halfbreed servantaway to soak some towels and rags in cold water, whichwhen she returned he ordered her to place on Huber'shead and change every few minutes for fresh ones. Thereis no ice in Diamantino, and theolla from which thewater had been poured had been standing all the afternoonin the sun, consequently it was not cool enough to suit thephysician. He gave instructions for more ollas to befilled, and as night had come on, to be left on the porch infront of the room in which the patient lay.

When the doctor came out, he sat on the bench betweenthe mayor and me, and informed us that Huber had a sunstroke,and that it was doubtful if he would live. "Anyhow,"he said, "if he recovers, he will have to remainhere for weeks before he is well. He shouldn't havecome here in the first place. My opinion is that hewon't survive twenty-four hours longer." I returnedto the botequim where I lodged for dinner, although themayor was insistent that I should dine with him. Iexcused myself; saying that I had things to attend to andthat I would return later on to see how Huber was gettingon. "He will get on all right if human agencies can help,but in this case they are of little avail. I have seen suchcases before," were his parting words to me, as I turnedup the moonlit street towards the middle of the townfrom which shouts and ribald laughter emanating fromthe drunken rubber men were audible in the otherwisesleepy town.

At the botequim where I roomed there was an orgygoing on. Most of the rubber men were soused and ourtwo guides were rapidly filling up. Rum, gin, and brandywere spilled all over the room, on the tables, on the chairs,and on the floor. A couple of bums lay in a corner of the[219]room and one on a soap box, his feet dangling over itinto space. The brutal-appearing ruffian who was thelandlord was his own best customer yet he was intentenough on business to charge two prices, one to the badlydrunk individuals, and a cheaper one to those in a lessermaudlin state. I was hungry but as it was impossibleto eat in this barroom, in which on other occasions mealswere served, I repaired to the shed which served as akitchen and asked if anything to eat could be had. Twoslatternly halfbreed female servants informed me thatin a few minutes dinner would be served. I waited forover half an hour and was so impatient with hunger that Iwas at my wits' end, when the youngest of the two approachedme and whispered that the proprietor had thekeys to the storeroom in his pocket and that he wouldbeat her if she disturbed him. Disgusted I set out to buysome canned goods to sup on at one of the stores whichcombine the selling of groceries with that of light hardwareand dry goods, when I felt a pull at my sleeve and lookingaround saw the same halfbreed standing there as if shehad something to tell me.

"I hope thesenhor does not want me to sleep with himto-night," she whispered to my great astonishment;"Manoel is here from the rubber country, and if he finds itout he will kill me. Manoel is my fellow and he is crazyjealous over me."

This was the first time that I was apprised of the factthat the custom of Bohemia was likewise prevalent inMatto Grosso.

For an exorbitant price, I bought two cans of salmonwhich I washed down with a bottle of warm beer. I hadbeen counting for the past three days on a square mealat Diamantino. I returned to the mayor's house andfound that Huber had steadily become worse, and at times[220]was so violent that he had to be held down on the bed.Late that night he took a turn to the better, so the doctorsaid, which lasted about seven hours. About five o'clockin the morning he steadily grew worse and at eight-thirtydied in the presence of the mayor, his family, the doctor,the priest, one of the guides, and myself. He had onlybeen sick twenty hours. Although the mayor had saidhe had seen cases of sunstroke before, I had never seenone in the tropics. Moreover as sunstroke is mostfrequent in the first hours after sunrise and in thosepreceding sundown, it must have been that he was exposedin the morning of the day before, even before we reachedthe pool, for it was then that the hot rays shone on hishead.

House in Diamantino where Huber Died

At about eleven o'clock in the morning of the day onwhich he died, Huber's lich was interred in the gruesomecemetery of plain black crosses on the hillside, a milebeyond the town, I officiating by throwing the last fewshovelfuls of dirt on his eternal resting place. The townauthorities took charge of his possessions and notifiedhis employers who knew the address of his relations in[221]Stettin. The mayor would accept no pay, but expressedthe desire that he would like Huber's revolver, belt, andcartridges. I could not very well refuse seeing that heand the officials already had possession of all the deceasedman's articles; I would not have refused anyway onaccount of the courtesy he showed. I paid the doctorand the priest, but I also have no doubt that they gottheir share for their services from the money that Huberhad in a wallet as well. I stayed that night at themayor's house, but the morbidity of the affair depressedme so much that I left Diamantino early the followingmorning for my return trip, being accompanied by Huber'sguide as well as my own to Cuyabá. I saved a day bytraveling the regular track and leaving the source of theParaguay River a six hours' ride to the east. I stopped aday at Cuyabá, another one at Corumbá, and three weekslater left Asuncion.

Four passenger steamers of the Mihanovich line nowply weekly between Asuncion and Buenos Aires. Theyare theBruselas, theBerna, and the two smaller ships, theLambary and theGuarany. The downstream trip takesover three days. I left Asuncion a Sunday morning ontheBruselas. The scenery is intensely tropical, but afterthe first few miles flat. On the left bank soon after leavingAsuncion are passed the tumulus of Tucumbú andthe conical-shaped hill, Lambary, the latter a landmark.Soon on the right we reached the Argentine frontier postof Pilcomayo, on the long and narrow river of that name.It rises in the high and bleak plateau of Bolivia and flowsthrough the Gran Chaco, where for a long space it losesitself in the marshes only to reappear broader, lower down.From now on we have Paraguay on the left and theArgentine territory of Formosa on the right. The onlystops of any importance the first day are Villeta, Formosa,[222]Villa Oliva, Villa del Pilar, and Humaita. All are Paraguayan,except Formosa which is the capital of the Argentineterritory of the same name. At Villeta, small boatsladen with cigars, plants, and fruits are rowed out to thesteamers, and the leprous hags to whom these mixedcargoes belong drive bargains with the sailors, who arecrazy to buy pineapples. Before reaching Villa Oliva,a palmetto swamp is passed on the Paraguayan side whichstretches backward as far as the eye can see. Villa delPilar is the most important Paraguayan town stopped at.A railroad track on which are flat cars drawn by horsesleads from the town to the dock; these cars are usuallyladen with tobacco leaf to be exported to Buenos Aires.A crowd was at the dock and it much resembled thecrowds seen on the docks of the Great Lakes ports, withthe exception that among its members were sportilyattired youths with high collars, roaring ties, Panamahats, and patent-leather shoes. It was ludicrous to seesuch people in such out-of-the-way places.

On the second day out, the broad Paraná River is entered;the water unlike the blue Paraguay is muddy, andit is so wide that it is much like an inland sea. Numerousislands are passed. The shores on the Correntine sideare high and there is no luxuriance of vegetation like inParaguay, which republic was left behind when the Paranáwas entered. The aspect is drier and the vast plainsextend back to the eastern horizon. The Chaco andSanta Fé side is a vast wilderness of cane and brush. Thecity of Corrientes, famous for internecine strife, and thebirthplace of Sergeant Cabral, a hero of the War of theLiberation, was reached in the early hours of the morningof the second day. The rocks in the quiet water of theroadstead, overhung with trees above which appearedchurch steeples and the domes of the government buildings,[223]made a fine picture. Soon after leaving Corrientesthe boat anchored at Barranqueras, the port for Resistencia,capital of the territory of Chaco, and at nightfallin a pouring rain it anchored again off Puerto Goya, fromwhich a railroad runs to Goya and to San Diego. Onthe third day the boat stopped in the morning at the ancientcapital of Argentina, Paraná, built high on the leftbank of the river, and at night at Rosario. Buenos Aireswas reached on the morning of the fourth day.

Another line of steamships plies also between Asuncionand Buenos Aires, that named the Empresa DomingoBarthe, but the Mihanovich Line is the best. DomingoBarthe, the controller of the rival line, is a French adventurerwho made a fortune in Argentina and in Paraguay.He acquired a largeyerba maté concession from the Paraguayangovernment which has made him rich. The trademarkof the tea from hisyerbales bears the name Asuncion.Another large firm competed with him, putting out yerbamaté with a different trademark. Barthe then had someof his tea put up in similar packages to theirs, and stealingtheir trademark had it sold widely in Argentina undertheir name. The rival company brought suit againstBarthe which went against him. A heavy fine wasimposed upon him with the alternative of a year in jail.Barthe neither paid the fine nor went to jail. He hassimply kept out of Argentina. Nevertheless Bartheis a man who has done a lot for Argentina, and the courtmay have in view of this fact been too stiff with him;anyhow that is what the public thinks. Not only hasBarthe been the means of facilitating transportationbetween these two countries but he has opened muchof the waste lands of the territory of Misiones and putthem under production, besides being in a large way responsiblefor the growth of Posadas, his home town.[224]

It is pleasant to make the return trip to Buenos Airesfrom Asuncion by water after having seen the fields ofEntre Rios and Corrientes from the car window. Thestudy of faces, the stops at the small towns, the unloadingand loading of cargo make the river trip extremely interesting.The cargo of the passenger boats is worth inspectionbut the odor of the poultry and of the parrot cages isnauseating. The main deck becomes a storage room forsacks of yerba maté, the vile tea that the Argentine nativesare crazy about. Much of this on passenger boatsgoes to Goya for consumption by the poorchinos, as thecivilized Indians and halfbreeds of the Correntine hinterlandas well as in the rest of the republic are called. Thefreight boats handle the Buenos Aires and Rosario supply.Besides the maté there are numerous pails, tin cans, andmolasses tins filled with plants from Matto Grosso andthe Paraguayan Chaco, mild-eyed deer for the museumat La Plata, mangy sarias, martinets in cages, a bedlam ofparrots, and bottles of home-madecana, which gives theimbibers murderous intentions.

I sat between two Spaniards at the dining room table.One had become involved in a domestic scandal, the daybefore we left Asuncion, and the wronged husband waslooking for him with a gun, besides having invoked theaid of the police to find him. The foxy Spaniard, a middle-agedaristocrat, escaped across the river to Pilcomayo atnight, and as there is no extradition treaty with Argentina,he was safe. He boarded theBruselas at that stop.Both the Spaniards fell to discussing the charms of thevarious lady passengers and would occasionally ask memy opinion. I could not agree with them as they wouldpick out some fat type of woman and exclaim: "Quelinda mujer" ("Oh, what a beautiful woman!"). I wasfascinated by the looks of the recently married Brazilian[225]woman who with her groom sat across the table from us.She was of that dark type of beauty so common in MattoGrosso where one meets women of dark complexion, blackgorse-like hair, black flashing eyes, with strong virilemouths and chins.

In South America it is not considered a breach of tableetiquette to be continually picking one's teeth and nosooner did the meals on theBruselas begin than the snappingof wooden toothpicks rent the air. Some of theguests were ambidextrous as to the use of forks and knives,the latter especially; they would shovel so much food intotheir mouths that they could not contain it all, and consequentlygoulash would drop from their mouths onto thetablecloth. One young barbarian, when passed the menu,kept it, and instead of passing it on, amused himself byreading the advertisements on the reverse. He had neverseen one before.[226]

CHAPTER IX
SANTIAGO

It is not the intention of the writer in these pages to gointo a detailed and minute historical, geographical, andstatistical description of Chile. This will appear in alater work. Therefore here will be taken up only thosestatistics, political conditions, and geography that thereader should digest in following me on my trips.

The Republic of Chile, whose total length of 2660 milesis included between latitudes 18° and 56° south, averagesin width but 150 miles which is the territory embracedbetween the summits of the Andes on the east and thePacific Ocean on the west. It is divided into twenty-fourprovinces and one territory. Each of these provinces isin turn divided into departments. Each of the provinceshas its own governor and each has its own representationin the national government at Santiago. Of the twenty-fourprovinces, fifteen are latitudinal, stretching the wholewidth of the country. From north to south these areTacna, Tarapacá, Antofagasta, Atacama, Coquimbo,Choapa, Aconcagua, Santiago, Colchagua, Curico, Talca,Concepcion, Cautin, Valdivia, and Llanquihue. Fourprovinces are maritime, Valparaiso, Maule, Arauco, andChiloé; their eastern limits are defined by the summitsof the Coast Range and do not extend to the central valley.Chiloé is an archipelago. In the littoral provinces the[227]climate is cooler than in others whose latitude is farthersouth owing to the breezes that blow from the Pacific.Four provinces are Andean, O'Higgins, Linares, Ñuble,and Bio-Bio. These extend from the Argentine frontierwestward to the central valleybut in no part do they everreach the coast. There is onlyone interior province, Malleco;it is absolutely surrounded byother provinces, and neither extendsto the ocean on the westnor to the mountain peaks onthe east.

Diagram Showing Ideaof Central Valley of Chilein Relationship to the AndesMountains and theCoast Range, with Courseof Streams

From Santiago southward 350miles to the Bio-Bio River thereis what is known as the centralvalley; here in the cities,villages, and country betweenthe Andes and the Coast Rangelive two thirds of the entirepopulation of the republic. Althoughthis central valley isbut one long valley and traversingit longitudinally fromSantiago to the Bio-Bio thereis no marked difference in elevation,yet it is not the valley of one single river,nor do any rivers run through it lengthwiseas do the San Joaquin and the Sacramento in California.This valley is formed by the valleys ofcountless small rivers which cross it and widening outmidway between their sources and their mouths formone large valley which has an average width of aboutsixty miles. The geological theory is that in the pre-glacial[228]period the small rivers like to-day rushed headlongfrom the Andes into the ocean. The Coast Rangesprang up, but the rivers worked faster than the mountainsgrew, so that their courses were not altered, andthe Coast Range instead of being one continuous rangeof mountains, even though it is a mountain chain, becamebunches of land islets, separated from one another bystreams.

Of the thirteen largest cities of Chile, only four arefound in this valley, Santiago, the metropolis, Talca,the sixth city in population, Chillán, the seventh, andCurico, the twelfth. This signifies nothing for althoughless than one third of the large towns are situated here,yet the valley teems with towns that have between 1500and 4000 inhabitants. The central valley is of remarkablefertility, but although the soil is highly productive,irrigation is resorted to for it seldom rains during thesummer months. In the winter there is plenty of rainfall.Owing to the great number of streams, most ofwhich, however, are unnavigable and all of which rise inthe Andes, there is plenty of water for irrigation. Intheir course to the ocean they bring much silt which givesthem a muddy color. In contrast to them are the clearstreams of transparent water which feed them. Thelatter are mostly from springs in the foothills, and nothaving to cut their way for any great distance carry nosilt. The products of the central valley are wine, fruits,cereals, and stock. A Californian whom I met in Santiagosaid to me: "This central valley of Chile reminds me ofCalifornia, but it is more productive, and in a much moreadvanced state of cultivation."

Southern Chile, as that part of the republic south of theBio-Bio is termed, is a rolling and mountainous land,originally forested and still so in some sections. The altitude[229]of perpetual snow is lower here than farther north,and some of the mountain scenery excels that of Switzerland.It has an abundance of rainfall not restricted toseasons so irrigation is unnecessary. The country islargely devoted to the growing of cereals, especially barley,and to dairy farming. The climate, never too warm insummer, is in winter that of the Central States of theUnion. No tropical fruits and plants grow there, butmany apples are grown. The farmers are mostly Germanswho have lived there for three generations and have stillretained the customs of the fatherland.

Scenery, Central Valley of Chile

[230]

Of northern Chile, nothing much needs to be said.From La Serena northward it is one large sterile tract ofland, with the exception of a few river valleys wherethere is verdure and vegetation, such as at Tacna, Copiapó,and Vallenar. It is one large desert and ranges of barrenmountains rising to a great height, and on whose lowerslopes on plateaus is found most of the world's nitrate ofsodium supply. In the higher altitudes are borax fieldsand great mineral deposits of copper, silver, and gold.The coast is absolutely rainless and water is unobtainableby wells. It seldom rains even in the interior. Thesmall rivers formed by the melting of the snow on highmountain peaks lose themselves in the sands and seldomreach the ocean. Near their upper reaches water is pipedfrom them to the coast towns, which are at a great distance.It is thus that Iquique, Tocopilla, and the thrivingport of Antofagasta get their water supply.

Village Scene, Central Chile.

The area of Chile is 289,829 square miles, about the size[231]of the States of Texas and Arkansas combined, but theopposite to them in geographical contour. The populationDecember 31, 1915, was 3,641,477 or 12.57 inhabitantsto the square mile.

Each locality in Chile is famous for some special naturalproduction or manufacture. Bywords denote the superiorityof one article over others of a like species such as:Black pottery from Chillán, reed baskets from Linares,beer from Valdivia, marble from Valparaiso, cider andbutter from Osorno, figs from Huasco, and frutillas fromPuerto Varas. (Frutilla is the name given to a diminutiveand highly flavored strawberry that grows both wild andin the domestic state.)

Chile has a system of longitudinal railways, nearlycompleted, which are of the greatest military value.Nearly two thousand miles from Puerto Montt in the southto Tacna in the north, with the exception of a short stretchbetween Pisagua and Arica, are open to traffic, and at noplace do they touch the sea excepting at Coquimbo andtheir terminals. In quick time troops and ammunitioncan be moved to any part of the republic. There aremany spurs and branch lines that run to the coast, to themining centers, and to the numerous inland towns. Mostof the railroads are broad gauge; some are both broad andnarrow; others are narrow, while in the central valleythere are a few light railways, for example the one betweenLinares and Panimávida, and the coöperative railway inthe Province of Ñuble. There is a heavy traffic bothin freight and in passengers, but sad to relate, mostof the railways owned by the government, which constitutethe majority, are run at a loss. This is caused ina great measure by the large personnel employed, mostof whom are the henchmen of the politicians in power inSantiago. To overcome the monetary loss, one half of[232]the regular number of trains have been taken off fromthe service schedule so that at the time of this writing onecannot enjoy a ride from Santiago to Concepcion on anexpress train or in a Pullman car as previously. The onlyexpress trains are those that run between Santiago andValparaiso and vice versa. Even though but one half ofthe trains are still in operation, the State lines are stillshowing a deficit, and there is talk of leasing them toprivate corporations. The cars are mostly of Americanmanufacture although some of the sleeping cars areEnglish. The locomotives, formerly German, are now forthe most part manufactured in Valparaiso. The narrowgauge lines in the north, which are in the nitrateregions, all pay for they are of private ownership andthere is no chance of giving unnecessary employment.The Transandine Railroad, narrow gauge, which formerlyhad trains running thrice a week from Los Andes toMendoza, Argentina, now has through trains only once aweek, and the trip is made in the daytime on account ofdangerous curves.

The Valdivia Breweries Company, Valdivia

Formerly the Anwandter Brewery

There is but little manufacturing in Chile, most of itbeing centralized in Valparaiso. The great drawback ison account of the lack of iron; some of this mineral hasbeen discovered in the Province of Coquimbo, and I understandthat the property known as La Higuera is on apaying basis. There is plenty of coal, the mines at Lotabeing the largest, but it is of an inferior quality. Outsideof Valparaiso, the only manufactures of importance arethose of beer and flour. In this respect the manufacturingconditions are similar to those of Argentina. Nearlyevery small town in the grain belt, the country lyingsouth of the Bio-Bio, has its flour mills; as the brewingbusiness is in the hands of a trust, there is but a smallopportunity in this field unless one starts with considerable[233]capital. The beer trust, capitalized at 18,000,000pesos ($3,070,800) paid in, includes all the largebreweries in Chile excepting two firms, that of Aubel inOsorno which is flourishing as an independent breweryand that of Keller which has two breweries, one inConcepcion and the other in Talca. Those belongingto the trust are the United Breweries Company in Limache-Cousiño,the Valdivia Breweries Company in Valdivia,the Andres Ebner Brewery in Santiago, the CaleraBrewery in Calera, and the Floto Brewery in La Serena,the last named being a small one. Scattered throughChile are a good number of independent breweries all runon a small scale and catering only to local trade such asHorstmann's Brewery in Santiago, a brewery in SanFelipe, one in Chillán, one in La Union, one in PuertoMontt, and two in Punta Arenas. Since the Anwandterfirm in Valdivia sold out to the trust their successors brewa much better beer than previously was brewed there, butI am sorry to say that the product of one of the trust[234]breweries, that of Calera, is vileness incarnate. Beer ischeap in Chile, three cents buying a schuper, but it likewiseis apt to go to the head and make the imbiber seedouble lamp-posts. The German residents claim that it ismild, yet I have seen many of them unable to pace a crackin the floor after imbibing a few libations of it. Thesaloons in Santiago do a big business but they have topay a high rent which cuts into their profits.

Regarding the inhabitants, the Chileno is called theYankee of South America. He is not afraid of work,consequently steamship companies like to employ him,because for less pay he will do more work than any personof any nationality will do, including North Americans.He is the only native south of Texas who if hit will comeback at his aggressor. In behavior he is apt to be roughand coarse (this does not apply to the aristocracy), butrarely is he uncivil. Many Chilenos ape the tonsorialadornment of a man who died in the year 33 A.D., but Ido not believe their actions jibe with his if what we readin history is true. The women are beautiful; they haveno comparison anywhere else in the whole world. Theyhave dark complexions, are finely featured, and are voluptuous.A poor figure is unknown among them. If aman prefers a different type than the average he can go tosouthern Chile and have the choice of a dark red-cheekedAraucanian maiden or a native girl of German extraction,whose eyes are like the still deep water of a pool, and whosecheeks have that rosy tinge of a ripening apple. In therailway eating-house in Rancagua, I met a man fromThomasville, Georgia, who said that on account of thelooks of the Chilean women, he would lose his religion ifhe remained much longer in the country. I do not knowwhat his religion was, but their beauty is enough to affect aman's head.[235]

One of the Chilean institutions that bears comment isthat of the table waiters in the hotels and restaurants. Itneeds serious improvement. The waiters are a white-aproned,moustached, whiskered set who go after andbring back food on the run. They never walk and vie withone another to make the most noise and bring their feetdown heaviest after taking orders. The waiter takesyour order on the run, slams the food in front of you onthe run, takes your money on the run, accepts his tip andthanks you on the run. In Europe and in the UnitedStates, these actions would not be tolerated in a first-classcafé. In Chile, however, these are the instructionsgiven to the waiters when they seek employment.

In the larger towns, especially in Santiago and inValparaiso, there is a great illegitimacy of births amongthe lower classes. This is due to the inconstant actions ofthe men. For instance a poor laborer will marry a girland live with her several years, during which time she willbecome the mother of several children. The husband inthe meantime finding that the support of a family leaveshim with no pocket money to indulge in his periodicaldebauches, all of a sudden, without saying anything to hiswife, deserts her and strikes out for the country where heobtains employment. He rarely comes back. The poorwife, left destitute with several offspring, has a hard timemaking a living. Other young women, cognizant of thefickle actions of the men, prefer living with them outsideof wedlock, for if the man deserts her a woman still has achance of getting married, while if she was once married, itwould be impossible for her to marry again, because thereis no divorce law in Chile. I have known of people in Chilewho desired a divorce being obliged to go to Uruguay tolive as I understand that is the only republic in SouthAmerica where divorces are granted. As to morals I[236]imagine Chile is no worse off than any other country,excepting among the lower element. Speaking of themto a friend of mine, one of the most prominent men inValparaiso and a high official of the Pacific Steam NavigationCompany, he said: "Among the lower class there isbut little distinction between the women who are virtuousand those who are not. The former are always on thequivive to increase their income providing they do not getcaught at it."

Among this stratum the Fiesta of the Angelito (Feastof the Little Angel) plays an important rôle. Theymaintain that if a child dies it becomes a little angel, andmany of the poor to whom the expense of rearing a superfluouschild is a burden welcome its decease although theydo much wailing at the funeral. They welcome it forthey have a chance to make some money and also indulgein an alcoholic debauch. When the child dies the parentsinvite all their friends to their home. Great quantitiesof cheap wine are ordered and consumed. Each friendgives as much money as he can afford toward the burialexpenses and towards the purchase of the liquid refreshments.A drunken orgy lasting all night takes place.After it is over and the body is buried, the parents havemoney left over. Owing to the high mortality amonginfants, on account of neglect, malnutrition, and ever presenttyphoid fever, these Fiestas of the Angelito are offrequent occurrence in every neighborhood.

Chile is the only country in South America which hasstrict prohibition laws. There are quite a few localitiesthat are "dry." Saloons are closed all day Sundays;bars also close early at night. The penalties for breakingthese laws are heavy, yet in no other country in SouthAmerica, with the exception of Peru, is there as muchdrunkenness as in Chile, and all these other countries[237]have no prohibition laws, and their towns are wideopen.

The reception given at Santiago to the occupants ofthe private train from Buenos Aires bearing the specialambassadors and their staff to the installation of Chile'spresident was tremendous. As the train rolled into thegreat and high vaulted Mapocho station amid the fanfareand beating of drums, martial music broke out andrent the air with the national march. Great sturdy,powerfully built blonde officers, helmeted, in their fulldress uniforms, exact replicas of the German army of adecade ago, grouped themselves on the platform to greetthe guests. Their subordinates stood at attention untilthe last of the officers who had boarded the train at LosAndes left the train. In the background stood symmetricalrows of policemen parting a human aisle downwhich we passed to the vigorous blasts of a band. Thousandsof people cried "Hurrah" which was echoed andreëchoed through the lofty waiting room of the greatbuilding. At the windows and on the street behind theiron grating of the train shed were squeezed myriads offaces endeavoring to catch a view of the impressive spectacle.At the curb outside the station doors, to where theguests had already advanced, stood dignified statesmen inPrince Alberts awaiting the arrival of the automobilesfrom the Ministries of Brazil and of Argentina which wereto drive the envoys of those two respective countries away.Soon several limousines arrived, their chauffeurs decoratedwith large rosettes of green and yellow, and blue and white,the symbolical colors of those two large South Americanrepublics. There was no car whose driver was adornedwith red, the color of Portugal, for that last-namedcountry has no minister to Chile solely (their representativeto Buenos Aires looks after the affairs of Portuguese[238]in Chile), so little Botelho was obliged to take a non-decoratedautomobile which drove him and de Lima to theHotel Oddo, to which place Mr. Alexander and myselfalso went.

The military pageant which continued throughout theensuing week was most impressive. The Chilean army,trained by German officers, and their navy by Britishofficers, are always prepared and on the alert for any infringementson their national rights. Chile is the strongestfighting power in South America, and has the best militaryorganization. Its men are born fighters who have theadvantage of superior training. The whole personnel andequipment of their army can undoubtedly put in the backgroundany country in the world which has a populationdouble that of Chile. The Brazilian and Argentine officersand soldiers taken as a whole show up mighty poorlycompared to those of Chile. Here we have a reproductionof the German army on a small scale. The uniformsare similar to those that Germany had before the lattercountry adapted the gray color. It is interesting to notethat von der Goltz, who reorganized the Turkish armyat the time of the Balkan War, had been once loaned byGermany to Chile to bring its army to a state of efficiency.

Santa Lucia Hill, Santiago

This is a veritable land mountain. It rises abruptly about 200 feet from the floor of the Mapocho Valley, the latter being as flat as a table top.Its area in size of a few city blocks has been transformed into a park. From the summit the vista is superb.

The city of Santiago is compactly and massively builtwithin the small area which constitutes that part of terrainincluded within the city limits. The streets are invariablystraight, forming square and rectangular blocks ofhouses whose average height of two stories forms an evensky line. Although there are several different styles ofarchitecture prevailing in the residences, the old Spanishtype predominating, yet there is a great and unmistakablesimilarity as to the appearance of the streets. The businesssection is a direct contradiction to the residentialpart in so far that it is modern and is becoming more so.[239]Here the buildings are three and four stories in height anda look down either of the streets that are named Ahumadaand Estado leaves an impression of Vienna although it isa concrete instead of a stone one. In several other partsof the city this similarity is present for the long fronts ofdivers beneficial societies and the towers of churches andconvents present a scene very much like that of the Austriancapital.

The population of Santiago is slightly over four hundredthousand. The growth of the city as well as of the othertowns of the central valley is imperceptible. It has beenthis way for ages. There is little immigration to Chile,and that which does come in, goes either to the northernor southern provinces of the republic where labor conditionsare better. With the exception of the businesssection, Santiago is an extremely reserved, conservative,and quiet old place. It can also be called serious. Afternine o'clock at night, even on the Ahumada, all is quiet,a pleasant contrast to the din and racket of Buenos Aires,which murders the darkness, making sleep impossible.There is but little gayety about the Chilean metropolis;the aristocracy of the city, which can boast of the purestwhite blood of any American capital, form a society intowhich a foreigner, no matter how prominent his antecedentsare, is seldom admitted. This dignified aristocracyconstitute the brains of the country and control thepolitics. Prominent in the affairs of state, finance, anddaily doings are the names Vergara, Edwards, Sanfuentes,Subercaseaux, Sotomayor, Balmaceda, Montt, Tocornal,and Luco. Their mansions, the pride of Chile, are notlocated on show places like the Alameda or in what wewould call the fashionable suburbs, but are situated onthose downtown streets which fringe the business section.Their stateliness seems to exhale an air of their own.[241]Excepting Buenos Aires no South American city has asfine a collection of private residences.

General View of Santiago from Santa Lucia Hill

Alameda, Santiago

Calle Huerfanos, Santiago

This is one of the principal side streets of the Chilean metropolis. It crosses the two main streets, Ahumada andEstado, and after these two is the principal retail street of the city

The Avenida de las Delicias, called the Alameda, runseast and west, and divides Santiago into two nearlyequal parts. The quarter of the city lying north of it isthe mercantile part, while that south of it is the residentialdistrict. This broad avenue, which inside the city limitsis two miles long, is in some places at least one hundredyards wide. Its center is a broad unpaved parkway,bordered by ancient trees; its hard dirt walks constitutethe rambla of the inhabitants evenings. At short intervalsare statues, some of them being very fine. Vendors ofcigars, cakes, soft drinks, and magazines have establishedbooths here, and it is a very common sight to see menfreezing ice cream under the trees. The benches are of[243]concrete and are plastered over; when a person with a darksuit sits on one of them he generally departs with a whitedaub on the seat of his trousers. Along both sides of theparkway are wide carriage roads, the paving of which isfull of holes and ruts, making driving uncomfortable. Onthe whole the Alameda falls short of what can be calledbeautiful for although it is flanked by some very handsomeresidences yet between them are sandwiched many second-classshops. This avenue is essential for Santiago forit affords a breathing space for the overpopulated city asthe parks are quite a distance from downtown and the[245]Plaza de Armas is nearly always crowded during the heatof the day. At the western city limits where the name ofthe Alameda changes from that of Avenida de las Deliciasto Avenida Latorre is the large glass-roofed train shed andstation of Alameda, the principal one of Santiago, whenceall passengers for southern Chile depart. Near the easterncity limits the Alameda becomes the Avenida de laProvidencia. It here reaches the muddy Mapocho River,[246]whose southern bank it skirts, and continuing into thecountry enters the defile of its headwaters.

Modern Residence on the Alameda, Santiago

Calle Ejercito Liberador, Santiago

This is one of the main residence streets. The residence on the right is that of DonLuis Tocornal

One of the most curious freaks to be found anywhere isthe Cerro de Santa Lucia which rises abruptly about twohundred feet from the very center of the plain on whichSantiago stands, and is well within the city limits. Thishill has been created into a beautiful park with everyimaginable species of native tree, and has within its confinesgrottoes, groups of rocks, lookout towers, and statues,those of Caupolican and of Valdivia being the best. Nostranger to Santiago should fail to walk to its summit,especially at evening when the sun casts its rays on thehigh Andes in the background. There is a small admissionfee to be paid on entering the park at the Cerro de SantaLucia, but it is well worth it. On the hill is a restaurantcafé which is popular with the public on summer nights,for on its terrace one can take meals out-of-doors.

I was specially fortunate in being able to see the ceremoniespertaining to the installation of the new President,Señor Don Juan Luis Sanfuentes, having obtained anexcellent seat through the kindness of the AmericanAmbassador, Honorable Henry Prather Fletcher. I acquireda reserved seat in the Capitol in close proximityto the whole proceedings. There is no inauguration likein Washington. In a lofty rectangular hall of the Capitol,called the Camara de Diputados, there are arranged,on both sides of a carpeted open space, seats in order,which during the sessions of Congress are occupied bydeputies. These seats on December 23, 1915, were occupiedby their proper holders. In seats of honor nearthe west end of the hall sat the ambassadors, ministers,and attachés of the foreign powers. At the extreme westend was a platform with several arm-chairs. On all foursides of this high room rose balconies, those on the north[247]and south having two tiers while those on the east andwest had one tier. They were packed to overcrowding withthe invited guests of the deputies and statesmen, manyof the occupants of the seats being ladies. At two o'clocksharp there was a sudden hush to the conversations of thosepresent. The ranks at the north door stood aside, andthrough their opening tottered the aged Ramon BarrosLuco in dress suit, the red, white, and blue tricolor of Chilefastened obliquely on his white stiff bosomed shirt. Theapplause was great. Following quickly in his footstepscame several members of his cabinet; all crossed the carpetedroom and seated themselves on the platform.

Fountain in Santiago

The magnificent residence on the left is that of the Subercaseaux family

President Don Juan Luis Sanfuentes of Chile with Cabinet

The applause started again and amidst yells, cheers,and the stamping of hundreds of feet there came throughthe again opened ranks of the crowd at the north door a[249]large, stout, red-faced man past middle age with gray hairand moustache of the same color, Don Juan Luis Sanfuentes,followed by his new cabinet, a mitered archbishop inrobes of purple and red, and several purple-robed bishops.Sanfuentes took his seat on the platform to the right ofLuco. Two short speeches were made by statesmen;Luco then rose and taking off his tricolor handed it toSanfuentes who pinned it on himself and changed seats[250]with the former President. Thus at this transmission ofcommand which takes the place of our presidentialinauguration, Sanfuentes became President of Chile; histerm does not expire until December 23, 1920. Thewhole ceremony lasted less than twenty minutes.

Monument of Don Pedro Montt, Cementerio Jeneral, Santiago

From the Capitol the procession went to the cathedralwhere the archbishop held mass and delivered his blessing,for Chile is still allied to the Roman Catholic Church.There was a great street parade after this ceremony. Iviewed it from a balcony on the Ahumada down whichstreet it marched. It was really very good. HelmetedGerman officers galloped back and forth giving orders,while a cordon of blue-jacketed, white-trousered policemenheld the sidewalk mob back by means of ropesstrung lengthwise the whole block. No procession everlacks something of the ridiculous. It was in evidencethis day. Scarcely had the presidential victoria passedwhen a limousine automobile containing high officialsappeared. To its running board clung a large, middle-aged,drunken monk, his black and white garments tiedtogether by a cord, flowing in the breeze. This hideousspectacle had reached a spot underneath the balconywhere I was standing, when a dignified man wearing a silkhat stepped from the crowd and grabbed the inebriatedfool, dragging him from the running board. A good-sizedcrowd hissed the monk as with staggering steps he betookhimself to the sidelines.

View Looking West on Compañia Street from Estado at the Plaza de Armas, Santiago

The large building prominent in this picture is the Portal Fernans. Its ground floor beneath the arcades is given up tosmall shops and vendors' booths. It faces the south side of the Plaza de Armas, Santiago's most prominent square

With the exception of two military parades which I hadpreviously seen in Europe, that which took place at 6P.M.the next day at the Parque Cousiño in front of the temporarygrandstand and which was reviewed by the Presidentwas the finest that I had ever witnessed. Picture toyourself a large hard dirt oval parade ground, half a milelong by nearly as wide; imagine this oval to be bristling[251]with the lances of cavalry and glittering with the brightlight of polished weapons. Picture in the foreground asmall grandstand of lumber draped with the red, white,and blue Chilean flags; imagine this grandstand filled withbeautiful ladies in gowns of the latest creations, whiskeredgentlemen in silk hats, and army officers in full dress uniform.Behind this scene imagine a forest of pine andeucalyptus above whose dark green crests tower highbrown, barren, snow-capped mountains. This is thescene that unfolded itself to the spectator of that memorablemilitary review.

Cathedral Street, Santiago

This view is looking west from the Plaza de Armas. The edifice with the twin towersis the cathedral; that in the immediate foreground on the right is the city hall; the buildingbeyond it with the clock tower is the post office.

Long before the President drove up in his victoria,the buzzing of airships caused one to look up and[253]there at a height of two thousand feet five of thesemechanical birds were disporting themselves. All hatscame off, and there was a great clapping of hands whenSanfuentes arrived. He drove twice around the paradeground and finally stopped in front of the grandstand.First came in review before him four companies of themilitary school in uniform of light blue coats with whitetrousers and white horsehair high hats; next came innumerableinfantry companies each preceded by a brassband which stood to one side as the columns marched by.The infantry was followed by the artillery which cameby at a gallop, smothering the field in a cloud of dust.This and the cavalry which followed seemed to be the mostadmired by the spectators, judging from the cheers whichgreeted them.

I wish to state that in the choice of Honorable HenryPrather Fletcher, who at the time of this writing is UnitedStates Ambassador to Mexico, he having left Chile in1916, our government should be credited with having madesuch an admirable selection. He is as fine a representativeof man as exists in the diplomatic service of any country.When I was in Chile in 1912, a certain gossiping old woman,the daughter of one of Chile's former presidents, knockedhim to me, and I being a stranger was fool enough tobelieve her. At my first meeting with Mr. Fletcher inDecember, 1915, I at once saw what caliber of man he is,and have felt like kicking myself ever since for believingDoña Anna Swinburne de Jordan. I came to Santiago in1915 absolutely unknown to Mr. Fletcher, and he showedme great kindness in procuring for me admission to thedifferent ceremonies pertinent to the installation of the newPresident besides entertaining me at his own residence.

I met two of his secretaries to the embassy, a Mr.Martin, who seemed to be a fine clean-cut young man, and a[254]fellow named Johnston or Johnson, I being mixed in hissurname because I never took the trouble to recall it.This Johnston was the worst snob that I ever recollectto have met. While I was at the embassy in the presenceof Mr. Fletcher he was extremely cordial and agreeable,and even invited me to dine with him at his club to whichhe was going to procure me a card. The next day Mr.Henry Alexander of Philadelphia and I were walkingalong Bandera Street near the Capitol when we happenedaccidentally to meet Johnston who was approaching usfrom the direction we were walking in. He was dressed ina Prince Albert and a high silk hat crowned his tall, slimfigure. We greeted him but he returned our salutationswith the curtest imitation of a nod possible. I met hima dozen times afterwards by accident, sometimes on thestreet and sometimes at the Grand Hotel where he generallydined at noon. All these times he cut me dead as ifhe had never seen me before. Later I had the next seatto him on the Pullman car on a train but he did not deignto recognize my presence, even though he had been mostaffable in his treatment of me while I was a guest of Mr.Fletcher.

Santiago, although it is a pleasant and agreeable placewith a most benign climate, I am sorry to say is none tooclean nor are its streets well kept up. In the Alamedathere are big holes in the asphalt, and the cobblestoneson the side streets are uneven and out of place. Many ofthe streets are not paved. There are holes in some of thesidewalks where a pedestrian is apt to sprain his ankle,and there is much refuse dirt and filth accumulated alongthe curbs. There are no alleys in the city so the inhabitantsdeposit the swill in iron pails. The garbage mancomes along with his wagon every morning and stoppingin front of every house rings a bell to let the inmates know[255]of his presence so that they can bring out the pails. Onthe poorer lighted side streets inhabitants perform the callsof Nature on the sidewalks, in the middle of the road,and against the sides of the buildings, which besides beingunsanitary causes hideous stenches. There is always a goodcomplement of typhoid fever in the Chilean and Peruviantowns so while on my visit at the time of the presidentialinstallation I warned my servant, O'Brien, to drink mineralwater instead of that of the city supply. The latterevidently interpreted other drinks in the clause for whenI came to settle my bill at the Hotel Oddo, I found thathe had run up a considerable wine bill which necessitatedme to dispense with his services.

The stature of the Santiaguinos is much greater than thatof the inhabitants of Buenos Aires. It is in every respectequal to the North American standard. Theprofanumvulgus are apt to be rough, showing their independence.One observes quite a few red-haired natives, which denotesthat in the course of genealogy one or more of theirmaternal ancestors have been chased by Irishmen. Thewomen outnumber the men and are well formed andcomely, many being beautiful. I prefer the looks of theChilenas to those of any other women in South America.In 1912 in Santiago there were but few Germans and thenumber of foreigners was exceedingly small. In 1916the city was teeming with Germans and they outnumberedall the other foreigners put together. In Valparaisoin 1915 the English and German residents of that porthad a street fight. The tram company was a Germansyndicate and the natives, angered by the car fare rates,which they thought were excessive, sided with the Englishand rose against the Teutonic element. A riot followedin which some windows were broken and there was acertain local sentiment against the Germans which[256]became so strong that it caused an exodus of a great manyof them to Santiago. Also many of the crews of theinterned German merchantmen left their ships and cameto Santiago and other towns of the interior where theyhave established themselves in business, many of themhaving become proprietors of hotels, restaurants, and beersaloons. They have prospered and have taken out citizenshippapers, preferring to remain in Chile than in theirown country.

Mapocho River near Santiago

There was a German immigration to Chile in 1848, andanother one in 1866. Both of these exoduses were dueto the oppression of the military system in the old countryand it is safe to surmise that there will be another suchexodus to Chile at the end of the present war. I have read[257]statements that one quarter of Chile's population is eitherGerman or of direct German extraction. This seems to bean exaggeration, although I believe that one fourth of thepopulation has some German blood.

The Grand Hotel, which is on Calle Huerfanos, not farfrom the main business section is the only first-class hotelin Santiago. It is owned by Emil Kehle, an American.He and his sister have the Hotel Royal in Valparaisowhich is the best hotel in that port. This Grand Hotelwhich is comfortable has good rooms, and board and ishomelike in atmosphere. I liked it so well that in thespring of 1916, I stopped there two months. The Willardparty, which was the family of our ambassador to Spain,and Kermit Roosevelt, arrived in Santiago while I wasthere and likewise stopped at Mr. Kehle's hostelry.

On my trip to Santiago in 1915, I was not aware thatMr. Kehle had a hotel in that city, so I went to the Oddowhere I had previously stayed on a former visit. Therooms in the Oddo were good but I am sorry to say thatthe cuisine and dining room service was execrable. Unkemptand unshaven waiters dropped food from the plattersonto the floor, and clumsily running to serve a guestwould slip in the spilled soup and drop plates of unsavoryand indescribable edibles to the din of broken dishes.For seventy years this hotel had been in existence, thelast twenty-five of them under the proprietorship of theFrench family of Girard. The bung-eyed but accommodatingdaughter told me that on January 3, 1916, this hotelwould close its doors for good. "We are returning toFrance to live as we have worked long enough," she said.Yet, however, when I came back to Santiago in March,1916, they hadn't returned to France and the Oddo wasstill running, though minus its dining room. The otherhotels are the Milan, well spoken of, and the Melossi near[258]the Alameda Station, poorly located as it is too far fromthe center of activity.

The restaurants are fair, that named the Club Santiagobeing good. The Restaurant Niza is fair. It is ownedby a Spaniard who, if the guest does not understand thelocal name of the meat on the menu, will demonstrate onhis own fat physiology that part from which the succulentmorsel is taken. There is a good restaurant in the PalacioUrmaneta. It must be taken under consideration thatladies do not frequent these places unaccompanied for noother reason solely than that it is the custom of the country.They generally take their meals in the hotel diningrooms.

I met a North American university professor in Santiagowho was always kicking because he did not knowenough Spanish to order what he wanted to eat. Hewas stopping at the Oddo and the food there was so vilethat he could not digest it. He was wishing that therewas an American hotel in the city and this being in 1915,and I not knowing that Mr. Kehle had the Grand Hotel,knew of no place where I could recommend him to go.One morning, however, he burst into my room andproffering me a card told me to read it.

"See what I've got," he cried in glee; "a nice-lookingwoman handed it to me on the street."

I took the piece of pasteboard that he so eagerly extendedto me. It was about an inch long and half aswide. The printed inscription on it read: "Pension NorteAmericana" giving street name and number. I turnedto the professor and said: "It reads, North Americanboarding-house with the number of the street."

"Just what I thought," he said. "It's the very thingI want. I certainly would like to be among my fellowcountrymen again, and now that the Oddo is closing its[259]doors, I shall go there at once and inquire about theterms." He did, and immediately upon admittance waspounced upon by four ladies of pleasure.

This is an example of one of the means by which brothelsare touted in Santiago.

