Class r 1 ^ l» y> 
 
 Book J 
 
 m 
 
ONE WAY ROUND 
 SOUTH AMERICA 
 
AM i 
 
 CROSSING THE ANDES, USPALLATA PASS 
 
ONE WAY ROUND 
 SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 From Manuscript, Notes and Letters of 
 
 DELIGHT SWEETSER PRENTISS 
 
 Author of 
 One Way Round the World 
 
 ILLUSTRATED FROM PHOTOGRAPHS 
 
 pribate Cftitiou 
 
 INDIANAPOLIS 
 
 THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
Copyright 1905 
 The Bobbs-Merrill Company 
 
 LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
 Two Copies Received 
 
 FEB 12 '906 
 
 ft Copyright Entry 
 CLASS „ <X XXc, No. 
 
 13* $$ * 
 
 ' " COPY B. 
 
 I 
 
 >3« 
 
 tf 
 
"GRAVE ON THY HEART 
 EACH PAST RED-LETTER DAY; 
 
 FORGET NOT ALL 
 THE SUNSHINE OF THE WAY." 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I The Start by Freight Ship ... i 
 
 II Paris, the Beautiful ..... n 
 
 III Southward Through Spain ... 23 
 
 IV On the S. S. Thames for South America 40 
 V Beguiling Bahia ...... 48 
 
 VI Rio de Janeiro 55 
 
 VII The Great Power Plant at Parnahyba 70 
 
 VIII The Argentine Republic .... 86 
 
 IX Across the Andes 101 
 
 X On the Pacific 115 
 
 XI The City of Pizarro . . . . . 129 
 
 XII A Woman's Impressions of a Bull-Fight 139 
 
 XIII In the Land of Panama Hats ... 159 
 
 XIV Across the Isthmus . . . . . 169 
 
ONE WAY ROUND 
 SOUTH AMERICA 
 
ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE START BY FREIGHT SHIP 
 
 New York was delightfully gay and smiling 
 during the few days that we spent there before 
 sailing away on our big loop round South Amer- 
 ica via Europe. After all it is hard to find an 
 avenue more charming than Fifth, or a thorough- 
 fare more interesting than Broadway. Or is it 
 affection for them makes one think so? We 
 need not leave the United States for the wonder- 
 ful, the beautiful, or the thrilling. Each country 
 is interesting in its own way, and ours has such 
 varied interests. 
 
 We fortified ourselves for foreign things to 
 come by seeing Bernhardt in V Aiglon and John 
 Hare in The Gay Lord Quex; the former an im- 
 pressive presentation in Rostand's beautiful facile 
 verse of the pathetic career of the delicate un- 
 
2 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 happy child of the great Napoleon ; the latter the 
 well-played but unpleasant comedy of present-day 
 English life. 
 
 Our freight ship chose to sail in the early 
 morning, so we went aboard at night after the 
 theater, a curious sort of time to go to sea. The 
 wind blew fresh and the stars shone bright as we 
 crossed the ferry, a favorable omen it seemed to 
 us for our long journey. It was unkind of fate, 
 was it not, to start us away from so unromantic 
 a quarter as Hoboken, we two honeymooners ? 
 Hoboken does not sound well, and we dwelt in 
 preference on the aristocratic title of our steam- 
 ship, the Patricia. 
 
 Once on the dock the very atmosphere was 
 changed and we sniffed a foreign breeze. Ger- 
 man vocables filled the air. As we trotted help- 
 lessly along after the rotund individual who had 
 secured our hand baggage and taken us in 
 charge, a portly official with a star on his coat 
 stepped up and accosted F — , who was smok- 
 ing. "Make dot light out," he said. Beyond a 
 doubt he belonged to the Fatherland. Our travels 
 had begun. 
 
