Meantime tidings of the arrival of a stranger got wind among the beggars, and we were not destined to be long neglected by some of the most pressing members of the profession belonging to San Fernando. With the earliest of them came a robust and well dressed man on horseback. He was evidently blind of both eyes. The story of "the beggar on horseback" is familiar to every boy; but Chile gives finishing touches to anomalous pictures, and furnishes servants or companions well dressed and well mounted, to lead the horses of sightless equestrian mendicants! As they seemed unwilling to receive "No" in answer, and could not be regarded as objects really needing charity, it was suggested to the companion that he might earn a creditable support for both, if he would sell the horses and rent a bit of ground and till it. To ascertain how much laziness had to do with their pursuit, I proposed to pay the companion a real, if he would bring me meat, bread, and a bottle of mosto from the town; his blind friend to be led away with him, but his own horse to remain as a security that he would return with the value of the money to be given him. In a region where a peon can only earn a real and a half per day, two thirds of that sum for half an hour's walk with a little basket on his arm seemed pretty good pay; but the pair probably regarded the occupation and walking as degrading, and marched off in great indignation. While these were talking, two other active and healthy men laid at my feet a hand-barrow containing a paralyzed and deformed old woman, the contortions of whose face, in her efforts to speak, were most painful to behold. Repeating to her bearers the thankless counsel given the blind beggar and his companion, the wretched semblance of humanity was gotten rid of with a bit of silver, and Nor Nicolás proceeded to bar the entrance to the patio, as a relief from further importunity, the outsiders grumbling loud as well as deep at the "maldito Gringo" who would not even listen to them. The entry of my host just afterwards with a black earthen dish (borrowed from the neighbor who had sold the bread), was an intimation that the casuela would soon be ready, and I removed a pile of newspapers from the table, that he might arrange it for the meal; a needless precaution, as this dish and an iron spoon proved to be all the table furniture. The only knife belonging to the premises was a huge weapon used by the cook, that would (and no doubt did) serve to slaughter oxen; and of course there was no fork. Luckily my penknife had a blade stout enough to divide the joints of a fowl, fingers proved capital substitutes for the steel-pronged implement, and hunger made a charmingly conclusive argument in favor of primitive customs.

To the westward there is a range of moderate hills, rendered lofty by their proximity; and whilst discussing the really excellent casuela, the sun had gone down behind them, leaving above their summits masses of cumulo-stratus, tinged with vermillion and gold, as brilliant in their hues as the most glorious inter-tropical exhibition at sunset. These I watched from the corridor, following the changes of each little flocula through a misty veil, of Cuban origin, and listening to the murmuring waters of the Tinguiririca to absolute forgetfulness of the present, until the nearer buzz of mosquitos proved as effectual in recalling the locale as if Ñor Nicolás had sounded a trumpet beside me. At half-past seven, although the moon had reached its first quarter, the sky was almost of a black color, and the stars of a brightness rarely equalled, perhaps, even in this extraordinary atmosphere. When the planet Venus sank behind the hill, the sight was an interesting one, as astronomical readers will perceive. It was not an instantaneous immersion of the entire disc, but a rapid and strikingly notable diminishing in the brilliancy of the planet's rays; the final disappearance, however, so pronounced that a keen observer would scarcely have erred one tenth of a second in the time of its occurrence.

March 28.-The morning was sharp, almost frosty, and when we rode out of the posada yard the sun was struggling behind just such a bank of clouds above the Andes as had witnessed his setting yesterday. Immediately after leaving San Fernando, the road leads up the dry bed of the Tinguiririca; and as it is scarcely anything more than stones and gravel, rolled smooth in their rapid journey from elevations of the mountains, there was little opportunity to start the blood by a gallop, though abundant time to admire the lower ranges of mountains terminating the view to the eastward. A viler highway than movable stones at the bottom of

a torrent one would not wish to persecute a traveller with; for if the horse stumble, at the very least he is sure to receive bruises as well as a wetting. Yet such is the character of all the fords, except across the Maypu, and at one or two lasso bridges over the deepest parts of other streams. There are two principal branches to the turbid Tinguiririca, both of them rapid ; though neither of them is more than fifty feet wide on an average, nor more than two and a half feet deep at the centre. From this stream to the Chimbarongo, fifteen or sixteen miles, there is very little cultivation. The surface of the land is almost wholly sand and pebble stones. At the same time, the ranges of mountains on both sides are sensibly lower than to the northward, and are well covered with foliage almost to the plain.