The Chilean capital is a rat warren; rodents aboundeverywhere. Most of the buildings being adobe, theseanimals have bored holes all through the walls and haveperforated the foundations. I do not believe that NewOrleans in its rattiest days ever had anywhere near such alarge population of the family Muridæ as Santiago at thepresent time possesses. Lying in bed nights one is keptawake by the patter of their little feet as they run acrossthe corrugated iron roofs mingled with their sharp squeals.Oftentimes looking out of the window at night, their longtails can be seen silhouetted in the moonlight hanging overthe window-tops.

The death rate of Santiago is high, excessively so ininfantile diseases which cause the largest mortality toll.The rate for all Chile is 29.4 per thousand inhabitants,while that of Santiago alone is 36.7. Only one SouthAmerican city of which any record is kept surpasses it inthis negligible respect, that being Lima, Peru, with a deathrate of 51 per thousand inhabitants. Even Guayaquil,notorious for yellow fever and bubonic plague, has a betterrecord than these two last-mentioned cities, which have noyellow fever, and Santiago minus bubonic plague. Typhoidfever is always prevalent in the Chilean capital, butI doubt if it is as malignant as in North America, onaccount of its being so common. This large death rate ismostly among the lower classes who are ignorant and haveno knowledge of sanitation. Longevity is more commonthan in any other South American capital with the possibleexception of Rio de Janeiro which is testimony that if[260]a person survives childhood, a healthy old age is allottedhim.

The cemetery named the Cementerio Jeneral is the largestin Christendom, not in area but in the number of bodiesinterred. It is exceeded in size by only one othercemetery in the world, that one being the Mohammedancemetery in Scutari in Asia across the Bosporus fromConstantinople. In fineness of its monuments it is onlysurpassed by the Campo Santo in Genoa and the Recoletain Buenos Aires. The nature of the Santiago cemeteryis entirely different from these last-mentioned two. It isnot a rivalry between the grave lot owners who shall havethe most expensive allegorical marble sculpture as inGenoa, but is a vast conglomeration of brick tombs,some of them being veritable mausoleums. Here areburied the most famous families of Chile. The Chilenosmake a great deal of ceremony about their dead. A poorfamily will stint itself for years to accumulate enoughlucre to erect a proper sepulchre. It will spend $10,000to build a monument, while for $1000 it could place in theirdwelling a modern sanitary system, which when installedwould do away with the cause that would lead the personto be buried beneath the monument. This cemetery isdivided by straight walks into square blocks; at the intersectionof each of these walks is a cross or a fountain.Cedars, pines, eucalyptus, cypresses, boxwood, and otherfunereal trees abound; there are also beds of brilliantflowers. The tomb of ex-president Don Pedro Montt whodied in Bremen, August, 1910, is here; it is a tall monolithwith a glazed green and brown tile frieze. There is amorgue near the left entrance to the cemetery and thestench of the ripe corpses is decidedly odoriferous.

About ten miles northeast of Santiago on the slopes ofthe Andes are the springs of Apoquindo, visited much by[261]the inhabitants of the capital Sunday afternoons. Thetrip is worth while making once, but that is sufficient, forthe poor condition of the country roads together withthe dust take away much of the pleasure of the drive.The best road leads through the city of Providencia, whichadjoins Santiago on the east and which is so much like acontinuation of the capital that it is impossible to tellwithout looking at a map where the boundary line betweenthe two cities is. At the Avenida Pedro de Valdivia, abroad boulevard on which are magnificent villas and thesummer homes of the wealthy Santiaguinos one turnsto the right and keeps straight ahead until the main streetof Nuñoa is reached. Nuñoa is a town of nine thousandinhabitants, a mixture of wealth and poverty with wellshaded streets, poor shops, and adobe buildings.

Street in Nuñoa, Chile

[262]

A few miles beyond Nuñoa is a roadhouse named theQuinta Roma, which was formerly the mansion of anestanciero but is now the terminus for joy-riders, many ofwhom are to be met with returning to the capital lateafternoons in a highly hilarious condition. To the creditof the Chileno joy-rider, he does not hit up the great speedof his North American brethren; thus there are but fewautomobile accidents. The roadhouse stands in a gardenof flowers well back from the thoroughfare in a nicely keptlawn. Here is a liquid refreshment dispensary where Ihave seen gay youths hoist comely maidens upon the bar,and seated there clink glasses with their standing maleaffinities whose arms encircle their waists to the tune ofpopping corks and the metallic ring of beer caps as thelatter fall to the floor. In the garden behind the bar is abamboo thicket planted in the form of room partitions.It is so dense that no peeker can look through its foliageto observe the love affairs being enacted in these naturalchambers which correspond to the European "separées"or the so-called "private dining rooms" of the NorthAmerican roadhouses.

At Apoquindo there are several soda springs with bathsand a swimming pool all of which are kept in a filthycondition. Like at Cacheuta and at Cauquenes but fewpeople come to take the baths and none to drink thewater. Most everybody congregates at the bar in thehotel across the street—the baths are but the name of anexcuse.[263]

CHAPTER X
BATHS OF CAUQUENES. CHILOÉ ISLAND. LAKE NAHUELHUAPI

In Lady Anne Brassey's nonpareil book,Around theWorld in the Yacht Sunbeam, published by Henry Holt andCompany, New York, 1882, she describes on pages 159-161her visit to the Baths of Cauquenes where she sojournedtwo days, October 23-25, 1876. When I was inChile in 1913, I never heard of these baths and returnedhome ignorant of their existence. In the interim Ithoroughly read Lady Brassey's book and determinedthat if the opportunity ever presented itself that I wouldlikewise visit them. Darwin visited them in 1836.While in Santiago in 1915, on looking at a map, I foundthat there was a city named Cauquenes in the Province ofMaule in south-central Chile, it being the provincial capital.I had made up my mind to go to that place, whenthe bung-eyed girl who managed the Hotel Oddo showedme my error and informed me that the Cauquenes I wasseeking, was not a great distance from Santiago and wasreached by train from Rancagua.

One morning I left the Alameda Station at 9.30 andtwo hours later arrived at Rancagua. The ride wasthrough a fertile country, well tilled and with great vineyards.Only two towns of importance were passed,San Bernardo with 8269 inhabitants which also has street-car[264]connection with Santiago and Buin whose populationis 2713 inhabitants and is the county seat of the Departmentof Maipo in the Province of O'Higgins. The Andeanand wine-producing province of O'Higgins, named inhonor of the father of Chilean independence lies directlysouth of the rather large Province of Santiago, its boundaryline being the Maipo River. Its population is 92,339.

Plaza O'Higgins, Rancagua

Calle Brazil, Rancagua

Rancagua, the provincial capital, is a dirty, odoriferous,dilapidated adobe city of 10,380 people with the outwardappearance of decay. A walk down the main streetwhich is named Brazil belies the general appearance of thetown for its sidewalks throng with peasants from whoseshoulders hang multicolored shawls. Horsemen wearingred ponchos, their spurs clanking, trot down the pebble-pavedstreet that is lined with squalid one-story shops.Although only fifty-four miles south of Santiago, the placeis a good market town; of the numerous shops those thatdeal in dry goods, draperies, and saddles appear to do the[265]most lucrative trade. There is only one respectable appearingspot in the city, and that is the small plaza in the urbancenter which is embellished by a bronze equestrian statueof O'Higgins, his horse trampling a Spaniard. Of theseveral apologies for hotels, none were inviting and ratherthan to eat at one of their restaurants, it is best to gohungry. The only decent place to eat is at the railroadstation. One of the taverns is named "The North American"with a proprietor of our own nationality but itsbusiness is mostly bar trade, catering to the incomingand outgoing trade of the miners at El Teniente Mine.The day I was at Rancagua was Sunday which I was told[266]was the day on which the prisoners of the jail were allowedto receive guests. I imagine that nearly everybody in thetown either had relatives or friends in jail for in front ofthe building which is on the main street a mob had collectedto await admittance.

Street in Rancagua

The inhabitants of the town are tanned dark brown, andalthough strongly built and powerful I noticed severalwho were afflicted with the same malignant blood diseasewhich the Swiss guards imported into France from Italyduring the Middle Ages. I was also surprised to see alittle girl about twelve years old on the street who hadthe leprosy, the only case I have ever seen in Chile.

The Braden Copper Company of North Americanownership has a 2½-foot gauge railroad that runs up totheir copper mine, El Teniente, which is about forty-fivemiles up the Cachapoal River above Rancagua; the Bathsof Cauquenes is one of their stations. This mine which[267]was opened in 1907 now has six hundred employees, manyof whom are from the United States and Canada.

From Rancagua the train ride of an hour and a halffirst crosses the Plain where fat cattle graze in knee highclover, and then skirts along the ledge of the mountainsoverlooking the broad terraces or selvas of the CachapoalRiver, winding around promontories on a roadbed nowider than the coaches; any mishap would be sufficientto send the train rolling down the mountainside killingall the occupants of the cars. The station of Baños,(meaning Baths) is high above the gorge of the river.Across the canyon on a ledge of rocks can be seen thebuildings of the thermal establishment, but before thepedestrian gets there he must walk a good half-mile. Afoot path zigzags to the canyon bottom and an arm of theriver is crossed by a cement bridge to a rocky islet. Anotherbridge, this one a swinging one, suspended above awhirlpool brings one again to terra firma on the left bank.One now ascends another zigzag path to a forest of elm,ash, and locust, the foliage being so thick that the sun'srays never penetrate it. Another suspension bridge whichspans a silvery cascade is reached and beyond it is thehotel, a low, squat adobe building painted red, whosemany rooms open onto two patios.

The name Cauquenes is Araucanian meaningwildpigeon. This bird, theectopistes migratorius, sometimescalled the voyager pigeon or the wood pigeon originallyhad its range from Labrador to the Straits of Magellan.Half a century ago they were numerous in the UnitedStates, but in this country they have been absolutelyexterminated due to their having been killed off by hunters;great numbers which escaped the gun were burned inthe Arkansas forest fires four decades ago. Chile is theonly country on the face of this earth where they still[268]exist, and it is probable that they will continue to livethere as the inhabitants are extremely averse to killingthem, the ignorant classes believing that they bring goodluck and that it is an ill omen to kill them. At the presenttime they are not found in Chile north of Cauquenes;formerly there were great numbers in the vicinity of theCachapoal hence the name of the baths.

Gorge of the Cachapoal at Baños de Cauquenes

The Baths of Cauquenes are situated in the Departmentof Caupolican in the Province of Colchagua on the southor left bank of the Cachapoal River in Latitude 34° 14´ 17´´south and in Longitude 70° 34´ 5´´ west of Greenwich.The altitude of the place above sea level has been a matterof argument. Eight different professors claim its altitudein different figures from 2200 feet which is the lowest andwhich is said by Domeyko to be correct, to 2762 feet whichis the highest and is said by Gillis to be correct. 2490feet which is the altitude claimed by Guessfelt seems to bethe most exact and is the figure accepted by Dr. Louis[269]Darapsky in his book,Mineral Waters of Chile. The seasonfor the baths is from September 15th to May 31st, andin midsummer the place is generally crowded. Describingthe scenery, Don José Victorino Lastarria, an illustriousnewspaper man of Santiago, says:

"I have never seen a more impressing, and at the sametime, a more charming landscape than that of the Baths ofCauquenes, nor have I ever seen in so small a space somany different kinds of views nor such surprising details.Nature has grouped there her most beautiful accidents.In sight of the snowy Andes, here rise in the foregroundrounded hills covered with vegetation; there rise barrenrocks through whose clefts rushes the turbulent Cachapoal.Here are gardens filled with flowers; there are impenetrablethickets. Light and shadows everywhere, colors withoutend, harmony and contrast which reflect or darken therays of the sun."

The temperature is consistent and the variation duringthe day is neither rapid nor extreme although the morningsand evenings are cool and it is warm at midday.Even in the hottest months the heat is not irksome, due tothe fresh breezes which blow down the valley from thecordilleras. In winter there is snow; the cold, however, isnot excessive.

The baths have been known since 1646, and were describedby Padre Ovalle in hisHistory of the Kingdom ofChile. There are three hot springs issuing from theporous and shaly rock, named Pelambre, Solitario, andCorrimiento. Their temperatures are 122°, 113°, and107°6' Fahrenheit respectively. They are walled upand the waters of the first-mentioned two are run bypipes into a swimming tank and into tubs in the thermalestablishment. During their course in the pipes Pelambreloses 3°6' Fahrenheit of its heat and Solitario 5°4'. Their[270]waters more than supply their use so the water of Corrimientois allowed to go to waste. The thermal establishment,though by no means primitive, is rather old-fashioned.I was surprised to see such an attractive place asthe Baños de Cauquenes not made more of for in hotsprings and natural scenery it is the zenith of God'sworks. Man also has done his share well but muchimprovement can be made, all of which requires capital.The natural lay out of the place is a paradise. It issomething like the Cserna Valley in southeastern Hungary,but wilder and grander with also a soft touch ofnature. The hills covered with live oak, laurel, andmesquite resemble those of California, yet are more fertile.A shaded walk leads from the hotel to an artificial lakebordered by fifty-five of the largest eucalyptus trees thatI have ever seen. In its center rising from the waterstand two willows. One is never absent from the swiftlyflowing Cachapoal which murmurs like the Tepl at Carlsbad,only louder.

The baths are supposed to be beneficial in cases of gout,diuretics, rheumatism, anemia, and so forth, although oneof the guests of the hotel evidently came there for relieffor consumption. He was a bearded man about sixtyyears old and he made an unholy spectacle of himself bycoughing and expectorating on the floor of the dining roomwhile the other guests were eating dinner.

When I arrived at the place I was met at the door by ayoung man wearing white duck trousers and a blue double-breastedyachting coat. With the exception of his largeyellow moustache he had a most cherubic countenancewith a smooth, pink, babylike face without a wrinkle orblemish. I afterwards discovered that this cherubic individualhad an inordinately strong passion for whiskey,gin, and beer as well as for any drink which had as a fundamental[271]principle among its ingredients, alcohol. Onseveral trips which I made later to the Baños de Cauquenesin 1916 I became fairly well acquainted with this SeñorHermann Manthey. He had arrived two years previouslyon one of the German merchantmen on which he was asteward. The ship was interned and he struck up-countryto make a living and finally evolved in becoming managerof this hotel, as the proprietor, an old doctor had leased itfor a few years and was too wrapped up in his own privateaffairs and also too lazy to give it his attention. SeñorManthey was doing well on the small salary and largetips he was getting but was not without ambitions. Afew months afterwards I ran across him on a few days'vacation in Santiago, and he then was planning to get theowner to lease the establishment to him upon the expirationof the present lease to the doctor. The hotel with itsgrounds, fine fruit orchard, springs, lake, and six thousandacres of hilly grazing land, across which several rushingstreams of transparent water flow headlong into theCachapoal is owned by a gentleman in Santiago wholeases it out as he has several other large properties. Hewill sell it for eighty thousand dollars which is dirt cheap.Some day I expect to buy it and make it my home.

At the hotel there are horses to let. On one of theseI rode up a narrow valley and discovered that withnothing but mere bridle paths leading to them, and milesfrom the nearest houses, were lonely thatched and adobehuts, the homes of poor people and charcoal burnerssituated in mountain wheat fields or in clearings of a fewacres. All of a sudden while riding I had a sensation as ifthe horse was trying to squat on its haunches. I reachedfor a stick from a nearby limb to put life into it andnearly lost my balance. A noise like distant thunder thatI had already heard twice that afternoon, although the[272]sky was cloudless, was audible, and in all directions stonesand small boulders came rolling down the mountain side.It was a slight earthquake which the natives calltemblorin order to distinguish it from the great ones which theycallterramoto.

In the center of one of the myrtle-carpeted patios atthe hotel is a fountain encircled by an ivy-covered wall.Here evenings bats congregate and flap their wings in thevicinity of the faces of the guests. A party of Canadians,employees of El Teniente Mine, were stopping at theBaths when I was there. They filled up on liquor andmade sleep impossible for the other guests by theirsacrilegious bawling ofOnward Christian Soldiers andother hymns of the Episcopal Church.

On leaving Baños de Cauquenes I decided to take thetwenty-three-mile horseback ride to the station of LosLirios and from there take the train to southern Chile.The country road was very stony; in some places it was amere cart track, while in others it was a broad avenue.During the first part of the ride it windingly followed thesouth bank of the Cachapoal and crossed two streams oftransparent water, each known by the same name, RioClaro. This means Clear River, and evidently the nativesthought that if the name would do for one, it would beappropriate for the other. At every turn of the road asmall freshet was crossed, for out of every cleft or dent ina hill gushed forth a spring. These small streams thepeasants deviated from their courses by turning them intotheir gardens for irrigating purposes. The natives werevery poor all living in adobe hovels with thatched roofs.A few acres of cattle, a dog or two, two acres of cultivatedland, and some pear trees represented all their worldlybelongings; yet they seemed very content. These peasantsas a class were the poorest people that I have ever[273]seen as far as worldly possessions go, yet every one ofthem always had a full meal at dinner time. They atewhat they raised, and where they grew crops they workedthem with infinite care. As they were too poor to buyfertilizer, they worked a new piece of land each year,coming back to the original piece after five years' time,because it had then enriched itself by remaining idle.There were many wheat fields, ripe and yellow, the sixtybushels to an acre kind. Central Chile gets plenty of rainbut as it gets it only in the winter months, irrigation hasto be resorted to in the summer.

Halfway to Los Lirios I arrived at the hamlet ofColihue (mispronounced by the natives Collegua) withits adobe hovels bordering the now broad and extremelydusty road. Everybody in rural Chile travels on horseback,and the people I met riding were many. A manloses caste if he journeys on foot. At Colihue anotherroad turns off to the left to the Lake of Cauquenes in themountains and which teems with fish. The road now leftthe Cachapoal and after skirting some barren hills on theright-hand side for a couple of miles it reaches the settlementof Cauquenes a most queer place. It consists of agreat square compound of dirt which is surrounded on allfour sides by a five-foot-high adobe wall excepting wherethere is a church on the west side and a few open sheds onits east side. An estancia house stood beyond the wall onthe south side and there were some buildings beyond thewall on the north side where the priest and his servantslived. The highroad both entered and left this compoundby openings rent in the adobe wall. It may be possiblethat this place once held a Spanish garrison, and that thecompound was the parade ground, and that the opensheds were former stables. Everybody that I asked knewnothing about the early history of the place.[274]

A broad avenue one mile long bordered by giant planetrees led westward from here. Their foliage was so thickthat it made the road dark, and not seeing my way well Irode my horse onto a pile of bricks, the impact being sogreat that it nearly brought us both down. The roademerged to a pebble river bed, then forded a river, andwound around the sides of some high hills. Everyhorseman in Chile takes a slight upward grade at a gallopand I saw ahead of me a group of horsemen doing thesame; behind us came galloping around the curves sixhorses pulling a carriage. These horses were three abreastand on each outside leader two lackeys were mounted.It was the doctor's wife from the Baños en route to LosLirios where her sister has a post station. Chileansfrequently travel on horseback, accompanied by theirservants who follow a couple of horse lengths behindmounted on inferior animals. When the master stops,the servant likewise does so, but with the same distancebetween the two.

Los Lirios consists only of a small wooden railwaystation, a warehouse, a large open horseshed around a yardfilled with wagons which is the post station, a small store,and a saloon. To this latter place I repaired, after dismounting,to get a glass of water after the hot dusty trip.The building and its stock of goods were poorer than thepoorest backwoods blind pig, and yet for a third-classlicense the congenial and friendly proprietor, who waslikewise barber and plied that trade in an adjacent roomin the same building, had to pay yearly two hundredpesos ($34.12). From the appearance of the shack it didnot look as if he took in that much money a year. Someof the moustached clientele that happened along, I calledup to the bar to have a treat on me. The proprietorbrought forth two goblets, each one being of a quart capacity,[275]and filled them to the brim with red wine which hepoured from a big jar. The contents of one of these gobletssells for 8½ cents, the cheapest wine that I have ever seen.If my surprise was great in seeing men take a quart ofwine for one drink, it was even greater when I saw themdrink it in nearly one gulp and put the goblet back on thebar in anticipation of a duplicate. I treated them twoor three times and never once did they renege. I knowwhat would have happened to me if I had followed suit,yet it seems incredible when I must state that it hadabsolutely no effect on the imbibers. It is inconceivablewhy a man in that part of Chile need ever touch anintoxicant, for the sweet, balmy air and the voluptuousappearance of Chile's maidens are sufficient to intoxicateany normal, healthy man.

An hour after leaving Los Lirios the train arrived atSan Fernando, population 9150, the capital of the Provinceof Colchagua where we had lunch. Colchagua whichhas a population of 159,030 is one of the most productiveprovinces of Chile, but the next two provincessouth of it, Curicó and Talca are not. It is a sorry sightafter having passed through the well-tilled, highly productivecountry ever since leaving Santiago, to comesuddenly upon land that is going to waste on account oflack of settlement. With the exception of the six northernmostprovinces of Chile, Curicó and Talca are to me theleast attractive of any of the republic. South of SanFernando the first town of importance is Curicó, its namemeaning "Black Water" in the language of the aborigines;then are reached Molina, population 4327; Talca, thesixth city of Chile with a population of 42,088 inhabitants,and San Javier in the Province of Linares which has4898 people. This town lies about three miles east ofthe railroad track but is connected to the depot by horse[276]cars and to Villa Alegre, the next town south of it, bytrolley.

The Andean Province of Linares and its southernneighbor Ñuble are very important agriculturally, bothbeing two of the best in the republic. Their crops arediversified, run high in percentage of measure to the hectareand are of good quality. The capital of the Provinceof Linares is the city of Linares with a populationof 11,122. It has good stores and buildings most ofwhich are painted pink. Like in Rancagua the samplesof merchandise on display in the shops are cloth, ponchos,and drygoods. Although but slightly larger thanRancagua it is a much finer town, and even though itsstreets are none too clean they are far superior to thoseof the capital of the Province of O'Higgins. In comparingthe two cities it is fair to say that Rancagua presentsmore activity in street life and in business. There is onehotel which is fair, the Comercio. A peculiarity aboutLinares is that on the streets, especially that one on whichthe railroad station faces, native women are seated infront of portable stoves offering for sale cooked edibleswhich should be eaten on the spot. I saw one man who,when he had finished eating, left the spoon on the tablenear the stove. The woman who owned it licked it dry,and after having wiped it on her undershirt, replacedit in a dish that would be sold to the next customer.The native women have an art peculiar to Linaresand nonexistent anywhere else in the world of weaving acertain delicate fiber into small baskets, jugs, and ornaments.These woven wares are very diminutive and arevaluable only as ornaments and curiosities. They aremulticolored and are in much demand by strangers. It ispossible to buy them in Santiago but at an exorbitant pricefor all that are on sale there are imported from Linares.[277]

A two-and-a-half-foot gauge railroad runs from a stationa block and a half north of the main depot to the springsof Panimávida, two hours distant to the northeast.Having seen those of Cauquenes, in order to augment myeducation along thermal lines, it was up to me to seePanimávida and to especially sample its mineral waters,as its bottled water is the most widely drunk of anymineral water in Chile. It corresponds to White Rockand to Still Rock.

Main Street of Linares

The place Panimávida is nothing. It is just as ifsomebody had erected a big hotel in the middle of anIllinois or a Wisconsin landscape. The attractions areabsolutely nil. There are six practically tasteless lukewarmsprings covered over with glass tops which supplythe popular table water of Chile. These springs are theproperty of the Sociedad Vinos de Santiago (SantiagoWine Company), and as that stock company is wellcapitalized the Panimávida waters are well advertisedby them. As people like to dilute their wine with seltzer,this company has installed a carbonizing plant here,[278]which changes the still water into a sparkling one. Theplant with hotel is leased to a man named Hernandez, afine, fat, young fellow with a flowing beard. He is agood and accommodating hotel man and gets the trade,even having his runners meet the trains at Linares.Panimávida is an excellent old-maids' paradise. Underthe shady roof of the patio porch they can sit, gossip, andknit. The proverbial parrot is present and a black catcould be easily imported. President Sanfuentes arrivedduring my visit to rest up after the strenuous strainconnected with his installation. It was an ideal placefor this with nothing to distract his attention except thebroad meadows and the corrugated-iron, yellow-paintedCatholic chapel.

Panimávida

Said His Excellency to me: "What Chile needs ispopulation. Here we have thousands upon thousands ofacres of the richest land in the world lying idle, becausethere is nobody to cultivate it. Until we have theproper number of inhabitants there is no use to cultivatethese lands, because Chile produces four times more of anabundance of fruit than she can consume. You see how[279]cheap fruit and wine is; there is an over production.Every year a million tons go to waste because there isno market. She cannot export them because the UnitedStates and Argentina are nearer to the European marketsand the freight rates would eat up the profits. As thereis a great demand for grain, people have gone more andmore into the growing of cereals but as yet this industryis in its infancy. It should be encouraged for now thereis grown just enough wheat to meet the internal demand."

"Supposing," I asked, "that Chile had four times morepopulation than she now has, would she not have toimport her wheat?"

"Never," he replied, "as there are here millions ofhectares of the best wheat lands in the world that can bebought for a song. They are now lying idle. Somethinghas to take the place of the timber of the southern provinces.When it is gone it will have to be cereals."

"I believe," he continued, "in encouraging a largeimmigration, chiefly from the northern countries—theUnited States, Germany, Scandinavia, and Great Britain.Their inhabitants have more initiative than the Latinsand intermarried with the natives make a strong blood.Our people and those of all the Latin countries exceptingthe Frenchmen lack initiative and that is what we need.The Chilenos are content to live as they have lived fordecades, which is all very well but it is unprogressive.Thanks to the British we now have a fairly large merchantmarine; to the Germans is due the credit of theprosperous condition of the southern provinces. Theonly drawback to the foreigners here is that they run toomuch to cliques. They should scatter more. We shouldalso have more capital to start factories, but I do not believein, nor shall I encourage, any industry that will reapthe profits here to spend outside of the country."[280]

A couple of hours south of Panimávida are the springsof Quinamávida. They are said to be equally as goodas those of Panimávida, but the hotel there is poorlymanaged and there is a lack of capital to well advertiseits waters.

On the return to Linares something went wrong withthe locomotive, which in appearance was similar to thedinky engines one sees in the lumber plants at home usedin hauling lumber through the yards. A priest on thetrain who had a mechanical turn of mind got out of thecar, and jumping into the engine cab soon had the locomotivein running order, much to the amazement of thetrain crew.

Southward from Linares the main line of the railroadpasses through Parral, population 10,047, San Carlos,population 8499, Chillán, and Bulnes, population 3689.San Carlos is famous for its melons and Bulnes is likewiseso for its wines. At San Rosendo, 315 miles south ofSantiago, the train crosses a branch of the Bio-Bio River,which is named the Rio Claro in want of another name andAraucania is entered.

By the name Araucania is known that part of Chilebounded on the north by the Bio-Bio River and on thesouth by the Calle-Calle River. Its eastern limit is thepeaks of the Andes and its western one is the Pacific Ocean.In area it is about the size of the State of Maine andcomprises the provinces of Arauco, Malleco, Cautin, andportions of those of Bio-Bio and Valdivia. The Spaniardsalways spoke of this region as thefrontera, meaning frontier,and so to-day all Chile lying south of the Bio-Bio isspoken thus of.

The original inhabitants of this country, the AraucanianIndians were the bravest and most warlike of anyof the South American tribes, and it was not until 1883[281]that they were finally subdued after 340 years of warfare.Caupólican, Lautaro, and Colo-Colo, their great warriorshave been immortalized in the poem "La Araucana" byAlonso de Ercilla. The Araucanians have intermarriedso much with the whites that their race is fast becomingextinct although their facial characteristics and figuresare prevalent in a multitude of South Chileans. Theirpolitical organization was as follows:

A large geographical division was called anaillarehue.These aillarehues were divided into nine smaller parts,each part being named arehue. Ruling over each rehuewere twotoquis or caciques who were responsible to thetwogulmens who ruled over the aillarehues. One gulmenruled in wartime, the other in times of peace. So alsowith each toqui. The office of toqui was hereditary andmany became famous through warfare or by their wealth,for example Colipí, Mariluán, Catrileo, and HuincaPinoleví.

The Araucanians had no gods with anything definiteattributed to them, nor did they have temples and idols,but they were exceptionally superstitious. Their principalgod was Pillan, god of thunder, light, and destruction.He lived in the highest peaks of the Andes and inthe volcanos. Dependent upon him were the Huécuvus,malignant spirits. Epunamun was the god of war. Theyalso practised the cult of stone worship. Their mostsuperstitious ceremony was Machitun or cure of the sick.The Araucanian does not believe that a man should dieunless he is killed in battle, and when he dies a naturaldeath through old age or sickness they believe that someof their own people inimicable to the deceased caused himto die. In order to discover the malefactor, they consulta witch doctor, generally an old hag named amachi.After having indulged in a number of ridiculous contortions[282]and jumps she names the supposedly guilty party.Without any further ceremony they pounce on him andamidst a great drunken orgy and libations ofchicha (anative intoxicant) dedicated to Pillan they torture theinnocent victim to death. When a man dies they generallyperform a post-mortem examination upon the corpseto endeavor to extract the poison from it which causeddeath. The burial takes place with great lamentationand imbibitions of oceans of chicha to the tune of a lugubriousmusical instrument somewhat like a drum andnamed atrutruca. They believe in an everlasting futuredevoted to earthly pleasures. They formerly believedthat the deceased came to life again and dwelt on theisland of Mocha off the coast, but they changed theirthought when they discovered that the Spanish piratesformerly used that island as their base for excursions onthe mainland. Marriage among the Araucanians has forsome time past been a true compact, the father of the bridehaving to give his consent. It is not necessary for anyother members of the family to be consulted, but it oftenhappens that after the marriage has taken place, fightsarise between the groom and the brothers-in-law whoobjected, several parties being severely wounded in theseaffrays. The plight of woman is miserable; she is practicallya slave and the husband enjoys the fruits of herlabor. Polygamy exists among them.

Bridge over the Malleco River at Collipulli

South of the Bio-Bio the landscape changes nearlyentirely. The flat, cultivated plains of the river pocketswhich form the great central valley now give place to rollinghills intersected by small streams which lie deep incanyons spanned by bridges. At first there are evidencesof viticulture on the side hills but these soon disappearas well as the trees, which now only are seen near the riverbeds. This absolutely treeless country of rounded hills[283]swelters in the hot sun as it beats down upon the infinitemiles of yellow wheat fields. In the villages frame housestake the place of adobe ones. There are numerous smalllumber yards and sawmills which bear testimony that inthe distant mountains there is still timber. Occasionallya deserted sawmill is passed which shows that the lumbermenare in the same fix as those at home, namely that anew location must be found.

At Santa Fé, the junction of a branch railway that runsto Los Angeles, of typhoid-fever fame, and the capital ofthe Province of Bio-Bio, a curious incident happened. Acoffin had been taken off an incoming train to be put in ourbaggage car. Coffins in Chile are kite shaped and are notplaced in boxes when transported. The top is not nailedbut is fitted into a groove. I stood a couple of yards awaywatching the train crew lift this coffin into the baggagecar. They had to lift it slantingly as some baggage stoodin the way. Suddenly the train gave a jolt causing oneof the baggage men to lose his footing. Since there wasnobody now at the head of the coffin it fell onto the platform,the lid came off, and the malodorous and semi-decomposedcadaver rolled on top of the baggage man whoemitted awful shrieks and howls. The two other menhelping him immediately took to their heels. Womenscreamed, men ran, natives crossed themselves, and Germanslaughed. The pinned-down baggage man howlinglyextricated himself from beneath the corpse and made allhaste to jump on the train which had now started, leavingthe lich on the platform since nobody would go near it.

At Renaico where there is a large frame depot andrestaurant, a branch line runs southwest to Angol, capitalof the Province of Malleco and continues to Traiguén. AtCollipulli, meaning "Red Earth" which has 3005 inhabitants,the train crosses the great viaduct over the Malleco[285]River which lies deep at our feet, bordered by a dark fringeof oaks. This is the most beautiful vale in Chile. Theclear, narrow, foaming river is a refreshing sight. A richman has built a villa on the rise of ground overlookingthe stream which gives the scenery a touch of the Rhein.

The landscape now changes again. Oak, laurel, andlingue appear, at first scattered, then in groves, and laterin forests, while everywhere possible in clearings are oatfields, the grain just turning color. The farther south wego the greener the grain is, until we reach Victoria, population9840, where the grain has not begun to change color.Every three years the farmers cut off the branches from thelaurels; these they scatter over their fields and set fire to.Among the ashes they drag the grain into the ground forby this procedure they are supposed to harvest bettercrops. Land here is worth eighty dollars an acre. Thelandscape is decidedly like that of our Northern States,and the climate is much the same as that of Oregon andWashington. At dusk Lautaro in the Province of Cautinwas reached. This town has a population of 5968 and isnamed after Valdivia's Araucanian horse boy who murderedhim and as tradition says ate him. As I mentionedbefore all the towns that we passed through south of theBio-Bio are built of wood, but up to here their roofs wereof tile, with a few exceptions of corrugated iron, tin, andshingles. The tile roofs now entirely disappear and theirplace is taken by those of shingles or slabs of lumber. Thehouses are unpainted and as to external appearances areveritable hovels. They resemble those dilapidated structuresof the nigger villages in our Gulf States. Manytowns resemble the one-time lumber settlements of theupper peninsula of Michigan.

On the train I became acquainted with the ReverendSteerer, a divine of the Church of England who had[286]resided for twenty-six years in Temuco and who gave mevaluable information about the country. He had justreturned from a trip to the mountains at the request of theBritish Consul in Concepcion who had sent him there toinquire into the mystery surrounding the murder of anEnglishman who was stabbed to death in bed by somenatives who wanted the money he had on him.

At Temuco the Cautin River is reached. The countryaround here has had a troubled history in the wars betweenthe Araucanians and the whites. One of the anecdotesis that on July 31, 1849, the barkJoven Daniel ran intosome rocks near the mouth of the river and was shipwrecked.The cacique Curin lived near the spot and withthe help of his tribesmen they saved the lives of the crewand passengers together with the cargo which was givento them out of gratitude. In the cargo was liquor whichthey immediately attacked. Under its influence theymurdered every survivor except an eighteen-year-old girl,Elisa Bravo of Valparaiso, whom Curin selected to be oneof his wives. She was betrothed to a Ramón Bañados ofValparaiso. His family immediately took up the matterwith the government which immediately got into actionto chastise the Araucanians. Dissentions had in themeantime arisen among the Indians, and two caciques,Loncomilla and Huaquinpan took the side of the whites.The Araucanians were beaten but no trace of Elisa Bravowas ever found as it was supposed that Curin married herand took her to a place of safety.

Another incident happened in 1861. A French adventurernamed Aurelie de Tournes proclaimed himselfKing of Araucania under the title of Orelie I. He promisedto free the Indians from the Chilean rule and hadthe ability to get the aid of several caciques and quite alarge following. In a battle he was taken prisoner; he[287]was tried for menacing public safety and would likely havebeen executed if it had not been for the intercession of themembers of the French colony in Santiago, and of a judgewho has previously declared him to be insane.

Street in Temuco

Temuco is the capital of the Province of Cautin and isthe geographical capital of Araucania. It is the largestcity of Chile south of the Bio-Bio and has a populationof 29,557, ranking ninth in the republic. It is 422 milessouth of Santiago, and owes its origin to a fort whichwas built here in 1881. In recent years its growth[288]has been rapid. The city is situated west of the mainlineof the longitudinal railroad, and is the junction for abranch line that runs to the town of Imperial. There is aconsiderable English colony which has a church and twoschools, but like all over in southern Chile, the Teutonicelement outnumbers all the rest of foreigners in a ratio often to one. The business is mostly in the hands of theGermans as can be seen by the names over the stores.Somebody with a Yiddish streak must have strolled infrom somewhere because I noticed the sign of BenjaminGoldenberg over the door of a second-hand clothing shop.The city is a long-strung-out place of frame unpaintedbuildings presenting a most unattractive appearance; onlyin the center of the town one gets away from these eyesoresfor there brick and cement structures abound,especially in the neighborhood of the Plaza Anibal Pinto.The principal streets, Jeneral Bulnes, Arturo Prat, andseveral others are well paved with cobblestones over whichhorse cars rattle in the long ride to the railroad station.Driving from this station to the town the hotel omnibusesrace each other much to the fright of the uninitiatedstranger. Temuco boasts of an excellent hotel, the Central,owned by a large, fat German named Finsterbusch,whose facial adornment is a big aureate moustache.Like most of the Chilean hotels owned by Germans theplace is clean, the beer good, and the cuisine excellent.

The 109-mile train ride from Temuco to Valdivia ismade in four and a quarter hours through a countryentirely different from any that is passed through fromSantiago to this point. The low mountains come in suchclose proximity to the railroad track that one is piercedby a tunnel. They are heavily timbered with trees ofgood saw-log size, laurel and oak abounding. The onlyplace of importance on the stretch is the sawmill town of[289]Loncoche. The valley bottoms are impenetrable junglesof vines, bushes, thorns, and berry plants which reach aheight of about twenty-five feet. It took the pioneers amonth to traverse ten miles of this wilderness whosebottom is soggy muck, the average day's penetrationbeing but one third of a mile. Antilhue is the junctionfor trains running south. The Calle-Calle River is crossedand its south bank is followed into Valdivia through afragrant country covered with scarlet wild fuchsias, honeysuckles,snapdragons, and morning-glories. On all sides arethe green mountains covered with primeval forests.

Plaza de la Republica, Valdivia

Valdivia has had its share of the world's vicissitudes andcalamities. It was founded in 1552 by Pedro de Valdiviaand was abandoned in 1554 on account of the attacks on itby the Araucanians who captured its founder and put himto death by torture. It was destroyed by an earthquakein 1575, and when rebuilt was sacked by Elias Harckmans,a Dutchman who fortified it. In 1645 the Dutch were[290]worsted in a fight with the troops of the Peruvian viceroy,the Marquis de Mancera who drove them out. Therewas another earthquake in 1737 which again destroyedthe place. Rebuilt, it was burned in 1748. In 1837 athird earthquake destroyed it. Since then it has burneddown three times, in 1840, in 1885, and in 1911, the lastone being an especially bad fire, wiping out the entire city.Thus it has been destroyed by earthquakes three times andburned four times.

It is beautifully situated on the south bank of the Calle-Callewhich is navigable for small boats. The city isuninteresting as it is absolutely modern. In character itis German, for it is the leading German center in Chile.No other language is heard spoken on the main streets.The natives who slightly outnumber the Teutons and alsospeak German are to be found mostly on the back streets;they are employed by the Germans in the different industries.The population of Valdivia which is the tenth cityin Chile is 24,743.

When one alights at the railroad station, it is better totake a launch to the city to the tune of sixty centavos(10 cents) than by the more arduous and long trip by cabover rough plank pavements. These launches owned by aman named Oettinger give the stranger a pleasant ridedown the river and disembark him at a new cement quaynear the center of the city from which place boys carry thegrips to the various hotels. One is immediately impressedby the cleanliness of the cobble stone-paved streets of thebusiness section and by the handsome though inexpensivestructures. It is by far the cleanest city in Chile. Withthe exception of the buildings on the streets near thePlaza de la Republica, which are of cement construction,all the other buildings are of frame or corrugated iron, orof both, but painted freshly over. The side streets are[291]paved with wooden planks, and in some places withwooden beams, six by sixes. The main industry is brewing.The colossal brewery named Compañia CerveceriaValdivia, formerly that of Anwandter Brothers, one of thelargest in Chile, looms up majestically on the water frontacross the narrow river opposite the landing quay. Thestorerooms for this amber and nut-brown beverage areon the city side of the river at the dock. The best hotelin Valdivia is the Carlos Bussenius, named after the hostwho in appearance could pass as a twin brother of Finsterbuschin Temuco.

Calle-Calle River at Valdivia, Showing Flour Mills

A pleasant trip from Valdivia is the two hours' ride downthe river to Corral but another and far grander is that toLake Riñihue and across the mountains to the wretchedhamlet of San Martin de los Andes in the greatly overratedsouthern part of Argentina known as Patagonia.

Street in Valdivia

I left Valdivia about the middle of an afternoon and gotoff the train an hour and a half later at the station of[292]Collilelfu where I put up for the night at a wooden shackwith a tin roof which was an apology for a hotel. Earlythe next morning I arose to catch the seven-thirty trainfor Huidif, the railroad terminus of the branch line whichwill in time be continued to Lake Riñihue. The ride of anhour only brought the train to its destination where thepassengers alighted to change into carriages which coverthe six remaining miles to the lake in three quarters of thetime. The whole landscape is rolling and is semiforested,and as the lake is approached vast marshes abounding inwild fowl are traversed. Lake Riñihue is about fifteenmiles long by four miles broad and is a favorite summer[293]resort for the inhabitants of Valdivia. The landscape isbeautified by vistas of the snow-capped volcanos, Choshuencoand Mocho.

Riñihue Landscape, Southern Chile

The seventy-five-mile trip to Osorno from Valdivia consumesfour hours and lies through a smiling farmingcountry with villages, farms, and soils characteristic tothose of the best part of Wisconsin. It was duskwhen I arrived at Osorno, metropolis of the Provinceof Llanquihue. The city has a population of about12,000 and is 601 miles south of Santiago. A daily trainmakes the entire distance in 25 hours and 40 minutes, asleeper being attached to the train as far as Renaico.Osorno is a miserable-looking place of frame buildingsbuilt close together as is the custom in all the towns of[294]southern Chile where lumber plays the main rôle in theerection of edifices; but few of the houses and stores arepainted. Valdivia is the only place in this section of thecountry where the inhabitants take enough pride in theappearance of their town to give the houses a fresh coat ofpaint. I was told by Bussenius to go to a German hotelwhich had just been opened by a former chef of one ofthe interned Kosmos Line steamers. I did not go there,however, because Americans do not stand in good reputewith the Germans and Chilenos of German descent insouthern Chile. Although the United States was not atwar with Germany at the time of my visit, nevertheless theTeutonic inhabitants of that section took pains to showtheir dislike of North Americans. Although I was subjectedto no personal discourtesy at either Temuco or Valdivia,but on the contrary was treated well, I was obligedto listen to much tirade against the United States andthe inhabitants of our country in general. The Germanswere angered because North American firms were supplyingthe Entente with munitions of war and it was a currenttopic of conversation among them that the United Stateswas afraid to declare war upon Germany, saying that if itdid so there would be an uprising there against its Governmentby the great number of Germans and Americans ofGerman extraction. They anticipated a Bürgerkrieg orCivil War in the United States if the latter joined sideswith Great Britain.

As there were a couple of spruce-looking runners at therailway station for the Hotel Royal, a native hostelry, Igave them my grips and was driven through the unprepossessingstreets of the city. The cab eventually stopped infront of a building that has the outward appearance of a certainlarge residence on the outskirts of Ashland, Wisconsin,where lumberjacks and sailors were wont to congregate[295]after pay days and sojourn until their savings were gone.I was wondering whether this establishment was of thesame nature. Fortunately it turned out to be a very goodand comfortable hotel, absolutely Chilean. Osorno hasseveral other hotels, all German. Osorno has moreTeutons in proportion to its size than any city in Chile.In numbers, Valdivia has a larger German population, butthe ratio is smaller for Valdivia is the larger place. Three-quartersof Osorno's population is German, their numbershere being in excess of nine thousand. In southern Chilewhere most of the hotel-keepers are German, the inns allhave the Gastzimmer or Bürgerzimmer as in Germany,where the merchants and clerks assemble nights to discussnews and the events of the day over large schupers ofhealth-giving beer. A non-trust brewery has recentlybeen inaugurated in Osorno by a man named Aubel andhis wet goods certainly hit the right spot when partaken of.Outside of his brewery there is no manufacturing in thetown excepting the large flour mill of Williamson andBalfour. Both these enterprises were born in 1914.

Osorno

While standing on the plaza one night listening to themilitary band, all at once was heard the pealing of bellsand booming of gongs. Everybody started to run in alldirections and not knowing what was taking place, thinkingit was either an earthquake or a revolution, I followedsuit and hid behind a maple tree. This scare turned outto be a fire alarm. The whole crowd now raced and toredown a street that leads across the railroad track, and Ipresently saw by the blaze that the fire was of no smallimportance. Slipping up to my room I took my valuablesfrom my valise, and putting them in my pocket joined thecrowd. Above the din of conversations, orders from thepolice, and the noise from the fire pumps, could be heardthe agonizing screams of four victims that were being[297]burned to death at the windows of the second story of adwelling. They were caught like rats in a trap whileasleep, and when aid came they were beyond all mortalhelp. The policemen standing in the road with drawnsabers suddenly ordered the crowd to run for their lives,which they did in all directions. An intonation like thesound of a cannon boomed, followed by two or threesharper reports. Impossible for the firemen to stop thefire which was spreading to all the neighboring closelypacked frame dwellings, the police had started dynamiting.This last process which was successful claimed anothervictim and blinded another person. I saw the remainsof the dynamite victim; what remained of him resembled apudding. No vestige of either teeth or bones was foundof the four persons who perished in the fire and whose heart-rendingscreams are now ringing in my ears.