THE START BY FREIGHT SHIP 3 
 
 The Patricia, long may she float! takes a lei- 
 surely ten days to make the journey from New 
 York to Cherbourg and leaves it to the grey- 
 hounds to break records. She is slow, to be sure, 
 but steady and full of the excellent qualities that 
 the slow-going and easy often possess. The Patri- 
 cia is almost, if not quite, as large as the best pas- 
 senger steamers, but broader and steadier and 
 with much more commodious cabins, too, so that 
 she is a joy to all and a comfort to those who 
 suffer, as Mrs. Partington expressed it, from that 
 terrible "nashua." Our state-room proved to be 
 large, nearly big enough to swing a kitten in, if 
 not a full-sized cat, with a lounge, closet, drawers, 
 and hooks, and handy pockets in all the available 
 space. On the lounge we found letters, telegrams, 
 papers and packages, making us realize that we 
 were off for foreign shores and these were the ten- 
 der good-bys of thoughtful friends. It is so sweet 
 to be remembered, and every time I opened a letter 
 I made a fresh resolve to do the same thing for the 
 first friend leaving New York. 
 
 This crossing the Atlantic on a freighter is an 
 experiment indeed for us. F — says it is an inspira- 
 
4 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 tion of mine, and it does seem to be promising. 
 From the genial captain, big and jolly, whose 
 sonorous "J a " and hearty laugh often resound 
 among the passengers, down to the last steward, 
 there was the same desire to add to the passengers' 
 pleasure, to make all the days at sea happy ones. I 
 must tell you that the big captain's favorite pet is a 
 tiny canary bird in his cabin. It makes me think of 
 my far-away Peterkin, though 'tis not so sweet a 
 singer. What fun we had at the captain's dinner, 
 with speeches and toasts, what hearty good will 
 toward all ! Incidentally we enjoyed the fine Ger- 
 man cooking and did complete justice to that 
 crowning dainty peculiar to special ship dinners, 
 the softly illuminated ice-cream. The jests, the 
 gay laughter, and all the leisurely luxuries that 
 go so well with ocean travel on a freight ship 
 were ours. 
 
 There is probably no place in the world where 
 people associate in quite the same relation as 
 they do on shipboard. A turn of Providence, or 
 Fate, as you will, throws a company of people 
 from the four quarters of the globe together for 
 a season and isolates them completely from the 
 
THE START BY FREIGHT SHIP 5 
 
 outer world. They impart information, learn 
 from one another, excite a mutual interest, and 
 then pass on in their different directions with 
 hardly a likelihood that they will meet again. 
 Their lives are tangent thereafter and affect one 
 another no more. Do you ever think of the great 
 company of those whom you are destined to meet 
 as you journey through life, those whose paths 
 are bearing toward yours, some perhaps yet 
 unborn, who will finally play a part more or less 
 important in your life, possibly all important ? 
 
 Of good company on our ship there was no 
 lack, — a varied collection of people of whom it 
 might be interesting to tell. When I speak of 
 good company my pen flies to the notable name 
 of Mr. Poultney Bigelow, traveler and writer, 
 toastmaster and prince of good fellows. He is 
 devoted to his sweet young daughter, calling her 
 Babby, while she calls him Popsy, and their com- 
 radeship is very pretty to see. As the Japanese 
 would say, "He is an Ichi-Ban (number one) 
 dancer," and when I told him so he said the com- 
 pliment reminded him of a place in Japan they 
 called "Throw Away Brush." A noted Japanese 
 
6 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 artist once came there, looked about at the in- 
 comparable scenery, then threw his brushes away 
 in despair. But, oh! how I wished I had read 
 something by Mr. Bigelow, as F. F. P — has ! 
 
 There was Mrs. M — , an American married to 
 a major in the German army, whose life in Ger- 
 many has been a most interesting one, and her 
 sister Miss B — , a rose of a girl, a real American 
 beauty. A lieutenant of the United States Navy 
 sits beside her at the table, and his position seems 
 fraught with danger of another sort than that 
 threatening him when he was on the Concord in 
 the battle of Manila. 
 