It was a Sunday in Lent. On arriving at the "posada" of the Chimbarongo, where we expected breakfast, the household-cook and all-had gone to mass, some four or five miles away. As it was not certain that they would return before night-fall, there was no alternative but to ride two leagues farther, where we found Boniface and his wife apparently less devoutly inclined. Here the house was filled with young of both sexes from the neighborhood, who were holding a "chingana." Two or three sang to the accompaniment of a guitar, and a pair were dancing the "Zama Cueca" with the solemn monotony that renders it in appearance quite as much a religious ceremony as some of their church exhibitions, and certainly as little as possible like an inspiration of Terpsichore.

From the Chimbarongo to the Teno the face of the country is now quite a desert, the only cultivated portion being a narrow strip in the vicinity of Curicó. Such is also its character east of the road from Guyquillo creek to the Lontue, the principal affluent of the Mataquito. As a visit to it was intended at returning, we kept the higher ground to the eastward of Curicó, and reached the Lontue by 3 P. M. In the main branch of this stream there is, apparently, a greater volume of water than in either of those to the north; but it must be recollected that few irrigating canals between the ford and the Andes are supplied from it. Like the others, there are two principal torrents. A suspension bridge, formed of sticks not above an inch in diameter, wattled together and supported on twisted ropes of hide elevated upon four crotched trees, has been thrown over the deepest and most rapid of these. As there is abundance of water and level land southward of the Lontue, and for a league or more beyond the hamlet of Quechereguas, Chile recovers its lost character for fertility, and again one meets abundance of fruits and vegetables. Wherever a little moisture had stolen from the acequias near the road, the "flor de perdiz" (Oxalis lobata) had thrust its golden-hued petals to the surface; but this was almost the only flower. There are very few on any part of the plain, except during the spring months, when the rains of winter have had time to call the bulbs into life again.

The surrounding country is divided into small farms, as in Aconcagua. Beans and corn are its staples of cultivation, wheat and grapes not being raised in greater quantity than the neighborhood will consume. Here the valley is thirty miles wide; and from the barren hills about the river Teno, to the southward, only one small hill interrupts its seemingly level surface. Before crossing the latter stream, indeed soon after leaving San Fernando, the form of a lofty mountain in the Andes chain induced me to believe it the famed Descabezado. And so it eventually proved to be, though neither Nor Nicolás, nor any of the travellers we met, had sufficient knowledge to satisfy my curiosity. From near the same point one may also see the · peak of San Francisco to the northwest of Tupungato; indeed, but for the winds that load the atmosphere with sand, vision in Chile seems bounded only by the care that one has given to the inestimable organs of sight.

Heat, the hilly surface of a portion of the ground, and the pebbly beds of a considerable number of streams over which the road passes, compelled me to travel slowly all day, and we reached Quechereguas at 4 P. M., having ridden eighteen leagues in nine hours. A number of travellers came into the posada shortly afterwards-some from Curicó, others from Taica; and in a little while its patio presented a bustling scene, with arrieros unloading packs, servants spreading their pellons beneath the corridors, and others carrying dishes of food, their

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long spurs clanking at every step like so many chains on the hard ground. The posada was really a good one; its rooms clean, and the hosts actually able to supply any reasonable want cheerfully, and at very small cost. No little comfort was it to obtain a wash-hand basin and clean water, instead of the greasy dish in which the "casuela" had been served the night before, and muddy water from an acequia.

March 29.-Nearly the whole of the fifteen leagues remaining to be travelled being over a road wholly unprotected from the rays of the sun, Ñor Nicolás was desirous to accomplish half of it before breakfast, and was knocking at my door by daylight, impatient to be off. A similar spirit seemed to actuate all my neighbors of the adjoining rooms, and the bustle was even greater than on the previous evening. We were the last to move, the sun just peeping over the Andes as we started.