Scenery on the Railroad Between Osorno and Puerto Montt

All the small towns of southern Chile have flour millsand grain elevators; throughout the countryside on thefarms and in the towns are seen tall block houses, reminiscenses[298]of the days of Indian warfare. From Osorno therailroad continues ninety-three miles southward to PuertoMontt, the terminus of the longitudinal railroad southward.Puerto Montt, with 5408 inhabitants, is the capitalof the Province of Llanquihue. It lies on the north endof Reloncaví Bay, 694 miles south of Santiago, and is anuninteresting modern frame town, inhabited mainly byGermans. When a southeaster blows the breakers beatwith terrific force against the docks.

Small vessels belonging to a local navigation firm plythrice weekly between Puerto Montt and Ancud, the capitalof the Province and the Island of Chiloé which lieseighty miles to the southwest on the extreme northernend of the Chiloé archipelago, on the Bay of Ancud.Large ships of the Compañia Sud-Americana de Vapores,generally known as the Chilean Line, also make bothPuerto Montt and Ancud weekly, while those of intermediatesize sail from Puerto Montt and make all the smallports on the Gulf of Corcovado en route to Punta Arenas.At eight o'clock in the morning following the day that Iarrived in Puerto Montt, I boarded the steamerChacaoin a blinding downpour of rain with a ticket for Ancudwhich cost about $1.20 in the equivalent of our currency.The sea was not rough but was rather choppy, while therain prevented the passengers from remaining on deck.Unfortunately the clouds hung too low to permit me toget a good view of the mainland. The islands of Maillenand Guar were skirted and three hours out we anchored offthe port of Calbuco, county seat of the Department ofCarelmapu in the Province of Llanquihue. This town issituated on a peninsula at the south end of the Bay ofReloncaví and from the steamer deck resembled thelumber villages of Puget Sound. It is connected withPuerto Montt by a rough wagon road and there is talk of[299]extending the railroad here, although I can see no reasonfor its necessity, excepting that the harbor at Calbuco issheltered while that of Puerto Montt is not. The difficultiesof engineering and the cost of construction, I imagine,would never make it pay. Shortly after leavingCalbuco we entered the Gulf of Ancud and after skirtingthe south end of Llanquihue entered the narrow roadsteadof Chacao, and arrived at the hamlet of that name abouttwo o'clock in the afternoon. Chacao was founded in1567 and until about fifty years ago was the principal portof Chiloé when it was practically deserted in favor ofAncud whose growth at that time had been rapid, andwhich owing to its being a port on the Pacific Ocean wasfast getting the commerce.

Ancud was reached about four o'clock in the afternoonafter a trip that consumed eight hours. It lies at thesouth end of the bay of the same name, an indentation ofthe ocean, and is protected from the dreaded southeastersby a mountainous headland named Lacui. The bay isfilling up so fast with mud which is washed into it by therains, that vessels of large draught have to anchor from oneto two miles out. Our ship anchored about half a mileout and we were transferred to terra firma by gasolinelaunches. The village has 3424 inhabitants and is a dirtysettlement smelling of dried fish, built on the side of a hill.It is the seat of a bishopric, the frame cathedral being thebest building in the town. There is absolutely nothingto do in the place which for amusement has but one movingpicture theater. Numbers of mixed bloods and Indiansare in evidence seemingly outnumbering the whites, manyof the latter being Germans.

Chiloé has an area of 8593 square miles, being larger thanthe State of Massachusetts; its population is slightly inexcess of eighty thousand inhabitants many of whom are[300]Indians. These Indians are not warlike like the Araucaniansnor are their physiques as good. Their numbers areon the decrease owing to alcoholism and to diseases whichalways follow in the wake of the advent of the white men.A continuation of the Coast Range, the Cordillera dePinchué runs the extreme length of Chiloé from north tosouth, its summits from 1500 to 2000 feet in altitude beingnear the Pacific Coast which is inhospitable and has noharbors. The east coast of the island, separated bythe thirty-five-mile-wide Gulfs of Ancud and Corcovadoabounds in good harbors and it is here that the settlementsare. These gulfs teem with small mountainous islands,most of them being uninhabited.

A railroad runs southward from Ancud sixty-five milesto Castro, the distance being made in four hours. Thereare no towns on the route but numerous stops are made atsmall settlements such as Quichitue, Puntra, Quildico, andDalcahue. Midway between Ancud and Castro are thePuntra and Putalcura River valleys of great fertility.Here are many farmhouses with fields of green oats andwith pastures of clover in which feed droves of cattle andswine. Hides are one of the chief exports of the island.Where there are no clearings the forests are primevaland are beautiful in their green coloring. It is a drippingforest of moisture with lianas, giant ferns, purple andcrimson fuchsias, and species of orchids. The bark of thetree trunks and of the windfalls are covered with inch-deepmoss. The density of the woods and the exuberanceof plant growth is the nearest approach to a tropical forestimaginable in a temperate zone for the whole island ofChiloé lies south of Latitude 42° South.

Indian Belles, Chiloé Island, Chile

Next to Ancud, the most important place on the islandis Castro which was the capital until 1834. It is the oldesttown on Chiloé and here the Spaniards made their last[301]stand. It is a well-built village of 1243 inhabitants, situatedon the west side of the long and narrow Putemun Bay,and is well sheltered from the winds by the ten-mile-distantmountains to the west. It consists of several parallelstreets running lengthwise along the bay. A wagonroad runs southeastward from here about thirty miles tothe settlement of Ahoni. I only remained a few hours inCastro because there arrived in the afternoon a steamerfrom Punta Arenas on its way to Puerto Montt. Itsroute lay through the channel which separates the largeisland of Lemui from Chiloé, and then took a courseeastward between several islands and rounded CapeChegian at the southeastern extremity of Quinchao Island.This last mentioned island is about twenty miles long andis very narrow excepting at its northwestern end where itbroadens out, and is separated from Chiloé by the Straitof Quinchao. It and an archipelago of smaller islandsform a political department of which the town of Achao,where we anchored at dusk, is the county seat. Achao hasa population of 1571 inhabitants and has taken away muchof Castro's former trade. It is a long-strung-out fishingvillage on the side of a hill, the forest on which comes downto the water's edge. Shortly after leaving Achao, the shipsailed westward to Chiloé again and stopped at Dalcahueon the Strait of Quinchao. Dalcahue has a road leadingto a three-miles-distant railroad station on the Ancud-Castroline. During the night, Quincavi was touched atand after a steam through the Gulf of Ancud and the Bayof Reloncaví, Puerto Montt was again reached at 11A.M.It was a nice clear morning and the snow-capped Andeson the unexplored mainland were resplendent in sunlitbrilliancy.

On the mainland southeast of the Island of Chiloé isChile's largest river, the Palena. It rises from Lake[303]General Paz, whose waters are traversed by the internationalboundary line of Argentina and Chile; it flowsnorthward through western Patagonia and bending to thewest after a course of about thirty miles finally emptiesitself into the Gulf of Corcovado. North of the Palenaand at its source, separated from it by a low range of hillsin Patagonia, is the Futaleufu River whose origin is in theArgentine Valley of the 16th of October. It flows westwardthrough the Andes into Lake Yelcho which in turnempties into the Yelcho River. This river finds itsway into the Gulf of Corcovado south of the QuinchaoArchipelago.

The person who visits Chile and returns home withouthaving seen the Llanquihue lake region has made his tripin vain. Here is a country as grand as Switzerland,which although its mountains are not quite so high, theyseem higher and are better for vistas for the valleys arelower. Moreover the snow line is here lower. In Switzerlandone gets the best views of the giant peaks fromaltitudes of valley bottoms that are themselves six thousandfeet and over above sea level; here one gets the sameview from low-lying rivers and lakes which makes the sheerabruptness grander. There are no great thick forests inSwitzerland which are here omnipresent, garbing themountain sides from the barren, snow-capped peaks downto the very water's edge. This Llanquihue country isbeginning to become popular with excursionists and itwill not be long before it will be one of the world's famousplaygrounds.

Twenty-one miles north of Puerto Montt on the railroadto Osorno is the large triangular Lake Llanquihue,much indented with bays and coves on its western shore.Its breadth is over thirty miles, and it is the largest freshwaterlake in Chile. Its outlet is the Maullin River which[304]flows in a southwesterly direction into the ocean to thenorth of the Bay of Ancud. The scenery in the neighborhoodof the lake is most charming. The west and northshores is a rolling country much of which is cleared intofarms, well kept up and showing a high degree of prosperity.From the south shore rises a steep incline taperingtowards the top into the conical snow-capped volcano,Calbuco, whose lower reaches are embowered in forests ofhardwood. Many small streams rush from its sides andpour into the lake. At the eastern extremity rises themighty, majestic dome of the volcano, Osorno, rising8645 feet, nearly perpendicularly from the clear waters.

Lake Todos Santos from Petrohué

Puerto Varas at the southwestern end of the lake is thesummer resort where the travellers leave the train. It isa clean little village of frame houses in the heart of a countryrenowned for its frutillas, or diminutive wild strawberrywhich grows here in abundance, and whose name[305]should not be confounded withfresas, which is the namefor the strawberry of larger size which we are acquaintedwith. The whole region is a German settlement, and thisis especially true at Puerto Varas where scarcely anybodyof any other nationality is seen excepting some of thelaborers. The Bellavista is the best hotel. It is a clean,comfortable house where the proprietor is a professionallandscape photographer. Transportation of passengersto San Carlos de Bariloche in Argentina is effected thriceweekly during the summer season and once a week theremainder of the year. A little steamer belonging to theSouth Andes Transportation Company leaves PuertoVaras at 8A.M., and after a four hours' steam across theplacid waters of Lake Llanquihue brings one at Ensenadaat the base of Mount Osorno in time for luncheon. Hereone now has the choice of a carriage or horseback ride tothe twelve-mile-distant Lake of Todos Santos (All Saints).This short journey crosses a saddle of the divide betweenLake Llanquihue and the valley of the Petrohué River, ofwhich Lake Todos Santos and its tributaries are its source.This ride is over a road which in wet seasons is poor andfull of ruts but is decidedly charming on account of thedarkness of the forest which comes down to both sides of it.The Petrohué River of unsurpassing beauty winds in agorge between the high Santo Domingo Mountain andthe Calbuco Volcano, and empties itself into the fiordlike Reloncaví River. Behind a mountain chain to thewest of which Calbuco is the culminating pinnacle, is thelarge and beautiful Lake Chapo, nearly inaccessible owingto the steepness of the mountain sides which have to beclimbed first in order to get a view of it.

Puella

At Petrochué which is reached at 3P.M. there is nothingbut a dock from which one embarks on another smallsteamer that takes one in four hours more to Puella at the[306]eastern end of Todos Santos Lake. The lake is long andnarrow with several arms running like the legs of a spiderup into the pockets of the mountains which are formed astheir sides dip to unite with one another. The verdure ofthe forests is dark and primeval, while the water itself isdark blue with barely a ripple on its surface. The appearanceof the entire landscape is somber and mysterious. Asmall round island, named Isla de las Cabras, rises precipitouslyin woodland glory from the center of the lake.Ever present in the distance are snow-crowned domes,those of Osorno and Santo Domingo behind us to the west,while in front of us rises the awe-inspiring rugged peak ofEl Tronador (the Thunderer) white in its icy altitude ofglaciers. At Puella is a primitive hotel where the travellerstops for the night. This place is at the very foot of the[307]Thunderer, so named from the loud intonations caused bythe glaciers breaking off at their edges and falling withroars into the ravines. El Tronador is 11,278 feet high;its summit is only ten miles from the deep-lying lake.Thus one can imagine its great perpendicular steepness.This continues downward for an infinite depth in the lake,whose banks are so sheer in many places that it is impossibleto obtain a foothold. The bottom of Todos SantosLake has never been found although it is believed toexceed a thousand feet in depth. The water made bymountain springs and eternal snows is so cold that swimmingis impossible. About a third of a mile from thehotel at Puella is a large waterfall, while at frequent intervalsthroughout the sublime landscape are numerous fallsand cascades.

Taking an early start from Puella, one arrives by carriageor mules in two and a half hours' time at Casa-Pangue,a small frame chalet where are stationed the Chileancustom-house officers. From here to the internationalboundary at the top of the divide is an ascent of abouttwo thousand feet, the road lying through a thick forest.It takes two hours to reach the summit where there is aniron post with a sign on one side of which is the word Chilewhile on the other side is Argentina. The divide is coveredwith snow from May till September which on thehillsides reaches a great depth. Not far from the internationalboundary marker on the descent is a crudewooden cross, which denotes the burial place of workmenwho died in a snowstorm while constructing the road.

About halfway down the descent one suddenly perceivesthrough the thick foliage the turquoise blue of Lake Frio.This lake fed by the torrential Frio River derives its namefrom the frigidity of its waters whose origin is the glacieron the east slopes of El Tronador. A launch is waiting at[308]a pier to ferry passengers across it which takes abouttwenty minutes. A road follows the left bank of the lake,but it is not passable for carriages; it is used now for freightonly. Rounded rails lie on it parallel to each other andover them pass the concave surfaces of bullock carts. Allpassengers were formerly transported this way. A coupleof miles beyond Lake Frio the western extremity of LakeNahuel Huapi, Argentina's largest lake is reached at thehamlet of Puerto Blest by means of a mule-back ride.

El Tronador, Chile

As seen from Casa-Pangue

Puerto Blest consists only of a dock and a frame buildingwhich is the rest house for travelers and which isowned by the South Andes Transportation Company.[309]Here one stops for the night to continue on the followingmorning the four-hours' steamer trip to the thirty-mile-distantArgentine town of San Carlos de Bariloche. LakeNahuel Huapi is over fifty miles long by seven miles wideat its broadest place, and is very irregular in shape, havingmany antennæ or arms which reach into the mountaindepressions. In its center is a large island whose propername is Victoria Island. It is long, wooded, and mountainousand comprises about ten thousand acres. The Chileanscall it Menendez Island after the wealthy family ofMenendez whose seat is in Punta Arenas, and who formerlyowned much property across the Chilean frontiernot far from the lake. The Argentine government made apresent of this island to a Señor Anchorena of BuenosAires upon condition that in ten years time he wouldexpend on it for improvements eighty-eight thousanddollars which was the amount that they considered itworth. His own idea, which he has carried out, was tomake Victoria Island a private game reservation and tothis end he has imported wild animals from the north ofEurope which have here thrived and propagated. Itabounds in deer, huanacos, and pheasants, but so far hehas not improved it commercially.

The farther eastward that one goes on Lake NahuelHuapi, the less beautiful and interesting the scenerybecomes. The mountains become lower, rockier, and moretreeless, until the trees become stunted and finally disappearso that the eastern end of the lake instead of havingthe beautiful sylvan nature that was omnipresent in Chilehas now the sterile aspect of the west end of the Argentinapampa with barren mountains and plains of dried grass.San Carlos de Bariloche is a lonesome, God-forsaken villageof about five hundred inhabitants on the south shoreof the lake. On the wide semblance of a street are rough[310]brick, adobe, and frame buildings with two churches, aparochial school, a bank, and a government office. Theinn which goes by the name of Hotel Perito-Moreno is asmuch a disgrace to a hostelry as San Carlos de Barilocheis to the name town. The paper was falling off the wallsand the broken windowpanes were repaired by havingnewspapers pasted over the apertures. Straw mattresseswith blankets, which I imagine teemed with vermin, tookthe place of regular beds, while the food was so execrablethat it was nauseating. As the place is rarely visited byanybody excepting cattle-buyers, it is not supposed to beup to date.

The inhabitants of wind-swept San Carlos, however,are not complaining. They have passed that stage andhave resigned themselves to face whatever misery mightpresent itself to them. There is talk of the SouthernRailroad continuing from Neuquen to make the town itsterminus. This would effect another Transadine routeand open up the country to civilization. Not far fromSan Carlos de Bariloche the Prince of Schaumburg-Lippehas an eighty-thousand-acre ranch. It is said that hebought this to make his home on in case he should bedeposed in Germany. For manager he has Baron vonBülow, the nephew of the former Chancellor of the GermanEmpire.[311]

San Carlos de Bariloche

[312]

CHAPTER XI
CHILLÁN. ASCENT OF VOLCANO CHILLÁN

While in Santiago in 1915 I met at the Hotel Oddo, aSeñor Hugo Gumprecht who was a guest there. He is aGerman by birth, but in his youth emigrated to Australiawhere he married, became a naturalized British subject,and lived there for some time. He then went to SouthAfrica and at the time of the Boer War enlisted in theBritish Army, became an officer, and received the VictoriaCross. When the war was over he went to Argentina andin the village of General Alvear in the Province of Mendoza,started a hardware store. Here he became naturalizedas a citizen of the Argentine Republic and lived thereup to a few days previous to my meeting him. Businesshad become dull in Argentina and as he is an experiencedengineer he went to Chile to see if there was an openingfor him there in his line, in the meantime leaving his familyin Argentina until he would establish himself. He is aneducated man about forty-eight years old, is comfortablywell off, and in appearance is a double of Lloyd George, orrather looks like the pictures of Lloyd George that weretaken ten years ago. When I returned to Santiago in1916, Gumprecht was still in Santiago but living in a privatehouse. As he had not yet found anything to hisliking, he was about to make some trips to different partsof the republic to see what there was doing. I intended[313]visiting the baths of Chillán out of curiosity and invitedhim to join me, which he did. I have never yet found aperson that I have cared more to travel with than withhim.

One morning we left Santiago and eleven hours laterfound ourselves in the 253-miles-distant Ñuble metropolis.Owing to an excess of traffic the train was two hours late.From the train in the afternoon we saw the irregular peakof the volcano Yeguas, 11,885 feet high, in the LinaresAndes on the eastern horizon; soon afterwards appeared inthe hazy background the volcano Chillán, 9438 feet high,whose whole conical contour is perpetually covered withsnow. Seen at the setting of the autumn sun the centralvalley of Chile presents a view so pastorally charmingthat its replica is difficult to be conjured by the imagination.Broad fields of melons, intermingled with vineyardsand separated from each other by rows of Lombardypoplars and blackberry hedges, decked the valley floor.On the western horizon rises a chain of hills, which occasionallyhas an outcrop in the form of an isolated mountain.The sun, which had just sunk behind them, made the skysaffron, as its rays, invisible behind the western peaks,played upon the snowy summits of the Andes to theeast.

The crowd on the platform at the covered train shed ofthe Chillán station is the most animated to be found at anyrailroad station in Chile with the possible exception of thatat Llai-Llai. Landscape gardeners have endeavored toenhance the depot approach by planting cedar treesin square holes in the middle of the sidewalk. Thesetrees have attained the growth of three feet. Leavingthe depot, Gumprecht was walking on my left. Presentlyhe uttered an oath and upon my looking around I was justin time to see his carcass take a plunge and land on his[314]belly in front of the astonished crowd. When he pickedhimself up, he said:

"I felt something rise between my legs and I jumped,but it was thisverdammter tree."

Plaza O'Higgins, Chillán

Chillán is the capital of the Province of Ñuble, andhas a population of 39,113, being the seventh city ofChile. Next to Santiago and Talca it is the largest cityin the central valley. It would be larger than Talca if ittook in its suburb, Chillán Viejo. But although a paucityof manufacturing is done, it owes its existence as a markettown to its being the center of an agricultural districtto which it is the distributing point. There are but fewforeigners, unlike the towns farther south, so that the cityis essentially Chilean and here native life and customscan be seen and studied at their best. There are severalspecialties of home-made manufacture that owe theirorigin to Chillán, preëminent among which are untannedleather accoutrements and caparisons for the equine and[315]muline genera, such as bridles, whips, and spur leathers.Chillán pottery is famous throughout the republic. It isblack, thin, and brittle, and is invariably adorned withscroll work of pink, lemon, or white. Last in importanceis the charcoal fan, woven by natives from corn husks.The brewery of Julius Jenson is not large enough to play arôle in the financial equilibrium of the place for its proprietorbrews but an ordinary beer for local trade.

Calle Roble, Chillán, Looking East from Calle Arauco

Although the city has no electrified street car system, itshorse cars are a duplicate of the Santiago and Valparaisotrolley cars. They have double decks, the top beingreserved for those who prefer to travel second class. Inother means of transit there is nothing to boast of. Thehacks are antiquated, closed black wooden boxes, whilethe saddle horses at the livery stables are of the antediluvianvariety.

The main streets are well paved with cobblestones, butthe side ones are poorly paved with small smooth stones,very distressing to walk upon with thin-soled shoes. Thebuildings are well built and red brick is more common than[316]in the cities farther north. However, there are in Chillánframe houses, which in the neighborhood of Santiago areconspicuous by their absence. There are several plazas,but the principal one, O'Higgins, is the best, and in myestimation is the loveliest in Chile. It has no grassysward but its great trees give a delightful umbrage that isrefreshing during the heat of a summer day. In this respectit is not unlike the Plaza Pringles in San Luis, Argentina.A military band plays here thrice weekly at nightand it is then a treat for tired eyes to watch from a benchthe procession of well-formed girls in the latest creationspass by in review on theircorso around the octagonal park.

Street in Chillán

The market place, paved with pebbles, is a broad area,bustling with life. Nearly every known variety of vegetableis represented, and of such a quality that I knownowhere else where they are excelled unless it is at themarket at Belgrade, Servia. Chillán is the greatest onionmart in South America, and here are seen cartloads of thatnerve-soothing vegetable heaped on the ground. Manymarketeers come to town Sunday afternoon and sleep that[317]night in their stalls so as to be alert with their wares andproduce at daybreak on Monday, on which day the placeis thronged. On the fringe of the area are canvas booths.Here sit toothless hags and buxom virgins offering for saleat fabulously low prices, quirts, riatas, hobbles, spur-straps,and other leathern productions of their deft fingers.

Market Place, Chillán

Regarding hotels, Chillán has some good ones, butunless the prospective lodger telegraphs beforehand, he islikely to find shelter beneath a shade tree for the roomsare in constant demand. This speaks well of the city. Inthe summer the natural trade is augmented by the touristsen route to and en retour from the Termas de Chillán (Bathsof Chillán), a watering place, who spend a night or two inthe Ñuble metropolis in transit. At the exit of the old-fashionedrailway station, a runner meets the strangerand touts for the Hotel Central, a large new building, ablock from the center of the city.

I prefer the Hotel de France and believe it is the best[318]in the central valley. Its proprietor, Monsieur PierreHeguy, is the super-bantam cock. This handsome littleman with his coal-black beard trimmed to a goatee meetsyou at the door with a smile and a bow. "Voilà, monsieur,"he says, and with a stately sweeping gesture hestands aside to allow you to inspect the best hotel bedroomin Chile. His single-story hotel is of frame and adobe."But what does that matter?" he inquires and thenconcludes: "In case of fire or earthquake it is muchsafer than the stupendous Hotel Central. Moreover, dowater colors and oil paintings of landscapes adorn thewalls of the bedrooms at the Central the same as in theHotel de France? Have the Jews at the Central anyknowledge of liqueurs and champagne?Sapristi, no!"and then he spat.

My bedroom on the street corner was grand and largeenough to house the august presence of an emperor and for itI paid the equivalent of $3.40 a day, which included meals.The carpet was of the old-fashioned kind with pink roseswhose replicas are only found to-day in the farmhousesand in the old residences of the country towns whosefurnishing dates back two generations. The massivewooden washstand with mirror, chest of drawers, and thebedstand were all crowned with marble slabs. The bedwas a four-poster and the "crazy quilt" was that ofbygone days. The same bed that I occupied probablyonce creaked under the weight of Lady Brassey's expatriatedfigure when she visited Chillán, having left the yachtSunbeam at Talcahuano.

The cuisine is perfect and the liquid refreshments are ofthe finest quality. Monsieur Heguy is a connoisseur ofthose substances which tickle the palate. He does notindulge in liquid refreshment. He did so when I firstmade his acquaintance in 1913 but had to quit as it was[319]injuring his health. At the time of my previous acquaintancewith him he would drink everything on the bill offare as long as somebody else was paying for it, but henever treated when it came his turn.

One night while I was at the Hotel de France there wasa temblor or slight earthquake. I was awakened froma sound sleep a quarter of an hour before midnight by anoise at my door as if somebody was trying to break intomy room. Lighting a candle I saw that the key tag wasrattling. I yelled out, "Who's there?" and opened thedoor but saw nobody. I jumped back into the bed againbut no sooner had I done so than I saw a streak of lightunderneath the door to my right, and I heard through theopen transom of the door that opened onto the patio thepatter of feet as they crossed the tiled walk and the voiceof the young Englishwoman who occupied the adjoiningroom talking to her brother and brother-in-law whoseroom adjoined mine on the left.

"I think the man next door" (meaning me) "is tryingto enter my room," she said.

"Really, Mary, you don't say so," I heard a male voicereply.

"What do you think he would do to me if he entered myroom?" asked Mary.

"I am sure I do not know," the male voice replied.

"Do you think he would murder me?"

"Hardly that," was the reply. There was a continuanceof the conversation which I could not distinctly understand,then the same voice continued: "Take thisrevolver, and if you hear any further disturbance, shootthrough his door."

Now this was a pretty pickle. My bed was in range ofa revolver shot. I thought that some sneak thief had triedto get into both bedrooms and had tried her door as well as[320]mine. Mary had supposed that it was I who wanted toenter her room. It happened that Mary was not goodenough looking for me to have any such designs towardsher. She was slim and angular, highly colored andcommonplace, with a pointed nose and little eyes like thoseof a pig. I moved my bed out of revolver range and wentto bed again. The next morning there was considerableexcitement in the town about the temblor, for it was thisthat caused the rattling noise at the doors. I approachedMary and her male relatives while they were sitting in thepatio, and telling them that I heard their conversation ofthe previous night, roundly upbraided them for theirconduct, but like most unmannered persons they weretoo ill-bred to apologize.

Besides the Plaza O'Higgins, another beautiful one isthat named Victoria or Santo Aldea. It is not well keptup because the irrigation ditch which runs along the sideof an adjacent street often overflows and causes the walksof the plaza to receive a deluge.

An interesting excursion on foot is a visit to the less thana league distant suburb of Chillán Viejo (Old Chillán).This foul village of five thousand inhabitants was theoriginal city before the earthquake of 1833 which causedthe survivors of the catastrophe to build on the presenttownsite. There was an Indian settlement here before theadvent of the Spaniards. The name of their cacique wasChiquillanes, from which the name Chillán is derived. AtLas Toscas Creek at the southern city limits of Chillánthe broad Avenida O'Higgins, which is no more than adusty turnpike, leads in a southwesterly direction to anothercreek, that of Paso Hondo, on whose filthy banksrepose adobe reconstructions of the original town. Thisplace on the whole is the most poverty-stricken andsqualid town that I have ever visited, although in this[321]respect and in filth, it cannot compare with certain sectionsand suburbs of stately Santiago. It is nine blockswide with an average of ten blocks long, has narrowstreets paved with sharp stones on which face tumbledownadobe hovels. Its inhabitants are drunken, and manypossess loathsome sores on their faces. The odors risingfrom the decaying matter thrown from the house doors,the swarms of flies, and the full-bellied whippets basking inthe sun-baked offal make a person ask, "Can such thingsbe possible?" In those parts of the town where suchpleasantries are in the minimum, the air is redolent withthe fragrant odor of rats.

Yet Chillán Viejo is a place of reverence in the hearts ofloyal and patriotic Chilenos, for in this old town was bornthe father of Chilean independence, Bernardo O'Higgins,who with the aid of San Martin broke the Spanish dominionin Chile. A school has been built where stood hishouse, but a room of the old building has been preservedwith some of his furniture and keepsakes. A marbletablet on the wall of the school has the following inscriptionwhich translated into English reads:

"This house entombs a sublime echo, the whining of alittle child which was transformed into the yells of victoryat Chacabuco and Maipo.

"Here was born the father of our Independence, DonBernardo O'Higgins, August 20, 1778.

"Chileans, honor his memory!

"Strangers, remember our history!"

In the center of the dusty ill-kept plaza of the town,abundant with giant ash and pepper trees, is anothermemorial to this hero in the form of a bust on a pedestalerected by a loving populace. Let it be known thatBernard O'Higgins was one of the most unselfish andlovable characters in military history. Born of Irish[322]parentage in the squalid village of Chillán Viejo, he donatedhis whole career for the welfare of his country.After whipping the Spaniards he was made SupremeDictator. Unlike most other dictators he was not vaingloriousnor was he personally ambitious for power orwealth.

The church on the plaza of Chillán Viejo is said to be285 years old.

Scene at the Station at Pinto

The Province of Ñuble, of which Chillán is the capital,has an area of 3407 square miles and a population of166,245, being the fifth in Chile as to the number of itsinhabitants. Its eastern part is mountainous and verysparsely settled, the great bulk of its population livingin the highly cultivated central valley. Its level landsare a fine rich country given up to the growing of cereals,principally wheat, and to all the vegetables known to thetemperate zone. There are also many vineyards.

The Baths of Chillán, as those hot springs are known, arefifty-seven miles east of the city Chillán at the headwatersof Renegado Creek on the slopes of the volcano Chillán,[323]5850 feet above sea level. One leaves Chillán at 5.30A.M.and rides for two hours on a light railway which runs in asort of a semicircle eastward to the station of Pinto, adistance of but twenty-two miles. At Coihueco, six milesbefore reaching Pinto, the farmers are building a mutualrailway which will be a branch of the narrow gauge, thegovernment furnishing the rails. This is being done sothat the farmers may get their crops into Chillán. Pintois a large village lying about a league south of the railroadstation of the same name across the Chillán River.

Post Station at La Dehesa

Harvesting Scene at La Dehesa

At Pinto passengers change from the train into carriagesand are driven to the three-miles-distant post stationof La Dehesa, where one can either continue optionallyby a seven-hour carriage drive to Las Termas (The Baths)or by a continuation of the light railway to the hamlet ofResinto and thence by carriage four hours to Las Termas.The round trip by carriage costs $11.05; by train it is$1.36 extra. I went by train which took nearly four hours[324]on account of the presence on board of two inspectorswho had the locomotive stop every few minutes to giveinstructions to construction gangs; from Resinto I went toLas Termas by coach. The railroad followed the northbank of the Chillán River until the station of Esperanzawas reached where a fine view of the smoking volcanoahead of us was to be had; it then crossed the river andwound along a precipice up the west bank of the RenegadoCreek, which lay below us in a forest of oak. I rode on aflat car which by means of hay wire was coupled to the boxwhich served as the train coach. Resinto, formerly namedPosada, on account of the former saloon and rest house(which in Spanish isposada), is the present terminus of thelight railway although it is being continued so that in this[325]year (1918) it is expected that it will be opened to trafficas far as the corral of Las Trancas. The carriage road isvery rough, stony, and steep, and in some places extremelydangerous where it winds around promontories. For thefirst few miles after leaving Resinto it follows the creekbed; at a ranch house where guides are to be obtained formountain excursions, a trail leads off to the south, which ifone follows it for a day and a half will bring the travelerinto Argentina over the Buraico Pass. It is only advisableto cross the divide on mule back on account of the steepness.From the boundary a few days' ride will bring oneto the wretched God-forsaken Patagonian settlement ofChos Malal, in the Argentine Territory of Neuquen.

Mountain in the Renegado Canyon, Chile

This mountain has its double in the Martinswand, near Zirl, in Tirol

The first stage of the drive is monotonous although thescenery is good. There are a few scattered ranch housesin openings in the oak woods; the country could scarcelybe called a forest, nor is it an open country. Mountains[326]come down abruptly to the canyon and one of them is adouble of the Martinswand near Zirl in Tirol. The wholetrip is dusty in summer, which is the only season in which itis possible to visit Las Termas. After leaving Las Trancas,the station where the five horses are changed, andfrom which is seen a silvery waterfall several hundred feethigh, the road enters the primeval forest of oak, elm, andlaurel, decidedly beautiful, and then winds up the coolbut dusty glen of the Renegado, which is fed by numeroustrout streams. The roaring of many cascades and waterfallsis heard, the double one of The Lions, an hour's ridebefore Las Termas is reached, being the most beautiful.

Corral of Las Trancas

The springs, bathing establishment, and hotel known asthe Termas de Chillán are at the highest limit of the treeline. They are owned by the municipality of Chillán, andat the present time are leased to a Basque, MonsieurBernard Paguéguy, the French consul at Chillán, for thesum of $12,240 for the season of four months, which is at[327]the rate of $3060 a month. In order to make a profitPaguéguy runs a gambling establishment in conjunctionwith the hostelry. People are not desired as guests whohave no lust for the green baize. Baccarat, petits chevaux,and slot machines operate at full swing regardless ofthe strict anti-gambling laws of the country. A policemanrecently lost $204, his whole worldly possessions, andhad to borrow $17.50 to get away. While I was at LasTermas a man dropped $2040 in one evening which thoughnot much to lose at either Montevideo or at Mar delPlata is a fortune to lose in Chile.

Forest in the Province of Ñuble, Chile

At Las Termas there is a main building and about thirtyhuts calledcasuchas, where lodgers roomen famille.There are stables and a long barrack where the peonslive. The bathhouses are about a quarter of a mile upthe ravine.

The main building is of stone and is three stories high infront and two stories high in the rear as it is built on the[328]slope of the hill. Besides the dining room and the coffeeroom, it has a barber shop, telegraph office, doctor's office,and rooms for guests. To one side is the administrationoffice, bar, two gambling rooms, writing room, and kitchen.The ladies congregate evenings in a well-furnished hutwhich has for furniture red cloth covered chairs, a sofa, anda pianoforte.

Scene on the Road to Termas de Chillán

The casuchas all have at least three connecting roomsand are preferable to the main building. There has beenconsiderable criticism in the Chillán newspapers about thetreatment of the peons at the barrack. These poor people,afflicted with rheumatism and other ailments, and too poorto afford to pay the regular price for food and lodging, walkto Las Termas or come a whole family in an ox-cart or onmule back. They tether their animals in the woods orturn them loose in a corral. They bring their own foodand bedclothing with them and pay eighty-five cents aday for the privilege of shelter. Sometimes a hundred ofthem are jammed nondescriptly into the dirty barrackwhich serves as a dining room, kitchen, and bedroom fordirty and diseased humanity of both sexes. Some of[329]these poor fellows are seen nightly sleeping hunched up onthe floor against the walls of the buildings near the kitchenand huddled close against one another for warmth, for thenights are apt to be frightfully cold. They are unwelcometo the host because they do not gamble.

Termas de Chillán

A steep climb takes one to the bathing establishment.These are two houses, one for a steam bath and the otherfor a tub bath. The price of an ordinary bath is seventeencents, but there are some private tub baths where itcosts double. The waters are iron, manganese, sulphur,mercury, and potassium, such a variety as these beinghard to find in so small a radius. Although the waters aregood for rheumatism and gastric troubles they are supposed[330]to cure syphilis as effectively as salvarsan. Manyguests were here for this last-named ailment, althoughthey showed no visible outward signs. An acquaintance,a doctor from Rancagua, was constantly urging me to takea mineral bath, which I refused at first to do as I thoughtit best to let well enough alone. By mountain climbingI soon got so dirty that I was obliged to indulge in one forthe sake of cleanliness. As I passed with a towel over myarm by the tennis court where a match was in progress infront of a crowd of lady spectators, the doctor saw me.With a roar that temporarily stopped the game and whichmade me the cynosure of all eyes, he bellowed:

"Ha! Ha! Stephens is going to take a bath, althoughhe advises against it."

"Yes, doctor," I answered, "I am taking a bath forcleanliness sake. Fortunately I am not afflicted with——"

"Syphilis," roared the doctor, cutting me short, whichbrought screams of mirth from the spectators, more thanhalf of whom were ladies. I was going to terminate my[331]sentence with "any malady" but the doctor did not giveme time.

Casuchas at Termas de Chillán

On the mountain above the bathhouses are some mudvolcanoes and steam spouts named fumiroles, but theycannot compare with those of the Yellowstone.

On the day of my arrival, I had not been more than tenminutes at the hotel when an Englishman and a Frenchmanapproached me and said that they intended makingthe ascent of the volcano Chillán the next day, and havingheard that Gumprecht and I intended doing the samething thought that it would be best to arrange a party asthere was but one guide at the establishment. I said thatI would decide later on and let them know. I did notrelish the appearance of the Frenchman, who had a toughface, and would have preferred to make the ascent withouthis company, so I went to Monsieur Paguéguy, thelessee and administrator, and asked him if there weremore guides than one. He told me that there were several.This settled the question, for I would not be obliged then tomake the ascent in company with the "butters in."

"Why do you not wish to go with the two gentlemen?"inquired Paguéguy.

"I am not accustomed to forming acquaintances withstrangers who force themselves upon me," I answered."Moreover that Frenchman has a bad look. He looksas if he would kill a man for a five-peso (87½ c.) note."

"Sacré! Sacré!" yelled Paguéguy, "he is my brother.Sacré! Sacré!"

The administrator raved around like a madman. Itold him that it made no difference whether it was hisbrother or not, and that the proper thing for him to havedone would have been for him to have introduced himselfin the first place; that the Termas had a bad reputationfor being a rendezvous for card sharps, and that since his[332]brother had the appearance of one, how was I to know thedifference?

Paguéguy told his brother and the Englishman about it.They caught me alone that evening and tried to pick aquarrel with me. The odds were against me for theEnglishman was much larger than I, and the Frenchmanwas also a strong, powerfully built man. The loud altercationattracted the attention of Gumprecht and a Barcelonafriend of mine named Florencio Prat, who both camerunning up. The tables were now turned in my favor, somy two antagonists prudently walked away.

"I think they mean to make trouble; let's follow themand hear what they say?" suggested Prat.

The duo walked to a casucha and after entering it closedthe door. We three walked around the building andgetting below an open window did some necessary eavesdropping.It was well that we did so for we heard themplanning to catch one of us alone and give the prospectivevictim a beating up. It was now time to show our teeth,which we did. Without knocking we entered the casuchamuch to the astonishment of the duo and told them that ifthey tried any funny business we would shoot them likedogs regardless of the consequences, and for them to mindtheir own business as we intended minding ours, otherwisesomething would happen. We also showed them ourrevolvers. Nothing more developed.

Mr. Henry Stephens

Mr. Hugo Gumprecht

When Gumprecht, Prat, and myself left early the nextmorning to make the ascent of the volcano Chillán wetook as a guide a native named Savedra. The hotelservants lied to us, telling us that there was no water to behad en route and that we had better take along plenty ofliquid refreshments. This is their old trick of trying to sella lot of beer and whiskey. When Gumprecht told thehead-waiter to put in two drinks of whiskey for himself,[333]the knight of the apron put in twelve. I saw it and did notlike the idea for I thought that Gumprecht really hadordered twelve shots of whiskey and was going to go on adrunk on top of the volcano, which could cause a mishap.As neither Prat nor myself drink whiskey and since I wouldnot permit Savedra to drink any, I was horrified at Gumprecht,for the amount of spiritus frumenti exceeded aquart. I approached him and said:

"What in hell are you going to drink those twelve shotsof whiskey for? I think it's a bad scheme."

"I only ordered two drinks," he replied.

"The waiter put in twelve."

"Impossible."

"It's the truth," I replied.

A search of Savedra's saddlebag testified to my statement.The head-waiter was brought.

"I thought you ordered twelve drinks," he said. Spanishfor twelve is "doce" and for two is "dos," the pronunciationbeing near enough for a man to misunderstandpurposely. The head-waiter did this trick.[335]

View towards the Argentine Frontier from the Slopes of Volcano Chillán

We left the hotel on horseback and for the first fewkilometers it was the steepest climb that I have ever madeon the back of an animal. The narrow path zigzagged upthe nose of a mountain, exceedingly dangerous, and as mybeast had an English saddle, I several times slid off ontohis rump while making the ascent. I did not know that itwas possible for horses to climb like that, and I thoughtthat I had previously been in very steep places inCalifornia.

Glacier Covered with Fresh Snow on the Volcano

After riding some distance we came to a small glacier,and dismounted to cross a creek at its mouth. Thehorses were panting, puffing, and sweating but when wecame to the creek Savedra let them drink all they wantedof the cold ice water. This astonished me, but he saidthat they were used to it. This glacier was cavernous forthe stream flowed out of a hole at its mouth. Soon anotherglacier was reached, this one fairly long, which we crossed[336]and then came out upon a lava field. We had to dismountbefore coming to the lava field and feel our way, for somefresh snow had fallen on the glacier, which was in someplaces up to the horses' bellies. From the lava field we gotour first good view of the volcano summit. It was severalmiles off in front of us up a direct steep ascent over glaciers,snow fields, lava, and ashes. It was in eruption andwas making a terrible noise. A great column of whitesmoke rose to half a kilometer high until the air currentscaused it to be borne horizontally away in white cloudpatches. I was frightened and expressed my thoughtsthat we were near enough to the crater.

"It is nothing," said Savedra.

"I am afraid of nothing," said Prat.

A league-wide glacier stretched in front of us; we crossedit, keeping near the edge of some lava fields. Three longcrevasses crossed the glacier, one of which was dangerousso we dismounted and jumped it, holding the horses by thebridle to let them jump it. Prat's horse was the onlyanimal that jumped it without either falling with its forefeet or hind feet into it. My beast fared the worst and Ithought that it was a "goner." The crevasse seemed bottomlessand to extend to infinity. The glare of the sun onthe fresh snow was terrific and caused us all to have sore eyeswhich lasted several days not to mention that our faceswere burned so much that the skin peeled off. The skyappeared to be indigo instead of azure. Since leaving thelava fields there had been several volcanic eruptions offive minutes' duration, each one louder as we approached.I had now become used to them and was no longer afraid.

Rim of the Crater of Volcano Chillán During Eruption

Snow Fields of Volcano Chillán

Looking in any direction the scene was enough to imbueany mortal with a wholesome fear of God. Grand is notthe word for the description; it was superlatively wild,lonesome, and awful. It is nearly impossible to realize[337]the terrible loneliness and awesomeness of the great peaksof the Andes, uninhabited by man or beast or bird whichmark the boundary between Central Chile and NorthernPatagonia, their great snow-clad serrated or conicalsummits towering thousands of feet into the cloudlessether. The terrible view makes a man feel his insignificance.I have been to the top of Misti, Ararat, andMont Blanc, the first mentioned two having an altitudedouble that of Chillán, but from their summits the view isincomparable with that seen from the mountain on whoseslopes I now was. To the southeast probably fifty milesas a crow flies rose the conical snow-capped extinct volcanoof San José, and beyond it the precipitous anvil top oftwenty thousand feet high Quemazones (Burnt Places)inaccessible, both lying in Argentina.

Early that morning a certain Carlos Michaelis fromPunta Arenas had left the Termas on foot for the summitof the volcano, so after we had gazed with astonishmentupon the awe inspiring works of Nature just described, weturned our attention to the higher slopes of Chillán to seeif we could see him, for up to now we had seen no sign ofhim. We finally saw a black spot high up on a snow-fieldwhich with binoculars proved to be a man. He was ploddingupward through the thick snow laboriously, and atevery few steps he would stop.

The glacier now became so steep that the slighteststumble of one of the horses could have easily sent us rollinghundreds of feet down its icy slopes to eternity. We hadto dismount twice again and feel our way on account of thedeep snow before we reached the final lava field whereequestrian ambulation had to cease.

From the Slopes of Volcano Chillán

Savedra, Gumprecht, and Prat on Lava Fields of Volcano Chillán

Arrived at the end of the trail, a kilometer below thecrater, a whistling noise accompanied by steam rose againfrom the summit; then there came sounds as of a mighty[339]priming followed by a fierce eruption which threw rocksas big as bath tubs in all directions. Fortunately theydid not go far, but their bombardment was enough to scarePrat who was "afraid of nothing" and also Savedra whohad previously said "It is nothing." These two menbrave at a distance now refused to go on, so Gumprechtand I alone started on the ascent with difficulty, pickingour way among the multitude of rocks and shoe high ashes.Finally tired we sat on a bowlder and waited for Michaeliswhom we could see a short distance below us. When hecame up, throwing his weight on his alpenstock, we ascendedto the crater.