 The mother of the five Kinder all in a row over 
 at the other table proved to be a Russian, a Mrs. 
 Petroff from St. Petersburg, who had been living 
 the past two and a half years in Philadelphia, 
 while the father inspected the construction of 
 some Russian men-of-war that were building in 
 the Cramp shipyards. The cunning little folks 
 have odd Russian names. Vasilie, the smallest, 
 has not learned Russian yet, and the other night, 
 when the ship rolled most, he said, "I don't like 
 this house any more. I want to go outside." 
 
THE START BY FREIGHT SHIP 7 
 
 There was Mrs. C — , fine daughter of a fine fa- 
 ther, who carries the charm of the cultivated, cos- 
 mopolitan side of Washington about with her, and 
 Felix, truly a dear boy, so bright and attractive. 
 Felix sold his bicycle for a dollar before leaving 
 Washington and bought an Ingersoll watch. The 
 changing of ship time twice a day just suited him 
 and he spent a good deal of time regulating that 
 watch. 
 
 There was a trained nurse from San Francisco 
 on her way to Spain, where she was again to have 
 the care of a Spanish nobleman who was nursed 
 by her some years ago while he was in San Fran- 
 cisco. How easy to weave a pretty romance out 
 of this adaptable material ! Blessed be sentiment 
 and the undying romances of the heart! Who 
 would banish these sweet fancies ? 
 
 It was the second day out that I asked a bit 
 of a man in a red tam-o'-shanter where he lived. 
 I learned afterward that he had been homesick 
 in the morning, so my question was unfortunate. 
 A solemn expression settled on his round little 
 face, and, pointing a fat finger back over the 
 stern of the ship, with quivering lip, he said, "I 
 
8 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 live that way." It was only after a consultation 
 with his mother that he was able to tell me that 
 he lived in "our house" in Minneapolis. When 
 we sail away from home, I think we all have a 
 rather solemn feeling at the bottom of our hearts 
 that we live "that way." 
 
 Then there were Germans, men with families 
 and without, who have lived in Mexico, in Cen- 
 tral and South America, everywhere that a busi- 
 ness opportunity could be found, as the progres- 
 sive Germans have a way of doing. 
 
 At one table was a group of horsemen, own- 
 ers, managers, and drivers, who were taking a 
 string of eighteen American-bred trotters over 
 to Vienna, all of them valuable and able to go at 
 a pretty clip, the least valuable worth fifteen hun- 
 dred dollars. Contralto, 2:093-4, is worth 
 six thousand five hundred dollars, and the horses 
 are not insured, rates being so high. It was one 
 of our daily pleasures to go down with the chil- 
 dren to see the horses, and feed them carrots 
 and sugar. They had a place forward on the 
 main deck, and were beautifully cared for, as 
 thoroughbreds should be. None of them suf- 
 
THE START BY FREIGHT SHIP 9 
 
 fered severely from seasickness, though I fancied 
 they all wore a wondering-, disturbed expression, 
 as if they couldn't understand what it all meant : 
 this queer motion in the floor and the occasional 
 smart slap of a wave against the port-hole. 
 Horses get very tired during a voyage, and must 
 have a good rest afterward. I was surprised to 
 learn that some of them are so discomposed by 
 the unusual conditions that they refuse to lie 
 down during the entire voyage, so their poor legs 
 are quite worn out in the struggle for equilibrium. 
 
 We had all sorts of weather, storms and sun- 
 shine ; the sea like a mill-pond to-day, to-morrow 
 with big rolling waves; but we are all of the 
 opinion that the Patricia is remarkably steady, 
 though our slow progress would certainly give 
 pater familias the fidgets. 
 