For more than a mile, a tall row of poplars bounds both sides of the road. Beyond them the fields teem with the most luxuriant vegetation, exhibiting a fertility of soil fully comparable with the best districts between the Mapocho and Cachapual. A heavy dew, deposited during the night, thoroughly laid the deep dust of the road; and glittering drops still hung from outspread branches, as though a recent shower had passed over the avenue. Within a league is Villa Molina, a clean little town, with nearly 2,000 inhabitants, built along the main road for half a mile. It has only one indifferent-looking church. A broken plain that extends to Talca, and which is almost utterly barren, commences at a very short distance south of the town. Dwarf espinos, and occasional clusters of peumos in the ravines, are the only growth. Nor can a large portion of it ever be easily reclaimed, the rolling nature of its surface rendering irrigation impossible, except at enormous expense. There is a change observable in the western range of mountains, too. They have become little more than bleak and arid hills, with scarcely a visible shrub upon them. Where the river Claro crosses the plain diagonally, the latter may be forty miles wide, with a narrow cultivated strip on either bank of the stream; but from these to the limit of vision there is the same aspect of desolation. In this region a stratum of tosca (tufa), immediately below the surface, prevents the penetration of water or roots of plants that strike deeply, and scarcely anything grows. As the distance of this stratum from the surface varies from six inches to three feet, and it lies nearly parallel with it, they tell me that portions are at times cultivated in wheat, which of necessity depends on natural irrigation; but I saw no stubble for leagues, nor any other evidence of the husbandman's labors. The material mentioned is of two colors-one that of slate, the other a greyish white. Its specific gravity is very little greater than that of pine wood, and it is so soft that it may be readily chopped into any form with a stout knife. On the latter account, and because of its abundance and durability, it is extensively used for fencing, the faces being trimmed smooth when the walls are of the required height.

Soon after passing through Villa Molina we encountered a straggling train of women and ehildren, the wives and offspring of a battalion of Cazadores who had served in the late revolutionary struggle. They were now on their way to Curicó, whose vicinity was not considered as tranquil as lovers of order desired. Some of the women were mounted, others on foot, and nearly all slovenly and dirty, as camp followers usually are. A short distance in their rear came burden mules with the officers' luggage; these were closely followed by troops; and two or three ladies, surrounded by officers, brought up the rear of the column. We passed each other in crossing the limpid waters of the Claro, here a narrow stream not above twenty yards wide, between steep and high banks.

By this time the mists of the morning had been dissipated, the southerly wind had commenced, and the atmosphere was extremely serene, exhibiting the mountains with great distinctness. Among the Andes, composed of many separate ranges, the Descabezado* (truncated) is in the fourth, and is the highest visible from this plain. To the northward, Cauquenes is quite clear; thence, following along the most elevated line, Peteroa, Descabezado, Cerro Azul, and * Literally, headless.

Chillan, embrace nearly a hundred miles of latitude. Though none of the others are so lofty, there are several peaks in the vicinity of the Descabezado. Some are covered with snow to their summits; but others are entirely bare about the crests, although three or four thousand feet above the line of perpetual congelation. This peculiarity has induced one or more writers to infer that the Andes of Chile generally are not as high as the snow-line; when the fact is, that nearly the whole of the higher range, to the southward of the 30th parallel, is covered with snow through the upper third or fourth part of their elevation. Subject as are these summits to strong winds from the southward, if, by chance, snow is deposited on them during a calm, it is of so light and dry a nature that the first winds of the morning drive it into the ravines, creating deep beds in some places, and, owing to the formation, leaving others entirely denuded, or at most with lines of blackened rock, like radii drawn on a white cloth. More than once we have witnessed the drift over the steep face of San Francisco and the lofty ovals to the southeast of it-its peak and the summits remaining black and bare, whilst the bottom of the snow-line was at least eight thousand feet below.

There is a posada in the tufa region, midway between Quechereguas and Talca, where we halted for an hour. Every step of the road after leaving it was more and more desert-like, until we approached the Lircay, within two leagues of Talca. During the whole day scarcely a muletrain was met. Two small droves of half-starved cattle coming to the northward, and a solitary horseman with face and head muffled from the fierce reflected heat, were the only living creatures from the banks of the Claro; and this absence of animal life tended no little to increase the apparent desolation. Approaching the banks of the Lircay, the soil becomes better. One has got across the tufa stratum, and the first evidence of it is in the greater numbers and luxuriance of the espinos. Thence there are more passers. One meets venders of fruits and vegetables, with hide panniers, going or returning between the town and the cultivated tongue of land between the Lircay and Claro; and a new specimen of the ox-cart, whose proportions have been reduced much below those last mentioned. Clumsiness and weight are here compressed in all their perfection, lest the poor oxen should not have enough to drag. The prongs of a tongue not unlike a tuning-fork in shape, and some five inches in diameter, are fitted into the axle, and with it serve to support a rough flooring and sides of sticks laced over them. A bit of hide is their only head or tail board. They are from seven to eight feet long in the body, have wheels two feet across, and their sides are three or three and a half feet high above the axle. Many of them were being loaded with rounded stones at the Lircay ford, to be used in paving the streets of the city; and others toddled along with full cargoes, on top of which the drivers reclined in the full enjoyment of indolence.