It happens that this crater has changed three timesduring the past year, and that the present explosions do notrise from the crater, but from some holes and fissures ofrocks that form the north wall and which are above it.A new crater is forming here, and although considerablesmoke issues from the regular one, the danger lies higherup. At any time there is liable to be a violent eruptionand the whole north wall will then be torn asunder.

The crater is about an eighth of a mile across withprecipitous sides. I could not see its bottom on accountof the vapors, but the ledges of its interior were piled highwith rocks. Michaelis planted some trigonometrical instrumentsto take observations here, while Gumprechtand I tried to climb the north wall. We could now seethe country to the north. The high volcanos Yeguas,Descabezado, and Peteroa were visible in the blue distancewhile near at hand the detached white peak of the Nevadode Chillán, so called from its crown of perpetual snow,higher than the volcano soared its lofty dome into theheavens. This is the peak that is seen from the floor of theCentral Valley and from that distance it appears as if thesmoke were issuing from it.[341]

As Gumprecht and I neared the apex, he was overcomeby sulphur fumes which issued from holes all about us, andwas obliged to lie down. I tried the ascent alone, and ittook me nearly twenty minutes to climb twenty meters,an average of approximately six feet to the minute. Thisslowness was due to the slippery dampness of the groundwhich was here covered with a greenish mold caused byits constant wetting by the steam. This ground was sohot that it was nearly impossible to touch it with the handsand the intensity of the heat soon made itself felt throughthe soles of my shoes. I was obliged to crawl from rock torock. Eventually I arrived at a sort of natural platformwhere some previous explorers had placed a few rocksdenoting the limit of safety. This place was about eightyards from the rock pile from which the explosions tookplace. The whole ground was soft. The explorers mightjust as well have placed their small stone pile half a miledown the mountain side because it is dangerous anywherenear the summit. A few years ago some people werebadly hurt on account of flying rocks.

There had been no explosion for several minutes, sothinking I was safe I sat down to rest. Suddenly withoutthe slightest warning, and with the most horrible roar thatI have ever heard, like a mighty geyser, the sulphur fumesshot upwards followed by a gush of fire combined with apelting of large stones which shot out of a large hole withthe impetus of a catapult. The air sang with inflammablematerial which sizzled as it struck the wet rocks. Itried to run, but fell and slid on my bottom ripping offthe seat of my trousers. A rock hit me on my right footwhich, although I did not feel much pain from it at thetime, later on developed into an ailment which severaltimes during the two following years kept me confined inbed for at least three weeks each time. In less than a few[342]seconds I covered the distance to where Gumprecht waslying. I yelled to him to hurry down the mountain tosave himself.

"Vait a minute," he yelled, "I can't breath this Gottdamn schmoke."

When he got up we hurried down the mountain in quicktime, stopping at the old crater where Michaelis was takingobservations. That man did not return with us, but waitedtwo hours until the explosions stopped; he then ascendedto the stone pile, but no sooner had he arrived there thanan explosion took place followed by such a pelting that hehad to remain until dark behind some cliffs, waiting for theviolence to diminish.

When we had descended to where the horses were, Pratand Savedra rejoiced upon seeing us return alive, for theyhad a fright on seeing me do the slide, and later bothGumprecht and I running, thinking that we were done for.This did not prevent Savedra from drinking Gumprecht'swhiskey after we had left them to make the ascent.We chided them for their cowardice in not coming anyfarther.

"I am too young to die," was Prat's excuse. Savedrasaid nothing; he evidently could see no reason why heshould undergo strenuous exercise besides running the riskof getting blown up, when he could see the explosions fromwhere he was. It was hot when we had left Las Termasin the morning and I wore a summer suit of clothes and astraw hat. Near the summit of the volcano in snowydefiles where the sun never reaches it was around the zeromark which I keenly felt if I stood still a minute. Whenwe arrived back at the hotel, the crowd gathered around usand asked us all about the trip. The Englishman and theFrenchman with whom we had quarreled started out thenext day to make the ascent, but overcome with a "streak[343]of yellow" went only as far as the end of the glacier.Their game was ping-pong.

Mountain Scenery and Waterfall at Las Trancas

When we finally left Las Termas we walked to Resinto,a distance of twenty miles, and drove to La Dehesa stoppingen route a few minutes at the post house of La Quilato change horses. The road is rocky and is bordered byblackberry bushes whose vines grow to a prodigious size.The Chilean blackberry, namedsarsamorra, is differentfrom our wild blackberry in the fact that it is sweeter, hasa milder flavor and in shape is wider, shorter, and rounder.When I made this trip, the bushes were bent down withthe weight of this succulent fruit which was now ripe.The sarsamorra is a pest in Chile, as it springs up everywhere,and spreading over the fields is hard to stamp out.It forms natural hedges for estate boundaries and fieldlimits.[344]

In all this Ñuble country overcoats and thick underwearcome in handy. The nights are cool in summer while inwinter there is snow in the hills. I saw people in the plazain Chillán in March, which corresponds to September incountries north of the Tropic of Cancer, wearing overcoats.Not that it was really cold enough to wear them,but it is a fad with South Americans to don overcoats uponthe slightest occasion.

I was obliged to stop a day at the Hotel Central on myreturn to Chillán owing to the failure of the administrationof the Termas to telephone to Monsieur Heguy reservingme a room at the Hotel de France. The Central is notbad, but it seems to have no proper management; it is acostly establishment but is not as clean as the Hotel deFrance. As the hotel was filled, I was obliged to sleep in asample room. Because I presented an uncouth appearanceupon my arrival, due to a week's "roughing it," theobsequious boy who acts as head push, hotel runner, etc.,thought that I was a bum and intended giving me a cot ina room with a couple of "drunks" on the top floor, towhich I made serious objections. At the Central thebetter a person is dressed upon arrival, the better a roomhe gets. The size of a piece of meat served in the dining-roomis equal to that of a walnut.

At Pinto I met Don Vicente Mendez U, governor of theProvince of Ñuble. He was returning from a tour ofinspection of the farmers' mutual railway. He was verymuch interested in North American customs which hewanted to see introduced in Chile especially in his province,chiefly the prohibition propaganda of which hehad read much. He thought that it would be a goodthing to have the Province of Ñuble go dry and advocatedit strongly. Later on in conversation with himwhen I told him that I was in Chile to look the country[345]over in view of starting up a new industry, stating that Ithought that a brewery would pay in Chillán, he changedhis views and said that it would be quite the thing becausethe Julius Jenson brewery did not do a big enough businessto satisfy the wants of the inhabitants, and that the inhabitantsof the city had to import beer from Valdivia andTalca. He made an appointment to meet me the nextday and brought with him the mayor of the city and someof the important officials. There was proposed to methat if I would build a brewery in Chillán, I should receiveas a concession a track of land on the railroad besides anexemption from taxes for a number of years. They werevery enthusiastic about the proposition. The governoralso said that it would pay in Chillán to found a hypothecaryagricultural bank. I doubt the feasibility of thisbecause crops often go to waste on account of no market.My friend the doctor from Rancagua grew twenty thousandbushels of barley in 1916; of this he was only able todispose of one carload.

In 1916 there was a great railroad strike on the StateRailroads of Chile; owing to it trains were invariably lateand did not run nights. I was therefore obliged to stopoff overnight at Curicó en route to Santiago. At thestations of San Carlos and Villa Alegre there were enoughwatermelons, here calledsandias, piled up to supplythe entire republic. There are no freight sheds at thestations large enough to store the crops about to be exported,so it is not uncommon for a farmer to have hiswhole grain crop spoiled by rain as it lies in sacks near theplatforms.

We arrived at Curicó at night and stopped at the HotelCuricó, which is run in connection with the eating-houseat the depot. It is a large brick old-fashioned building.The daughter of the landlady is one of the most attractive[346]girls I have ever had the fortune of meeting, and in thetwo days that I was there I had a feeling for her that canbe described as infatuation. She was rather tall andslender but well built, a brunette, and about twenty-twoyears old. She was also refined and possessed good sense.I did not try to become well acquainted with her as I hadno desire to play with fire, but these attractions of hers Iwas able to perceive without intimate acquaintanceship.

Curicó is the capital of the province of the same name.This province and that of Talca are the two poorest inCentral Chile in agriculture, although the land is fertileand in some parts is highly cultivated. The city lies in thecenter of the Central Valley and owing to its geographicalsituation it has become quite a busy town. Its populationin 1917 was 22,452 inhabitants against 17,573 in 1907. Itis the twelfth city of Chile. Curicó has far better government,public and private buildings than Chillán, and itsmain streets teem with life. The streets are narrow andare paved with small sharp stones. The Calle Prat isthe street that leads to the railroad station and is one ofthe main ones. Four blocks east of the station it is intersectedby another main street which runs north and south.Following this street south one arrives at a beautiful plaza,on which is the severe but stately Capitol and several otherlarge buildings which are of the Georgian type of architecture.Besides the Hotel Curicó, there are six or sevenother hotels, the Central, the Comercio, etc. Of thesethe Central is the best. It has two patios above one ofwhich is a grape trellis from which, when I saw it, dangledbunches of fruit, blue, red, and green.[347]

CHAPTER XII
NORTHWARD TO ANTOFAGASTA BY RAIL. COPIAPÓ, ANTOFAGASTA,AND IQUIQUE

I remained a couple of months in Santiago after returningfrom Chillán which I put in profitably by makingexcursions and foot tours to the nearby mountain canyons,visiting the small towns in the neighborhood and studyingthe business possibilities of the future as applied to theChilean capital.

One night as I sat having my shoes shined in a bootblackstand underneath the Portal Fernans on the south side ofthe Plaza de Armas, I noticed passing by an Englishmannamed Greenberg, an old acquaintance whom I last sawin Arequipa, Peru, in 1913. Greenberg was a salesmanfor the Browning Arms Company, originally hailing fromLiverpool but had been quite a few years on the WestCoast. In Arequipa we were introduced to a wealthyfamily named Larramendi and were frequent guests attheir house. They had three charming daughters. Onenight while Greenberg and I were calling on the Larramendigirls, I overheard him proposing marriage to theoldest one, Felipa. I was considerably annoyed at thisbecause Greenberg had already a wife and children in theold country. I upbraided him for his actions but wassurprised when he answered me that he was sincere in hisproposal and that since he and his wife did not get along[348]very well together, he intended marrying Felipa andsettling down in Arequipa. I knew that sooner or laterhe would be found out and as I did not care to be a witnessof such an act towards a family that had shown me somuch consideration, I quietly left Arequipa saying nothingto Greenberg about my departure.

Church in San Felipe

Now after an elapse of three years without having heardanything about the outcome, curiosity got the best of me[349]so I hailed Greenberg. I invited him to a quiet café andheard his story.

City Hall, San Felipe

Greenberg married Felipa and shortly after the marriage,old Larramendi sent him with his bride to live on anupland estancia about fifty miles east of Arequipa in thehigh Andes, which estancia Greenberg became the managerof. He had lived there for two years rarely comingto Arequipa and had become the father of a child by thisnew union. He made considerable money for his father-in-law,who in turn gave him no salary nor wages, and this[350]latter fact coupled with the life of ennui that he was leadingcaused him to have a talk with the old man about hisfuture. He demanded a salary but this Larramendirefused to give him saying that he himself was an old manand would not live for more than fifteen years more, andthat when he died Greenberg would inherit the bulk of hisfortune on account of his business ability, so what morecould he ask for?

Greenberg than told Larramendi that if a change didnot immediately forthcome, he would quit the managershipof the estancia and would leave there with his wifeto resume his old calling of salesman which paid him well.

"If you do," said Larramendi, "I shall have youarrested for bigamy."

"What is that you said?" yelled Greenberg, scarcelybelieving his own ears.

Larramendi then went on and told him that he hadcarefully looked him up before inviting him to his houseand had found out that he was married and had a wife andchildren in Liverpool whose address he had. He saidthat he did not care a rap for that part of the business forhe wanted to see his daughters married to Anglo-Saxonstock. "It will improve the race," he said, "especiallythat of my own immediate family." He told Greenbergthat for this reason and also for the fact that he knew himto be a good business man he had urged the marriage andwas willing to keep his mouth shut provided Greenbergwould keep on living as he had the past two years, butthat if he attempted to run away he would have himarrested for bigamy. Greenberg returned home to thebleak mountain estancia and confessed the whole thing toFelipa. She stood by him and both thought out a schemeto get away. A year afterwards their plan maturedwhen Larramendi was on a business trip to Lima. They[351]went to Bolivia and thence to Chile where Greenbergobtained a position as manager of a mercantile house inValparaiso. Fortunately for him, his first wife not havingheard from him in over three years had divorced him ongrounds of desertion and had married another man.Greenberg communicated this news by letter to Larramendiwho was now inducing him by offers of a most lucrativesalary to return to Arequipa. This Greenberg hadso far refused to consider because he did not know whatnew trick Larramendi had in store for him.

"You were lucky, Stephens," he said, "to have leftArequipa when you did. Larramendi was planning tocatch you for his youngest daughter, and likewise had youlooked up. He thought you would have made a goodmatch for her and has many times deplored that you wentaway. He was very fond of you and I honestly believeAnastasia loved you and still hopes you will return. Howeverif you married her, you would be in the same messthat I was in. Larramendi is not so old as he likes tomake out and I doubt if he will cash in his checks fortwenty-five years yet. That is a long time waiting fordead men's shoes. I am satisfied where I am and when Ireached Chile I knew that I was safe for even if my firstwife hadn't obtained a divorce the Peruvian extraditionlaws are a joke and the Chilean government would neverhave given me up to be sent back to Peru to stand trial forbigamy there."

Street in San Felipe

The time was approaching when I had to return to theUnited States; Prat was just as anxious to return toBarcelona, and Gumprecht was getting restless in Santiagoand wanted to see more of Chile, especially the northernpart. We accordingly made arrangements to go north byrail taking our time to the trip stopping off at differentplaces. Prat and I had a great impedimenta of baggage[352]constituting curiosities that we had collected on our travelsbesides live parrots, toads, turtles, etc. indigenous toSouth America not to mention a couple of trunks full ofbulbs and seeds which I intended to experiment with byplanting at home. We also had baskets, pottery, andIndian blankets. We did not care to be encumbered withthem and as we met a roustabout in Santiago who wasrecommended to us for his honesty, and who was anxiousto get to Lima to accept a position that was offered himthere, but could not make the grade through lack of funds,we told him we would pay his passage to that port if hewould take our baggage with him. This proposition hejumped at so we made arrangements for him to sail on aboat that was to leave Valparaiso the following month.That would make him reach Lima about the same timePrat and I would arrive. This roustabout's name wasAngel Larrain. He was a tough looking customer aboutthirty-eight years old, was broad shouldered, and wore a[353]full beard which he seldom kept trimmed. His facialappearance was adorned by an ugly scar on his right templewhich he received in a saloon brawl some years previouslyin one of Valparaiso's waterfront dives.

Not far out of our route northward are the Springs ofJahuel which are so well known that we determined totake them in. To reach them it is first necessary to takethe train to San Felipe, three hours distant from either Santiagoor Valparaiso, and then drive twelve and a half miles.

Street in Almendraz

San Felipe, with a population of 14,426 inhabitants, isthe capital and largest city of the Province of Aconcaguawhich lies directly north of the Province of Santiago.This large province is Andine in character although itextends to the ocean and in its confines are the highestmountains in Chile. It is semi-arid although in its narrowvalleys the largest vineyards in the republic arelocated. It is famous for its wines and its chicha. Thislast is a sort of grape cider, muddy brown in color, sweetand heavy and is apt to give the partaker indigestion. Itshould not be confused with the chicha of Peru. Peruvian[354]chicha is an alcoholic beverage made from cereals and isakin to moonshine or corn whiskey.

San Felipe is a dull, old-fashioned town with a goodhotel, the Europa. A couple of hours is sufficient to seeall the attractions of the city unless the visitor is religiouslybent for the city boasts of several large churches. Theoriginal city was square, its sides being about three-quartersof a mile long and was bounded by an alameda with adouble drive on each side of a pedestrian promenade inthe center. The trees between the roads and the walk aregiant elms and maples. The city has outgrown its originalboundary and extends some distance on the outward sidesof the alameda; this growth has not been recent as can betestified by the crumbling appearance of the houses whichare of adobe and have a height of but a single story. Theappearance of the place is that of stagnation; a small breweryis the only manufacturing interest but like that ofJulius Jenson in Chillán, its product does not meet thewants of the local trade.

The plaza is lovely and cool which is a great contrast tothe alameda where the dust is insupportable. In it arestatues of mythological goddesses which are of Carraramarble. In its center is a fountain surrounded by a largeround pool while in the plots of earth grows a profusion ofcalla lilies. There are also some fine palms and a greattrumpet vine. Situated on the plaza is a big church.It is adobe and has a frame top and steeple. It is paintedpink, and on its façade cracks caused by an earthquake arein evidence. The interior is poor and on its walls hangcheap paintings. When any prominent citizen dies amarble slab is mounted in the church for his memory.At the eastern end of the city is a papier maché imitationGrotto of Lourdes, the alms box at its gates being the mostvisible of its sights.[355]

The drive to Jahuel is devoid of interest. For a coupleof miles the road runs eastward along a turnpike borderedby mud walls so high that it is impossible to see over them.The dust is terrible. Soon the village of Almendraz isreached with its narrow streets, ancient yellow churchwith a clock tower surmounted by a dome, and a Calvaryon a high rock at the end of the main street. The turnpikehas swung to the north and continues in this directionall the way to Jahuel. A large village named SantaMarta is traversed and the dry bed of a river is followed.Although there are plenty of small farms and the land isthickly settled, it is nevertheless a much poorer countrythan in the Central Valley. The mountains are devoidof all vegetation excepting a few sage bushes here andthere. In the valley cactuses are abundant, but everythinghas a dry, parched look.

Jahuel, which is the name given to the hotel, bathingestablishment, and water is the property of Delano andWeinstein of Valparaiso. The place is sadly overrated.The hotel building is good and modern although the foodat the meals is scarcely enough for a mouse; the rooms aresmall and plain, but clean. I remarked about the scantinessof the meals to the manager. "We can't have suchluxuries as chicken every meal," he replied. "Nobodysaid anything about chicken," I retaliated; "anyhow whoconsiders that a luxury in Chile when it is the commonestof meat? What I was kicking about is why you don'tserve a square meal." A splendid vista of the AconcaguaValley at one's feet can be had from the terrace and theverandas.

The altitude of Jahuel is 3835 feet above sea level, butstrange to say the nights are not cool. The water comesfrom the near by Los Pajaritos Springs and its bottledcarbonated adulteration is shipped all over Chile. There[356]is a swimming tank and a sun bath at the establishment.A South American sun bath is a boarded-in yard withsome wooden benches on which people recline in the Gardenof Eden garb. A partition divides the sun bath intospaces for both sexes, the men being on one side of the walland the women on the other. Some young Actæons hadplaced a ladder against the partition on the men's side atJahuel in order to gaze upon the contours of female figureson the women's side.

Jahuel

At the present time there is nothing to see at Jahuel.In ten years' time it may develop into a lovely park. Thetrees are too young yet to afford shade. The lawn andflower beds are well arranged but they are now in thetransition stage between a desert and a garden spot.Many of the famous California health and society spotsto which thousands of tourists make their invernal hegirawere worse twenty years ago than Jahuel is to-day. Theestablishment savors of Teutonic cliques. The majority[357]of guests are of German extraction and pair off into groups.Some of the maidens that nightly promenade the terraceare such past mistresses in the art of cigarette smokingthat their bodies and clothes reek with the odor of nicotine.This does not appear to have the effect of depreciatingtheir charms for on several occasions in thebosqueI inadvertently caught amorous swains clandestinely exchangingkisses with these foul-breathed virgins.

One of the great advertised sights is the bosque. Theword bosque means jungle of small trees. Trees are soscarce in that part of the country that when there is asimilacrum of one it becomes famous and is advertised.This bosque is no better than a brush heap but it attractsvisitors by a well-kept trail and painted signs. It is distantfrom the hotel by a seven and a half minutes' walk;nonagenarians walk it in fifteen minutes. The signs,therefore, read "To the Bosque of Quillayé, 15 minutes."Nonagenarians leave more money at Jahuel than youngpeople because the former are so old that they spend atleast two weeks there, while the latter, driven to distractionby ennui rarely remain more than a day, unless toenjoy the attractions of the cigarette-smoking Germanmaidens.

It is possible to make the trip from Santiago to Pisagua,one of the northernmost ports of Chile by rail. Throughtrains run only as far as Iquique. It takes four days thisway from Santiago to Iquique which includes a stop ofone and a half hours at Illapel, a half hour's stop at LaSerena, two and a half hours at Vallenar, one and a halfhours at Copiapó, nine hours at Catalina, and four hoursat Baquedano. Nineteen and a half hours are wastedat these stations yet the travel consumes less time thanthat by ocean steamer from Valparaiso to Iquique. Ithink that I am the first North American not officially[358]connected with the railroad that made the trip as far asAntofagasta. The through train runs every Friday, andafter the first day out the journey is most tedious and enervating,hot and dusty with vistas of the most desolatedesert imaginable. I broke the journey at Copiapó,continuing thence by local trains.

The Northern Longitudinal Railway begins at the townof La Calera which is on the Santiago-Valparaiso Railroad.As far as Copiapó it is a narrow gauge but after leavingthat town it has three rails for some distance in order tocarry both broad gauge and narrow gauge traffic. Theoriginal railroads of Chile which ran from the interior tothe coast towns were all broad gauge and as it is cheaperto lay another rail inside the already existing two railsto accommodate narrow gauge traffic than to lay a newroadbed this triple rail phenomenon is met with in manyplaces in Northern Chile. The train composed of twosleepers and other coaches leaves La Calera upon thearrival of the Santiago-Valparaiso express. To reach LaCalera from San Felipe I was obliged to change cars atLlai-Llai midway between Santiago and Valparaiso. Thefirst day's ride is interesting, although the country issparsely populated and semi-arid. It is a continuousslowly winding up the canyons, passing through tunnelsat the Coast Range summits, and a mad race aroundcurves down other canyons. The first summit is reachedan hour after leaving La Calera; the train goes through atunnel under the pass of Palos Quemados and enters theValley of La Ligua. This is followed upward to Cabildowhere the river is crossed. Then by means of sharpzigzags another summit is reached and we descend intothe fertile but narrow Valley of Petorca. The small cityof Petorca lies about fifteen miles up the river of the samename beyond where we turn up the Estero de las Palmas[359](Palm Creek). This brook gets its name from the greatabundance of palms which grow wild all over the sides ofthe mountains at its source. There are several of thesepalmares in Chile, which are botanical freaks for thisparticular mountain specie is found in their natural statenowhere else in South America. The largest of these palmaresis that of Ocoa near La Calera; another one is atConcon, at the mouth of the Aconcagua River. Theyare valuable for their honey. A hole is drilled into the treenear its base, a tube is inserted and the sap is extractedwhich is made into honey.

Ocoa

Across the mountains north of the Estero de las Palmasis the mournful desolate mountain pocket of Tilama, theheadwaters of the Quilimari River. The Indians hereaboutsweave rugs, blankets, and table-cloths of a fine[360]durable texture which are in great demand. They arered with white flower designs. The Tilama ridge iscrossed and finally two more, one to the Pupio River andone to the Choapa River before darkness sets in.

The Choapa is a fertile valley and the river of the samename forms the boundary line between the provinces ofAconcagua and Choapa. The Province of Choapa wascreated by an Act of Congress in December 1915, and todefine it a large area of land was taken from the southernpart of the Province of Coquimbo. Up to the time ofthis writing (1918) the limits of its various departmentshave not been defined. Illapel, the new capital, on ariver of the same name was reached about 8P.M. It hasa population of about five thousand inhabitants and isfilled with life owing to its sudden acquisition of importance.Salamanca and Combarbalá are the only othertowns worthy of mention in the new province. Los Vilosin the Province of Aconcagua is the seaport of Illapel withwhich it is connected by railroad. I took a walk up themain street of Illapel. It is an old-fashioned town, verylong and narrow. Its houses, mostly one story in height,are painted white. The streets were crowded and a bandwas playing.

I awoke the next morning at Ovalle, a growing stocktown in the southern part of the Province of Coquimbo.It had by the census of 1907, 6998 inhabitants but I understandthat it has increased considerably in population sincethen. It lies on the Limari River just below the junctionsof the Grande and the Hurtado rivers which uniting formthe Limari. For its port it has Tongoi on the bay of thesame name to which place it is connected by rail, but nowmuch of the freight goes to Coquimbo. At Coquimbo,which was reached a couple of hours later, I obtained myfirst unhindered view of the Pacific Ocean on this South[361]American trip. From Ancud on the Island of Chiloé,I could look across the great expanse of bay to the headlandswhich formed the promontories beyond which theocean was, but owing to the rain the ocean proper there wasinvisible. Coquimbo is a busy and dirty port of 12,106inhabitants and has no attractions such as possesses theeight miles distant city of La Serena, the capital of theProvince of Coquimbo.

La Serena is named in honor of the last viceroy of Peru.His name means serene. The city is also serene. It isone of the oldest towns in Chile, has 15,966 inhabitantsand is admirably situated on a height of land overlookingthe Pacific Ocean to the west and the Elqui River to thenorth. It is a quiet town of handsome buildings and is theresidence of many retired men of wealth and of intellectuals.In this respect it can be compared with Paraná inArgentina and Graz in Austria. Its population hasdecreased slightly in recent years yet the city is stable andwill always remain so. Its only industry is the FlotoBrewery. To any Michiganders reading this book, Iwish to call attention to the fact that it was visited in1906 by Hon. Chase S. Osborn. The level country aboutLa Serena and Coquimbo and the neighboring valleys arefertile and well-watered. Fields are given up to the cultivationof grain and vineyards abound. A native fruitnamed the pepina, akin to the papaya is grown and from ita soft drink is made which although palatable is ratherinsipid. About twenty miles south of the city among thefoothills is the mineral spring of Andacollo famed locally,while thirty miles north of La Serena are the newly openediron mines of La Higuera, controlled by North Americancapital.

After leaving La Serena, the all-day ride northward toVallenar is for the main part uninteresting although it has a[362]recompense in the wild mountain scenery when the trainwinds up the canyon known as the Quebrada del Potrerillos.At nine o'clock at night, Vallenar the second cityof the Province of Atacama was arrived at. The train wasscheduled to remain here for two and a half hours butthere was some trouble with the locomotive which kept ushere all night and part of the next morning. It happenedthat a telegram had to be sent to Coquimbo for an extralocomotive to be sent up to Vallenar.

Street in Vallenar

Vallenar is the original home of the patio process for theextraction of silver from the ore by means of crushing.Mercury is added forming an amalgam and the silver isobtained by heating the amalgam, which evaporates themercury leaving as a residue the crude silver. It is nolonger a mining-town but is the center of the fruit growingHuasco district. Figs of Huasco are famous. Quite atrade is carried on by the exportation of raisins, herenamedtapas. Vallenar has 5561 inhabitants. It is on theHuasco River and is connected by rail with Freirina and[363]the seaport, Huasco. It was pleasant to again see trees.It seldom rains in this region. When I alighted fromthe train at the railroad station there was such a heavy mistit resembled rain. It accumulated into drops where ithad fallen on the leaves and as such fell onto the sidewalks.Near the depot is a large finca surrounded by gum andpoplar trees, and the sound of running water in the irrigationditches behind the high adobe walls was refreshing.It takes thirty-five minutes to walk the length of the mainstreet, but the city is only six blocks wide. A half mile upthis street is a plaza with a stagnant pool in its center whereare gold fishes. A miniature Eiffel Tower whose top iscrowned by an illuminated clock that does not keep timesoars above a stand where an infantry band was playing.When a crowd had collected to listen to the musicthe band moved off up the street until it came to amoving picture show, whose proprietor had hired it forthe evening as an advertisement. Nowhere in my travelshave I seen so many bands both military and private asin Chile.

Alameda in Copiapó

[364]

Monument Erected in Honor of Atacama's Illustrious Dead, Copiapó

The streets of Vallenar are narrow, and althoughlighted with electricity, they are dark. The city is ancientin appearance and as one passes by the gloomy structuresin the misty night, a feeling is present that one of thedoors leading into the adobe hovels might open and thatthe pedestrian will be yanked by unknown hands inside,where he will be robbed and murdered by disembowelmentwhich is the favorite trick among Chileno thugs. Vallenarhas not the street life of Illapel, yet I must say in its favor[365]that never elsewhere in a town of its size have I seen somuch beauty among women.

Main Street of Copiapó

The building at the left is the city hall. It is also used for moving-picture shows

At Copiapó I stayed four days. It is the capital of theProvince of Atacama and has a population of 10,287inhabitants although it looks considerably larger. Fiftyyears ago it had fourteen thousand inhabitants. At thattime it was a mining center, and much of the wealthamong the leading families of Santiago to-day has its originfrom mines formerly located here. The railroad to thefifty-two miles distant seaport of Caldera was opened totraffic in 1850 and is one of the oldest in South America.The original locomotive used is now to be seen in theNational Museum at Santiago.

The city is situated in an oasis in the desert; this oasisis twenty-five miles long by two miles broad and is cultivatedto an amazing degree. It is traversed by the turbulentmuddy and narrow Copiapó River which furnishesirrigation to the manyquintas. Peaches, figs, grapes, and[366]apricots grow in profusion as do also loquats and otherlocal fruits whose names are unfamiliar to me. A specieof willow is indigenous to the valley which in form is notunlike a Lombardy poplar and from a distance is oftenmistaken for one of them.

The environs of the city have a decidedly oriental appearancedue to the high mud garden walls which shutoff from the passer-by the rich verdure of the enclosedterrain, making the only objects visible to him the dustywindowless backs of sheds with an occasional tree risingabove an adobe wall.

Main Street of Copiapó

Copiapó is retrogressant and will become even moreso. Work has long since stopped at the mines and theonly thing that keeps the place alive is that it is the capitalof a province. If asked for a description of the city,I would say that it is an old adobe town in an oasissurrounded by barren mountains, with a broad alamedabordered with giant pepper trees. This brief descriptionis accurate. The pepper trees are the largest I have ever[367]seen and some of them are nearly eight feet in diameter.The alameda has an abundance of statues to Atacamaheroes with a soldiers' monument to the illustrious Atacamadead. The house roofs rise to a slight gable and nearlyall are of adobe. This mode of construction could not bepossible in a country where rain falls frequently, becausein 1915 when there was a hard rainfall in Copiapó, thefirst time that it had rained in eight years, many of theroofs became mud puddles and were washed in.

Outskirts of Copiapó

Note the Oriental setting

There are only two hotels in the Atacama metropolis,the Atacama and the Ingles. I stopped at the formerwhich is the best. It is owned by a Boer named Bosmanwho married a native woman. Since the proprietor findsmining more profitable than hotel business, he leaves themanagement of his inn in the charge of his younger son.The hotel is fair as well as the meals, although it has noneof the modern conveniences. The primitive privy isreached by crossing a barnyard and is a favorite place forpoultry which roost here. I discovered a tarantula on theseat. To reach this place one has to run the gauntlet of[368]semi wild swine some of which were ugly. The Ingles isowned by a native who is the son of a once famous Spanishopera singer. This man thinks well of himself althoughhis only claim for distinction is evidenced by a disgustingringworm on his right cheek which is larger than a dollar.In his emporium coarse obscene jests and loud words arethe order of the day. There are only two bars in Copiapóand these are in each of the hotels. It is needless to saythat the proprietor of the Ingles does the most businessin that line because he consumes half of his sales. Copiapóis a poor saloon town because the natives make theirown wine and chicha. They often repair to a section ofthe oasis named the Chimba, where they roast a lamb, hogor an ox and there amidst a copious supply of fermentedbeverages indulge in an orgy that baffles description.

Hovels on the Outskirts of Copiapó

Some of the hovels near the river bank are the extremityof poverty. Any self-respecting sow in the United Stateswould shun these shanties of mud, straw, and tin cans[369]which here house Atacama's humblest natives. The openspace in front of these hovels are littered with bones,garbage, dead rats, and excrement.

Cemetery, Copiapó

The cemetery is lugubrious, and in many a grave thereis a cavity beneath the tombstone where can be seen thegrinning skull of its occupant. It was founded in 1848 anda motto over the entrance denotes it as a place of peace.I cannot realize how this motto is appropriate becausevisitors are constantly perturbing the bones with theircanes. The hook and ladder and fire engine date from1868 but the Matriz or large church on the Plaza ArturoPrat antedates it fifty years. It is a large edifice with asquare tower of New England colonial architecture. Thechurch of San Francisco is after the style of the FrenchCathedral at New Orleans. Although the city has but apopulation of slightly over ten thousand inhabitants, itnevertheless boasts of five daily newspapers, none ofwhich by the way are worth reading as their columns deal[370]solely with local events such as a man stumbling on a toadand spraining his ankle, etc.

Taking a walk with Gumprecht down the railroad trackwe saw behind a wall a large tree laden with luscious purplefigs. We climbed upon the wall to reach some when Inoticed a girl driving some sheep across a trestle. Icalled Gumprecht's attention. He was startled thinkingthe owner of the quinta was coming and fell from the wallinto the garden. In falling he accidentally tripped me upand I took a header in the opposite direction landing meinto a bush which had prickly burrs which littered myclothing, clinging tenaciously to them. In extractingthem I got my hands full of the barbed nettles which theseburrs were composed of. As I fell I heard a yell from theother side of the wall and upon climbing it again saw thatGumprecht was having a lively fight with an enraged bulldog which had bitten him a couple of times. I came to hisrescue with my revolver. In the meantime Gumprechthad drawn his revolver and between us we made shortwork with the bull dog. The shooting aroused the neighborhoodand we could see farm laborers running to thescene with pitchforks. We took to our heels and finallyhid by lying down in a dry irrigation ditch where weremained half an hour. When the hunt had somewhatsubsided we struck out for the town by a detour but lostourselves at a river which we forded. We started up atrail between some Kaffir corn when we suddenly came toanother fig tree. When we were devouring this fruit wewere caught by the owner of this quinta which was a fullmile from the one where the bull dog was. We offered topay him for it, but in excellent English he told us to helpourselves.

This man was Professor Platner, president of the ChileCollege of Mines whose three-story yellow institution we[371]could see through the trees. He was a German, had lost afortune in mining, owned a fine quinta, had lived in Copiapófor twenty-five years and was anxious to sell out andget away on account of being tired of the place. Heshowed us his quinta, gave us all the fruit we could eat, andrevealed to us much information about the mining pastand present in the province. He had installed an orecrusher on his place which he rented to miners on the percentagesystem. It was the Chilean process of gold extractingoriginated at Copiapó. There were several stonebottom tubs each holding a wheel perpendicular to thebase and which is revolved by means of a large horizontalwheel which fits into grooves. The large wheel is set intomotion by water power from the river. The tubs are filledwith a layer of ore and the crushing begins; mercury andwater are then added. The mercury and the gold forman amalgam which is carried off by a pipe into another tubalong with the water. After straining, the amalgam isput into a retort which is heated at its base. The mercuryescapes through a tube and is caught in a pail of waterto be used again. Platner said that either gold or copperwas mined according to the value of copper. When copperfalls below fifty pesos a ton, gold is mined. At thetime of my visit, copper was worth 112 pesos a ton.

During the colonial times the silver mines in the neighborhoodof Copiapó were worked by the Spaniards, and itis said that more than twenty thousand Indians wereexterminated through overwork in these mines. Aboutfour generations ago these mines became the properties ofabout a dozen individuals, most of whom lived in Santiago.They were worked successfully until they died. Themineral property was then divided among their heirs andwhen these heirs died, there were other divisions among newheirs. On account of these divisions work soon ceased.[372]Now in order for a man to get a clean title to any of thismineral property all the heirs have to agree to the sale andthere are a multitude scattered all over the world whichmakes getting a deed nearly impossible. There have beeninstances when nearly all the heirs were found and agreedto a sale only to have it held up at the last minute by oneor more parties backing out. A bill is before the Chileansenate for the state to take over all mineral lands thathave not been worked for fifty years; if it passes thesemines will again be in operation.

Copiapó boasts of one millionaire. He lives in a ramshacklesalmon-colored house of stuccoed adobe whichhas been cracked by an earthquake. The city is also thebirthplace of Martin Rivas, the hero of Blest-Gana'snovelMartin Rivas which is considered to be a classic ofSpanish literature.

From Copiapó northward the longitudinal railroad toIquique runs over a great arid desert winding its wayacross sandy plateaus hemmed in by barren mountains.The southern part of this desolation is named the AtacamaDesert and here on the high mountainsides are seen theshafts and settlements of the gold and copper mines.Dulcinea is the first large mine reached. San Pedro isreached in the afternoon and later on Pueblo Hundido, thejunction for Chañaral, and the headquarters of the AndesCopper Company. The next morning the train arrives atCatalina, the junction for Taltal and now enters thenitrate country. The same day it stops at Aguas Blancas,the junction for Antofagasta, Chuquicamata, the newlyopened copper mining town of the Guggenheim interests,and Bolivia. The railroad from Catalina northward goesthrough the center of the nitrate country and has severalbranches running down to the seaports such as that fromToco to Tocopilla. Toco is passed in the middle of the[373]night as well as Quillagua, the last mentioned place beingan oasis in the Desert of Tararugal. Pintados which isreached forty-eight hours after leaving Copiapó is theterminus of the longitudinal railway and here trains mustbe changed for Iquique and Pisagua, the northernmostnitrate port.

Although my ticket was bought for Iquique, I wasobliged to leave the train at Aguas Blancas and go direct toAntofagasta. I had the misfortune to break a blood vesselin my right foot in Copiapó shortly before boarding thetrain, which dolorous accident was due to the injury Ireceived when a rock hit my foot as I was trying to escapefrom the catapult of stones that were shot from the craterof Volcano Chillán. I consider that my quickness inreaching Antofagasta was what saved me from crossingthe River Lethe. I was flat on my back in that prosperousseaport for three weeks.

Antofagasta, the commercial metropolis of NorthernChile has a population of 60,297 inhabitants although itdoes not look nearly so large. It is the fourth city ofChile and has in recent years taken away much of Iquique'strade, although the latter place does not appear tobe dull. The downtown business streets of Antofagastaare paved with asphalt and work is now under way to pavethe whole city. Sewers have been extended and the mulepower street cars have been discarded for autobuses; aman named Yankovich having obtained the concessionfor this means of passenger traffic. The old buildings ofadobe, wood, corrugated iron, and stuccoed cane are fastbeing replaced with metropolitan structures of brick andcement. Among these new edifices can be mentioned thecity hall, the fire department, the Mercantile Bank ofBolivia, the Victoria Theater, and Luksic's Hotel Belmont.

The city from being a pestilential port in the past is now[374]scrupulously clean, although in its suburbs improvementscan be made. The municipality has waged war againstthe butchers and vegetable dealers compelling them toscreen their goods from the flies. Protesting mass meetingswere of no avail. A new railroad station has beenbuilt on the heights above the city and the old ramshacklewooden structure which is an eyesore to the city will betorn down to make way for the opening of a new street.Antofagasta is proud of its cemetery. To me it is a nightmare.Most of the graves are marked with wooden crossespainted white, many of them being enclosed by picketfences. The bodies of the poor are thrown naked into a pitand covered with quicklime. The stench emanating fromthis spot is appalling and the litters for the transportationof the cadavers which are much in evidence in this neighborhooddo not add any attraction to the scene.

Plaza Colon, Antofagasta

In 1910 a mania struck each resident foreign colony todonate to the city a reminder of themselves. The British[375]colony erected an ornate and useful clock tower in thePlaza Colon; in the same park the Spaniards built abronze monument signifying the Union of the Waters;the Slavs built a bandstand. In the Plaza Sotomayor theGermans erected a column to Germania, and the Greeksgave a statue of a couple of wrestlers. The Chinamendonated the expensive entrance to the cemetery while theTurks gave the city the benches which are in the parks.The North Americans are not represented in these donations,because at that time the city had only one of ourcountrymen as a resident, Mr. William Stevenson, and itcould not be expected that he himself would pay out of hisown pocket a sum of money equivalent to what a wholecolony did out of theirs.

Provincial Capitol Building, Antofagasta

The best hotel in Antofagasta is that named the Franciay Inglaterra of Nowick and Dutrey; the Grand and theBelmont are also good. On Sunday Antofagasta is drierthan a powder horn; at least it is supposed to be. But likein most towns where unwelcome laws are imposed on thepeople, they are made to be broken. I judged this to bethe case here from the number of Sunday "drunks" that I[376]saw being led off to jail, or else encumbering the sidewalksof the suburbs by reclining on them in a horizontal position.The lid goes on promptly at five o'clock Saturday afternoonand the clamp is not taken off until eight o'clockMonday morning. For violations of the liquor law thenames of those men arrested for being drunk during thisperiod of drought are published in the Monday newspapersand stiff fines are imposed upon the vendors of liquidrefreshments that contain an alcoholic percentage. OnSunday, April 30, 1916, 120 saloon proprietors were finedfor selling drinks. The Quinta Casale proprietor wasfined 1000 pesos (about $200.00), the proprietor of theHotel Maury was fined 500 pesos and another saloon-keeperthe same amount. One Saturday night duringthis enforcement while I was a guest at the Hotel Franciay Inglaterra, the threemozos of the second floor of thehotel got hold of a case of Guinness' stout to which theyproceeded to make short shift of. In their inebriatedcondition they started a fight which at first was as near tothe Marquis of Queensbury rules as a triangular affair of itskind could be. It soon developed into a rough and tumbleand all the participants were puthors de combat. Thisoccurred during the dinner hour and the unedifying expletivesused which generally accompany such a fracas wereaudible to the diners much to the mortification of Nowickand Dutrey. One of the combatants repaired homewhere he attempted to assail his better half with his fist;she retaliated by seizing a chair and breaking his head. Irelated this affair to a North American, a Mr. Rowe, aresident of Antofagasta. Rowe then told me that a yearprevious in La Paz, Bolivia, he was stopping at the HotelGuibert. Mr. Guibert did him a trick that angered him,so he in turn filled up all the servants of Guibert's hotelto get even. For a whole day there was no service at the[377]Hotel Guibert for all the domestics from the manager to thecook were roaring drunk and all the guests were forced toseek other quarters.

One of the famous characters of Northern Chile andBolivia was a brutal bully named McAdoo who was continuouslyquarreling with everybody. He died in 1915,and on his tombstone in Antofagasta his acquaintances hadthe inscription carved: "May he rest in peace."

Street in Antofagasta

In 1916 the Antofagasta public was indignant at theway some of its indigent dead were handled. When anunknown man or a pauper died, he was dumped into a sackand a carter was hired to carry the bundle to the cemetery.These carts are two-wheeled open affairs. If the cemeteryhappened to be closed, the carter was apt to drop hisunwholesome burden anywhere. Two or three of theselichs were found tied up in sacks in different parts of thecity during my sojourn in Antofagasta, which perpetrationwas severely excoriated by the newspapers. Speaking of[378]it to Captain Rowlands of the Pacific Steam NavigationCompany's steamshipGuatemala, he related to me anincident which happened on his ship.

A man died of bubonic plague in one of the nitrate portsbut before dying he told a relative that he wished to beburied in Santiago. This relative was returning to thatcity so he tied the corpse in a sack and carried it onshipboard. As the lower-class Chilenos all carry theirpossessions in burlap sacks slung across their backs whiletraveling, he managed to get his burden on board unnoticed.He stowed it underneath his berth, but the odorwas such that he could not sleep so he made friends withthe bartender and hired him to hide it until the ship reachedValparaiso. The bartender placed the cadaver underneaththe sink in the service bar. The next day Captain Rowlandssmelt a stench while he was making the inspection,and opening the door of the sink discovered the body,which he had thrown overboard. The frightened bartenderowned up to his part of the transaction but the passenger,the relative of the defunct when taken to task retaliated bythreatening the captain with arrest upon the ship's arrivalat Valparaiso. Rowlands told him that he could startanything he wanted to, but if any arresting was to be done,it would be the passenger who would be arrested forbreaking Chile's sanitary law.