 The night we came into Plymouth there was a 
 cry all over the ship, "The Deutschland! The 
 Deutschland !" We all rushed up on deck, of 
 course, to satisfy our ten. days' accumulated curi- 
 osity. At a little distance to port we could see 
 the big ship, now queen of the Atlantic, which had 
 fun from New York to Plymouth in five days, 
 
io ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 seven hours and thirty-five minutes. Oh, how- 
 pretty she was ! Her black hull was lost against 
 the inky sky and water but her shape was out- 
 lined by hundreds of twinkling lights ; a shining 
 phantom ship she was, a pretty vision that sped 
 swiftly along and soon left us behind. The 
 Deutschland had sailed from New York three 
 days later than we and went into Plymouth ahead 
 of us! For a moment we slow-going folk felt 
 a bit humiliated by such a display of speed, but 
 soon thought better of it and congratulated our- 
 selves when we heard that the Deutschland had 
 rolled and pitched heavily in the same sea that 
 we had taken so quietly. 
 
 The lights of Plymouth shone dimly through 
 a drizzly rain. How like England to be damp 
 and rainy! I suppose such a reception would 
 have warmed an Englishman's heart and made 
 him feel delightfully at home again. 
 
 It is nine o'clock p. m. as I write, and these 
 awful Germans are getting ready for another 
 meal. I hear the dishes rattling. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 PARIS, THE BEAUTIFUL 
 
 An Indiana philosopher says, "If any man be- 
 lieves this world isn't a sad place, let him eat 
 breakfast early at a restaurant of a rainy morn- 
 ing." The world at any place and in any weather 
 saddens me at half-past five in the morning. At 
 daybreak we were at Cherbourg. It is a strange, 
 lonesome world when one crawls out of bed in 
 the early morning, but it was delightful to find 
 a number of our genial company up at that hour 
 to see us off, a compliment I shall always treasure. 
 After many good-bys and good wishes we 
 crawled down the gang-plank to the tender that 
 was to carry us ashore. The last thing I saw 
 as we moved away was Felix, dear little fellow, 
 running out to the stern, and then the faint flutter 
 of his handkerchief. Several times we looked 
 affectionately back at the good Patricia, whose 
 
 screws were already turning. The sky had taken 
 
 ii 
 
12 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 on the bluish tint of sunrise and a band of coral 
 pink lay along the horizon at the west, above 
 which hung a shining crescent and the bright 
 morning star. How like England to give us a 
 foggy reception, and how like France to be clear 
 and sunny! 
 
 The custom officers were complacent, and we 
 were soon free to depart for the station, bag and 
 baggage. We peeped eagerly out of the rattling 
 omnibus. As a little German girl said, "Oh, it 
 is so nice to see a little land !" There were the 
 poke-bonnet roofs, the foreign signboards, the 
 early morning street-people slipping about in 
 sabots, the blue unbelted blouses and roomy 
 trousers of the workingmen, the pagoda-like little 
 buildings decorated with newspapers and maga- 
 zines, the horses so amusingly far ahead of the 
 big-wheeled heavy carts — everything that is 
 France! Against the now bright sky we could 
 see the outlines of an old fort high up on a noble 
 hill where it must command a magnificent view 
 of the sea. In the square in front of the station, 
 companies of soldiers were drilling in a manner 
 warranted to give a good appetite for breakfast. 
 
PARIS, THE BEAUTIFUL 13 
 
 Though 'twas December, Normandy looked as 
 it does in our early spring. The flower venders 
 were offering fragrant bunches of lilacs, and the 
 fields were brilliant with green. The moist sea 
 air fosters all growing things. The farm-houses 
 and the fertile, well-cultivated country are a 
 never-ending delight. Everything is old, old, 
 old. The fathers and the grandfathers and the 
 great-grandfathers must have lived in these same 
 quaint houses with low side walls and sloping 
 thatched roofs that droop over them. In the 
 yards are curious flattened fruit trees that are 
 trained against the walls like a vine. The orch- 
 ards are venerable and hoary. Their gnarled, 
 twisted limbs are covered with gray feathery 
 moss, and in the branches hang round bunches 
 of pale mistletoe that look like big green thistles 
 in an airy perch. Many of the trees have their 
 trunks entirely hung with green vines. The vil- 
 lages that nestle under the hills, with their buff 
 walls and heavy red-tiled roofs, look quaint and 
 interesting. For a bit of bright color you must 
 look at the plump rosy cheeks of the white-capped 
 Normandy peasant girls. At dusk we arrived in 
 
14 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 Paris, the beautiful. The wonderful, fascinating, 
 matchless Paris! I love it. 
 