A league S.W. of the ford the Lircay falls into the Claro, the course of the latter remaining unchanged by the additional volume. Across the stream (Lircay) there is no variation in the aspect of the land; at the distance of a few hundred yards it becomes as barren as that to the northward, and thus the approach to the city is by no means prepossessing, or at least it is not so at this season of the year. The first houses are at two miles from the principal population, and less than a mile to the E.S.E. of the Claro. Talca is five miles from the ford. Owing to the cultivation, perhaps, it can scarcely be considered to have any northern suburbs, and one at once enters the city on that side by a pretty alameda. Five minutes' ride enables you to reach the posada near the plaza and its centre at the same time.

The base of the Andes is more than twenty-five miles distant from the city. Its higher peaks, the Descabezado, Longavi, Cerro Azul, and Chillan, as well as parts of the ranges on each side of them, are covered with snow to within 9,000 feet of the plain, and from one third to one half of their heights from the summits downward. I am not aware that the height of the Descabezado has ever been measured; but comparing it with other elevations known to me, I should think it under rather than over 14,500 feet. Owing to the increased amount of moisture in the air, and to the fact that the atmosphere during the day was constantly loaded with fine sand driven along by the prevailing S.S.W. wind, the different ranges composing the chain

were not clearly distinguishable, as at Santiago, or as I had seen them on the preceding morning. But there is a marked contrast between them and the western range, whose summits are here scarcely a league distant in an air line; the former being thickly covered with trees, and the latter having on it scarcely wood enough within the whole range of vision to kindle a watch-fire. The city was founded in 1742. Its latitude is 35° 14′ S.; longitude 71° 57' W.; and from a mean of six barometrical observations on four different days, it is 620 feet above the level of the sea. Prof. Domeyko makes it only 114 varas, about 317 feet; but I apprehend there must have been some misreading of the barometer, as I had the same instrument, and all the observations agree. The city is built on undulating ground, falling towards its centre from three directions; and its plan differs in no respect from that of other Spanish-American towns, viz: rectangular streets, with an open plaza near the centre, on which its principal public edifices front, and an alameda. From one extremity to the other of its longest streets the distance is about a mile, although in compactly built houses Talca probably does not cover more than half a mile square. A small stream flows along its southern suburb in a northwest direction; from which, and a number of springs to the northeast, a supply of water is obtained for drinking purposes, as for cleaning the town. There are no public water-carriers. Each family has its little handcart and barrel, with which a servant brings a daily supply of potable water. The streets are quite wide, well paved, and most of them have sidewalks of a sandstone found in the vicinity. As they are kept in good repair as well as clean, the city fathers and police are probably faithful also in other obligations to the public.

as well

In their architecture, the houses resemble those of other national towns, some few attaining the respectable height of two stories, the upper one having balconies on the streets. All are well whitewashed; and as there is no illumination at the general expense on dark nights, each proprietor is required to suspend at his front door a lantern with a light. The style of the churches is in better taste than those even of the metropolis. Indeed, its cathedral, when completed, will be an extremely handsome building. Only a part of it has been roofed, and its towers are wanting, so that one can scarcely appreciate its future appearance; but the limited population of the city, and the multitude of other religious edifices claiming alms, will probably prevent such a result for many years. Within three squares of this (the plaza) the Franciscans, Dominicans, Mercedarios, and Augustins, have each large churches attached to their convents; the last order, as well as a body of nuns, having extensive new establishments in course of construction. There is very little within the churches to attract attention. They are poor, and are note-worthy only for their outward architecture. Though occupying space enough for several hundred cells, according to published returns the convents have only thirteen occupants in all of the several orders a statement which, if reliable, shows them to possess a power that would sometimes be invaluable to the commander of an army; for I certainly never saw so few men appear so numerous in any other streets.

There is nothing to remark in the other public buildings. The cabildo, prison, and intendencia, are all on the plaza; though the last, occupied by the chief of the province, is only private property. No public mansion has been provided, as in some other parts of the republic. In the ordinary acceptation of the word factory, there is no such establishment, except one or two small flour-mills. In various parts of the surrounding country, as well as in the city, there are hand-looms employed in making blankets, ponchos, and coarse cloths of wool; and some of the blankets are subsequently embroidered by hand with much elaborateness and taste. The ponchos wrought are quite famous for their evenness of texture, the excellent quality of the material, and the tenacity of the interwoven colors. So abundant is good wool that it may be purchased at $4 per hundred pounds, and it is a matter of surprise that a manufactory has not been erected long since. There is ample water-power at command for a dozen. All goods made from wool fetch high prices, labor is cheap, provisions of native growth at scarcely half the Santiago rates, and the Maule affords an economical line of communication with a port from