The harbor of Antofagasta is never quiet owing to a heavyswell and a project is now on hand to build a breakwater.I boarded theGuatemala at that port with a ticket forIquique. It had been over three years since I was apassenger on that boat and the great improvement on it wasmarvelous. In 1913 the food, service, and filth on it wereso abominable, combined with the slipshod actions of theofficers, that I made up my mind never to embark uponit again. Since Captain Rowlands has been its skipper[379]everything has changed, and it is now one of the cleanestand most comfortable steamers on the coast. The foodcannot be beaten. One of the passengers on board I foundto be Angel Larrain, the efficient but villainous lookingbearded roustabout whom Prat and I had delegated tobring our baggage to Lima upon consideration of hispassage.

The morning after leaving Antofagasta we arrived atGatico, a copper port, where the mountains came down tothe ocean. About a league south of it was seen the smallvillage of Copoapa on a narrow sandy plain at the foot ofthe barren cliffs. Gatico and Tocopilla are the only townson the Pacific Coast of South America where copper isfound near to the ocean. There is a smelter at Gaticoand it is up a canyon here that run the wires of the electricalpower plant at Tocopilla to the Chuquicamata mines.

Tocopilla is a two hours' run north of Gatico. Wereached it in the early afternoon and remained there allnight taking on cargo. According to the last census it had5366 inhabitants, although it does not appear to have halfthat number of people. Next to Salaverry and Mollendoit is the vilest hole that I have ever stepped foot into,although I am told that it is a paradise compared to Pisagua.It is a long, narrow place, built on a sandy fringebetween the mountains and the sea. Its houses are mostlyone-story frame shacks, the majority unpainted. Apoint juts into the ocean off which are two small guanoislands. Near the end of the point is the large electricalpower plant of the Chuquicamata mines. It gets itspower from the ocean, a tunnel having been dug out underthe water and thence upwards so as to cause great pressure.There has been much trouble on account of the tunnel gettingclogged with seaweed. The Siemens-Schukert Companyof Germany installed the machinery, which has[380]given such poor satisfaction that I understand the ChuquicamataMining Company (Guggenheim interests) havetaken it over under protest.

Tocopilla has a comparatively large German element,most of the male members being employees of the SlomanCopper Smelter. This plant is on the side of a mountainand some of its mines are visible from the port.

Street in Tocopilla

The town is not only exceedingly wretched in appearancebut also has the reputation of being pestilential.The captain of the Chilean vesselCondor landed here in1912 sick with the yellow fever. He recovered but thispestilence nearly wiped out the whole town. There is noverdure of any description hereabouts with the exceptionof a few plants in front of the houses, the country being asandy and a stony waste; the same is true about Antofagasta,yet in both places mosquitoes thrive. This yellowfever epidemic was singular because south of Limathe West Coast of South America has always been absolutely[381]free from it. In 1915 Tocopilla was a closed portfor four months on account of bubonic plague, which is everpresent in the seaport towns from La Serena northward toPanama.

In company with Mr. B. Brice of Valparaiso, accountantfor the Pacific Steam Navigation Company, I took a walkto the cemetery. The two gates were locked so we startedto walk around it to see if there was another entrance.Since walking was obnoxious in its neighborhood onaccount of tin cans and nondescript rubbish, we made adetour by going out onto the plain. Suddenly our nostrilswere assailed by a disgusting odor which caused usto hold our breath. "Look here," said Mr. Brice, pointingto a myriad of mounds which we had previously takento be rubbish piles; we found that they were graves forat the head of some were wooden crosses and desiccatedbouquets.

"I believe that we are in the yellow fever burialground," I said.

"Possibly," answered Mr. Brice. "Let us ask thatindividual," indicating a man in the distance who wasscraping with a stick among the mounds and whose actionssavored of those of a ghoul.

Upon asking the "individual," whose appearance wasthat of a degenerate, we were informed that we were in thebubonic plague graveyard.

"The yellow fever cemetery is there," he exclaimed,pointing with evident pride to a large square enclosurebristling with white crosses.

The degenerate creature was carrying a burlap sackwhich he dragged on the ground. Through a large hole init, we saw red meat and the knee-cap of some animal.

"What have you got there?" I asked.

The degenerate pointed to the distant carcasses of mules[382]rotting in the sun and above which soared carrion. Saidhe:

"I have just cut off a hock of mule."

"What for?"

"To eat. One must live, of course."

This disgusting habit of feeding on the carcasses ofanimals that have died a natural death or through diseaseis prevalent among the inhabitants of the arid zones ofPeru and Northern Chile; where probably nowhere else onearth is the human race so degraded.

Cemeteries at Tocopilla

The mounds in the foreground are the graves of the victims of bubonic plague. Thewhite wall in the distance encloses the burial ground of the people who died of yellowfever in the epidemic of 1912. These gruesome cemeteries are the pride of the nativesof the wretched town of Tocopilla.

Shortly after leaving Tocopilla, I chancing to be on thestarboard deck of theGuatemala ran into the beardedruffian Angel in deep conversation with an English divine.He was gesticulating during his conversation and wouldoccasionally point towards land in the direction of thecemeteries fast vanishing in the distance. I walked up to[383]the pair, and after turning the topic of conversation tothings commonplace when I approached, Angel made someexcuse and disappeared.

"A real brilliant man that," said the Anglican, turningto me. "It is curious how often a rough exterior revealsgreat brains."

"How do you mean?" I inquired.

"You noticed that uncouth bearded man in conversationwith me when you approached. A person unacquaintedwith him would imagine him to be one of thegreat number of vagabonds that abound on this coast. Hebelies his appearance for he is a distinguished professor ofthe University of Buenos Aires. He is making a tourof the West Coast towns studying the causes of bubonicplague. He is a member of the Argentine Commission onBubonic Plague and many interesting things he has toldme about this malady that I have never heard of before."

I did not spoil Angel's story by revealing to the Anglicanhis real nature. The roustabout had been listening toa conversation the previous evening between CaptainRowlands, Mr. Brice, an English army officer, and myselfabout bubonic plague and had remembered everythinghe heard. Owing to this knowledge he was able to carryon a fairly intellectual exchange of words on the subjectwith the English minister.

The so-called harbor of Iquique is no more than a roadsteadwith a barrier of rocks jutting into the ocean,which breaks in two places forming narrow entrances to anatural basin. The waves beat with violence againstthe rocks so thefleteros, as the boatmen are called, areobliged to wait until a wave has broken and then by quickrowing speed past the entrances before another wave hasthe chance to dash against the barrier.

Iquique's population numbers 46,216. In 1907 its[384]population was 40,171, which shows that although Antofagastahas taken away a great deal of its trade, yetthe city has had a slight increase. There is a great rivalrybetween the two cities which is soon bound to cease onaccount of Antofagasta having a good commercial futureahead of it. The nitrate industry of Iquique is on thewane, and is now confined to the Iquique and the Pisaguapampas while that of Antofagasta is in its prime. As aresidential place most people prefer Iquique; there is alarge British colony here and the foreigners are of a betterclass; among the foreigners in Antofagasta the Slavs(mostly from Croatia and Dalmatia) predominate andthese were originally the scum of their countries. InIquique's favor also are better residences, pretty plazas,and a finemalecon or sea boulevard with a nice beach.Nevertheless I prefer Antofagasta because it is cleaner, itsstreets are paved, its buildings are more substantial, and itdoes not seem so remote, having better railroad facilities.

Street in Iquique

Iquique is built in the form of a square on a sandy point[385]of land. All of its buildings are frame, many of them beingpainted brown or dark red. Quite a few have ornamentalbalconies, some being of Moorish design. The streets, onsome of which run horse cars, are narrow and straight.Many have irregularities for some buildings are set fartherback than others and the curbs in these places likewiserecede. The main street is named Tarapacá from theprovince of which Iquique is the capital, while the nextimportant commercial street is that named Anibal Pinto.Ordinarily the dust on these thoroughfares would beinsupportable, but the municipality has inaugurated thesprinkling of the streets with sea water. This causes muchdampness in places where the sun does not reach.

Street in Iquique

Like most of the West Coast towns of the arid zone,Iquique is devoid of edificial interest. It has, however, animposing opera house, a good city hall, a Moorish tower inthe center of the plaza, and a rather pretty cemetery,besides some good residences, that of the governor with[386]broad verandas and large plate glass windows being thefinest. The Hotel Phœnix, owned by an Italian, Sorbini,is not at all bad. Here and in Tacna no fruit is servedwith the meals provided by the hotel, but native womenperambulate between the tables carrying baskets fromwhich they sell fruit to the diners. Sometimes thesegreasy hags become insulting when a guest refuses to buyfrom them.

Cemetery, Iquique

Late at night of the evening after leaving Iquique thelights of two towns close together were visible on shore.These were Junin and Pisagua, the last mentioned being afew miles north of its neighbor. Pisagua is a nitrate portwith 4089 inhabitants. Bubonic plague was formerly sobad there that the town had to be burned down twice.[387]

CHAPTER XIII
ARICA TO ILO OVERLAND, VIA TACNA, TARATA, ANDMOQUEGUA

Arica is seven hours north of Pisagua. Its populationis 4886. It is the pleasantest port on the rainless coastfor in its neighborhood is verdure due to irrigationfrom the Lluta River. It looks nice from the steamer'sdeck, which appearance is not belied by a visit to thelower town. The upper town, which extends to thedesert, is a compactly built place of low buildings, but is farsuperior to the other coast towns of its size. In the lowertown are the banks, shipping offices, and government buildings.Its streets are bordered with pepper trees and ithas two cool and pleasant plazas in one of which theItalian residents have erected a bust to Columbus. Aricais the port of the provincial capital, Tacna, but its presentimportance is due to the opening in 1913 of a railroad toLa Paz, Bolivia, of which city it is also a port. A traveleris carried to the Bolivian metropolis in twenty-four hoursover a pass thirteen thousand feet high.

One of the first things that I did when I arrived in Aricawas to go to the steamship office to find out about thesailings of the ships on the Chilean Line and of the PacificSteam Navigation Company. The agent for both theselines was the American consul, a man whose name I believe[388]was Smith. As I was waiting for information, Smithhimself appeared and he was in an ugly mood. He was athin blonde man about fifty years old, bespectacled, andhad red blotches on his face which showed that he was aheavy drinker. In fact he stunk of liquor. He was anEnglishman and was acting as representative for theUnited States.

Custom House, Arica

This building was designed and built by Eiffel, who built the tower named after himin Paris.

Street in Arica

This is in the upper town.

"Can't you read the schedule?" he inquired, indicating atime card which hung on the wall of the outer office.

"Yes, but owing to the ships being overcrowded, I wantto make reservations."

"Wait until the ship arrives, then we will sell you aticket," he answered hastily and then left the room. Thiswas a nice fix because if I returned to Arica a few hoursbefore sailing, it might happen that there would be somuch loading and unloading of merchandise that itwould be too late for me to buy my ticket after getting[389]my passports viséd. There was no use of arguing withsuch self-important and gin-soaked individuals as Smithso I went away trusting to chance. It turned out thatI did not return to Arica to catch the steamer becauseI traveled overland to Ilo, the port of Moqueguain Peru. A half hour after leaving the shipping office Isaw Smith coming out of acantina or saloon in the lowertown and after walking for about a block he enteredanother one. Later on in the afternoon, happening to bein the barroom of the Hotel Francia, I arrived in time tosee him gulp down a tumbler of gin and follow it up with abrandy chaser. I stepped up to him and offered to treathim, mainly to see what mood he would be in, and was surprisedto hear him acquiesce by ordering a half pint of[390]Guinness' stout. This performance he kept up all day andI was told by the brother of the hotel proprietress that itwas a daily trick of his.

When theGuatemala anchored at Arica a French Calvinistminister, Dr. Petit, came on board to visit one ofthe passengers, the Reverend McLaughlin, a MethodistEpiscopal minister from Buenos Aires. McLaughlin introducedme to Petit and during the following days atboth Arica and Tacna I became fairly well acquainted withhim. Petit had a degree as a physician but changed hisprofession to that of minister of the gospel. He had doneconsiderable missionary work in South America and had achurch in Arica where he preached. He did not believein war but was a strong advocate for divorce; in fact he wascontemplating divorcing his wife whom he claimed wasunfaithful. He was at the present prevented from doingso because there is no divorce law in South America exceptingUruguay, and he did not have enough money to go toMontevideo to start proceedings. He also informed methat if the husband of the proprietress of the Hotel Franciawas onto his job he would divorce her because thatwoman had driven him to distraction by her amours andher extravagances, so that to avoid domestic scenes thepoor fellow had returned to France, hoping to be killed inbattle to relieve him of his mental anguish. The husbandI understand is an officer. Petit was a truly conscientiousman and was wrapped in his work as missionary; he didnot practice religion as a cloak to cover his sins. In buildhe was an athlete.

None of Arica's hotels are highly recommendable althoughthe Hotel de France, or Francia as the natives callit, is the best. It is run by an accommodating peroxideor lemon juice blonde Frenchwoman about forty yearsold who is heartily sick of Arica and is anxious to sell out.[391]This is the woman whom Dr. Petit had no respect for.The real manager of the hotel is her brother, a good-for-nothing,powerfully built creature about her age whosechief pleasure is to emulate Smith's example by overindulgencein alcoholic refreshments and to argue andquarrel with the guests.

A landmark for miles around is the solitary rock namedthe Morro de Arica which towers above the town. It is aduplicate of Gibraltar, and was one of Peru's last strongholdsduring the Pacific War. It was defended in 1880by a regiment of Bolognesi's troops under Colonel Uguarte.In the face of a violent storm of rifle bullets, the Chilenostook the Morro by landing a short distance down the coastand climbing it from behind. When Uguarte saw that hehad lost he spurred his horse to the brink of the precipiceand jumped to his death several hundred feet below.Many of his followers did likewise because the Chilenoshad the reputation of taking no captives. The Morrois now strongly fortified. People are forbidden to makeits ascent and the day before I arrived two men werethrown into jail for attempting it. In front of the Morrois a small, low guano island. It is used as a fort and ishoneycombed so that it can hold a force of five hundredmen.

The day after we arrived a northbound Chilean steamerput into the harbor of Arica. On it was Kermit Rooseveltreturning to the United States after having spent sometime in the employ of the National City Bank at BuenosAires. We did not know he was on the ship until walkingdown one of the streets a man breathlessly hurried towardsus and asked us if either one of us were Señor Roosevelt.Thinking that some wag had told the gentlemanone of us was Teddy, Prat answered saying that he wasColonel Roosevelt. Now Prat is a slender, medium-sized[392]man about thirty years old and clean shaven and I cannotunderstand what kind of an ass that Arica gentleman waswhen he accepted Prat's statement and believed him. Hestated that there was a delegation already to meet him andthat he himself would accompany him to thecabildo wherea banquet was being arranged. A crowd gathered aroundPrat and would have carried him off by force if an Italianblacksmith had not appeared on the scene who had seenColonel Roosevelt and told the natives that a joke wasbeing played on them.

Capitol Building at Tacna

The province of Tacna, the most northern in Chile,formerly belonged to Peru. At the close of the PacificWar in 1880, Chile, the victor over Peru and Bolivia,annexed to her already long seacoast the Bolivian provinceAntofagasta and the Peruvian province Tarapaca;Tacna it was only supposed to annex temporarily. Chilewas to occupy it for twenty years; a vote of the inhabitantswas then to be taken to determine which country it shouldgo to. Thirty-eight years have passed by and still no votehas been taken. The chances are that it will always remain[393]Chilean. To keep it so, Chile has seven regimentsin the province, five of which are stationed at Tacna, thecapital city. The present government has tried to Chilenizethe province by planting within its confines men fromthe south of the republic so that even in the event of a vote,which is doubtful, the majority will be in favor of the presentownership. It is another Alsace and Lorraine questionbecause Peru is always thinking of the day when itwill get it back and its inhabitants are Peruvian sympathizers.Peru even goes through the sham of havingTacna and Arica represented in its congress at Lima.

Street in Tacna Showing Earthquake Proof Houses

Tacna is thirty-eight miles north of Arica. Theconnecting railroad is the oldest in South America havingbeen completed in 1844. The railroad at first skirts afertile fringe near the seashore and then crosses a sandydesert until within a few kilometers of Tacna when itenters an oasis caused by irrigation from the CaplinaRiver, all of whose water is drawn off for the gardens sothat none of it empties into the ocean.

Tacna lies at an altitude of 2820 feet above sea level but[394]so imperceptible is the rise that one can imagine it to be onthe same level plain as Arica. The population is 14,176,including five thousand soldiers. The city appears muchlarger. The ordinary transient would carry the impressionthat it is a town of twenty-five thousand people. Itis a healthy place yet the death rate exceeds the birthrate, which state of affairs is true in many old settled townsall over the world.

Calle Bolivar, Tacna

Tacna is a beautiful place and is well worth a visit. It isthe best built city in Chile and is the only one where thebuildings are of stone. It is opulent,—a rarity in Chile,—itsinhabitants are refined, educated, and wealthy. Thereare handsome public buildings, large stores, and spacioushouses. In many respects Tacna has a European appearance.The most noticeable object that strikes one's visionin the city is a large stone shell of an incompleted cathedralwith two massive stone towers. The square trimmingstones are of a pinkish hue while the ordinary ones arethe dun-colored ones of the country. This huge shell willnever be completed. It was built from the plans of theFrench architect, Charles Pitaud, when Tacna was a Peruvian[395]city. Then came the Pacific War and the money forits completion was turned into other channels. MonsieurPitaud returned to France; Chile took Tacna, and usedmuch of the iron for the framework of the cathedral formilitary purposes. When everything again became normal,the people wished again to complete the cathedral.Pitaud in the meantime had died and his drawings werenever found so it was impossible to complete the building.In design it was to be much like the Duomo in Florence.

Fountain in Tacna

Built by Pitaud.

Another of Pitaud's works of art is the bronze fountain[396]in the Plaza Colon. It was cast in 1868 and is the finestin the Western Hemisphere. There are more expensiveones, elaborate sculptures of marble, but none its equalartistically.

Unfinished Cathedral in Tacna

This building was designed by the French architect Pitaud, when Tacna was Peruvian.The Chilean War came on, Pitaud died and the cathedral was never finished.

The streets of Tacna are paved, most of them withround polished stones, and many are bordered with treesplanted along the curbs. There is much verdure and thecity has several shady plazas with statues. There is amarble one to Columbus in the plaza of the same name.The Alameda Anibal Pinto is a garden spot. It is a well-kept-uplovely parkway. A peculiarity of Tacna is thearchitecture of many of its residences. These are gabled,but by far the most have "sawed off" gables. In these thesides slope upwards as if to form a gable, but about a yardor more below the imaginary peak, they terminate in aflat roof. This style is supposed to make them earthquakeresisting.

STYLE OF TACNA ARCHITECTURE.

HOUSES WITH SAWED OFF GABLES,SUPPOSED TO BE EARTHQUAKE PROOF

[397]

Of the six Courts of Appeals in the republic, one is atTacna. Both Antofagasta and Iquique for a long timehave been trying to get it away for themselves, but so farhave been unsuccessful. Of the five regiments stationedat Tacna, two are artillery, two are infantry, and one iscavalry. There was an engineer corps but it has beenmoved to Copiapó.

Tacna has a good hotel, the Raiteri, owned by an Italianof the same name. His business, which has somewhatfallen off since the Arica-La Paz railroad has been completed,is large enough, however, for him to keep twoannexes running. His hotel is one of the best in ruralChile. The coffee is the best I have had served to me inSouth America. There is another hotel named the TibiosBaños (Warm Baths). It is of the free and easy sortwhere when you engage a room the landlord asks you,"With or without?" and governs the price accordingly.It has a cool grape arbor where it is pleasant to repairhot Sunday afternoons for a schuper of beer.[398]

In an obscure corner of the province not far from thePeruvian line lies the high, broad mountain valley of theTicalco River, hemmed in on all sides by snow-cappedmountains, the lowest of which is higher than the highestmountains of North America save McKinley, St. Elias,and Popocatepetl. The Ticalco is joined by numerousfreshets from the melting snow and like a silver threadflows through this valley and by great jumps cuts its waythrough a gorge before it finally joins with the Salado atTalapalco to form the Sama, the national boundary withPeru. Although very high, of all the valleys of the Provinceof Tacna, the Ticalco is the most fertile. It is cold;no fruit excepting the apple thrives, but as a recompense itis rich in oats and in alfalfa. In this valley and on a smallstream about a mile above where it flows into the TicalcoRiver lies the town of Tarata, 9919 feet above sea level.Its population probably numbers five hundred souls. Itis the third town in size in the Province of Tacna. It isthe capital of a department, newly created, has a courthouse and a barracks.

Old Residence, Tacna

[399]

Street in Tacna

To Tarata I went. Don Santiago Carmona, a richhaciendero of Tarata, was in Tacna with a caravan ofthirty-one mules and six horses. Accompanying him werefive muleteers. One of the horses he himself rode. Severaltimes a year he made these trips. He would drive aherd of cattle the two days' trip into Tacna, sell them, andreturn with his mules laden with flour, oil stoves, kerosene,beans, onions, beds, and blankets. On the narrow streets ofTacna his caravan made a picturesque sight. I expresseda desire to see Tarata, and the man to whom I expressedit, a resident of Tacna but a stranger to me whom Istopped in front of his residence to inquire into the history[400]of the unfinished cathedral and with whom I entered into ageneral conversation, said that he would speak to SeñorCarmona asking his permission for me to accompany himon his return trip. He would let me know the result laterat my hotel. True to his word, late in the afternoon heappeared at the hotel bar (the place where most businessis transacted in Chilean small towns) bringing with him atall, wind-tanned, thin man of about fifty-five years of agewho wore a straggling grayish beard and a moustacheof the Don Quixote type. This man was Don SantiagoCarmona. He said that he was returning home the nextmorning and with great politeness and dignity invited me[401]to accompany him as his guest. This invitation I gladlyaccepted and for their kindness I treated both gentlemen toas much Fernet Branca and vermouth as they could handle,and then some.

Calle Miller, Tacna

I made arrangements with Signor Raiteri for threehorses, a mozo, provisions, and blankets. It is certain thatSeñor Carmona would have shared blankets with Prat andmyself, but since I did not care to impose upon him webrought our own equipment which in reality belonged toRaiteri. As it was Carmona refused to allow me to useany of the provisions I brought along, but made me eatfrom his larder, his mozos doing the cooking.

Alameda, Tacna

At eight o'clock in the morning we started from a courtyardacross the street from the market. Now the directway out of the city was to follow the Alameda, but Carmonaevidently wishing to inspire the inhabitants with areverence for his own importance had his caravan of mulescross the Alameda and turn up the main street, whichindeed created a general diversion for all the clerks ran tothe sidewalk and the pedestrians halted to view this extraordinary[402]cavalcade. At the parochial church we againturned into the Alameda and followed that avenue thelength of the extremely long town.

The valley of the Caplina is narrow, fertile, and is a veritablegarden. One thing I noticed as we left the citybehind. We would come to fields in the height of productionwith irrigation ditches full of water. Adjoiningthem we would see parched fields of bushes trying to ekeout a meager existence. The flow of water from the Caplinais not sufficient to supply all the arable land in thevalley. A farmer will raise crops for several years in onefield; then when the soil has run out he will cultivate anadjoining field, neglecting the first one, and will deviate thewater to the new one. After a few years he will give upthe new field and return to the first one which in the meantimehas been fertilized by nitrate. Since there are butfew cattle on the coastal plain, no manure is used to bringup the land, but nitrates are easily imported from Pisagua.On account of nitrates washing away they are put on theuncultivated land during the period that the fields are notin use. The road follows the right bank of the stony riverbed whose water has been turned aside to water thequintas as the small gardens are called. In some spotsthere is an intermission of the cultivation where thesandy desert comes down to the river bed, but the treesand green gardens always begin again. From this valleyIquique receives most of its fruits and vegetables.

Calientes which we reached after six hours' travel butwhich can be reached in one and a half hours by automobileand in two and a half by carriage, is the place wherewe left the road. On our way there we passed throughthree hamlets—Calana, La Vilca, and Pachia. Each hasa cantina and thither Don Santiago, Prat, and myself repairedto moisten our dusty throats with native red wine[403]while the mules took a breathing spell. The thirsty mozosstood humbly at one end of the cantina drinking theirwine in silence while we stood at the counter which servedas a bar. Calientes is so named from some hot springswhich here gush forth from the sides of a barren mountain.They are sulphurous and when the rivulet which springsfrom them enters the Caplina, the water is turned blackcaused by the precipitate the sulphur of the rivulet makeswith the copper properties of the Caplina. There areat Calientes but a few huts. Here we unsaddled thebeasts and in the hour's rest the mozos cooked a stewwhich served as a midday repast.

An hour after leaving Calientes we arrived at a couple ofhuts which are called Tacuco and two hours later in thedim light of the waning day reached the end of the firstday's ride at the hamlet of Challata deep down in thevalley at the foot of Mount Pallagua. The night was cooland the bountiful meal of cazuela, stew, and vegetableseaten before a roaring camp-fire with the murmuring of therapidly flowing stream at our feet made me rejoice that Iwas far away from the sham and inane conventions ofmodern city life. A peon offered us his only bed in his hutbut Don Santiago and myself spread our blankets on somestraw pallets in an open shed with the starlit sky for acanopy, and there we slept until awakened by the sonorousgrunting of sows at dawn.

"We have a hard day ahead of us," remarked SeñorCarmona after we forded the Caplina and started the steepascent up the sandy side of Pallagua. A high mountainrange to the right had shut off a vista of the snow peaks ofthe Cordillera, but upon reaching a stony plateau, suddenlythe high dome of the extinct volcano Tacora, 19,338feet high reared its lofty summit above the whole easternmountain chain. To the northeast appeared Uchusuma,[404]18,023 feet high, while near at hand were the ice fields ofthe Cordillera del Baroso. These high mountains arevisible from Arica, at which port the Andes come nearerthe ocean than at any other place on the South Americancontinent except Puerto Montt. After two hours' climb upthe barren ridge we reached a spine and then descendedby zigzags to the canyon formed by the Quebracho deChero in which grew a few mountain shrubs not unlikechaparral. In Indian file we followed the narrow trailbetween the mountains Pallagua (altitude 13,065 feet) onthe right and Palquilla (altitude 12,415 feet) on the leftand arrived at midday at the Pass of Caquilluca about12,000 feet above the sea level where we rested a couple ofhours and had our dinner.

Behind us all was desert and as we looked westward pastthe numerous creases of the earth's surface which werearid canyons and valleys we could see the limitless expanseof the blue Pacific Ocean. At our feet to the north andwest lay a valley as green as an emerald traversed by silverystreams, and dotted with light blue farmhouses. Inthe distance was a cluster of buildings which I was told wasTarata. Hemming in the whole valley were the mountainswhose snowy bulwarks formed a circle leaving only one gapthat in the northwest through which the Ticalco flowed.These mountains from west to east were Cumaile (altitude17,095 feet), Vivini (altitude 17,733 feet), Chilicolpa(altitude 18,303 feet), Chiliculco (altitude, 16,835 feet),Barroso, and Uchusuma.

It was six o'clock in the evening when the caravan,having clattered over the narrow pebbly streets of Tarata,pulled up at the Casa de Huespedes (Guests' House) whereI was to spend the night. Señor Carmona made meacquainted with the fat mixed-breed Vargas who owns thetambo, and after admonishing him to take good care of me,[405]he galloped off to his three-league-distant ranch saying thathe would look me up the next afternoon.

Tarata does not lie on level ground as it appears fromthe mountains above the town. The streets slope steeplydown to the Ticalco which is no more than a creek. Nearits banks is a narrow level stretch of land where the plaza,town hall, and church stand. This stream not only servesfor irrigating purposes but it is likewise the sole supply forpotable water and for washing purposes. Every morningits banks are cluttered with half-breed and Indian womenwho lay their laundry on the stony slopes of the streamto dry. On the plaza which is bordered by Lombardypoplars is a bandstand where twice a week a six-piece bandplays. Beneath these trees is a fringe of alfalfa wherethe village cows graze. Like in Tacna the houses havethe same sawed-off gables, and like in that city they arepainted tones of salmon and blue. The town hall is theonly two-story building in the place and with the exceptionof the church belfry it is the tallest. The church is acream-colored affair with a domed steeple rising from thecenter of its façade. On it painted in red is the inscription"Anno 1808," the date of its founding.

Strolling about the village I was surprised to see, throughthe windows of the residences, pianos, and one saloon had abilliard table. It required much labor to bring them herefor all transportation of merchandise is done by muleback. In the fields were many llamas. They are neverused in carrying burdens to the low altitudes because theysicken while at work below six thousand feet elevation.In the high altitudes both llamas and mules are used forbeasts of burden. Horses are employed only for pleasureriding as they cannot stand the lightness of the atmosphereto work in. Llamas refuse to carry more than one hundredpounds burden, and no matter how much beating they[406]receive, are persistent in their refusal to be laden withmore. They are not so docile as they look. Theirmethod of fighting is to run up and strike one with theirforefeet; they also spit a nauseating substance at a strangerif he approaches too close to one of them. One of them didthis trick on me and when I assailed it with my riding cropit struck at me with its forefeet. A kick from me in itsbelly only gave me the satisfaction of making it grunt.Its disgusting saliva nearly ruined a suit of my clothes.

Street in Tarata

In the afternoon on the day after my arrival in Tarata,Señor Carmona came to the Casa de Huespedes and askedme to call on the priest with him. The latter, PadreAlbarracin lived in an adobe house which had a broadverandah adjoining the cream-colored church. When weentered he was sitting in the patio behind a morning-gloryvine talking with two officers of the Chilean army, CaptainFrias and Lieutenant Guzman. They had evidently been"hitting it up" as was evidenced by several empty quart[407]bottles of chicha (grape cider) lying about, and also for thefact that each of the trio held a glass half-filled. We wereinvited to join with them in the libation and I discoveredthat this drink, ordinarily a temperance beverage, hadfermented to such an extent as to make the imbiber feelas if he were walking on wires. Shortly after we arrivedthe two officers left and the priest invited us to remainfor dinner.

He clapped his hands to which a chola girl appeared.

"Kill the two game cocks that got whipped last week,and throw them in the kettle," he commanded.

Our conversation turned to hidden treasure and antiquitieswhich the neighboring mountains are said to befull of if we can believe legend. Tarata is in the heart ofwhat once was the great Inca Empire. Upon the adventof the Spaniards the Incas hid from them the greater partof their ornaments of silver and gold where they remainundiscovered to this day. The Spaniards worked themines of Peru, Chile, and Bolivia, but they in turn for threecenturies were a prey to the pirates which ravaged thecoast and many of the inhabitants were obliged to burytheir wealth to keep it from them. The Catholic Churchin South America was always wealthy in its amount ofgold ornaments, so when the Inquisition was overthrown,it was in vogue for the citizens to loot the churches. Inorder to save its wealth from rapinous hands, the clergysequestered much of its treasure in the mountains. Priestswere murdered by pillaging bands of Indians and withtheir death was lost the cue to the hiding-places. Enoughtreasure has been found, practically stumbled upon, to giveauthenticity that vast amounts have been hidden, but theonly person in modern times that made a fabulously richhaul was Valverde in Ecuador, who was wise enough whenhe found his treasure to return to Spain and die in opulence.[408]

Padre Albarracin excused himself and soon returnedbringing with him two images several inches long whichhe said were Inca idols of silver. He also stated that theywere in good hands because the pagans could not get themas long as they were in his possession; the drunker he gotthe oftener he would repeat this and utter quotationsfrom the Scripture such as this: "Their idols are of silverand gold, the work of men's hands. Eyes have they, butthey see not," etc. When he finished he would ask me:"It applies, does it not? These idols are of silver."

Then with a sweep he would send them flying from thetable. Once I ran to pick them up. "Do they pleaseyou?" he asked. I answered in the affirmative. "Thenyou may have them," he said. He then expounded on thegreat sacrifice he was making saying that these two manikinswere the identical ones Holy Writ referred to and thatthey were priceless on account of it.

After supper when I was examining one he grabbed itaway from me, climbed on a chair, and placed it on top of awardrobe. When I asked him why he did that he repliedthat he was hiding it because he feared that I would worshipit. I told him that there was little chance, whichmade him quote more Scripture such as: "Let the heathenrage, and the people imagine a vain thing."

When he went to get another bottle of chicha, I removedthe idol from the wardrobe. The other one was lying onthe mantlepiece and I took them both because he gavethem to me. I have shown these idols to many peopleand although I have had them stolen several times byacquaintances, I have always got them back. Regardingantiquities Señor Carmona made me a present of a plate ofsolid silver hand wrought in Cuzco in the end of the sixteenthcentury. On its face are the portraits of Pizarroand of Atahulapa carved in silver. Although it was of no[409]value to Carmona, who would have been unable to sellit for more than its intrinsic value of metal, I have beenoffered three thousand dollars for it which I refused toconsider.

Padre Albarracin was getting so drunk that both DonSantiago and myself excused ourselves soon after supper.Coming out of the house, Prat stumbled over somethinglying in the garden. It was Lieutenant Guzman in fulldress uniform, soused and dead to the world. Thingswere just as bad at the Casa de Huespedes. CaptainFrias was asleep with his head on the dining room table,and Vargas fell down the stairs trying to show Carmonahis room. The cause of the debauch was due to the factthat Don Santiago brought up much wine, gin, vermouth,and grape chicha with his mule caravan. The shaking thechicha got en route augmented its fermentation whichmade it as bad as hard cider. The night before when wearrived he had left six cases to be distributed to the priest,the alcalde, the intendente, Captain Frias, Vargas, and thenotary.

The next day I rode to Carmona's hacienda which islocated about nine miles up the Ticalco River on a levelexpanse of land which stretches northward to the stonyslopes of the barren mountain Cumaile. The house itselfis a long, low, rambling affair of adobe which was oncewhitewashed, but that so long ago that but little of thewhite color is left on its sides. It rains in this region andthe broad tiles of the roof are the only things, I take it,which prevented the building from being melted by therains. A compound originally enclosed the whole building,flower garden, and adjacent peon and work sheds, but atthe present time only pieces of wall of this compound remain.It was destroyed in 1881 by the Chilean soldierswho here besieged the Peruvian landlord who had fortified[410]himself and held out behind the walls. Everywhere onthe landscape steers grazed in tall alfalfa, fattening themselvesfor the butcher shops of the coast towns.

Most of the civil inhabitants of Tacna and Tarata are ofPeruvian origin having either been born there when theChilean Province of Tacna formed part of the PeruvianProvince of Moquegua, or are descendants of people bornbefore the Pacific War. Tacna is an old town of stonebuildings, not at all Chilean in character, but very muchlike the larger towns of south central Peru. The nativeshave strong Peruvian sympathies and are always living inhope that some day or other Tacna and Arica will bereturned to Peru. Now this is ridiculous because Chilehas no intention of giving these places up, although theresources of the Province of Tacna are small. The mostimportant feature is that Arica is the seaport of La Paz,Bolivia, and it is well for Chile to retain possession of it.Tacna was a poor town when it was Peruvian; the majorityof its inhabitants lived in poverty. Since it has becomeChilean, it has prospered and is to-day very wealthy. Thisis largely due to live regiments which are stationed thereand which bring money into the town. For the pastthirty years Peru has passed through many changes of governments,and revolutions have been frequent; it has beenmisgoverned and unprogressive. Chile, although it cannotbe called progressive has aims that way but has beenhandicapped from the want of money and immigration.It has only had one revolution; that a small civil warstarted by Balmaceda, but in government, progress, andin everything else is so far ahead of Peru that it seemsincredible that the natives of the Province of Tacna aredesirous of again returning to Peru's revolutionary andmediæval yoke.

Don Santiago Carmona was an exceptional haciendero[411]in so far that he is a native Chileno. He left his birthplace,La Serena, forty years ago and never once has he returned.His military service was spent not far from Temuco wherehis regiment was quartered as a protection to the settlersagainst the Araucanian invasions. For this reason hetook no part in the Pacific War. His father died when hewas in the service and he was left with a small fortune.With this money he bought from the Chilean Governmentthe hacienda that he now resides upon. The latter hadoriginally confiscated it from the Peruvian landlord whohad fortified himself there against him. Carmona marrieda Peruvian girl from Tacna who had long since diedafter having borne two sons. One of these sons is ahaciendero in Ovalle and the other is a priest in Spain.The latter is figuring on returning shortly to Chile becausehe has been offered a sacerdotal office in Santiago. Carmonahas become wealthy and is thinking of making aa trip for a half-year's duration to his birthplace, thenceto Ovalle, Santiago, and Araucania. He also has a desireto see Punta Arenas.

Prat suggested that since we had come thus far towardsPeru by land that it would be as well to continue it thisway. He had a mortal fear of seasickness to which maladyhe was a prey every time he put foot upon a ship no matterhow calm the water was. Now I had no maps with me anddid not know how to get to Peru, although I knew thatTacna was the northernmost province of Chile and theboundary line was no great distance away. To get informationon the subject I went to Don Santiago who toldme that Moquegua was the nearest Peruvian city, but thatit was a week distant over a hot, sandy desert, and thatthe best way would be for me to return to Arica and go upthe coast by steamer. He said that in Tarata there werepeople who had made the horseback ride to Moquegua[412]and that it would be possible for me to hire acholo toaccompany us. I had heard about bandits in the interiorand asked him about it. He answered that highwaymenexisted only in the high mountains near the Bolivian frontier,and that I would find the few inhabitants in the countryI was contemplating traveling through very docile.Beyond the Sama River which was Peru, he knew nothingabout the inhabitants but imagined them to be muchthe same as on the Chilean side of it. The Peruvianboundary was not fifteen miles away, yet the hacienderosof the neighborhood seldom crossed it, and it was as muchof atierra incognita with them as is the interior of Chihuahuato the ordinary citizen of El Paso, Texas.

At Tarata, through the services of the notary who was anintimate of Don Santiago, we procured an overgrown boyof the cholo variety who, after considerable haggling, proposedto take us to Moquegua for the sum of one hundredpesos Chileno (less than $20.00). He was to fetch backthe beasts that we were to procure as a loan from DonSantiago. Having shipped my valise to Lima from Tacna,I was unencumbered save for the blankets and a few edibleswhich I carried. Prat was attired in a Palm Beach suitand wore a straw sailor hat which looked as much out ofplace in this part of the country, where everybody rode inspurred boots, were clad in ponchos, and wore as head gearbroad-brimmed pointed felt hats, as a snowball in hell.

We descended the valley formed by the Ticalco, andafter riding for over an hour came to a place where a streamfrom the north, named the Ticaco, joined the Ticalco andformed the Pistala River. The valley narrowed in andpresently the mountains came down to the stream soclosely that one could with ease throw a stone across thecanyon. A rocky promontory on the left was roundedand the green, fertile pocket in which Tarata nestles was[413]shut from view. A half-score of adobe huts with red-tileroofs were arrived at. These constitute the hamletof Pistala, all of whose inhabitants are Indians. Thehorse trail, instead of descending with the river, keeps on aneven altitude so that it is soon a sheer height of severalhundred feet about it, its way having been dug out of theshaly rock that constitutes the side of the mountains.Around a bend is a narrow canyon and down this it zigzagsfor half a mile and finally crosses a tiny stream namedthe Jaruma, which a mile farther down, jumps into thePistala forming a new river—the Tala. At the ford of theJaruma is a primitive mill with a huge water wheel. Fromhere on to the Sama River is a very steep descent by anarrow bridle path and very dangerous on account of theprecipices which form a gorge through which the waters ofthe Tala rush from shelf to shelf with a roar. On thenarrow mountain path we met a troop of llamas ladenwith sugar cane and tubers in charge of threearrieros.At our approach they leaped onto the rocks above as nimblyas goats. The arrieros and ourselves had to dismount;they backed their horses to a ledge and we led ours pastthem before mounting again. Where the Tala joins theSama it must be two thousand feet lower than Tarata.This is in a broad valley well cultivated to corn, potatoes,and alfalfa in which are many mud huts of the natives andan occasional chapel. The river bed is wide but the streamitself is narrow and forks out in many channels which everylittle way unite again. The Chilean or south side slopesgently down to the stream in some places leaving a plainof a mile wide at the water's edge, while the Peruvianside is mountainous, precipitous, and uncultivated. Themountains are absolutely destitute of any cultivation. Wecontinued all day down this river, following the Chileanside, and camped at night beside a ruined stone wall across[414]the stream from the Peruvian hamlet of Sambalai Grande,at an altitude of 3025 feet. During the afternoon themountains had receded and their places were taken by highsandy hills the essence of lonesome desolation. The waterin the river had much diminished having been used largelyfor irrigation. I was told that what little there is left isused for the cane-fields which are plenty about twenty-fivemiles farther down. This cane is not made into sugar butinto rum; also much of the cane is cut and is sent up onmule back to the high country where the natives themselvesferment it, using the pulp as fodder. Estevan, thecholo guide, although polite and humble, would never talkunless spoken to and then he would answer in monosyllables.Prat and I had no idea how far Moqueguawas for we had no map; Carmona said it would take a week,but he had never been there. I knew it could not be thatfar because Ilo, its port, is only a half-day's steam north ofArica, and we were now considerably north of that last-mentionedplace. I several times asked Estevan howfar Moquegua was, but to each query he would answer thehighly unintelligent reply of "muy lejo," which translatedinto English means "very far," but fails to designatewhether the distance is two kilometers or two thousandmiles. This is an example of a conversation betweenEstevan and myself.

"How far is Moquegua?" I asked him.

"Muy lejo" (very far), he answered.

"How far?"

"Lejo" (far), was his brilliant answer.

"Is it a week's journey?"

"Quien sabe" (who knows).

"Is it three days away?"

"Dios sabe" (God knows).

"Can we make it in one day?"[415]

"No, señor."

"Can we make it in two days?"

"I do not know, señor."

"Can we make it in three days?"

"I do not know, señor."

"You have made the trip to Moquegua before?"

"Si, si, señor" (yes, yes, sir).

"And yet you don't remember how long it took you tomake it?"

"I have forgotten, señor."

The country across the river did not look very invitingto us and it was decidedly exasperating to be met withanswers of such unintelligence especially as we had tocross what appeared to be a duplicate of the MohaveDesert. We forded the shallow Sama to some mud hutsin a field of alfalfa, from one of which waved the washed-outand dirty cloth which once was the red, white, and redflag of Peru. No sooner had we reached high groundthan a fat, dirty half-breed, barefooted and wearing filthylinen trousers beneath a faded blue military coat on theshoulders of which were red epaulettes, planted himself inour way and assuming a grandiose air of mock dignityinquired our business.

"We are travelers for Moquegua," I told him.

"What is your business there?" he asked insolently.

"To visit the town."

This reply took some time to penetrate his thick skull.He pondered over it and then a gleam of intelligence spreadover his fat countenance which, by the way, was smearedyellow with the yoke of an egg he had just been eating, ashe replied in an interrogative kind of a way:

"Ah, Ustedes son Judios!" (Ah, you are Jews!)

This fat guardian of the frontier had taken Prat andmyself for itinerant Jews. This gentry as well as Turks[416]and Armenians occasionally make the rounds of the remotetowns peddling their wares, such as cheap finery, pencils,looking-glasses, buttons, and so forth. To be called a Jewwithout an inflection of the voice is, in Catholic SouthAmerica, the height of insult, because it is considered thevilest reproach one man can give another in the heat of anargument. The manner in which this officer put the questionto us was meant in the form of a query. Prat, however,being a Spaniard and a none too amiable one at thatwhen dealing with the cholos and other mixed breeds,went into a towering rage and upbraided the official in thepurest and most blasphemous Castillian that he everbefore heard and which caused his overbearing, insolent,and stupid countenance to change to one of servility.

"A thousand pardons, señor," he cringingly broke in,"but you must understand that I have received my commandsto interrogate strangers entering Peru. Not thatI am in the least interested myself, but the government,alas——"

"We will pardon you this time but not the next," interposedPrat, curtly starting to ride off.

"Señor, señor," pleaded the official calling to him.Prat paid no attention. I swung around in my saddleasking him what he wanted.

"Your papers," answered the official. "I would losemy position if I let you pass without seeing them. Thepay is very small and it is my sole income; the illustriousseñores would not be so ungracious as to wish to see melose that?" he entreated.

I showed him my passport which he looked at, thenturned upside down, frowningly trying to figure out whatit was.

"What nationality are you?" he inquired.

"North American."[417]

"What language is this paper written in?"

"English," I replied.

A puzzled look spread over the stupid face of my interlocutor.

"How is it then that you have an English passportsince you are a North American?"

"English is the language of North America."

The official was astounded. "Pardon, señor, but Ithought Spanish was the language of entire America."

"You are mistaken," I replied.

"How is it then that you gentlemen speak such goodCastillian. You speak it much better than I do."