 You know on what light wings time flies when 
 one is in Paris ! Even with F — away on business 
 in London, Berlin and St. Petersburg and only 
 back for a few days at a time, a month has slipped 
 away. Christmas has come and gone, not like 
 the Christmas at home, where we would like to 
 be, but our very first Christmas together, and we 
 enjoyed it in the French style. We celebrated the 
 Reveillon (Christmas eve) walking about in the 
 brilliant boulevards, having supper at a cafe and 
 coming in at two o'clock in the morning! At 
 that hour the boulevards are as gay and full as 
 they are in the early evening, and the cafes ablaze 
 with lights and brilliant toilets. We wanted to 
 attend midnight mass at the Madeleine, and 
 planned to reach the church at n 115. We were 
 there right on the dot, but found the church dark 
 and a great crowd outside. "It has been full the 
 past hour," an agent of police told us! One of 
 my precious gifts was a tiny fiddle-de-dee of a 
 pistol about an inch and a half long that really 
 shoots with a large-sized report. It's the cun- 
 
PARIS, THE BEAUTIFUL 15 
 
 ningest of all my miniature treasures, and has 
 quite captured my heart. 
 
 The New Year's reception at the Ambassador's 
 in his beautiful hotel was stunning. It was 
 formerly the residence of Baron Spitzer, a col- 
 lector of note. The collections are now gone, but 
 the interesting wall-decorations remain. About a 
 dozen rooms were thrown open to the guests, 
 and I had the felicity of renewing acquaintance 
 with some old friends and meeting new and 
 charming people, American, French and Russian. 
 A niece of Rosa Bonheur told me the story of 
 the curious will, of which you have read, no 
 doubt, that the famous, eccentric old artist left, 
 and how, rather than drag the affair through the 
 courts, they compromised by yielding one-half 
 of Madamoiselle Bonheur' s considerable fortune 
 to the new-found favorite. 
 
 I have been bubbling over with pleasure at get- 
 ting back to Paris, and F — says teasingly he has 
 never enjoyed himself so well, having some one 
 along now to talk back to these reprobate cockers, 
 whose manners are so bad and whose vehicles 
 are so shabby. We drew a particularly surly one 
 
16 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 the other day, who either didn't know or didn't 
 want to know our destination, but I settled him 
 by stopping for a conference with the agent of 
 the police. After that he went along quite 
 meekly. After all, Americans ought not to quarrel 
 much with the cab-men who will take them from 
 one end of Paris to the other for the bagatelle of 
 thirty cents, a franc and a half. There have 
 been many changes in Paris and some improve- 
 ments that we note. The handsome new Pont 
 Alexandre is beautiful, probably the finest bridge 
 in the world, with its artistic green bronze lan- 
 terns, its gilded groups of statuary, built the year 
 of the Exposition in honor of the czar. How well 
 the French do these things, how inimitable their 
 touch ! The public buildings of Paris always seem 
 to get into good hands. We had a spin on the 
 new underground electric railway, and found it 
 a great convenience, though not yet completed to 
 its full extent. 
 
 The Comedie Francaise smells heavily of fresh 
 paint, but we saw a charming play there that 
 was entirely free from the intrigues that are the 
 nauseating feature of so many French plays. 
 
PARIS, THE BEAUTIFUL 17 
 
 Being quite proper, there were a great many 
 sweet young French girls in the audience. Are 
 not all young girls sweet, a joy to the world? It 
 does one's ears good to hear such perfect French 
 and one's eyes good to see such perfect acting as 
 one finds at the Comedie. 
 