"I learned it in Spain," I answered. "The señor withme is a Spaniard."

"Ah, I understand," answered the official. I could seeby his amazed and ignorant look that he did not understandbut was unwilling to have us know the extent of hisignorance.

"We are in a hurry to be on our journey to Moquegua;you had better return the passport," I said as I tenderedhim two silver pieces of the one sol denomination, thestandard monetary unit of Peru. A sol is worth fiftycents.

"Mil gracias, señor, mil gracias," answered the officialthanking me profoundly. Prat, who had ridden on, nowturned back and wanted to know what was delaying me.He was on the point of letting off steam anew at thecholo, but upon seeing me give him a tip, he threw a pieceof silver on the ground at the fat official's feet. It wascomical to see the latter grovel in the dust to pick it up.

"Adios, señores," he yelled after us as we spurred ourhorses into a gallop and were soon lost to sight.

Upon our reaching the top of a high, barren hill, a vistaof a parched and sandy, barren imitation of the Sahara[418]unveiled itself before us. Everywhere lay the bones ofoxen and mules. This was the horrible desert of PampaZorra about twenty miles wide, which it took us over fourhours to cross, in a hot, desiccating, blazing sun. Thethermometer must have been in excess of 120 degreesFahrenheit. With our eyes smarting with dust and ourthroats parched (we partook sparingly of the water fromour canteens), we arrived shortly after midday at a dryravine named the Coari. Following this downwardsbetween high hills of shale rock we came in half an hour tothe Curibaya River at the cluster of mud huts and ranchhouse of Coari. Here were some green fields of alfalfasurrounded by eucalyptus trees.

The Curibaya River is much like the Sama, only itsriver bed is narrower. It also has more water, there beingplenty to wet one's feet in. The reason for this is thatcultivation does not extend as high in its bottom as in theSama so less is drawn off for irrigation. About twentymiles below Coari it widens out into a broad valley of greatfertility; most of its water is used at that point to supplythe large vineyards in that neighborhood. The smallremainder loses itself in the sand and never reaches theocean excepting during times of cloudbursts in the mountains.In the fertile valley is the small city of Locumba,which is famous for its grapes and wines said to be the bestin Peru. We forded Curibaya before we reached Coariand then turned eastward again, ascending the valley.This soon forked the Ilabaya joining it from the north.The latter is a swiftly rushing and jumping rivulet; ourtrail lay up its defile and we must have crossed it two dozentimes in the eight miles that it took us to reach the town ofthe same name which is situated in a high open valley,surrounded on all sides with hills not entirely devoid ofvegetation. The landscape instead of being sandy was[419]rocky and abounded with gray boulders. There wereseveral varieties of cactus and a plant not unlike the yucca.

Ilabaya is a typical town of the coastal region of Peru,differing greatly from Andean cities in so far that thehouses were all built of adobe. The roofs instead of beingof mud, were tiled, because it rains several times a year inthe summer months and the mud roofs would be washedaway. In Copiapó, where it rains only once in a decade,and in Tacna where it never rains, the roofs are of mud, butin Tarata and here, tiles were in evidence. Ilabaya is alarger place than Tarata, but is a dirtier, and more poverty-strickenplace. It is also a terribly hot place, and swarmedwith flies and vermin; mangy curs abounded and the odorof the streets abounding with house slops and garbage wasdisgusting. There were numerous street stands in frontof which Indian women sat offering for sale melons, oranges,and pears, but not once during the part of the afternoonthat I was there, did I see any purchaser.

Arrived at Ilabaya, Estevan said that we had betterspend the night there because he thought there would beno water the next stage. We dismounted at a primitiveblacksmith shop where the cholo boy was apparentlyknown, and carried our grips inside. Our arrival excitedconsiderable curiosity because much of the male populacesoon arrived on the scene, and at a respective distancelooked us over, and then began to become interested inour grips and saddlebags. One urchin tried to undo thestraps of my suit case but a threatening blow with my stickmade him desist and seek shelter behind one of the grownuphalf-breeds. The usual questions were asked to whichPrat and myself deigned to reply, but strange to sayEstevan found his tongue among those of his own breedand there was let loose a volume of Babel in the Quichualanguage which was surprising to me since I did not realize[420]that language had such a large vocabulary. I had forgottentemporarily that the early padres had translatedthe Bible in Quichua and had them printed in that language.I saw one of these books among the church relicsin Cuzco.

I interrupted Estevan's garrulity with a prod of mystick, and asked him where we were to find lodging.

"Quien sabe" (who knows), he whiningly replied in thesingsong tones used by all cholos in their conversation withtheir superiors. If a stupid cholo or Indian does not knowwhat answer to give he invariably says "quien sabe" andlets it go at that. I expostulated with him telling himthat he must procure for us lodging. This he translatedinto his native language to the crowd of spectators. Asmall boy in the group said that he thought that a certainold woman who lived at the end of the town would take inlodgers and offered to direct us there and carry our grips.We set out down the long straggling street of adobe hovelsand arriving at our destination found the door was shut.The boy knocked but no response came. I then bangedon the door with my stick. Presently the head of a witheredhag appeared at a shutter and asked what we wanted.

"We want lodging for the night," I answered.

"Ah, señores, but I am too old," she said. "At thenext street to the right in the second house lives CarmenVargas. She is young and makes a business of it!" Theold woman was on the point of closing the shutters when Icalled to her again.

"You do not understand. We are travelers on our wayto Moquegua and wanted to pay for a room to sleep into-night." I then held up a couple of silver soles.

"I see. A thousand pardons, señores. I thought thatyou were looking for some pleasure with themuchachas.How much will you pay for a room?[421]

"One sol apiece."

"It is not enough."

"We will make it two, if it includes meals."

"Ah, señores, but I am a poor woman and must live.For three soles I can accommodate you."

"We agree, but it is expensive."

"Look at your room," she said, as she opened the door."It is fit for a king." She ushered us into a chamberwhich was semi-storeroom and sleeping quarters. Boxesand dusty bottles littered one side of the floorless apartment,and spider webs hung from the rafters. There wasan iron cot in the corner on which was a straw pallet butthere were no sheets nor blankets. I spoke to her aboutgetting another cot and she said she would procure one.As for blankets, she had none, but since the señores musthave their own, having come from some distance, we couldnaturally spread ours on the cots. In the meantime if wewould return about seven she would have for us an excellentcomida.

The comida turned out to be a thin soup whose ingredientswere unknown to us and in which floated chickenfeathers. This was followed by a disgusting stew andsome meat of an unknown quality, highly seasoned, whichmight have been a camouflage for one of the mangy cursthat abounded in the village.

There were plenty of cantinas in the small town and Iassume that they were well patronized from the number ofintoxicated Indians that I counted. Bottled beer fromthe Cerveceria Alemana at Arequipa here sold for fifty centavos(25 cents) a bottle and was drunk warm. Strongliquor was much cheaper than beer and was likewise morefavored. There were quite a few young dudes in the villageand at evening they appeared togged up to what theyconsidered perfection, wearing carefully polished patent[422]leather shoes, high stiff collars, flowing black ties; allcarried canes. This stylish dressing among the males is invogue all over South America. It is a sign of caste or classdistinction. It is the ambition of all young men to bedressed in the height of fashion no matter how remote theirvillage is from the beaten road of civilization. I have seenthis same class of dudes everywhere south of Panama, fromthe isolated mountain towns of Colombia to the mosquito-infestedhamlets of Paraguay. There is also a class distinctionin traveling. A man who rides on horseback issuperior to one who rides on a mule; he who rides on a muleis superior to the one who travels on the back of a donkey.But beware not to travel on foot in the Andean countries,even though it be a pleasure jaunt for a short distancein the country. The pedestrian is looked down upon bythe lowliest peons and is held by them in greater odiumthan the hobo is held by us at home. Good clothes andhigh collars cease to show caste when applied to the personwho makes a foot tour. He will invariably be turneddown when asking for lodging or meals en route. It isalso wise not to travel on foot on account of the ferociousdogs to be met with, which never run out and bark at theequestrian.

Street in Ilabaya, Peru

About nine o'clock that night while walking down theonly thoroughfare that could go by the name of street,I met Prat at a corner conversing with a dandy, who likePrat wore a straw hat and sported a slender cane. "Thisis my compatriot," said he; "allow me to introduce you tomy friend, Señor Güell." The dude bowed and Pratwent on to explain that his new acquaintance was a Catalonianfrom Gerona and had been in Peru for four years,the last two of which he had spent in the employ of a winemerchant of Locumba. Güell said that Moquegua was buta short day's ride which was not at all tiresome. He had[423]made the trip dozens of times for his firm and was thinkingof doing so again in a few days. He was at present in Ilabayacollecting some debts for his employer. I left theSpaniards on the corner conversing and strode off to thehut where I was rooming. I went into the room assignedto us, and although there was another cot there, there wereno blankets. The cholo, Estevan, had evidently forgottento bring them although at six o'clock he had promisedfaithfully to do so in "un momentito, señor." I walkedback to the blacksmith shop where we had unsaddled butfound that like all the other buildings closed for the night.As it would have been impossible to find Estevan, I returnedto the dingy hut and throwing my coat on the cotin the place of a pillow I lay down on the iron springs andtried to sleep. This was impossible. At midnight Prathad not returned nor had he come back by five o'clockin the morning. There was no need worrying about himbecause he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself,[424]but I was at the same time at a loss to conjecture wherehe was. At six o'clock, finding that any attempt to slumberwould be futile, I went out into the street and walkedabout.

I went to the blacksmith shop which was about to openfor the day to inquire about the horses. The blacksmithwas already there and when questioned about Estevanmerely answered, "Quien sabe," and then went on abouthis work. Presently the same boy that had conducted meto the house where I obtained lodging appeared and askedme if I was looking for my arriero. I replied that I was,whereupon the urchin said in his patois, "Se scapo,"which in Castillian would be "e scapado," meaning "hehas escaped."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"He has run away."

"He has run away? What do you mean by that?"

"He sold the horses and has run away."

At that encouraging piece of intelligence, several otherboys appeared and from their conversation I gathered thatEstevan the previous night had sold the horses with blanketsto a mountaineer and that he had then taken Frenchleave. You may imagine my anger, especially since thehorses were but a loan to us from Don Santiago Carmonaand were worth at least seventy-five dollars apiece inNorth American money. When I asked if anybody knewwhere Prat was, they volunteered the information that heand a friend of his were visiting some young ladies. Thiswas a new one on me since Prat was absolutely unknownin Ilabaya and no young ladies that I knew of would entertaintwo guests so late as this.

"Which young ladies is he calling on?" I inquired,mystified.

"On la Carmen; she lives near the end of the village."[425]

It now dawned upon me that Prat was at the bagnio ofCarmen Vargas and that accounted for him not showing upat the hut. I proceeded down the street to rout him outbut had not gone far before I ran into him and Güell, bothin a state of intoxication. Prat was just emerging fromthe jovial stage and was entering upon an ugly mood.Save for his bloodshot eyes and the reek of alcohol, he wasas immaculate as ever, but the dude was a sight to behold.His side and back were covered with dust; only one flap ofhis collar was buttoned, the other flying in the air; his hairwas unkempt, and his hat was awry. He could hardlysteady himself on his feet and was leaning on Prat to keephis balance. At the same time he was trying to sing astanza from the Cid.

"Hail to the glorious Carmen, the light of Peru!" heyelled upon espying me.

I told Prat immediately what had happened. At firsthe did not understand, but when I repeated that Estevanhad sold our horses and run away, great was his rage. Hedrew out his knife and shrieked what he would do to thecholo when he caught him. The news sobered him upconsiderably, so much so that when Güell burst out againin another stanza, he told him to shut up and cease hisidiotic prattle in case he himself did not care to feel theknife between his ribs instead of between Estevan's. Wewent again to the blacksmith shop where Prat startedupbraiding the blacksmith, and then went to the alcalde'sresidence. That official was asleep but Prat insisted onhaving him wakened. Presently he appeared attired inhis pajamas. He wanted to know the meaning of thisdisturbance and was on the point of telling us to go to theinfernal regions when he suddenly realized that we wereforeigners of distinction, due to the stiff collars and qualityof our wearing apparel. His demeanor changed and he[426]invited us inside, saying that he would dress and talk withus directly. He ushered us into a well furnished apartmentand left us. We heard him ordering breakfast,yelling to a servant to prepare three places as he had asguests two "milords ingleses."

Alameda, Moquegua

During the meal, which was spread on a table beneatha vine trellis in the patio, the alcalde, Don José Vergara,asked us the nature of our visit, to which narrative he didnot reply, stating that he would take the matter up with usagain after breakfast. In the meantime he plied us withmany questions about North America, most of which Pratanswered—wrong. The latter had never been there norcould he speak English well, the extent of his vocabularybeing "bulldog," "dollars," "all right," "good-night," etc.He now converses fluently in English. His ignorance ofthat language was not known to the mayor, who himselfspoke an execrable patois although he was a pure-bloodedwhite man. When we said that we wanted to start as soonas possible for Moquegua, the alcalde implored us to remaina few days in Ilabaya as his guests. When we toldhim it was imperative for us to continue, he promised us[427]horses and a man from his stable who would accompany us.He also said that he would apprehend Estevan and seethat he would be sent to prison if he had not alreadyescaped to Chile.

"What will he get?" I inquired.

"At least twenty years," he answered. "I shall see toit."

"Is not that pretty severe?"

"Severe, nothing. One of my friends has an estanciawhere labor is badly needed. You see that he will be putto work profitably."

Don José ordered the blacksmith summoned to hispresence, and when that individual presently was broughtbefore him, the alcalde, threatening him with all sorts ofphysical evils, elucidated from him that the previous nightEstevan had called for the horses which were corralledbehind the shop stating that the "señores ingleses" wereabout to continue to Moquegua, saying they preferred totravel at night instead of during the heat of the day. Notlong afterwards his boy had seen a mountaineer drivingthem laden with goods up a road that leads into the Andes.The boy asked him what he was doing with the horses sincethey belonged to the "señores ingleses," whereupon themountaineer answered that he had bought them from themozo Estevan for fifteen soles each. The mountaineer theblacksmith added was well known to him, was an honestman, and frequently came to Ilabaya. The next time hecame he would inform Don José of his presence so that thelatter could deal with him. I have always believed thatthe blacksmith had a hand in this deal and that he was hidingEstevan who had mysteriously disappeared after thetransaction. At Moquegua I wrote Don Santiago Carmonatelling him what happened. Six months later Ireceived a reply when at home in the United States saying[428]that he had never heard a word about Estevan and thehorses, although he had heard rumors that the alcalde ofIlabaya was riding one of them. Since Ilabaya was inPeru it was useless to go there for he would receive nojustice.

Street in Moquegua

Although Don José Vergara said that he would loan usthe horses, when we were about to depart he came to meand said that it would cost us twenty-five soles ($12.50) fortheir rent. This was reasonable enough according to thestandards of civilization but was exorbitant for that locality.It was after ten o'clock in the morning before wegot away. For about ten miles the trail led over a rockyplateau and then came to the edge of a precipice at thebottom of which was the bed of the Cinto River, here dry.Here were three mud huts and a cistern half full of water,which was drawn from some springs a few miles up thevalley. We remained here about an hour during which wecooked some meat and potatoes that we had brought withus; we pushed on again across another plateau similar tothe one which we had just traversed excepting that it wassandier and smoother riding. At nightfall we came out on[429]a nose of a hill and saw below us in the distance the lightsof a city which we knew was Moquegua. An hour laterwe clattered over the flinty pavement of the narrow streetsand pulled up at the portals of the Hotel Lima, one of thebest in rural Peru. A large well-ventilated room, electriclights, and the noise of locomotive whistles made us feelthat we had again reached civilization.

Street in Moquegua

Moquegua is a fine old town on a river of the same nameand capital of the province of Moquegua, lying at an altitudeof over four thousand feet above sea level in thecenter of a rich agricultural district, abounding in olives.These and raisins are the chief exports of the district.

The city has a population of nine thousand andmuch resembles Tacna on account of the substantialbuildings; it is not as lively as Tacna, due to the former[430]place having stationed there five regiments, but otherwiseit is a pleasanter town. It is higher, cooler, and there ismore verdure. The valley itself is a long, broad ribbon ofcultivation, mostly devoted to the growing of grapes.Moquegua is connected to its port, Ilo, by a railroad sixty-fivemiles long.

Before the Pacific War, Moquegua was a wealthy townand larger than at the present time; since then many of theinhabitants emigrated, many going to Arequipa and toLima. The alameda, though much neglected, showssigns of former grandeur, which is testified by the brokenstatues and cracked stone benches which formerly werethe pride of the city. Moquegua has the name of being avery religious place; it has many churches and its streetsswarm with priests, in this respect being much differentfrom the Chilean towns that I had just visited.

Ilo is a small port of about two thousand inhabitants,very poor and squalid but not so much so as Mollendo.In both these places bubonic plague is rife, but strange tosay that malady has never mounted as high as Arequipaor Moquegua. At Ilo I boarded a small postal steamerof the Peruvian Line and after a few hours' steam weanchored off the cliffs of Mollendo, the most dangerouslanding place on the Pacific Ocean. The swell is so greathere that sometimes passengers have to wait two weeksbefore it has subsided enough to permit them to embarkon the steamers. I had to transfer to another ship herebecause the one I was on touched at all the small ports andtook a week to reach Callao.

Mollendo is one of the dirtiest towns that I have evervisited and I have visited some "hot" ones. It is abubonic stricken place of about five thousand inhabitants,according to the census reports, although I doubtif its population is in excess of three thousand. A steep[431]incline up a cliff leads from the dock past the customhouse to the stinking Hotel Ferrocarril, the only hostelryin the town. This ramshackle old building, painteddark green, is situated on an eminence at the extremesouthwest corner of the town, at a street corner. Averanda runs around the street sides of it, onto whichthe rooms open. Beggars, hobos, cripples, bums, anddogs bask on the sun-warped boards of its floor, andsneak-thieves are ever watching for an opportunity ofentering the dirty holes which are the guests' rooms. Thedining room and the barroom are the only adjuncts of theinstitution which are kept clean, and the latter is the mostlucrative enterprise to its owners of any business establishmentin the town. It has several billiard tables of doubtfulcues and cushions and to them at the noon hour repairall the German clerks of the mercantile establishments.There is much liquor sold and much drunkenness to beobserved. At one corner of the room sat a well-dressedaged man. He had the palsy so badly that he could notlift a glass to his mouth so he sat there imbibing whiskeyand soda through a rubber tube that extended from hismouth to the glass. The Hotel Ferrocarril is owned bya couple of Italians who are fast waxing wealthy. It ishell to stay in Mollendo even for an hour and the travelersare to be pitied who stop here days at a time waiting fortheir steamers which run on uncertain schedules.

The place owes its importance to the fact that it is theport of the large and prosperous city of Arequipa aboutseventy-five miles inland, and that it is the outlet and portof entry of the Lake Titicaca basin, and of the historicand interesting old city of Cuzco, the pristine capital ofthe Inca Empire, three days distant by rail. FormerlyMollendo was the seaport of La Paz, Bolivia's quaint metropolis,but now traffic has been changed from that city,[432]so that Arica and Antofagasta get the bulk of its trade.There has been much talk of transferring the port of Arequipato Islay, a settlement a few miles north of Mollendoin a sheltered location, but the merchants at Mollendomade a strong kick about it, and bribed the politicians atLima, so that the scheme never matured. At Mollendo,my Peruvian money ran out because I did not get enoughChilean money changed at Arica, and I had a hard jobgetting change here. Some Italian bankers to whom Iapplied knew how badly I wanted Peruvian currency, soaccordingly discounted my Chilean money so much that Imust have lost twenty-five dollars by the transaction.

As I said before, Mollendo is a hotbed for bubonicplague. Several people die daily of it here, but its mentionis suppressed by the health authorities so as not togive a black eye to the town. When a person dies of it, itis kept quiet and the victim is buried at night. Northeastof the town is the potter's field. Here graves eighteeninches deep are dug. The cadaver is trussed up by havingits feet drawn back to its haunches by means of a cord tiedaround the shoulders and is thrown into the impromptugrave. I was told by several people that so poorly is thejob done that sometimes the toes protrude above the groundand are nibbled at by buzzards and by starving dogs.

From Mollendo, I went to Callao on the Chilean steamshipLimari. It was a good ship but rolled considerablyeven in a calm sea. It took three days to make Lima'sbusy port, no stops being made, but from the deck I couldsee the dim outlines of the towns Lobos, Chala, and Pisco.An acquaintance of mine, Mr. Kurt Waldemar Linn, ofNew York, a German by birth but a naturalized Americancitizen, who is connected with the International FilmCompany, told me in Santiago that he expected to be onthis boat and arrive in Lima at the same time I would.[433]I failed to find his name on the passenger list and when Iarrived in Lima, he had not yet shown up. The next dayhe appeared, having disembarked from the Pacific SteamNavigation Company's steamshipMexico. He said hewas sorry that he had not made the trip on theLimari,and that never again would he make a trip on any ship ofthe Pacific Steam Navigation Company if he could help it.He said that the service and food on theMexico were vilebut to crown his discomfiture one morning at breakfastthe first officer who sat next to him asked him how heslept the previous night.

"I didn't sleep very well," answered Mr. Linn. "Therewas too much noise going on."

"Oh, yes, there was a good bit of noise on board. Wecaught a German spy last night and that caused theracket." At this witty remark the officer looked at Linnand winked. The latter did not relish this sort of pleasantryeven though it was meant in fun.

At Callao the custom house officials are careful to ransackall one's belongings looking for things dutiable andthose non-dutiable as well; on the latter they levy privateduties for their own pockets. There is much red tape andtipping to be done and nowhere else in my travels have Ibeen subjected to so much annoyance at a custom houseunless it was at Belgrade, Servia. Hotel couriers meetthe steamers and it is advisable for the traveler to give hispossessions in charge of one of these men who will relievehim of the trouble connected with the custom house andtransferal of baggage to Lima. The courier expects alarge tip, but it is more convenient to give it in one lumpsum to him than to have to run the gauntlet.[434]

CHAPTER XIV
LIMA

Although the chapters of this book are supposed totreat only of the southern republics of South America, itwould nevertheless be a shame not to mention Lima andthe Peruvian hinterland, therefore this and the followingchapter.

Callao, the port of Lima, where the ships anchor,has a population of forty-five thousand. It is here thatone first gets an idea of genuine Peruvian architecture.The two and three storied houses, many of which areadorned by steeples and towers, invariably have enclosedwooden balconies projecting from the second floor over thestreet, giving the touch of old Stamboul or other orientalcities. It is difficult to conjecture the origin of these balconies.The Moorish style of architecture which the Spaniardscopied and brought to their colonies was plain, withbare outside walls and few windows. This Turkish styleseen by many tourists for the first time in their lives atCallao is that which predominates in Central Peru and isalso prevalent to a certain extent as far south as Tacna.

In Callao there is but little to interest the stranger.As in most seaports, tough characters abound, and thereis a bevy of saloons; but unlike most seaports, Callao iscomparatively clean, especially the show places. It hasa large church, a few pleasant plazas, and some marble[435]statues. In reputation it is one of the toughest towns inthe world; it formerly was the jumping-off place for criminalsand the tales of shanghaiing and murders that tookplace here not so many years back would fill volumes.

Callao Harbor

The harbor is landlocked by the mainland, a sandypoint, and the mountainous island of San Lorenzo. Theport works of stone are the best on the whole PacificCoast but at the present time no ships anchor at them.This is due to the prevalence of bubonic plague (occasionallya few sporadic cases) which can be transmitted to thepassengers and crews through the medium of rats. Areason more vital to the municipality for not allowing theships to anchor at the docks is that of providing employmentfor thefleteros, or boatmen, who earn a few soles byrowing people and baggage to and from the ships. In theharbor are two Peruvian men-of-war. They have lain[436]there several years. Their boilers are defective and theirmachinery needs repairing, but nothing is ever done tomake them seaworthy. I saw the admiral in a street car.He is a big, fat fellow with about a fifty-three inch waistline, and resplendent with gold braid. From the servilehumility of the conductor and the passengers towards him,one might judge that he ranked with von Tirpitz and Ihave no doubt but that he entertained the same opinionof himself.

Lima is about five miles distant inland from Callao, towhich city it is connected by a trolley and two railwaylines. The former, double-tracked, runs in a straight linethrough a decidedly Athenian landscape. On all sides aregreen fields, olive groves, black hills, and whitish soil.The air, odor, and decisive clearness of the atmosphere isAttic; the style of the country houses, nature of the crops,and appearance of the live stock is analogous to thatof Attica. On the south side of the main road are twolarge country seats that would grace any rural scene; theyare the residences of the Italian families Castagnoneand Nosiglia, and are set back at some distance from theturnpike.

The population of Lima, Callao, and many of the seaboardPeruvian towns is composed of Aryans, Indians,Hamitics, and Mongolians, with a conglomerate mixtureof all four races. In Lima, people with mixed white andIndian blood predominate; those of mixed white and negroblood are a close second. The aristocracy and better-to-doclasses are white and are descended from the Spaniards.They do not marry outside of their own race and constitutethe ruling element. There is a large Italian colony,many of whose male members are leading merchants andprofessional men. Far outnumbering the whites are thevarious hues of mixed breeds, Indians, negroes, and[437]Chinese, which form the rabble. The cholo is a scion of anIndian and a white person, while achino-cholo is the offspringof a Chinaman and an Indian. To get a good ideaof Peruvian mixture as applied to the lower walks of society(which constitute all the classes not belonging to thewhite race, and which greatly predominate), one can takethe following genealogical tree as an example. A whiteman marries a squaw which we can designate as union A.A Chinaman marries a negress; we can call this union B.The progeny of union A marries the progeny of union B,which is union C. The result is a child which has bloodone fourth white, one fourth black, one fourth Indian,and one fourth Chinese. Although mixtures like this areuncommon, they nevertheless exist, but it is of greatcommonness for a person to have the blood of three of theseraces.

These mixtures diminish the intellect and decrease thevitality of the offspring, who are invariably inferior to thepure bloods, even if the pure blood is Indian or negro.The children of these marriages inherit few of the goodqualities of their parents, but all of their vices. Thecholos, proud of their white blood, tyrannize over the poorIndians and subject them to indignities and cruelties suchas were never practiced in slavery times by their Spanishmasters. These same cholos cringe like curs before thewhite man. Their natural disposition is good, exceptingthat they have the trait of dreadfully abusing and misusingthe poor Indians. The Chinese, of which there are thirtythousand in the provinces of Callao and Lima, have notintermarried with the other races so much as the otherthree mentioned ones. They are lawabiding and quiet,but the mixed offspring from them is deficient in goodqualities. The worst of all races in Peru is the offspring ofthe negro and the cholo. The result is a progeny that is[438]downright bad. It is these that constitute the riotousmobs that murder and hurl missiles every time there is anabortive or a genuine revolution. They do not knowwhat the row is about, yet they want to participate in itfor the main love of wickedness. I saw a crowd of thisdegenerate gentry, evidently "egged on" by some politicalopponent, hurl legumes and bricks at the brother of ex-PresidentLeguia when he was leaving the Doric-columnedSenate Building. One of these bricks severely injured astranger, and I, an unconscious spectator, had a white ducksuit discolored by unsavory hen fruit. The Limeno bootblacksare recruited from this class, and as a rule whenthey are not shining shoes or up to some deviltry, theystand around the booths singing in an undertone obscene[439]stanzas of their own composition to attentive dregs ofhumanity. The "buck-niggers" and their families, ofuntarnished ebony hue, originally migrated into Perufrom Jamaica. They do not make bad citizens, but theirpopulation is fast diminishing, their numbers becomingassimilated with the other races.

Puente Vieja, Lima, as Seen from the Bed of the Rimac

There is considerable material for argument relative tothe origin of the name of the Peruvian metropolis, whichnobody seems to have taken the pains to unravel. Limawas founded January 18, 1535, by Don Francisco Pizarro.It was granted its charter and received its seal by a royaldecree of Charles V. of Spain, December 7, 1537, underthe name of the Most Noble and Very Loyal City of Kings.The name Lima, which the stranger is erroneously told is acorruption of the word Rimac (the name of the river whichdivides the modern city), was said to be the name of theIndian village which had its center where the capitol buildingnow stands; owing to the shortness of its name, it supercededthe longer title given to it by the Spanish king.Many of the Spanish conquistadores named cities whichthey founded in the new world after cities in Spain fromwhich they hailed. Thus Trujillo in Peru is named afterTrujillo in Spain, Pizarro's birthplace. There is a townnamed Valladolid in Yucatan, a city named Cartagena inColombia, a Cordóba in Argentina, and a Linares inChile. All of these places were named after places of thesame name in the Iberian Peninsula. Likewise there is aLima in Spain. It may be that the capital of Peru wasnamed after it, and that the name of the Indian village islegend. To substantiate this theory, there is a city in centralBrazil named Lima which is an old town. ThisBrazilian city would undoubtedly owe the origin of itsname to the same source as would Lima, Peru. There is atheory however which would knock this out and that is one[440]of my own. Lima, Spain, only appears on the modernmaps of that country. It is a small town in Leon. I haveexamined many maps and ancient geographies of Spainand do not find it there, yet it is inconceivable that Lima,Spain, would be named after Lima, Peru.

Calle Huallaga, Lima

The variety of large bean which at home we are accustomedto call the Lima bean is not a native of this place.Their origin is a town named Ica, which is about a hundred[441]miles southeast of Lima, and in Peru it is called the Icabean.

Lima is divided into two uneven parts by the RimacRiver, which is spanned by two traffic bridges, the PuenteVieja, commonly known as the Stone Bridge, and thePuente Balta, by a railroad bridge, and by a temporaryfootbridge. The Rimac is a swiftly flowing, transparentstream, which jumps over cascades and has a considerablevolume of water for a mountain stream. Its bed is notwell defined as it contains many small islands and gravelbars. At the stone bridge it is kept within bounds. Theriver furnishes irrigation for the whole valley in which thecapital is situated and could even be made to furnish moresince much of its volume of water goes to waste. This is acrime on account of its scarcity.

Plaza Italia, Lima. Vendors of Bread

Lima should not be passed without a week's sojourn byany visitor to the west coast of South America, whetherhe is a professor, antiquarian, commercial traveler, orordinary tourist. No other city in the Western Hemisphereretains in so marked a degree its medievalism, yetno other city on the west coast of South America is so[442]advanced in modernity. Luxury rubs shoulders withpoverty; there are numerous palaces and also countlesshovels. The great churches, all Roman Catholic, beartestimony by their superb interiors to the lavishness ofdevotion. In the shop windows are displayed the silverornaments and utensils of Cuzco and Cajamarca; nextdoor to them are presented the baubles and gewgaws ofNew York and Paris.

Plazuela de la Inquisicion, Lima

The population is estimated at two hundred thousandwhich is probably nearly correct. The city is very compactlybuilt and centered so that its streets teem withmore life than an ordinary city of the same number ofinhabitants. Although its population is but half that ofSantiago, this centralization makes it appear to be a largerplace. The buildings, two, three, and four stories inheight, are massive, although many are built of adobe,plastered and painted over, and give the city a metropolitan[443]appearance. In Santiago many of the merchants andwell-to-do inhabitants live in the suburbs; in Lima theyreside near the center of the city. During the past fewyears, the Peruvian capital has made great strides in civicimprovement. The main streets are now paved withstone; they were formerly paved with sharp pebbles.They are kept clean, which is a great contrast to the dustyoffal which formerly littered them and which in powderedform assailed the eyes and nostrils of the pedestrians everytime a gust of wind arose. The equipages for the transportationof passengers are superior to those of Santiagoand the street car service, although not frequent enough,is better than that of the Chilean capital. There has alsobeen much recent building going on, the new edifices beingof modern European design.

Standing in the Hotel Maury one day I was introducedto a prominent Lima business man named Arthur Field,who was born there. He kindly offered to show me thecity in his automobile. I told him that I was alreadyacquainted with Lima, having made previous visits there.

"I am so glad," said he; "most tourists go away withsuch a poor impression of Lima, and some go away after ashort sojourn and write most uncomplimentary thingsabout it, which hurts it. Ambassador Bryce spoke veryilly of Lima, and he was only here for a few days. Thereis to my knowledge only one book written recently whichgives a true description of the city. It was written by anamesake of yours, a man named Stephens. My wifeand my friends have read it, and they all pronounce it astrue."

I did not tell him that I wrote the book, but anotherman in the group, an American, spotted me for its authorfrom the frontispiece in it, which has my likeness. Thislast-mentioned man went home that noon, and verified his[444]suspicions by again looking at the frontispiece. Thatafternoon he procured his copy of the book and started tothe Hotel Maury to congratulate me. On the way he gotgloriously drunk, and in an inebriated condition he showedthe paragraph where I mentioned the Hotel Maury to oneof its proprietors. Since I had spoken poorly of the establishmentin it (it had improved decidedly since I wasthere before) I thought the result would be a request for meto change quarters. The proprietor could speak no Englishand judging that the talk of the American was due toan excess ofbatida bitters and John de Kuyper paid noattention to the subject.

Boulevard in Lima

A bad feature about Lima is that the same street has adifferent name for each block. This was the old Spanishcustom and it makes it necessary for the visitor to buy aplan of the city to memorize the nomenclatures of the[445]principal blocks. In recent years the municipality hastried to remedy this custom by giving a street one singlename, but the old appellations still cling and probablyalways will. The Calle Union, Lima's main street, is notso called by the ordinary native, and its different blocksare known as Palacio, Portal de Escribanos, Mercaderes,Espaderos, Merced, Baquijano, Boza, San Juan de Dios,Belen, Juan Simon, and so forth. Its principal sector,Calle Huallaga, is known respectively as Judios, Melchormalo,Virreina, Concepcion, Presa, Lechugal, andSan Andres.

Calle Union presents much life. It begins at the Plazade Armas and is about a mile long, terminating at theZoölogical Gardens. On it is the city hall, several theaters,the Merced church, the Forero palace, and the penitentiary.It is the main retail street and is always muchcrowded. Huallaga is a busy street with antiquarianshops, banks, and wholesale offices. On it is the HotelCentral, the Bank of Peru and London, the Concepcionmarket, the Concepcion church, and the police headquarters.

The Concepcion market is the largest that I have everseen. Its ground area, covering a whole block, is about thesame size as the Tacon market in Havana, but it is higher.There are many queer vegetables, herbs, and fruits offeredfor sale which are unknown in Europe or in North America.The potato, whose origin is Peru, is sold in this market,not in the raw state as in our markets, but desiccated.The natives soak them in water, sun dry them, and putthem for sale in this fashion, for this way they will keepindefinitely. In the meat department cats crawl over theloins and spare ribs while whippets snap at fly-bedizenedbones. I attempted to take a time exposure of the placebut a gawky overgrown boy walked in front of the camera,[446]spoiling the picture. A cuff on the ears from me whichsent him spinning against a basket of eggs nearly causeda small riot.

The Bank of Peru and London is the largest bank buildingin South America. It is a three-story white structurebuilt in a classical style of architecture. There are severalother large banks.

The Plaza de Armas lacks much of the charm of theplazas in the Chilean cities. It is planted to palmettotrees, which I think always look out of place outside oftheir wild native state. On the north side of this square isthe one-story-high capitol building. Somewhere in itspatio is the spot where Pizarro was murdered. The exactplace is not known on account of the many alterations thathave taken place in the building. His skeleton rests in awhite marble sarcophagus in the cathedral.

This cathedral, whose stately and magnificent pile wasdescribed by me in a previous book on South America,ranks as one of the largest religious edifices in the world.Its twin towers, one at each side of a broad façade, risemajestically into the heavens and are visible from a greatdistance. Its spacious nave and aisles are crowned by aribbed roof, whose ceiling is painted in symmetrical designsin pink and azure. Many mendicants loiter aboutthe interior, and when the sexton shows you Pizarro'sskeleton, they all solicit alms for such trivialities as holdingthe candle to view the remains, opening the door of thechapel, and so forth. In the chapel where his remainsrepose is an altar of pure silver brought from Cuzco.

Façade of San Augustin Church, Lima

Lima, always the capital of the Spanish dominion in theNew World, and the seat of the Inquisition in SouthAmerica, was and is still a pillar of Catholicism. Theplaza where the Senate building is located is named thePlazuela de la Inquisicion; in its neighborhood were[447]perpetrated the barbarous tortures on heretics, writtenabout in Vicuña Mackenna's books. Joints were stretchedby screws; ear holes were filled with molten metal; writhingbodies to whose feet was tied an iron hundredweightwere hoisted by outstretched arms to the ceiling by meansof pulleys, the weight causing the body to tear in two at theabdomen. The last of these barbarities took place in1820. In Peru no other religion but the Roman Catholicis recognized, although others are tolerated. Watching areligious procession one day as it passed through thestreets of the city, a thirty-second-degree Mason turned tome and said:

"A Mason has no more show in this town than a fly onfly-paper."

There are forty-eight large churches in Lima andtwenty-two chapels. The latter are large enough to befair-sized churches in the United States. The most aristocraticchurch is that of La Merced adjoining the conventof the same name on the Calle Union. It has an opulentinterior. The nave is high and airy, and the air is ladenwith frankincense. It is my favorite of all the Limachurches and I often repaired thither to attend mass orfor pious meditation. San Francisco church is very rich;its architecture is Saracenic. Another fine church is SanAugustin. It has a marvelous sculptured façade. Accordingto the original plan, it was to have two towers but theyhave never been added. It is here that the president takeshis oath of office. Other fine churches worthy of visit areSan Domingo, San Pedro, and Nazarenas, although manyothers present great interest.

Procession of the Milagro, Lima

Easter week in Lima is an unforgettable event. Penitents,carrying holy images, processions, and throngs ofreligious devotees fill the streets. One of the pageantswhich has a touch of barbaric mingled with Christianity is[449]that of the Milagro. What gives it a touch of the barbaricis the majority of negroes who take part in it. The trailof the Milagro lies through the squalid streets in the partof the city north of the Rimac. All the people officiatingare garbed in purple tunics. It is preceded by youthscarrying gaudy lamps. Then follow negro women, chantingdirges. A stranger looking at it for the first time is aptto believe that it is a procession exorcising against theplague for after the cantors come black Mary Magdalene'scarrying lighted hand braziers from which they blowgreat fumes of incense smoke on the onlookers, nearlysuffocating many by the intoxicating fragrance. Thereis a brass band of purple-robed devotees playing weirdmusic followed by an image of the Saviour in an uprightposition mounted on a metal platform. This image isadorned with wreaths, flowers, and ribbons; before it is analtar with lighted candles. The platform is very heavyand is borne by sixteen men, four on each side, four infront, and four in back, who support its weight on theirpadded shoulders on which rest beams. The processionis very slow, moving at a snail's pace, and as it proceeds,the pageant sways with a peculiar serpentine rhythm. Onaccount of the weight of the image and its accouterments,at every few yards the procession stops and the carriers arerelayed. Some of them faint under the strain. The expressionon the faces of the carriers is that of most reverenddevotion; the light of sanctity is in their eyes, and theywalk as if in a trance. This carrying of the image is agreat honor, and the fortunate ones look forward to it fora whole year. Following the image walked a priest, hiswell-fed form protected from the sun by a canopy of clothof gold upheld on poles by six purple-clad boys. Hisexpression was far from being that of sanctity. Mercilessand unrelentless, his face wore a heartless and cold-blooded[451]mien as if he were a graven image of stone. Smugand self-centered, he appeared to be greatly contentedwith the position he occupied, the cynosure of all eyes.When the procession passed the Calle Trujillo, the mainstreet of the section of Lima north of the Rimac, streetcar and pedestrian traffic was stopped for half an hour.As in all places, there was a crowd of procession followers.As the pageant merely crawled along, many youths of thisclass regaled themselves with libations ofpisco which isoffered for sale every few doors in that neighborhood.The consequence was that there were many staggeringsteps among the spectators.

Lima is seen to its greatest advantage from the middle ofthe stone bridge at dusk when the electric lights are beingturned on or after dark on a moonlight night from the samespot. The view is far superior to that of Florence asseen from the Arno bridge. In the daytime the masses ofchrome-colored houses, churches, and towers, the teemingstreet life, the trains arriving at and leaving Desamparadosstation present the aspect of a metropolis both medievaland modern. At night when the white moon rising aboveSan Cristobal hill plays on the ripples of the Rimac, andreflects on them the myriads of lights from the windows,while in the distance the trees along the river bank causean inky blackness, is seen a picture beyond the scope ofthe greatest artists.

The part of Lima north of the Rimac is much the smallest,but it is the most thickly settled. It is the dirtiestpart and is the favorite abode of negroes and Chinamen;here street dogs of all descriptions constantinopolizethe thoroughfares, and when not basking on their bellieson the sidewalks, they devour mule manure and snap atfleas. This is the section of the city where the bubonicplague cases sporadically occur, as well as being the section[452]most poignant in crime. It has a handsome parkwaywith statues, the Alameda de los Descalzos, though it wouldbe better located if it were south of the river. On thenorth side are the two breweries, which with the exceptionof two flour mills are Lima's sole factories. The breweriesare Backus & Johnston Company, Ltd., and EduardoHarster's Piedra Liza Brewery. Above the suburb ofPiedra Liza rises San Cristobal hill (altitude 1300 feet)which is 179 feet higher than the hill of the same name atSantiago, Chile. Its summit is crowned by a wireless stationof the Telefunken.

In Lima there is only one hotel at which a North Americanor a European can stop in comfort, the Maury.This hotel, owned by Angel Bertolotto and leased to Visconti& Velasquez, is with the exception of some of theBuenos Aires hotels the best in South America. Manyof the rooms have baths and are sumptuously furnished.The prices are high. This Hotel Maury started with onebuilding on the corner of Bodegones and Villalta but whentrade increased, it was necessary to acquire the adjoiningbuildings, so that at the present time the caravanseraiextends the length of the whole block as far as the cathedral.It is as intricate as a maze to find one's way aboutthe upstairs corridors. The ground floor is occupied withseveral tile-paved dining rooms, and a large bar wherecongregate many of the foreign residents to enjoy libations.The bartenders are good mixologists, but devotetoo much of their time selling to tourists at usurious pricesguide books and views of Peru that they obtained for asong. When they are not doing this they are busilyengaged in drying orange peels that they fished out ofsomebody's already consumed cocktail in order to have itin proper condition to put into a cocktail ordered by thenext customer. The other hotels in Lima, impossible for[453]the foreigner, are the delight of the native-born population,as the Maury is too expensive for their pocketbooks.There are many pastry and confectionery stores in Lima,some being very good ones. These all sell ice cream andspecialize in preparing banquets. Many have ice manufacturingestablishments in connection with them. Thebest known are those named Arturo Field, Broggi, Marron,and Parisienne.

The finest café on the west coast of America is the one inLima named Palais Concert and is owned by the Mauryproprietors. It is modern European, and is supposed tohave a Viennese orchestra, none of whom, however, hailfrom Austria. A popular restaurant is the Estrasburgo.The peculiarity about it is the sacrilegious mural paintingin it, which strange to say is tolerated in this mostfanatically religious country. The painting is an advertisementof a French brandy firm. The hideous corpse ofLazarus, with pointed chin and ears, coming to life, is risingfrom a coffin, and with a sardonic grin on his face he iseagerly stretching out his hand for a tumbler of brandywhich is being handed him by a bleached-out Christ,garbed in red, and with glistening ringlets of peroxidecolored hair. Christ is saying: "Arise, O Lazarus, anddrink this brandy!" This Estrasburgo is a favorite resortof Jews in transit. They go there to view this picture,and when they see that no Christian is present, nudge eachother and say: "This is fine." The Restaurant Berlin isa well furnished place on the Plateros de San Pedro.This is all. There is no Berlin about it excepting thename, although I understand that the proprietor is aGerman. The uncouth waiters, some with repulsive boilson their faces, shuffle across the unswept floor, which isoverrun with cockroaches, and slop down vile concoctionsin front of you, spilling the sticky liquid on the fly-infested[454]table. One night while sitting there with a friend, I wasgiven a curaçao flavored with turpentine, while he drew acocktail savored with the cholo waiter's dirty thumb.