 The other day we took a runabout automobile, 
 the best vehicle yet for seeing the sights, went by 
 the Champs-filysees to the Bois and through to 
 St. Cloud, up to the old Palace garden, then 
 back on the other side of the Seine, all at a rip- 
 ping speed. The sun was shining bright and I was 
 delighted to see the old familiar places again, 
 though wishing a hundred times for some other 
 dear friends to share our pleasure with us. 
 
 We have revisited our first meeting place at 
 Madame's in the dim old Victor Hugo drawing- 
 room opening into the author's little garden, and 
 have recalled the gay evening thereafter, with all 
 the family together at the Folie Bergere and our 
 discovery of Mr. H — in the box next to ours, 
 whom we had last seen in Hong Kong. We went 
 round to see if my old friend, Madame le Cros- 
 nier, of Avenue Wagram, still lived. I asked 
 
18 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 the concierge about her and held my breath till 
 she said, "Oui, Madame est chez elle" then ran 
 up the steps with the odd feeling one has in re- 
 turning to a place long ago familiar. 
 
 Madame was in the salon, knew me instantly, 
 and was surprised and pleased to see me. She is 
 just the same quick-witted, clever, wonderful old 
 lady — eighty-three now — only a little more deaf. 
 "I miss hearing such a lot of nonsense," she said. 
 "But you," in her brusque and funny way, "it does 
 me good to hear you talk. You have sense 
 enough to speak slowly and distinctly." She told 
 me sadly that her old age is full of heavy bur- 
 dens and she is weary of life. She quoted from 
 the Bible the allotment of three-score-years-and- 
 ten and the sorrow that comes thereafter. I felt 
 a great sympathy for her, though she is no weak- 
 kneed complainer, and made me laugh a dozen 
 times with her sharp speeches. Once, on the 
 subject of massage she said, "I hate to be pawed." 
 She mistook F — for a clergyman, which amused 
 him mightily. 
 
 I went again to the Bon Marche and found it 
 jammed with shoppers, a confusion approaching 
 
PARIS, THE BEAUTIFUL 19 
 
 pandemonium, and I made a vow never to put 
 my nose in a big- store again, but hereafter go to 
 the smaller shops and cheerfully pay their extra 
 price. (F — and I have made the embarrassing 
 discovery that most of the French hose are not 
 long enough in the feet for us!) Together we 
 dropped into the Opera one evening to see the 
 ballet and last act of Samson and Delilah. It 
 was pleasant to be there again, but oh, the dis- 
 illusionment of years is coming, and the Opera 
 was not the enchanting place it seemed when 
 first I saw it! Poor-Ruskin, I begin to realize 
 how, as he grew older, his judgment and know- 
 ledge grew, and things became less and less per- 
 fect to him. Don't you remember when we were 
 in Venice how we used to be irritated by his 
 criticisms ? I shall consider his experience a warn- 
 ing, and not learn so much of art or anything 
 as to take away my pleasure. In these days of 
 uncertain art standards, when "What is art?" is 
 a moot question, when error follows error and 
 certainty is never reached, perhaps, as Josh Bill- 
 ings says, "It's better not to know so much than 
 to know so much that ain't so." 
 
20 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 We went to the Hotel Drouot, where I have 
 always wanted to go, a bee-hive of a place, 
 swarming with people interested in the sales con- 
 ducted in the salles. It was fun to bid, and I had 
 knocked down to me a small shell box with a 
 sweet old ivory miniature in the lid for twenty- 
 four francs, worth all of that, no doubt. I would 
 never have the patience to poke round in the 
 Hotel Drouot to unearth whatever treasures there 
 may be from the piles of rubbish. Even the 
 products of the fine workers of the world are be- 
 wildering and wearisome when in such enormous 
 heaps. The number of curio and antique shops 
 in this town is amazing. The fad is now at fever 
 height, but I am already tired of their good, bad 
 and indifferent stuff, and never stop to look in 
 their windows as I did of yore. The rage for 
 art nouveau is more interesting as evidenced in 
 original and artistic jewelry, porcelain and glass. 
 Some of the furniture, too, is not bad. Per- 
 haps it is well to approve of some modish things, 
 clothes, for instance, whether they are really 
 pretty or not. 
 