One of Lima's institutions is drink. Being almost ateetotaler, I can give no more information than what Iobserved. Saloons exist everywhere; there are over sixthousand of them, some of which are really high class.Also there are clubs where liquid refreshments are sold.There are no days when the saloons are compelled to close;they generally close their doors at night only when businessbecomes slack. Besides the two breweries in Limathere is one in Callao, and although there is much beer sold,the predominance of mixed drinks is so much greater thatthe former is put into the background. The beer is vileand I was advised not to drink any of it. In the winter of1916 two mozos of the Hotel Maury drank a bottle ofNacional Pilsen (Callao) behind a door when the bosswas not looking. Five minutes afterwards one mozo diedfrom the effects, and the life of the other was barely saved.Another man drank some Backus & Johnston beer.Shortly afterwards his teeth and tongue turned black.In both these cases it was found that the beer was mixedwith powerful acids. The reason for this has not yet beendiscovered. It is believed by some people that the preparationwas faulty; by others that it was the work of arival brewery. Most of the confectionery stores havebars. Broggi invented a drink which goes by his name.It is called Broggi bitters. This is the recipe:—Aperitàl,cane syrup, and a dash of Angostura. To this is added alemon rind that has been soaked in alcohol. Add crackedice and fill the glass with syphon water. Shake well andpour the liquid through a strainer. Broggi bitters maybe obtained anywhere in Lima but they do not taste likethe ones served at the original place. The Maury specializes[455]in Peruvian cocktails. This drink is pisco, lemon juice,and a teaspoonful of sugar. To it is added a few drops ofAngostura; it is then shaken with cracked ice, strained, andserved with an orange rind.

Pisco is a terribly strong native drink and is indulged inby the lower classes. It is grape alcohol, and is flavoredwith pineapple, or raspberry, or orange, or prunes. It isseen in the cheap saloons, standing in large glass jars,yellow, red, orange, or brown according to the flavor of theingredient syrup. Chicha, far from being like the grapecider of Chile, is here a corn alcohol and is indulged in bythe scum for their debauches.

I was once in Lima when there was much money incirculation. The crowds of foreign residents of the miningtowns in the Cordillera and the floating population usedto hie to the Maury bar twice a day to spend it, and greatorgies were pulled off. This has changed materially, fornow with less money in circulation, there are no more ofthese parties. Formerly one never saw any paper currency.Now one never sees any gold. Several of thebanks in consolidation have issued circular checks whichare considered by the government as legal. They are thebest looking bills in South America. Their denominationsare half pound, one pound, five and ten pound notes. Themerchants grab all the silver soles that fall into theirhands, so that it is impossible many times to change thesecircular checks when change is most needed. Some merchantsplace signs in their stores saying that this papercurrency will not be accepted as tender unless the purchasesamount to two soles. I was told by the cashier of theBank of Peru and London that if I went into a café,bought and drank a bottle of beer, and offered one of thesechecks in payment, the proprietors would be obliged tochange it even though they had signs posted to the contrary.[456]He said that if they refused to make change for meto walk off without paying and the law would be on myside. I told this to a chance acquaintance from Montanawho had a perpetual thirst. He tried it out by makingdiurnal rounds of many saloons, drinking two or threepotations in each place, always tendering a circular checkof one of the higher values, which he invariably foundunchangeable.

Lima has the only ice-cream soda fountains that I havediscovered south of the Equator although I am told thatone exists in Buenos Aires. It also has a soft drink parlor,Leonard's, called the Hemaglobino, where ordinary sodawater with the standard, and to us exotic, syrups, such astamarind, are dispensed. As to money making, it is amint, and as Prat remarked to me, in Buenos Aires itwould be a veritable gold mine.

A Lima institution that needs to be ameliorated is thepost office department. None of the South Americanpost offices are any too reliable but that of Lima is thelimit. A few instances of post office irregularities in theLatin republics will serve as an introduction before that ofLima is dealt with.

In Paraguay it happens that the post offices frequentlyrun shy of stamps. A person in Asuncion would like tomail a letter. He takes it to the post office and is told thatthere are no stamps but that if he will pay the moneyequivalent to the postage the letter will be forwarded.He does so, and it is the last he or anybody else ever seesof the letter. It is opened by the post office clerk to see ifit contains money. If it does, the money finds its way intothe clerk's pocket. In any case the letter is thrown intothe waste-paper basket.

In enlightened Argentina, there is also much thieveryof mail. A mail car was recently wrecked on the Central[457]Argentine Railroad. Between the lining of the car andthe outside boards hundreds of opened registered letterswere found. A postmaster in a small Argentine villagedied recently. In remodeling the building which was usedas the post office there were found in the basement fourthousand opened letters.

In Santiago I was advised by my friends to send themno registered mail. They told me if I did, they wouldprobably never receive it because it was common for thepost office clerks to open registered mail to see if it containedmoney. In Argentina and in Bolivia the postoffice clerks are discourteous and hate to make change.They gossip with their friends, keeping a row of peoplewaiting indefinitely for service. Oftentimes they arebusily engaged in reading a newspaper and will not look upuntil the article is read. In Ecuador with the exceptionof the city of Guayaquil there is no money order service,and letters are not forwarded if the addressee changes hisresidence. In Peru there is no money order service betweenLima and the mining towns such as Cerro de Pasco.Many foreigners live in this last-mentioned town and it isoften necessary for people in the capital to remit money tothem. In order to do so, it is necessary for the remitterto go to a bank and purchase a draft.

Regarding the Lima post office, thievery is rampant.I bought some Panama hats in Paita and had them sewedup neatly in several parcels which I mailed to friends inthe United States. The parcels arrived with practicallythe identical sewing that I had done, but when they wereopened they were found to contain newspapers. A letterto the United States from Lima requires twelve centavospostage and a postal card four centavos. When a foreignergoes to this post office and looks around for thestamp window he is invariably accosted by several individuals[458]who inquire if he wishes to buy any stamps.Upon their being answered in the affirmative, they inquirewhat denomination he wants. If he should tell them thathe wants to buy some twelve centavo stamps they willproduce a bunch of them which they will sell him for eightcentavos. They also sell four centavo stamps for two andthree centavos. Many of these stamps are minus gum.This shows that the post office clerks are in league withthese touts. They take off the new stamps, throw theletters in the waste-paper basket, hand the stamps to theirunderstudies, who whack up the profits with them. Theseclerks also steal new stamps from the drawers and peddlethem out the same way.

In Lima, Montevideo, and Asuncion, the post officeclerks also do a lucrative business in selling canceledstamps to collectors. They will invariably ask the foreignerif he wishes to buy a set of the current issue canceled.If he refuses they are offended.

Peru is very fertile in the stamp issues that it has putforth ever since postage stamps have been invented.Fortunately for collectors, Peru is considered a good country,as many of its stamps bring high prices in London,New York, and Paris. The natives know this and there isnot to be found a booth in Lima which sells stationery,lead pencils, cigars, and lottery tickets which does not alsosell canceled postage stamps of the past issues of thecountry. These can be bought very cheaply, and can beresold in the United States at fancy prices.

Peru can be called a lawless country. It has a good codebut its laws are not lived up to. There have been manyrevolutions and there will be a continuance of them due toits lawless, heterogeneous population, and the politicalrivalry between different factions. Most of the inhabitantshave political ambitions on account of the graft[459]connected with the appointments. Although this is trueall over the world, it is especially true in Peru. The cholomaltreats the Indian, and the white man bullies the cholo.The Lima police very seldom arrest a foreigner becausethey can work him for money. I know of an Americanin Lima who through some act of his got into conflictwith the police. They led him off ostensibly to jail, butwhen they reached a dark street they asked him how muchhe would give if they let him go. They willingly acceptedten pesos. One night I made a purchase in one of thestores. After having paid for it, I took my purchase andwalked out into the street. I had scarcely taken a fewsteps before the proprietor ran out of his store and told methat I had not paid him enough because he had discoveredthat what he sold me was worth more than he chargedme. This is a favorite South American dodge and isperpetrated by storekeepers when they think they can getmore for their goods than what they sold them for. Eventhe proprietor of a large importing drug firm in Arequipatried this on me once, and he was a man worth over onehundred thousand dollars. I declined to pay the Limastorekeeper any more money and also declined to give upmy purchase. A half block away stood several policemenand he sent a friend after one of these. The cops soonappeared on the scene and started to make a big fuss.Ordinarily I would have returned the purchase but thishappened to be something that I wanted. When thepolicemen, storekeeper, and bystanders were at the pitchof excitement, I managed to slip a couple of pesos into thehands of the former. They immediately changed theirattitude, threatened the storekeeper and his friend witharrest, espoused my cause, and even went with me as faras the door of the Hotel Maury to "protect me frommolestation" as they called it.[460]

A certain Lima senator not long ago caught his wife in acompromising act with a stranger. He had them botharrested on a charge of adultery. He hired the police tocastrate the stranger, which was done in the jail. Noproceedings were ever taken against the senator and thestranger was given short notice to leave the city.

Cercado Church, Lima

The General Cemetery of Lima is worthy of a visit.It is situated outside of the city limits, east of a suburbnamed Cercado. From the Plaza Santa Ana, the bestway to reach it is by the long, populous, and none toostraight Calle Junin on which is passed the ancient salmon-coloredchurch of Carmen in front of a shady plazuela. Ionce saw a vulture the size of an eagle perched on the top ofone of the iron framework crosses that ennoble its exterior.Several long blocks beyond it is Cercado, now inside thecorporation of Lima but formerly a separate village,[461]founded in 1586, and given the name Santiago. Its presentname, Cercado, is derived from the Spanishcircuidomeaning "surrounded," because the town was formerlysurrounded with walls. At the end of one of its tortuousstreets is an insane asylum of such a forbidding characterthat the epithet over its gate, "Let all who enter leave hopebehind," can be properly applied. In its garden is a wellwhere the attendants duck the refractory imbeciles tillbubbles come up. Behind the asylum is the Plaza deCercado, treeless, and traversed by an open sewer. Hereis situated the ancient, dull drab, towered church, alsonamed Cercado. A prolongation of the Calle Ancahs,here a broad avenue, bordered on both sides by largetrees, leads directly to the cemetery.

Tomb of the Goyeneche Family, in the General Cemetery, Lima

[462]

Mr. Kurt Waldemar Linn of New York

This photograph was taken in the General Cemetery in Lima

The General Cemetery possesses some of the finest worksof marble monumental sculpture in South America.These masterpieces were done before the Pacific War in1879 when Peru was an opulent country, and was not inthe decadent and revolutionary state that it is in at thepresent time. Personally I do not like this cemeterybecause it is enclosed with high walls into which are setthousands of niches, a true Roman columbarium. Evenin sunny daylight, it presents an ultra mournful appearance,no doubt due to congestion of room. If ever therewas a City of the Dead, this is one. Near the main[463]entrance is a pantheon, which must be passed through beforereaching the cemetery proper. In front of it is a semi-rotundabordered by exquisite marble busts and likenessesof Peru's famous dead of more than a half century ago.These are finely chiselled masterpieces of soft whitegypsum-like marble, preserving to the present time theiroriginal aspects. These unblemished, untarnished sculpturallikenesses are of statesmen, professors, and so forth,dignified, with nothing in common with the uncouth rabbleof Lima to-day. It is just as well that the men whoseremains are interred beneath these pedestals have longsince died for they have not witnessed the humiliatingdefeat of their fatherland and the surrender of the nitratefields of Iquique, together with the loss of Tacna and Arica,nor did they hear the tramp through Lima's streets of theChilean conquerors.

Mr. Linn of New York Rising out of the Tomb Erected in Honor of thePeruvian Heroes of the Pacific War, 1879-1882

[464]

Corpse Bearer, General Cemetery, Lima

Beyond the pantheon are some fine mausoleums, thatof the Goyeneche being remarkable. The cadavers arenot sequestered in the tombs, but in niches in vaultsunderneath reached by a descending flight of stairs. Theniches rent for six soles for two years ($1.50 a year) and inthem are deposited the remains of those whose means arelimited. A white marble slab generally covers the frontof the niche. On these slabs are designs, differing but littlefrom each other in originality. The paintings on the slabsare black and depict a willow tree on one of whose branchessits an owl. Beneath the tree in attitudes of prayer andmourning are shown several human beings grouped abouta corpse lying on a couch. The infant mortality in Limamust be great as is evidenced by the number of fresh[465]cement fillings over the niches that are just large enoughto permit the coffin of a child to be placed in the aperture.I witnessed several burials of poor children. The father,mother, and a few relatives appear at the cemetery carryinga coffin, smoking cigarettes, and apparently no moreabsorbed with grief than if a pet dog or cat had died. Acemetery employee relieves them of their load and finds aniche. He climbs upon some boards stretched across apair of wooden carpenter's horses and slides into the hole[466]that which had once been human. He then seizes acement slab, many of which are lying about, having beenespecially manufactured for the cemetery to be used onsuch occasions, fits it in the niche end, and slaps over it afew trowelfuls of wet cement. A scratch on the cementwith a pointed stick writes the name of the deceased infantand the date of its succumbing. The work of interring isso slipshodly done that swarms of insects, which delightin making repasts on the putrefying entrails of corpses,crawl through the cracks of the cement and seethe on thefaces of the slabs. Some of these bit me and causedfestering sores by their undetectable inoculation.

Putting a Coffin into a Niche, General Cemetery, Lima

In the west end of this cemetery is another pantheon,this one superb. In it are the sarcophagi of GeneralBolognesi, Admiral Grau, and other heroes of the PacificWar. It also contains the bones of the former presidents.Protestants, pagans, and freemasons are not interred in thiscemetery.

Lima has a patron saint, Santa Rosa. She is also thepatron saint of Callao. She was born in Lima, April 30,1536, and devoted a life of purity to God. She died at theage of thirty-one years, August 23, 1567. She was canonizedby Pope Clement X. in 1671.

There are many legends printed in book form about thecity of Mexico, but none that I know of about this muchmore interesting city, Lima. Anecdotes and tales of theearly history of Buenos Aires and Bahia would be worthreading, but I doubt if there is any city of the WesternHemisphere which is as rich in romance as Peru's capital.Some of the old houses here could tell many interestingtales if walls could speak, especially that one still existingcalled the Torre-Tagle house, where the Spanish viceroysformerly resided. It has a beautiful mahogany ceilingand balustrades and is the home of the Zevallos family.[467]

No modern book on Peru has the names of the viceroystabulated. I have therefore gathered the names of thebest known ones.

1. Blassco Nuñez de Vela. 1544-1551.

2. Antonio de Mendoza. Sept. 23, 1551-July 21,1556.

He founded the University of San Marcos at Lima.

3. Andrés Hurtado de Mendoza. July 21, 1556-March30, 1561.

4. Diego Lopez de Zuñiga, Count of Nieva. April 17,1561-Feb. 20, 1564.

5. Francisco de Toledo. November 26, 1569-Sept.23, 1581.

He is called the Solon of Peru. He established theInquisition.

6. Martin Enriquez de Almanza. Sept. 23, 1581-March15, 1583.

7. Fernando de Torres y Portugal, Count del Villar dePardo. 1586-Jan. 6, 1590.

8. Garcia Hurtado de Mendoza, Marquis of Cañete.Jan. 6, 1590-July 26, 1596.

9. Luis de Velazco. July 26, 1596-Jan. 28, 1604.

He established free schools. He had the first census ofLima taken January 1, 1600. Its population then was14,262.

10. Gaspar de Zuñiga y Acevedo, Count of Monterrey.Jan. 28, 1604-Feb. 16, 1606.

11. Juan de Mendoza y Lima, Marquis of Montesclaros.Feb. 16, 1606-Dec. 18, 1615.

He built the stone bridge at Lima which is called thePuente Vieja and laid out the Alameda de los Descalzos.

12. Francisco de Borja y Aragon, Prince of Esquilache.Dec. 18, 1615-July 25, 1622.

13. Diego Fernandez de Córdoba, Marquis of Guadalcázar.July 25, 1622-Jan. 14, 1629.[468]

14. Luis Geronimo Fernandez de Cabrera, Count ofChinchón. Jan. 14, 1629-Dec. 15, 1639.

During his viceroyalty, the medicinal properties ofquinine were discovered at Lima.

15. Pedro de Toledo y Leyta, Marquis of Mancero.Dec. 15, 1639-.

16. Garcia Sarmiento de Sotomayor, Count of Salvatierra.-June 26, 1659.

17. Luis Enrique de Guzman, Count of Alba de Liste.June 26, 1659-.

18. Diego Benavides y de la Cueva, Count of Santisteban.-1666.

19. Pedro Fernandez de Castro, Count of Lemu.1666-1672.

20. Baltazar de la Cueva Enriquez. 1672-.

21. Archbishop Melchor Liñan y Cisneros.

22. Melchor de Navarra y Rocaful.

23. Melchor Portocarrero, Count de la Monclova.-Sept. 22, 1705.

He had a census of Lima taken, Jan. 1, 1700. Its populationwas 37,234.

24. Manuel de Oms y Santa Pau, Marquis of CastelDos Rios. Sept. 22, 1705-Apr. 22, 1710.

25. Diego Ladron de Guevara, Bishop of Quito. Apr.22, 1710-.

27. Diego de Morcillo, Archbishop of Charcas. -Jan.11, 1730.

28. José de Almendariz, Marquis of Castel Fuerte.Jan. 11, 1730-.

30. José Antonio Manso de Velasco, Count of Superunda.July 12, 1745-Nov. 13, 1762.

31. Manuel de Amat. Nov. 13, 1762-.He expelled the Jesuits from Peru.

35. Francisco Gil de Taboada, Lemus y Villamarin.[469]

36. Ambrosio O'Higgins, Marquis of Osorno. -Mar.18, 1801.

He built the road from Lima to Callao.

37. Gabriel de Avilés y del Fierro, Marquis of Avilés,Nov. 6, 1801-July 26, 1806.

38. Jose Fernando Abascal. July 26, 1806-.

39. Joaquim de la Pezuela.

He was the last Viceroy of Peru.[470]

CHAPTER XV
ACROSS THE CORDILLERA TO THE RIO TAMBO

Professor Edward Alsworth Ross in his bookSouth ofPanama says of Peru:

"Were I to be exiled, and confined the rest of my lifeto one country, I should choose Peru. Here is every altitude,every climate, every scene. The lifeless desert andthe teeming jungle, the hottest lowlands and the bleakesthighlands, heaven-piercing peaks and rivers raving throughcanyons—all in Peru. The crassest heathenism flourishestwo days in the saddle from noble cathedrals, and the bustlingports are counterpoised by secluded inland townswhere the past lies miraculously preserved like the mummyof the saint in a crypt."

The greatest part of Peru lies east of the Andes. It isalso the least known part of Peru for it is rarely visited bystrangers or mining men or commercial travelers. Thepart they see is the desert coast line with its dirty, poverty-strickentowns, the bleak barren peaks that fringe thePacific littoral, here and there a spot of verdure at themouth of a river, and Lima, the capital. A few others,mostly mining men and engineers, take a trip to thesummit of nearby mountains on the Oroya railroad,sojourn in the mining towns, suffer from cold and lonesomeness,and swear that Peru is the damnedest country onthe face of the globe, and are heartily glad when the time[471]comes for them to leave, vowing never to return again.Barely a handful of these people ever cross the passes ofthe eastern cordillera, and descend the banks of the rivuletsformed from the melting of the perpetual snows untilthese rivulets become streams, the country opens out,and the climate changes from that of the arctic regions tothat of the temperate zone and finally changes again tothat of the tropics. If the tourist journeyed farther hewould find himself in a vast forest of tropical trees, impenetrable,and the home of wild Indians of the blowpipe variety,who roam the great swamps and jungles clad not evenin a loin cloth. He would meet mighty rivers as wide asour widest ones, would observe flora such as is only seenin our hothouses, and would see many species of faunawhich he has never seen except at a zoo. This great, andfor the most part unexplored, section of Peru is part of theAmazon watershed and forms a wilderness of forest whichis the continuation of that of Brazil. The Amazon andmany of its tributaries rise near the summits of the Andes,and cutting their passage in deep gorges and canyons everwidening in their descent down the eastern slope of thegreat barrier range of mountains, finally reach the lowlandsand flow peacefully in the direction of the AtlanticOcean, their volume of water being continually augmentedby an inpour of thousands of similar smaller streams.

A person who is at the mouth of a great river longs tofollow it up to its source, likewise a person standing at thesource or at the side of a little stream which he can stepacross and know that thousands of miles away it flows intothe ocean as a mighty river, is fascinated and a longingcomes over him to descend it and follow it to its outlet,especially if it happens to be in a country that is new tohim and the course of the flowing road lies through astretch of the universe that to him is an unsolved mystery.[472]Twice before I have stood at the sources of tributaries tothe Amazon, and each time I could hardly resist thetemptation of following them downward. Once was atHuancayo on the Mantaro. This river flows eastwardand joins the Apurimac, forming the Rio Tambo. The latterjoins the Urubamba, forming the Ucayali. The Ucayalijoins the Maranon, forming the main stream of the Amazon.The other time was at La Paz at the headwaters of theChuquillampo. This river descends very steeply througha wild gorge named the Yungas and flows into the Altamachi.The latter flows into the Beni which in turn emptiesinto the Madeira. The Madeira flows into the Amazon.As I was limited for time on each of these previous occasionsI had to forego the pleasure and excitement of such athrilling expedition. Also the descent of either of theserivers would have been impracticable without a large expeditionbecause their courses lie through a country inhabitedby savage Indians which would make travelingextremely dangerous.

In Lima this time the idea occurred to me, since I hadbeen twice thwarted in my desire to descend the length ofthe Amazon basin and might never have another chance ifnot at present, that it would be a good stunt to obtain allpossible information about what route to take, and if feasibleto make another attempt. I spoke about it to Pratwho did not fall in with the idea very well as he had a wholesomefear of the wild tribes which he was told infestedthe whole forest region of Amazonian Peru. After a considerablepalaver he finally agreed to take a chance andsince we were told at the American consulate that the bestway to make the trip would be by the way of the Chanchamayoand the Perene Rivers, we determined upon thislast-mentioned route and then started to make preparations.

There lives in Lima one of the best fellows that I have[473]ever become a chance acquaintance of. His name is Tomasde Mandalangoitia and by occupation he is an official of thePeruvian line of steamers plying between Ilo and Panama.He gave me much information about my prospective tripand as his intentions were to sail the next week for Panamaon business for his company, he offered to see that allour baggage would get through safely to that port. Thishe did, and to him I am extremely thankful as otherwise Iwould have never been able to make the trip. I left thedetails of the first stages of the trip to Signor FrancescoSansoni, the courier of the Hotel Maury, who telegraphedto the different stopping places en route as far as the PereneColony, making reservations for me for horses, and accommodationfor me, with guides. He arranged my itineraryand also made in Lima what necessary purchases wewould require. The latter consisted of a portable stove,tent, blankets, rifles, revolvers, sack of beans, salt, sugar,molasses, and buckskin shoes. I also carried a cameraand medicine chest. I might as well mention that I wentto all this expense for nothing because on the Rio Tamboour boat upset and we lost everything in the water exceptingthe clothes we had on, our money which with our lettersof credit we had tied around our persons in a belt, and ourrevolvers with a box of cartridges which we had in ourpockets. Prat even lost his hat and was obliged to buy anIndian piece of headgear from a native boatman which hewore until we reached Iquitos a month later.

Llamas at Casapalca

Casapalca is about 14,000 feet above sea level

The railroad to Oroya, the highest in the world, has beendescribed so many times that it is unnecessary to do sonow. In even hours one is taken from Lima to an altitudeof 15,865 feet and then dropped down 3686 feet to thejunction town of Oroya, from which place a railroad runsnorthward to Cerro de Pasco, and another one southwardto Huancayo. At Casapalca near to the summit of the[474]Andes west of the divide there was a herd of llamas numberingabout three hundred behind the railroad sheds.I obtained a good photograph of them which is herereproduced. Most of the people on the train sufferedfromsoroche, a mountain sickness akin to vertigo andnausea which is due to the rapid change in atmospherethat the traveler undergoes when he is whisked into thehigh, nitrogenous altitudes. It commonly takes severaldays before the unaccustomed person feels all right again.At Oroya there is a fair hotel, the Junin, where I wasobliged to stop over night and where the raw air nearlychilled me through on account of my previous sojourn inthe sub-tropics. Oroya is 12,179 feet above sea level andis a bleak, dismal place at its best. The wind blowssomething fierce and chills one's very marrow. I told Pratthat he had better dress warmly but the Spaniard said that[475]since we were only to endure a few days' frigidity he couldstand it. It was laughable to see him shiver in his PalmBeach suit and watch him chase his straw sailor hatwhich a gust of wind would occasionally blow off. Eventhough I was warmly clad, I was obliged to crawl underfour blankets with all my clothes on when I retired thatnight.

At six o'clock the next morning we were awakened andupon emerging from the front door found a cholo guide,who Francesco Sansoni had telegraphed for, awaiting uswith four mules, one for the baggage. We had so muchparaphernalia with us that it would have been impossibleto load it all upon one mule, so I had it divided somewhatin order that the three mules which we were to ride wouldbear some of the burden. We were ready to start out atany time after breakfast was served, which we had orderedfor 6.30A.M., but seven o'clock slipped by without any ofthe servants having prepared any. I went into the kitchenand asked the cook to hurry with it, but he said that theproprietor was asleep and had the keys of the pantry. Itold him to awaken him, but the cholo cook was evidentlyafraid to disturb the sleep of his Italian master. It wasnearly nine o'clock before we got away after we had partakenof some stale rolls and several cups of poor coffee.For an hour and a half after starting we climbed a broad,well-traveled path up the western slopes of the barrenmountains, until we reached the summit where there was apass at an altitude of 13,975 feet above sea level. Thispass is the dividing line between the Mantaro and thePalca watersheds, both of which belong to the Amazonbasin. The Mantaro flows in a southeasterly direction outof Lake Junin and as a creek flows past the towns of Oroyaand Jauja, ever increasing in volume so that it is quiterespectable in size at Huancayo. Beyond the summit was[476]a large uneven plain from which rose many rounded hillsand stony buttes and which was sprinkled here and therewith coarse tufts of bunch grass at which we saw llamasgrazing. These mountain plateaus are in Chile calledpampas, in Bolivia and Southern Peru,punos, but hereand farther north as far as Colombia,paramos. It tookus an hour to cross this plain which sloped gently to theeast; then began a rough descent over stony ground on theeastern slopes of the mountain till we reached a formationwhere a depression of the ground showed us was the beginningof a valley. The grasses became more abundant anda few shrubs appeared. The lower we descended, themore these shrubs took on the appearance of trees so thatnow the country had a totally different aspect from thebarrenness of Oroya and the high plateau. The path hadbroadened considerably so that it nearly assumed a road-likewidth, and we met many droves of llamas followedup by drivers on muleback. All were carrying merchandiseto the railroad. In a few days they would returnwith the products of the civilized world imported fromNorth America and Europe. We now came upon thesouth bank of a fastly flowing stream and followed thisfor about five hours, riding very slowly and taking in thelandscape which was becoming less wild all the time. Afew miles before reaching Tarma the banks of the creek wereclothed with patches of calla lilies, growing wild, in theiroriginal native state, the dark green of their arrow-shapedleaves forming a brilliant color contrast with the creamywhiteness of their blossoms and the golden yellow of theirpetals. A cleft in the mountains was seen ahead, whichshowed us that our creek here joined another river, whichwas true for here the Acomayo was reached. Presentlythe red tile roofs of Tarma were seen among the eucalyptusgroves and soon we clattered down an avenue bordered[477]by trees and on each side of which ran irrigationditches. At the end of this avenue was an ornamentalgate built into the solid walls of the buildings and whichlooked like a triumphal arch. Under this we passed andthen entered the narrow streets of the city, drawing up atthe Hotel Roma on the plaza, where rooms reserved forus by Sansoni were awaiting our occupancy.

Tarma, Peru

Tarma is a very pleasant town of five thousand inhabitantsin an ideal location in a narrow valley which it seemsto fill at the base of high mountains. Its altitude is 10,010feet above sea level but it lacks the chill of such highlysituated towns east of the cordillera. Here the cold windsfrom the high paramos and ice peaks do not reach owingto its sheltered position. The air is fresh, but not raw and[478]reminds one of the first breezes of spring. I was told bythe accommodating Italian hotel proprietor that the climateis that of a perpetual spring.

The city is compactly built with one- and two-storyadobe houses, those on the main streets being painted lightcolors or whitewashed. In the center of the town is a treelessplaza but beautified with shrubs in which is a roundcement fountain and an octagonal frame bandstand. Atone side of this plaza is the parish church in charge of anamiable fat priest, a cholo who has but a slight strain ofwhite blood as can be observed by his dark, heavy jowledfeatures. He was clad in a white robe of coarse wool overwhich hung a dark cape. He seemed very much interestedin us and gave us letters of introduction to other priestsalong the road which we would follow. These he handedto Prat who accidentally lost them on purpose; the Catalonianin his heart was an agnostic, and a Roman Catholiconly in his bringing up. He would walk a block out ofhis way to avoid meeting a priest, yet when he was sickwould always want to have one about him. He wouldnever enter a church and would make sacrilegious remarks,yet when a thunderstorm would come up, he would crosshimself and mumble prayers only to forget them as soon asthe sky became clear again. Padre Troncoso was thename of the Tarma priest and he delighted in having metake his photograph. He teaches in the parish school andasked me to take a picture of his highest class which consistedof sixteen boys, most of whom were white.

The Hotel Roma is a two-story structure with a carvedwooden balcony on its second floor; its exterior is muchlike many buildings in Stamboul. It is a very comfortableand clean place with good food. There is another hotelin Tarma, the Umberto, which is well spoken of. Themost curious sight in the small city is the cemetery. It[479]reminds one of a Chinese burying ground. It is filled withmany grotesque monuments, some of them having tiledroofs. These individual tombstones are of adobe, and arewhitewashed over. They contain several niches intowhich the coffins are placed and they are so narrow thatthe gruesome burdens may be put in them at either end.

Cemetery, Tarma

We left Tarma early in the morning and followed theAcomayo River a couple of hours to the town of Acobamba,a pretty village much resembling Tarma onlysmaller. We watered our mules here, tarried about anhour, and then continued for another two hours to the cityof Palca which is very much like both Tarma and Acobamba,although smaller than the first-mentioned placeand larger than the last-mentioned one. It is a poorer[480]place than Tarma, but it has a larger church. This buildingis several hundred years old; it is of adobe, and has abroad façade from one side of which rises a four-story belfrycapped with a steeple. The valley is here very narrowbut beyond Palca there is a widening where the Acomayoflows into the Rio Palca. This river we followed the restof the day. The scenery between Tarma and Palca ismuch the same, and is distinguished by the number ofcentury plants along the roadside and the abundance ofcalla lilies along the river bed. Some of these lilies werespotted and likewise had light spots on their leaves.Leaving Palca there was a much more varied vegetation.This was noticeable when we crossed the river and weproceeded along its south bank. The mountains werestill barren but were beginning to show unmistakablesigns by the increased number of bushes on their slopesthat we were approaching a wetter climate. The riveritself had all the attractions of a clear, rushing mountaintorrent working its way among the rocks and bowlders; itsbanks of shale rock were steep and thickly clothed withvegetable life of many species. Among the latter werewild verbenas of the brightest scarlet, purple begonias,several varieties of fern, wild tobacco plants, and a creepermuch like the wild cucumber. An hour beyond Palcawe arrived at the hill of Carpapata down whose sides theroad zigzagged in many windings. The natives havemade a short cut between the zigzags which saves a coupleof kilometers but which is too steep to be descended incomfort. Up and down this short cut they drive theirllamas which take readily to its steepness like mountainsheep. Arrived near the bottom of the hill the road leadsalong the ledge of a cliff high above the turbulent river.To look down or up is apt to cause giddiness. This isthe famous scene that is portrayed in the geographies of[481]half a century ago where a llama train is meeting a muletrain on a curve at the side of a precipice. The viewwith the river flowing at the bottom of the gorge is trulyimpressive. The mountains on either side are sheer androcky, their upper slopes covered only with grass, theirbases clothed with shrubs. Straight before us leading toa veritable land of promise lay the road, threading its wayon a gentle downward grade, perpetually alternating fromthe convex to the concave on the ledge of the mountains.Ahead of us on the other side of the canyon a single mountainappeared clad with forest trees up to its very summit,the first that I had seen in Peru. As we drew nearer itbecame a scene of enchanting beauty, with its coloringsof light green and gray. From the underbrush near itssummit there was poured forth a large waterfall, whichdashed down its entire height in three separate cascadesfor several hundred feet.

Towards evening we reached the rest house named theHuacapistana Hotel, at an exact altitude of 5600 feetabove sea level. This is the real gateway to the tropics.The hotel, owned by an Italian, is built on a narrow shelfof land in a flowery meadow above the river and belowthe road. It is a clean well-kept two-story building withhalf a dozen guests' rooms. Adjoining it and separatedfrom the meadow by a stone wall is a barn and a corral forhorses and llamas. The climate is fresh but it is muchwarmer than at Tarma. A mist gathered over the riverthat night which made the atmosphere rather chilly. Thisis frequently the case and it does not lift until the sun iswell out the next morning.

We got an early start the next day and found the road,which was now smooth, wet, and slippery from the mist.The tree trunks and branches were rich in symbiotic life,with ferns, lianas, and orchidaceous plants of many species.[482]The wild cotton trees were laden with festoons ofroseate blossoms, and from the extremities of their slenderbranches would be seen hanging large wasps' nests. Othernests such as those of bees and ants of a gray color spottedthe rocks or any available bare space on the smooth bark of atree. The effect of the giant tree fern spreading its gracefulfronds over the path was enchanting; beneath its shadegrew seemingly every other species of fern which one hasever noticed in hothouses at home. We passed severalsmall coffee plantations; in the clearings near the houseswere banana, orange, and papaya trees. The tit-shapedfruit of the latter is so common that it is left unpickedfor the birds to feed on. The pods attain maturityin regular sequence from the lowest to the highest, swellingin size, changing from green to yellow, and becomingsoft and possessing an insipid sweetish odor. In thematter of vegetation generally, the above description maybe fairly said to characterize the whole region; orchids,scarlet cannas, the broad-leafed caladium or elephant'sear, purple, white, and pink begonias, scarlet verbenas;creepers, ferns, and mosses; forest trees, reeds, grasses,and plant life generally, interspersed with huge bowldersand masses of weatherbeaten rock of a chalky whiteness,all contributing to the formation of the most perfect fairyscene imaginable.

Occasionally one would meet with a blaze of color fromsome wild cotton trees, laden with flowers, pink, yellow,and even blue; and equally striking was the effect of a speciesof wild runner bean with dark green leaves and thickbunches of vermilion flowers hanging in tresses, and appearingto nearly smother the tree which gave it support.

The road made a sudden double turn to reach a lowerlevel by the side of the river, and then became a low-roofedpassage cut beneath an immense wall of overhanging rock,[483]open and unsupported on the river side, and in plain viewof the turbulent stream below. The softest and mostluxuriant vegetation covers this rock, and it is overhung inmany places with the graceful tape fern, and the snakelikeroots of trees. Here I saw a large toucan fly across theravine and its brilliant plumage of scarlet and black addeda still further charm to the scene. The next view afterpassing beneath the rocky projection is one which cannever fail to arrest the attention. At a distance ahead,sufficient to enable one to take in the whole picture, risesthe Pan de Azucar (Sugar Loaf), a mountain in the middleof the now broadened river bed. Its marvelous shapeand mantle of green forest trees, which extend to its summit,remind one of the Pitons at Castries, St. Lucia,although on a much smaller scale. We came to a placewhere there used to be a swinging bridge but which wassome time ago abandoned because the road crosses theriver by a new stone one farther down. Here on turningaround in our saddles is a view different in character butequally impressive and grand. This is a great perpendicularpatch of white rock regularly stratified but wrinkledand most strangely contorted into the form of an ellipticalcurve.

The bridges over the river which we had to cross atdifferent stages of the journey deserve a word of praisefor their construction, combining lightness with strength.They are of the suspension type, built of strong cableswith plank footboards, and sufficient to meet the needsof the present light and limited mule traffic. When crossing,it is advisable to dismount and walk, because theysway considerably and are open at the sides. One suchbridge some twelve miles below Huacapistana leads tothe hacienda of Naranjal, a sugar plantation. The onlybridge that I know of in North America similar to these[484]swinging bridges of Peru spans Capilano Canyon nearNorth Vancouver, in British Columbia. Naranjal has anold-fashioned garden with a fountain surrounded withmango and orange trees, the latter giving the name to theplace. Three miles below Naranjal is the ranch house ofMilagro, belonging to a man named Horquiera.

San Ramon is a little village situated in the heart of theChanchamayo district. The country is here more openand is surrounded at varying distances by undulations androunded hills, thickly covered with virgin forest; theirlower slopes were, however, cleared for sugar, coffee, andcocoa plantations. After the mist had cleared in the earlymorning, the day had been hot, but full of novel interest,and although we had made an early start we had progressedat a speed not exceeding three miles an hour andhad now only completed fifteen miles. The settlementof San Ramon although somewhat scattered consistschiefly of one street, the houses on which are no morethan huts. They are built of wood and have thatchedroofs, the latter slanting downward in front from theridge of the pole. The hotel is the only substantial buildingof the village. It is a two-story stone and adobebuilding set back from the road in a field which is somewhatoverrun with castor beans.

The six miles between San Ramon and La Merced wasover fairly level ground and through less imposing scenery.On the way we passed through several hamlets inhabitedby Chinamen and cholos, and smallchacras on whichgrew papayas and other fruits. All the buildings wereof mud or cane, thatched and of that rustic and simplecharacter which not only harmonizes with a naturalenvironment, but suits the country and climate and seemsin every way to meet the needs of a primitive population.Over the door of one such edifice was the sign[485]which denoted that it was used as a school. At the timeof our passing, the only scholars visible were a boy and agirl, who with their backs to the open door, sat at a deskgazing at a monstrous colored diagram demonstratingthe evil effects of alcohol upon the human system. Wecrossed the very fine Herreria suspension bridge and twohours after leaving San Ramon entered La Merced.

La Merced is situated on a flat-topped eminence andcommands a good view of the surrounding country, but initself it does not seem to possess any characteristics ofspecial interest. It is merely a small country town withtypical parish church and plaza and is in telegraphic communicationwith the outside world. The inhabitants ofthe town have suffered considerably from malaria which isvisible on their wasted and parchment-colored countenances.Leaving La Merced it took us three hours toreach the Peruvian Corporation's headquarters. This islocated at the junction of the rivers Paucartambo andChanchamayo, the combined river taking the name ofPerené. The road, which was fair, wound around the leftbank of the Chanchamayo, now a river of considerablebreadth, and the scenery once more became increasinglybeautiful. Tree ferns and tree palms of different kindswere again abundant; from one of these species, fanlike inleaf, is made the local straw hat, but little inferior to theso-called Panama variety. Butterflies, both large andsmall, were omnipresent. The whole distance from LaMerced to the Peruvian Corporation's headquarters isabout fifteen miles. The bridge over the Colorado River,a tributary stream, was under repair, so leaving the pathwe saved time and distance by fording it. In the rainyseason this would have been an impossibility, for it becomesa raging torrent, as evidenced by the huge roundedboulders, and width of its bed, along which we had to ride.[486]This part, bordered by tall reeds, towering above our heads,was now dry and led us to another arm of the river, wherea fairly strong flow of water wet our mules up to theirbellies. Regaining our path, we eventually regained thePaucartambo, which we crossed by the means of a primitivelog raft, while the guide took the mules across by abridge a mile down the river.

Here among the clean-washed stones of the river bed, Igot my first view of the uncivilized Indian. This was amale Chuncho native, rifle in hand, returning from anunsuccessful hunt. At first he hid behind some brushwoodbut was finally induced to come out. He was a well-built,sturdy fellow of medium height, attired in a loose brownrobe of native manufacture. His skin was of the same hue,and his head of thick black hair was encircled and held inplace by a plain band of cane. Sunday is a market day atthe Peruvian Corporation's camp; it was then that I sawmore of these Indians. From them I obtained for a fewcentavos several of their chains of colored seeds, andmonkey teeth, and ultimately procured a complete outfit,headband, more aboriginal ornamental finery, parrots'wings with feathers attached which serve as a loin cloth,bows and arrows. They are painted with a facial adornmentof vermilion, with the occasional addition of grease tokeep the flies and insects off. This red paint is foundready made in the seeds of the achote, a bush of two varietieswhich produces maroon-colored pods and whichgrows wild in the chacra clearings. These Indians wholive in the neighborhood of the settlements are mild,peaceful, and intelligent, skilled in domestic industrieswhich is the manufacture of bows and arrows. They areexcellent marksmen. They are somewhat small in staturebut well built. They take readily to the water and learnto swim, and are cleaner in their habits and customs[487]than the cholos and mountain Indians. Filial affectionis a not deeply implanted instinct with them, and amongthem human life is but lightly esteemed. While fewserious crimes are committed among them, murder isaccounted as nothing. If a widow with a young familyremarries, it is the all but universal practice for the secondhusband to kill her children by a previous marriage. It isalso a common occurrence for a family to throw their parentsinto the river when, through the infirmity of advancingyears, life becomes a burden, either to themselves, orto those on whom they should look for support. Themanager of the Peruvian Corporation's headquarters toldme that on one occasion he had the greatest difficulty inrestraining some Chunchos from throwing into the Perené,a man who was suffering from a bad abscess, and who waseventually cured by having it lanced. This is the fatethey mete out to all members of their tribe who are sufferingfrom diseases which they consider incurable.

Eighty miles below the camp, where the rivers Perenéand Ené unite to form the Tambo, dwell a colony of CampasIndians known as the Ungoninos. Owing to theoutrages perpetrated upon them by the rubber gatherers,they offer a stout resistance to the approach of a stranger,for they have learned not to trust the white man. Thoughthey are not cannibals, it is impossible to enter theirterritory, and in making the cross-country journey toIquitos, it is necessary to go by the way of Puerto Jessupand Puerto Bermudez if one wishes to escape with one'slife. The Cashibos, on the other hand, are a distinct raceof Indians who inhabit the plains on the left bank ofthe Pachitea. They are cannibals. These people wear noclothes, shave their heads, and wage continual warfare onall the surrounding tribes. Their cannibalistic propensitieshave been explained in the attempt on the part of[488]the Cashibo to absorb into his system qualities of the whiteman which he considers to be superior to his own. They,like other tribes, have undoubtedly been made worse by theshocking treatment they have received at the hands of thecaucheros (rubber gatherers), some of whom are the lawlessdescendants of European immigrants whose ostensible occupationis the gathering of rubber, but who, at the sametime, carry on a lucrative trade in the sale of human beings.From what I have heard, there prevails a state of affairswhich in its recorded and unrecorded atrocities, falls nothingshort of the darkest page of slavery practiced in thedays of Leopold II. in Belgian Congo. The Cashibos havebeen a fierce and warlike tribe; now they have learned whatthe crack of the carbine means and quickly get out of theway when they hear it. They are, however, very treacherous,and a small party traveling through their countrywould run a great risk of serving as a banquet for them.They kill off all the men of the other tribes down theUcayali and sell the women and children whenever theycan get a market for them. The method may not behumanitarian but it is at least practical and remunerativeto them.

Coffee does not grow at the Peruvian Corporation'sheadquarters camp but at a half-dozen different chacrassome distance from it. This plan was adopted to obviatethe possible exigencies of blight, but it is an unfortunateone, because not only does it augment the difficulties oftransport but militates against anything like direct personalsupervision. These haciendas, which produce themost excellent coffee and cocoa, are known as La Magdalena,La Margarita, and San Juan. These are thelargest and most important as well as being the farthestaway. The difficulties of intercommunication are increasedby the character of the roads which in the rainy[489]season are nearly impassable on account of the mud. Theroad to La Magdalena needs constant clearing to preventit from becoming an overgrown track; those leading toLa Margarita and to San Juan are toilsome zigzaggingascents which after heavy rains furnish stretches of mireand clay knee deep. In addition to this, streams crossthe road in many places, and when swollen frequentlywash it entirely away. All the haciendas are in thePerené division of the country, bounded on the south bythe main river and on the west separated from the Chanchamayoregion by the Paucartambo. From here eastwardstretches two hundred miles of hilly land before the generallevel of the Brazilian plains is reached, and the whole iscovered with a dense forest, uninhabited excepting by wildIndians. It is a wonderful country, stored with naturalwealth and capable of immense development when it willbe opened up. Its climate and general conditions are,with the exception of malaria and blackwater fever,healthy, and there are but few drawbacks in the way ofinsect pests.

For four solid days, after arriving at the headquarters'camp, it rained, which kept us indoors or near the shelterof the buildings. The fifth day broke cloudless with thesun shining, and as we had spent enough time loafing aboutthe buildings of the Peruvian Corporation, we decided tostart out, and try to make the mission station of JesusMaria at the junction of the Perené and the Pangoa Riversin three days' time. From there we could hire somenatives to take us in a canoe in three more days to PuertoRaimondi, a settlement on the Ucayali River at whichplace we thought it would be possible to board a steamlaunch to take us down the stream to Iquitos. We later ondiscovered that we were wrong because we had to canoedown the Ucayali as far as Cumaria a distance of one[490]hundred miles below Puerto Raimondi. The trail downthe Perené lay through level country, the mountains havingsomewhat receded from the river. Sometimes a spurwould extend to the banks, but after the first day out theywere for the most part several miles off to the north.They were diminishing in height, and those to the northwere called the Cerros de la Sal. The guide that hadcome with us from Oroya returned home from the PerenéColony, but the manager at headquarters' camp, SeñorVillalta, provided us with horses, and sent along with usas far as Jesus Maria, a half-breed and two native Indians.He did this because these Indians belonged to the tribethat lives beyond Jesus Maria, and through them we wouldbe able to continue our journey in safety since they wouldprocure for us at the mission station an escort which wouldsee us through to the place where we were to board thelaunch. There were quite a few small chacras on the firsttwo days' trip and both nights we managed to find lodgingat one of them. The first night out, I noticed that the bagof Ica beans and most of the canned stuff which Sansonihad bought for us in Lima was missing. I spoke to Pratabout this because he had carried the sack of beans withhim on his mount. He professed surprise and gave outhis theory that the cholo guide from Oroya had stolenthem and had gone back home with them. I had mydoubts about this because the Spaniard had been complaininga dozen times every day about the load that hehad to lug along with him. I said nothing about it untilfive weeks later when we were in the hotel in Manaosawaiting a Brazilian Lloyd steamer to take us to Para.Prat was in the barroom slightly under the influence ofvermouth and bitters, relating to Colonel ConstantinoNery, governor of the State of Amazonas, our adventuresin crossing the continent. The governor asked him how[491]we had fared for food, to which Prat answered that wehad done well considering that we were obliged to eatIndian concoctions that the ordinary white man would notsniff at. I added that we might have lived better if Prathad not left behind at the Perené Colony the sack of beansand the canned goods. The latter then went on to relatethat the cholo guide from Oroya stole them. I interruptedsaying that since the trip was now over and we had reachedcivilization safely that it did not matter what had becomeof them, but that I believed Prat had left them behindbecause he did not want to be bothered with them. TheSpaniard called for another vermouth and then laughinglyowned up that he had left them behind saying that thetemperature was hot enough the way it was withoutbeing hampered with any burdens. Nery told him thathe was quite right and that he would have done the samehad he been there. This trick of leaving our provisionsbehind has always since appealed to Prat as a huge joke.

Our water trip from Jesus Maria to Para, thence toCayenne, Paramaribo, Georgetown, Bridgetown, Willemstedt,and to Colon is full of enough material to fill anotherbook which will appear in the near future. This book isonly meant to deal with the southern countries of SouthAmerica such as Chile, Argentina, and Paraguay. I haveadded to it a few chapters not dealing on the originalsubject, but which I refrained from leaving out as they werea series of consecutive travel. At Jesus Maria we hired acanoe which took us down the Rio Tambo to Puerto Raimondiwhich is situated on the west bank of that streamat its junction with the Urubamba which here forms theUcayali. Behind us inland was the Cashobi country so incontinuing our canoe trip to Cumaria we always campedon the right bank of the river. It took us one week of stiffpaddling to reach Cumaria. One day our canoe capsized,[492]making us lose everything we had with us, necessitating usto partake of such delicacies as stewed monkey and parrotwhich the Indian stomach craves for and which are nearlyalways to be purchased at the Indian encampments on theright bank of the Ucayali. Cumaria is the head of rivernavigation. It is an Indian settlement at which a fewcaucheros,or rubber gatherers, live. Here we were fortunateenough to become passengers of a gasoline launch whichtook us in a week to Contamana. We had been told atJesus Maria that the launches were steam power, but weresurprised when we arrived at Cumaria to find that they weregasoline ones, and this in the wilderness, many hundredmiles from civilization. At Contamana we changed intoanother gasoline launch. Here we entered that part ofthe river which is called the Bajo or Lower Ucayali. Itdiffers much from the Alto or Upper Ucayali in so far thatthe distant mountains have altogether disappeared, thestream is much broader, has many channels, and is filledwith large islands some of them being fifty miles long.Also settlements are more plentiful, and at the docks nearthe hamlets crude rubber in balls is waiting for exportation.Two days before reaching Iquitos the Bajo Ucayali isjoined by the Maranon and the Amazon itself is entered.

Iquitos is a fever-stricken port of twelve thousandinhabitants on the left bank of the Amazon. It is built onthe high banks above the river opposite to some islands ofthe same name, and not far above the confluence of theNanay and the Amazon. Above the town is a fair-sizedstream, the Itaya, which makes the city located on apeninsula. It is the capital of the Province of Loreto,which comprises the entire Peruvian Amazonian lowlands,and has a wireless telegraph communication with PuertoBermudez (which is only a three days' trip from thePerené Colony). From Puerto Bermudez telegraph wires[493]run to Lima via La Merced. Iquitos is the center of therubber industry of the Upper Amazon and is a boomingtown in spite of the yellow fever which is nearly alwaysprevalent. It has steamship communication with Manaos,Para, and the outside world.

Up to a decade ago, if a man in Lima had business inIquitos, he was obliged to take a steamer to England,tranship to Para, and there tranship again to Iquitos. Hehad the alternative of going to Panama, across the isthmusto Colon and thence take a steamer to Barbadoes. FromBarbadoes he would go to Para, and thence to Iquitos.These were long trips, several months being endured inthe passage. Now Iquitos is reached across country fromLima; the trip takes anywhere from three weeks to sixmonths, according to which route the traveler chooses.It has been done in sixteen days, but from four to fiveweeks is the average allowing time for misconnections.I believe that the shortest way to reach Iquitos from Limais to take a steamer to Pacasmayo, which is a day and ahalf north of the capital. Thence go by rail and horsebackto Cajamarca. From there go by horseback viaChachapoyas to Moyobamba. From Moyobamba onecan go in two to three days to Yurimaguas on the HuallagaRiver, whence one can go by launch to Iquitos in a weekand a half. I know a person who went from Cerro dePasco to Iquitos. He followed the Huallaga to its mouthand it took him six months. The common way of reachingIquitos from Lima is to go to La Merced; thence overlandthrough Puerto Bermudez to Puerto Victoria on theSampoya River down which one descends on a canoe tothe Ucayali, taking a chance of making connection withthe launch at Santa Rosa de los Canivos, which is aboutone third of the way downstream between Cumaria andContamana. There is also a northern route which takes[494]about five weeks. The eastbound traveler goes fromPaita to Piura by rail; thence via Huancabamba to Jaenby horseback. Jaen is a day's stage from the Maranonwhich one must descend by canoe.

In the night after the day on which the steamer leftIquitos, the Napo River was passed. It flows into theAmazon from a northwesterly direction. One of itstributaries is the Curaray which rises in the Andes ofEcuador. Along its course live a tribe of head-huntingIndians. These savages after they capture a white manor an Indian of another tribe, behead them. They boilthe head in a concoction which loosens the bones. Thesethey take out and fill the cavity with hot stones. Bysome process of their own, they shrink the head until itbecomes no larger than a large orange, yet retaining thefeatures that the victim possessed during life. Thesethey offer for sale, and are to be purchased in the curiosityshops of Lima and Guayaquil on the Pacific Coast, andeven in Para at the mouth of the Amazon. From thesavage to the curiosity shop proprietor they pass throughmany hands so that it is impossible to arrive at the sourceof the murder. A certain Swede once left Guayaquil forthe interior on an exploring expedition. A year afterwardsa head was purchased in that city which was found to bethat of the Scandinavian. Since he was never heard ofafter he crossed the Cordillera, it is assumed that his partywas beset by savages and he was murdered, his skullboiled down, and hawked about until it reached the handsof a Guayaquil dealer. The September, 1918, number oftheSouth American Magazine published in New York,has an article which says that there is believed to be ahead factory in Guayaquil. The dealer in this sketch isundoubtedly in league with body-snatchers who supplyhim with corpses, which he beheads and boils down, having[495]obtained the recipe from the Indians. These headshe places on sale. One of his relics was the head of anemployee of the Quito-Guayaquil Railroad who had diedthe previous year of yellow fever in Guayaquil and wassupposed to have been given a decent funeral. Thishorrid trick of the Indians cannot be eradicated until thelaw puts a stop to the purchase of these heads. Bypunishing the dealers and the middle-men, the Indianswill cease to find a market for these gruesome souvenirs.[496]

CHAPTER XVI
BUSINESS PROSPECTS IN ARGENTINA, PARAGUAY, ANDCHILE

The object of these travels was not to see the countrydealt with as much as it was to study the business conditionsand future possibilities in those lines in Chile, Argentina,and Paraguay.

Although there are undoubtedly great opportunities atthe present time and in the future to enter into businessenterprises in the northern republics of South America,which as yet, only have their surface towards development,the republics farther south which are partiallydeveloped, offer better inducements owing to their forms ofgovernment, the character of the races who inhabit them,and the incentives which are offered to the foreigner whowishes to start a new industry. With the exception ofArgentina and Uruguay there is practically no manufacturingdone on a large scale, such as we are accustomedto see on all sides in the United States and in Europe.There are many small industries employing from three totwenty men, providing the employers with not much morethan a good living, and the employees with a mere subsistence,but there are no really large ones which are acredit to their country.

To start anything in any of these countries, the matterof prime importance is for the proprietor and his foreign[497]employees to be able to converse fluently, read, and writein Spanish. Next he should understand the character ofthe Latin races which is not at all easy if he is prejudiced.Their ways of doing business are totally different from ours.Also owing to the scarcity of money in some of theserepublics, the new firm should have plenty of ready capital,and should never organize with a limited amount, theoutstanding balance being made up of notes. To sell preferredstock to the natives would be nearly impossible,because no Latin would buy any unless he is "shown"first, and this "showing" would have to cover a period of agreat many years, so susceptible are they of making investments.The company should be entirely capitalized withthe cash paid in before the first stroke of business is begun.Many firms in South America have come to grief by beingonly partially capitalized, and their example is alwaysbefore the native mind. Competing trusts and graftingpoliticians should be reckoned with. Many large firmsgive as a present to the governor of a province, or to thedeputy in congress, a few shares of their stock. Thesemen in turn make laws which benefit their company, andmake it impossible for competitors to transact a legitimatebusiness.

As Argentina offers less opportunities in the manufacturingline than its neighboring sister republics, it isbest to deal with it first. To begin with, the country isa great expanse of land, for the most part in appearance alevel plain, gradually rising as one travels westward.This rise is but two feet to the mile and is imperceptible.This plain is traversed by quite a few rivers, but soslowly does the land rise, that these streams are nothingmore than sluggish watercourses, muddy, and affordingno drainage. They often overflow their banks, formingmuddy ponds and lakes a few inches deep. On account of[498]the slowness of their flow they are valueless for waterpower.This part of the country is therefore not adaptable forfactories; its sole use is for the growing of grain and stock-raising.Although this is one of the greatest wheat beltsin the world, it has no flour mills, and but few grain elevators.The wheat is shipped a long distance by rail tothe seaport towns, whence it is exported to Europe. Thatwhich is needed for local consumption is ground into flourin the seaports which have mills; much of it is shipped backover the same road that it went out on to be distributedover the sections where the grain was grown. The townshere are small and far apart. Their only excuse for anexistence is that they are the distributing points for anagricultural section and to them the necessities of life areshipped which eventually find their way to the large estanciasas the farms are called. To these towns grain is hauledto be shipped out by the railroad. Stores spring up, ahotel or two is built, a few professional men such as doctorsand lawyers establish themselves, but nobody everthinks of starting a factory. It would be folly to do so,because there is no future besides agriculture and stock.There is no fuel, no iron, and no waterpower.

West of the great Argentine plain we reach the mountains.The Andes here are the highest peaks in all America.They rise abruptly from the plain like a barrier and have nofoothills. There are but few rivers in this section, andthose which do exist are swiftly flowing, turbulent streams.They can furnish waterpower and some of them do forelectricity. Yet there are no factories. It is again thequestion of the scarcity of fuel. So poor is Argentina inher fuel supply that most of the locomotives burn wood.The coal used for those which run in the eastern provincesis imported from Europe and the United States. Oilfields have been opened in Patagonia with a view of[499]decreasing the price of fuel, but as yet they are in theembryo stage. It is not known whether they will ever bemade an economic asset, because the quality of the oil issaid to be poor. The country at the foot of the Andesnear the latitudinal center of Argentina which is wateredby the mountain streams is called the Zona del Riego. Itis here that are located the extensive vineyards and fruitorchards. There are three separate belts each of which isfed by its own river. The two southernmost of these arein the Province of Mendoza, at San Rafael and Mendozarespectively, while the northern one, is at San Juan in theprovince of the same name. Factories which do notrequire an excessive amount of fuel could be started, butnobody has ever turned over their hands in that directionexcepting in fruit-canning plants, which have not paid well.

In the city of Mendoza a flour mill could be made topay. There are immense flour mills in Argentina, butwith the exception of a few small ones of no importanceand the large one of the Minetti Brothers at Córdoba, allare located on the seaboard. The Molino del Rio de laPlata at Buenos Aires has a capital of $14,945,000. It isthe largest in South America. Nearly as large are twoflour mills in Bahia Blanca; Rosario also has a couple oflarge mills. For a quarter of a million dollars a flour millcould be established at Mendoza, which the managerof the Molino del Rio de la Plata, told me would pay fortyper cent. on the capital from the start, and which would bedependent on no other trade than that of the city ofMendoza. At San Juan, one hundred miles north ofMendoza, there is a small flour mill which is a lucrativeinvestment. The beauty of having a mill in Mendoza isthe fact that the wheat grown there, although inferior tothat which is grown on the plains on account of its havingto be irrigated, runs forty bushels to the acre and would be[500]in close proximity to the mill, thereby saving freight.People in the Province of Mendoza who grow wheat shiptheir product to Buenos Aires where it is ground. Theflour is then shipped back seven hundred miles to Mendozawhere it sells for a high price, the freight rate being enormous.Tucumán is a city of over one hundred thousandinhabitants but has no flour mill worthy of the name.One would pay in that city but it would require much morecapital both on account of the size of the city and itsdistance from the wheat fields. Mercedes, Bragado, Olavarría,Junin, and many other towns of their size (twenty thousandpopulation and upwards) could all support flour mills.They have none and are in the heart of the grain belt.Wood would have to be used for fuel which would beexpensive, but the profits derived from the flour would offsetit. Pergamino is a growing town in the grain beltbetween Buenos Aires and Rosario, with good railroadfacilities, yet it has not a single manufacturing enterprise.It has a population of forty-three thousand inhabitants.Personally I think that the flour mill proposition would bethe best paying enterprise in Argentina. It would pay atall times, war or no war.

One of the leading manufacturing industries in Argentinais that of the beef-canning factories, here called saladerias.This is the chief industry of Uruguay, and thesecond in importance in Paraguay, and the state of MattoGrosso, Brazil. These saladerias not only can beef, butthey manufacture beef extract, tallow, and the by-productsof the hides and fat. They likewise ship cold-storagebeef to Europe and even to the United States. The RiverPlate basin is where these factories are situated, and in noother parts of South America are they to be found. Armour& Company, and Swift have large ones at La Plata.At Fray Bentos, in Uruguay, on the Uruguay River a[501]short distance above where it flows into the River Plate isthe great establishment and headquarters of the LiebigCompany, the largest of its kind in South America andone of the largest in the world. There are beef-canningplants at Montevideo, at Colon, Argentina, and at manyof the ports on the Uruguay, Paraná, and ParaguayRivers. These plants require much capital, especiallyin Argentina, because here the river is at quite a distancefrom the stock country, necessitating the shipment ofcattle by rail. It would be prohibitory as far as expensegoes to establish a beef-canning enterprise inland; by havingthem at the seaports, ocean-going freighters can anchorat the docks and be loaded there. This is true about manyof the river ports owing to the depth of the water whichpermits ocean steamers to reach them. None of theArgentina and Uruguayan saladerias are far enough up therivers to be beyond ocean navigation. The Uruguayanplants have it on those of Argentina, because the stockcountry of the former republic lies directly behind thesaladerias and is contingent to the river. In Argentinathe stock have to be transported to the seaboard upwardsof one hundred miles, and in most cases from two to fourhundred miles.

Regarding stock-raising, it is done in Argentina on alarge scale. The large estancias are owned by people whohave inherited their lands through several generations andhave in the past decades accumulated great fortuneswhich have been sufficient to well stock their estates withcattle, sheep, and other live stock. The stock roam theprairies the year around, are not winter fed, and requirebut little care. As many of these estancias are fortymiles square, the only expense incurred are the wages ofthe herders. Land is held high in Argentina, from $15 anacre upwards in the stock country, the average being $35[502]an acre. It would require much capital to buy enough of itfor a fair-sized ranch. Fifteen hundred acres would cost$45,000. If he put 1000 head of stock on it, which wouldbe a small ranch, his outlay for the investment would beabout $90,000. A drought would be likely to occur and hewould be up against it. The man, however, who has a50,000-acre ranch could make money. He could have10,000 head of cattle and if there was a drought he couldkeep moving them about. Twenty thousand acres is but[503]a medium-sized ranch in Argentina and Uruguay. It isnot uncommon for a man to have 100,000 acres, while inPatagonia there are ranches of 1,000,000 acres. Stock-raisingis the most important industry in Argentina, butthe men who have made a success of it and those at presentengaged in it, started this business years ago. Exceptingin the Province of Salta, it is well for a company or anindividual to keep out of this line of business unless he hasenough money to buy a large tract of land. The figureshere are the average for estancias contiguous to theaverage plains towns.

The Province of Salta is about one thousand miles fromBuenos Aires and the seaport towns. On account of itsdistance and nature of its land it has nothing in commonwith the provinces farther south. It is a hilly and mountainousregion bordering on the tropics abounding in forestswhich have a thick matting of grasses. The cattleare large and lean, and although their beef is rather tough,there is plenty of it, and there is but little shrinkage intransportation. The market for this stock is the nitrateregion of Chile. The cattle are driven across the Andesand lose but little weight on the way. In Antofagasta theybring a good price. There are no large ranches in the provinceand there is not much capital. Here a man withmoderate means could raise stock at a profit, if he dealtonly with the Chilean market. If he shipped them to thesaladerias in the Province of Buenos Aires he would losemoney on account of the freight.

An embryo industry in Argentina is that of tannin ortannic acid, used for dyeing and tanning. The northernpart of the provinces of Santiago del Estero and Santa Fé,and the greater part of the territories of Formosa andthe Chaco, are covered with a forest of small trees, namedquebracho. They are too small for saw logs, their wood is[504]hard and is used for fuel on the railroads, and they havea reddish bark. This bark before the European War wasshipped to Germany in great quantities where its extractwas used in dye stuffs. Unfortunately but little of it wasexported to other countries. Some tannin factories wereinaugurated in the Province of Santa Fé, but those controlledby foreign capital went haywire. This was duemainly to grafting provincial officials who put these companiesout of commission by their annoyances. A tanninfactory would pay in Argentina if the government wouldgive it protection. It is a deplorable fact that in many newindustries in Argentina, they are induced to locate there.Once established, the manufacturer is subjected to a burdeningtaxation from the federal government, the province,and the district. There is a continuous drain of contributionswhich have to be handed to congressmen, and theirhenchmen; titles are found to be imperfect; law suits arestarted; the outcome is that the company is apt to go intoinsolvency. This once happened to a large tannin factorythat started in the Province of Santa Fé. A Buenos Airesbank loaned them money; but the owners ran up against somany snags when they started to operate, that they wereunable to pay their indebtedness and the bank had to foreclose.It would be a different story if the company wasArgentine owned. The Argentino from the highest to thelowest looks upon the North American as a person to exploitfrom. They welcome him mainly to relieve him of hismoney. When we talk about grafting in our American citieswe do not know what grafting is; one must come to LatinAmerica to get the interpretation. George W. Crichfield inhis two volumes,American Supremacy (Brentano's 1908),gives the true version. He says that our best diplomatsare to the South American ones in comparison as whatjackasses are to foxes. This is particularly true about[505]Argentina and could apply to the grafting officials as well.Although under proper government protection, a tanninfactory in Argentina would pay, it would be useless to waitfor that protection to come, and the manufacturer would befar better off if he would start his factory in poor, benightedParaguay where the grafting would be much lessthan in Argentina.

In Argentina there is no such thing as prohibition andlocal option, and there probably never will be. Such issuesare not in common with the Latin make-up, and thelong-haired stump orators and hypocrites who advocatethis question in the United States for their own personalenrichment, would undoubtedly land in insane asylumsif they started this propaganda anywhere in South America.One might think it strange that there is no whiskeydistillery there, yet such is the fact, and I do not know ofany in entire South America. Whiskey is not consumedthere in anywhere near the quantity that it is consumedin the United States and Great Britain, yet enough isindulged in by the higher stratum of society who ape theNorth Americans and the British to warrant the establishmentof one. There is plenty of grain and there is no competition.There are several liqueur factories which seem topay, one of which at Buenos Aires puts out a cordial namedAperital, which has a great sale.

There are thirteen breweries in the republic, but lest aperson should think of starting another one, he shouldforget the idea at the same time that he conceives it.There is a brewery trust heavily capitalized, composed ofArgentine and British stockholders. Much of this stock isin the hands of senators and congressmen, who see to itthat laws are made which protect them and work to thedetriment of their competitors. The Argentine BrewingCompany at Quilmes, a suburb of Buenos Aires, heads[506]this trust, the other members of which are the BieckertBrewing Company at Llavallol, another suburb of BuenosAires, the Palermo Brewery at Buenos Aires, the SanCarlos Brewery at San Carlos, and the Del Norte Breweryat Tucumán. Those not belonging to the trust are theCórdoba Brewing Company at Córdoba, the Rio SegundoBrewing Company with breweries both at Córdoba and atRio Segundo, the Ahrens Brewery at Córdoba, the SantaFé Brewing Company at Santa Fé, the Schlau and theGermania Brewery at Rosario, and the Correntino Breweryat Corrientes. Both the Ahrens and the Correntinobreweries are small establishments and only cater to localand family trade and therefore have not fell foul of thetrust.

Since much beer is drunk in Argentina I have oftenwondered why there were no more breweries. I wonderedwhy Mendoza, Salta, Bahia Blanca, Mercedes, Pergamino,Paraná, Concordia, and other towns did not have any.I mentioned this fact to the mayor of Salta. "It wouldnot pay," said he. "An old German named Glueck oncehad a brewery in this town, whose product took wellwith the public. His was a small brewery with limitedcapital. The Quilmes Company, through their representativesin congress, had taxes formulated so that only thosebreweries with much capital could stand up under them.Glueck had to go out of business. The trust then built theDel Norte Brewery in Tucumán which is so large that if allthe other breweries in Argentina should shut down, itcould supply the whole republic with beer. The trustalso bought a piece of property in Salta and threaten ifanother brewery starts up in this city to put up one thatwill swamp it. The trust has millions of pesos capital, sowhat can one do?"

While in Córdoba I was a guest of Mr. Douglas, president[507]of the Rio Segundo Brewing Company. This companystarted a brewery on a small scale at the town of RioSegundo, hence the name. The water used for the manufactureof its beer came from an artesian well, and theproduct was so superior to that of the other breweries thatit was necessary to build another brewery, which was doneat Córdoba, twenty-three miles away. The water in this isalso artesian. The output of the Rio Segundo Brewery atCórdoba is only sixty thousand barrels a year, but it istaxed more than those whose output is six hundred thousandbarrels in the United States. It has kept its headabove water on account of the quality of the beer. Aformer brewmaster of this company started a small breweryin Corrientes, the Correntino, but this like that ofAhrens at Córdoba have not been molested by the trustbecause they are too small to interfere with the business ofthe Quilmes Company. With the exception of the outputof the Rio Segundo breweries, all the Argentine beer is vileand not fit to drink. Hops are difficult to get, and injuriouschemicals are used for its preservation.

Two automobile factories have been started in BuenosAires but their existence was of but a short duration.The parts were shipped there to be assembled, but thestockholders thought that it would be more lucrative ifthey manufactured their own parts. Since there is noiron in the republic, it was found that its importation wastoo expensive to allow the companies to ship it in, thereforethey went out of business.

Hides are not expensive. There are many small so-calledshoe factories which in reality are but shops; theshoes manufactured in them are good and cheap, and aremade by hand. They likewise have class, and a shoemanfrom Toronto told me that the shoes manufactured therewere superior to ours, and the United States has the[508]reputation of making the best shoes in the world. ThisCanadian said that he could see no reason why a fair-sizedshoe factory would not pay in Buenos Aires and was veryoptimistic about the idea.

In the Province of Tucumán there are considerable sugarfactories, some of them large ones. The cane is inferiorto that of Cuba and the West Indies; most of the availableland for its growing is taken up, and the sugar marketis often poor. None of the sugar is refined in the districtwhere it grows, there being only one refinery in Argentinaand that is at Rosario. The product is shipped to Englandand France to be refined. It is doubtful if anothermill would pay, but another refinery and that in the city ofTucumán might be profitable. There are no beet-sugarfactories, but much of the land, especially that in EntreRios and Corrientes, is adaptable for beet culture, so thereis no reason why an establishment of that kind could notbe made to pay.

Although Argentina has a great network of railwaysrunning throughout the republic so that practically noplace of any importance is in lack of transportation facilities,yet interurban street-car lines are nonexistent.The only one in operation is that which runs betweenBuenos Aires and Quilmes, a distance of fourteen miles.One is being built to Tigre, twenty-two miles from BuenosAires, but is not yet in operation. There should be electriclines between Buenos Aires and La Plata, Buenos Airesand Rosario, either via San Nicolás or Pergamino, BuenosAires and Mercedes, Bahia Blanca and Puerto Belgrano,Mendoza and San Rafael, Tucumán and Tafí Viejo, andalso a network of lines of which Tucumán should be thecenter of the hub.

There are quite a few cigarette and a few cigar factories.The cigarettes manufactured are vile, likewise the cigars.[509]This trade is in the hands of Turks, Spaniards, and Italians,and the tobacco used is grown in Brazil. There are goodtobacco lands in the provinces of Salta, Jujuy, Corrientes,and in the Territory of Misiones, but none is grown exceptingin gardens from which the owner makes cigars for hisown personal use. The price paid for cigars is exorbitantand a good live factory well capitalized might pay.Nobody smokes a pipe nor chews tobacco, therefore atobacco factory would be unsuitable.

There is no field in the newspaper or periodical line in allSouth America. This and the publishing business is overdone.Some towns of ten thousand people have four orfive daily papers. Every politician that can afford it is theproprietor of his own newspaper, in whose columns heattacks everybody who does not hold his own politicalviews. These newspapers often run foul of the governmentand wind up by having their publications suppressedand the editor thrown in jail.

Paraguay, on account of its small population andscarcity of money, offers a much less diversified variety forfuture enterprises than does Argentina. The leadingindustry is the culture of yerba maté, and the exportationof its leaves. This republic lies close to the tropics and iscovered with a dense vegetation. In the southeasternpart of the country in the neighborhood of the AltoParaná River, there grows in its native state the plantyerba maté, from whose leaves from time immemorial theIndians brewed a tea. The leaves are first dried, and thensteeped in a kettle or pot. Calabash gourds grow wild inabundance. These are dried, the top is cut off, and theinsides scooped out. The hot tea is poured into thesegourds which every individual possesses, and the infusionis sucked from them by means of straws and reeds, by thepoorer classes, and by bombillas by the upper and middle[510]classes. A bombilla is a metal tube with a small coveredspoonlike head which is perforated with small holes.This maté drinking habit, which is considered beneficial, isindulged in universally by everybody in Paraguay, Argentina,Uruguay, and southern Brazil. There are severaldifferent varieties of yerba maté, and it has been foundthat that which is cultivated is better than that whichgrows wild. Hence there are enormous plantations for itsculture which are called yerbales. Large companies havebeen formed for its production and exportation, that ofDomingo Barthe being the best known. His brand isnamed Asuncion. The next best-known firm is theIndustriel Paraguaya. Both are capitalized heavily andhave their main offices in Asuncion and Villa Encarnacionwith branch offices throughout Argentina. Barthe is avery wealthy man; he was formerly a French adventurerwho struck it rich through none too scrupulous means.His latest trick was to sell a lot of his maté under the trademarkof the Industriel Paraguaya. This was done atRosario. He was tried there and found guilty. He wassentenced to one year in jail and to pay a fine of two hundredthousand dollars. Before they could get him, he got intoParaguay where he is immune from the Argentine law.He owns a fleet of steamers plying between Montevideoand Asuncion which touch at Argentine ports. On thesehe is safe since his steamship line is not incorporatedin Argentina. Nevertheless Barthe has helped advanceprogress and industry in Argentina and this should nothave been overlooked when sentence was pronouncedupon him. At that time he was about to build a million-dollarhotel at Posadas. Although what he did was unprincipled,his sentence was twenty-fold too severe, and showsplainly that the Argentine bloodsuckers are out to exploitthe foreigners for every cent they can get out of them.[511]

There are in Paraguay boundless tracks of virgin soilsuitable for yerbales. It requires but little expense towork them and there is an unlimited market for Paraguayantea. It is said that the Argentine army is going toadopt yerba maté to be distributed among the soldiers fortheir daily rations. This tea-drinking craze among thenatives is uncanny. To many of them it is life; theforeigner, however, rarely acquires the habit, although hepartakes of it for the sake of sociability while in Paraguay.

Next in line among Paraguay's industries is the saladerias.The whole country covered with a thick matting ofgrasses is a paradise for cattle. Land is inexpensive, thepasturage is better than in Argentina, and more stock canbe raised to the acre. Here and in Matto Grosso, a futurestock country, the grazing lands come down to the greatwaterways, and although the river boats are of low draughtnecessitating a rehandling at the seaport towns, cannedbeef can be shipped direct from the saladerias in the stockcountry.

Tannin is a more staple industry than in Argentinaalthough it is still in embryo. The writer had an opportunityto engage in this manufacture, which he nearlytook up; in ordinary times it would have been all right, butat this particular time there was a change in Paraguayanpolitics and the manufacture of tannic acid was handicappedby the European War. A Barcelona Spaniard,Señor Andres Pujol, president of the Banco Constructadordel Paraguay and a friend of the writer, was held in highesteem by the then dictator, Señor Eduardo Schaerer.One of the large brick buildings owned by the Hernandariasand Frias Brewery at Puerto Sajonia, on the outskirtsof Asuncion, was vacated in favor of a modern breweryplant in the city. Its machinery could be used in themanufacture of tannic acid and the plant could have been[512]bought for a song. It was the idea of Señor Pujol for heand myself to buy this building and erect, in connectionwith it, a sawmill. We were to pay for quebracho logsdelivered at the plant from which we were to strip thebark, from which we were to extract the tannin. At thattime Asuncion was having most of its new streets pavedwith quebracho blocks. We were to give Señor Schaererstock in the company and in return he was to give us afranchise to furnish the paving material which we wouldmanufacture by cutting up the logs at the sawmill. Wewere also to be exempt from taxes for a number of years.Soon after this Schaerer was succeeded in the presidencyby Dr. Manuel Franco, a native, and it was likely that hewould undo everything that Schaerer did, in which caseour franchise would not amount to a picayune. This combinedwith the present prospects of no shipment of tannicacid to foreign parts caused me not to inaugurate thisenterprise, which will still be open to anybody. The besttime to start this is soon after the election of a popularpresident, because in the four years during which he willhold office, there will be plenty of time in which to accumulatea fortune.

The future manufacturing and commercial opportunitiesin Chile is utterly different and far brighter than inany other South American country. Chile has a decidedlybright future and at the present time only lacks capitalto develop her resources. Business conditions are muchbetter; there is more snap to her people; there is less graftand it is a cheaper country to live in. To this is addedthe fact that the climate is good. Topographically andgeographically this republic can be divided into threedistinct zones. Beginning at its extreme north andrunning down the coast one-third of its whole longitudeis the rainless zone. This is a vast forbidding desert,[513]interspersed at varying distances by a few oases. Themountains begin at the ocean and gradually rise in steepranges until a maximum of twenty thousand feet isattained in a hundred and fifty miles at the easternboundary which is the Argentine frontier. Twenty milesback from the ocean are plateaus averaging from twothousand to five thousand feet high which furnish mostof the world's nitrate supply. This nitrate is from twoto six feet underneath the surface of the soil and is supposedto be the manure of birds that infested this regionin pre-glacial periods. From these fields is derived muchof the wealth of the country. Many of the older nitratefields have become exhausted, especially those farthestnorth on the Iquique Pampa, but new ones are constantlybeing opened up to the south of the old workings and fromthem is due the importance of Antofagasta. It was toacquire these nitrate deposits that Chile declared war uponBolivia and Peru in 1879 which caused them to changehands. It is a blessing to that part of the country that itnever rains, because if it did, the nitrate deposits would bewashed away. This zone is hot.

The second zone is that which begins immediately southof the rainless one and which extends another third of thelength of the country down the coast. It consists of acoast range of mountains timbered with conifers and smallhardwood trees, the mountain peaks rarely rising abovethree thousand feet in altitude. Beyond them is thegreat longitudinal valley from thirty to fifty miles inwidth. Here are situated most of the towns and twothirds of the country's population. This is the granaryof the republic, and it is here that are located thegreat vineyards, the fruit farms, and the small manufacturingindustries. This zone has a sufficiency ofannual precipitation but climatically is divided into two[514]seasons, the dry and the rainy one. During the wintermonths from May to October there are frequent rainswhile the rest of the year it seldom rains, althoughshowers are likely to occur at any time, these being of morefrequent prevalence the farther south one goes.

The remaining zone which reaches the remaining distanceof the coast line as far as Cape Horn is an archipelagoand a narrow strip of land extending inland about fiftymiles to the Argentine frontier. This district is a mountainousmass, indented by many bays and fiords, welltimbered, but so steep are the mountains that come downto the water's edge that there are no towns and but fewplaces where habitations can be built. A great part ofthis region is unexplored. It undoubtedly is rich in mineraldeposits but its inaccessibility has kept it from beingdeveloped. The annual rainfall is great but this diminishestowards the southern apex. In winter there areheavy snowfalls, while the tops of the mountains possessinnumerable glaciers.

Chile is rich in minerals. Some of its mines have beenworked ever since the Spanish conquest and new fields areconstantly being opened. In the arid north copper isfound behind Gatico and at Chuquicamata, the Guggenheiminterests being at the latter place. There are coppermines in the provinces of Atacama, and Coquimbo, andat the headwaters of the Cauquenes River in the Provinceof Colchagua is the large productive mine of the BradenCopper Company. There are iron mines at La Higuerain the Province of Coquimbo and coal mines at Lota, in theProvince of Concepcion. Silver and gold is found throughoutthe whole republic in paying quantities. Next tonitrate and minerals, vineyards play the most importantpart. From the Province of Aconcagua southward 250miles, grapes play a great rôle, yet but little wine is[515]exported. The southern provinces and the Central Valleyproduce an abundance of wheat, rye, and barley, but owingto an inadequate market, it is a gamble whether the farmerwill lose or make a profit on his crops.

What Chile needs more than capital is immigration.Her increase in population has been small, likewise herimmigration. The European immigrant lands at BuenosAires and seeks employment in Argentina, while if hecrossed the Andes into Chile, he would find a land wherehe could make a better living for himself and buy some ofthe most fertile land in this universe for a cheap price.Southern Chile has a large population of German descentwho have done remarkably well, but the great number ofSpaniards and Italians who yearly immigrate to the republicsof South America's eastern littoral are here conspicuousby their absence.

In manufactures, the breweries are Chile's largestindustry. There is a brewery trust in Chile, like inArgentina, but it is nowhere near so strong nor so wellcapitalized. It consists of La Calera Brewery at LaCalera, the Valdivia Breweries Company at Valdivia, theAndres Ebner Brewery at Santiago, the Floto Brewery atLa Serena and the Limache-Cousiño Brewery at Limache,which is the largest in Chile. A fact which shows thatthe trust is not strong is that all the independent brewerieshave done well. Aubel's Brewery at Osorno, and Keller'sBreweries at Concepcion and Talca are large ones. Thereare many small breweries such as Petersen's at PuntaArenas, Julius Jenson's at Chillán, and Horstmann'sat Santiago. Much beer is drunk in Chile, and there isplenty of grain, so after the war there will be an excellentopportunity of starting a brewery. The only drawbackhas been the supply of malt and hops which comes fromforeign countries and which the brewers have been unable[516]to procure in sufficient quantities in recent years owingto the freight shortage.

Santiago is a city of over four hundred thousand inhabitantsyet only has two breweries, that of Ebner whichbelongs to the trust and that of Horstmann which doesnot. Horstmann before the war got a supply of hops largeenough to last him six years if his brewery ran at its fullcapacity. He is an old man who has amassed all themoney he wants, and his heirs have no inclination to continuethe business. In 1917 he could have been boughtout at a very reasonable price and I believe the same holdstrue to-day. His business has been a family trade and hisbeer is said to be the best in Chile. Since there is smalllikelihood of Chile ever going prohibition, here is a chancefor somebody. Valparaiso has no brewery on accountof its water being too hard. I have no doubt but that abrewery at either Chillán, which has only one smallbrewery, or at Curicó which has no brewery, would pay.Temuco, Los Angeles, San Fernando, and Linares couldsupport breweries. In northern Chile there are no breweriesexcepting one at La Serena, yet either Antofagasta orIquique would be ideal spots for one. The water in thesecities has to be piped in from a distance of 150 miles, yetsince there is sufficient to supply other establishmentsthere would be enough to supply breweries. Copiapóis likewise well situated for a brewery. It could be madethe central distributing point for other towns such asAntofagasta, Taltal, Chañaral, Vallenar, and Huasco.The output could be shipped to its seaport Caldera, andthence along the coast to the other towns in case of ashortage of freight cars. In Chile as in the United Statesthe breweries buy saloon licenses to put into businessmen who handle only their goods, but unlike in the UnitedStates, saloons play no part in politics, and with the[517]exception of the sailors' dives in the seaports they are runin strict accordance with the law. The violations that Ihave mentioned in this book occurred in Antofagastawhich has the reputation of being a notoriously tough town.

A business with a future and which could be madeprofitable is an enamel works and tin-ware factory. Inall South America, business signs, doctors' signs, streetnames, and house numbers are of enamelled tin. Mostof the kitchen ware, bathtubs, and chamber sets are of thesame article. There is an enamel ware works at Valparaisoand another one at Santiago. The latter is theEsmaltadera Chilena, managed by Don Federigo Reddoehl.This would be a paying proposition but so far lackscapital. The heaviest interest is owned by a senatornamed Charme, but the other stockholders could bebought out at par. Chile is dependent upon the UnitedStates for its sheet-iron and tin supply; the war has put adamper on this, but as soon as shipments can be renewed,there is no reason why an enterprise of this kind wouldnot be a good investment.

Unfortunately Chile's timber is hardwood, so lumbermills would not pay. It is dependent on its lumber forbuilding purposes from the United States. Althoughthere is much hardwood, the floors are tile or cement,which is much cheaper there than oak or maple, and sincethe ordinary pocket-book cannot afford to pay the priceof the latter, a hardwood flooring plant would be negative.

In the south there are plenty of small flour mills butthere are but few in the Central Valley. Since much graingoes to waste and since flour is in demand, more of thesesmall mills could be started, but none of the cities near tothe grain supply are large enough to warrant large mills.

Chile is not a stock country. Cattle are dear, likewisethe hides. Therefore a shoe factory would not pay.[518]

The railroads of the Central Valley are owned by thestate and do not pay on account of it. The personnel islarge and is made up entirely of political henchmen of thesenators and congressmen. The government realizes thisand there has been talk of renting the lines or selling themto private companies. This would be good sense. ThisCentral Valley is crossed lengthwise by one main trunk-linetouching at the important towns. From these atright angles run branch lines to places of minor importance.Yet so thickly settled is this valley, and so productiveis it, that another parallel line from Santiago toConcepcion, touching points not on the government railway,could possibly be made to pay a profit. From Talcait could run southwestward through San Javier, andCauquenes crossing the coast range between Quirihue andCoelemu at no perceptibly steep grade, opening up a newcountry, and saving a distance of seventy-five milesbetween the terminals. The country is mostly level andthere would be no difficult engineering feats. The railroadfrom Santiago to Valparaiso is a roundabout one and crossesthe steep mountain pass of Tiltil. For years it has beentalked of to shorten this line making it go through CasaBlanca, but the government has had no money for expendituresof such a sort. I have no doubt but that it wouldgive a private company a concession if it meant business.An interurban electric line between these two large citiesmight pay. It would be eighty-five miles long and wouldalso open up a new country.

Chile is in need of many first-class modern hotels builton the North American style, but not cramped for roomlike in the United States, and with the guests' rooms largeenough for comfort. Santiago, Valparaiso, and Concepcionhave good hotels, but in the other cities they are poor.It would not pay a North American to build a hotel south[519]of Concepcion because in that region German influencepredominates, and in many places the German populationoutnumbers that of the native. For years to come afterthe war the North American would be boycotted there.Antofagasta opens an excellent field in the hotel line.There are four hotels there where it is possible to sleepand eat, but they fall much below the standard for such abusy port. The trade is evenly divided between them,but an up-to-date hostelry could easily shift that to themselves.Arica is badly off in the hotel line. This is theport of La Paz, Bolivia, and traveling men to and fromthat city are often obliged to put in a few days in this mostnorthern seaport of Chile while waiting for their steamer.Coquimbo, Talca, and Chillán need modern hotels, aswell as Los Andes. The latter town which has a populationof 8097 is important because it is the jumping-offplace for Argentina. The narrow-gauge railroadfrom there to Mendoza is of such a nature that thetrip has to be made in daylight on account of curves,bridges, and steep gradients which would be dangerousto traverse at night. Passengers en route for Argentinaleave Santiago and Valparaiso in the evening arriving atLos Andes at night where they stop over, and continuethe next morning. The train coming from Argentinaarrives at Los Andes at night and as it is sometimes late,passengers prefer to stop over there, continuing to Santiagoin the morning, rather than to change trains andarrive at Santiago at an unseemly hour. The only hotelfit to stop at in Los Andes is the poor one owned bythe Transandine Railway, and it is nearly always overcrowded.It is a flimsy frame structure, dirty, and withpoor service. It is some distance from the main part ofthe city, but another hotel built in its neighborhood wouldcatch all the transient trade, because most of it focuses[520]there instead of in the town. Rancagua has a floatingpopulation comprised of the mining element from theBraden Copper Company. Many of these are NorthAmericans and Canadians, and every day some of themare obliged to stop overnight at Rancagua to get a trainout the following day. Also Rancagua is the station forthe Baths of Cauquenes to which there is constant journeyingto and fro during the summer season. The city has apopulation of 10,380 irrespective of transient trade withno hotel fit to stop at.[521]

PLAZA PRINGLES
SAN LUIS

ARGENTINE PLAZAS
DRAFTED BY HENRY J. STEPHENS

PLAZA SAN MARTIN
MENDOZA

ARGENTINE PLAZAS
DRAFTED BY HENRY J. STEPHENS

PLAZA ARENALES
SALTA

ARGENTINE PLAZAS
DRAFTED BY HENRY J. STEPHENS

PLAZA INDEPENDENCIA
TUCUMÁN

ARGENTINE PLAZAS
DRAFTED BY HENRY J. STEPHENS

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PLAZA SAN MARTINCÓRDOBA

ARGENTINE PLAZAS
DRAFTED BY HENRY J. STEPHENS

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PLAZA O'HIGGINS
CHILLÁN

CHILEAN PLAZAS
DRAFTED BY HENRY J. STEPHENS

PLAZA SANTO ALDEA
CHILLÁN

CHILEAN PLAZAS
DRAFTED BY HENRY J. STEPHENS

PLAZA
IN SAN FELIPE

CHILEAN PLAZAS
DRAFTED BY HENRY J. STEPHENS

SMALL PLAZA IN TACNA

CHILEAN PLAZAS
DRAFTED BY HENRY J. STEPHENS

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SOUTH AMERICA

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CHILE

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Transcriber's Note:

Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation in the originaldocument have been preserved.

On page 407, "cue" should possibly be "clue."