 I have had some large-sized regrets and been 
 
PARIS, THE BEAUTIFUL 21 
 
 a little lonesome at times with F — away, espe- 
 cially when going over the ground trod before 
 with dear ones, but I prefer being alone to having 
 poor company, — so I try to be consoled. When I 
 pass the clocks of the Herald office, Avenue de 
 TOpera, I look at Chicago time and wonder what 
 the home folks are doing at that moment. When I 
 see the scrumptious jewelry in the Rue de la Paix, 
 I sigh for my girl friends to Oh ! and Ah ! with 
 me. 
 
 What do you think has happened? Nothing 
 more nor less than an addition to our family in 
 the shape of a typewriter, an American machine 
 sold here under a French name, the Dactile — 
 weighs but six pounds and fits into a small case. 
 F — decided he couldn't keep house any longer 
 without one, so here it is. He thumps away at it 
 as pleased as a child with a new toy, and I haven't 
 been able to get him away from it since it came. 
 His first essay was a letter to me that took him 
 three hours, and we shrieked with laughter over 
 his struggles to express tender sentiments. 
 
 The weather here is cold, cold, and you know 
 how these economical French never will burn 
 
22 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 enough fuel to keep a house comfortable, so it is 
 only in my cozy room that I am ever warm, and 
 that at two francs fifty per bushel for coal. I 
 have been digging away at my Spanish again, 
 four lessons a week, with some French history 
 between times. The professor, a handsome 
 Spaniard of sixty years, who fills the room with 
 his gestures and strides about as he teaches, pays 
 me all sorts of compliments on my accent and 
 "facilidad" and I am to have an opportunity to 
 practise in the mother country before I try my 
 Spanish on the South Americans, for we have 
 decided to go via Madrid, Granada, Seville and 
 Toledo to Lisbon, and there take the English 
 steamship, Thames, which sails from Southamp- 
 ton for Rio de Janeiro. 
 
 How fortunate I am to have this journey into 
 unknown lands, this new field for eager travelers, 
 this country too little known. I hear that Per- 
 nambuco, Bahia and Rio are hot, hotter, hottest. 
 Only a sheet of tissue paper between them and 
 an unmentionable place, as they say of Aden. 
 Won't it seem strange to plunge from winter into 
 midsummer ? 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 SOUTHWARD THROUGH SPAIN 
 
 The train de luxe from Paris to Bordeaux, 
 said to make the fastest run in the world, carried 
 us away from a handsome new station at the Quay 
 d'Orsay toward the south. This train de luxe is 
 sadly expensive, and is luxurious by contrast only. 
 It would not answer the demands in our country, 
 but the sleepers and dining-cars are fair, and I 
 suppose the unhappy French may be reconciled 
 to paying fourteen dollars for an indifferent 
 night's rest. Considerable effort has been wasted 
 on the red plush and leather upholstering, as in 
 our own unsanitary and ugly Pullman sleepers. 
 This time we fell victims to the charms of 
 Touraine, another delightful province of France, 
 with its rows of stately Lombardy poplars, its 
 orchards only a shade less venerable and moss- 
 grown than those of the north, the carefully- 
 trimmed trees that border the pleasant water- 
 
 23 
 
24 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 ways, the soft shades of gray and buff and brown 
 of their boles, like the lichens that cling to the 
 rocks. Orleans, with its fine cathedral rising high 
 above the town, was enticing. And Poitiers, oh, 
 what a quaint, fascinating city, zigzagging up 
 and down the sides and running along the crest 
 of two spurs which overhang the river, red-roofed 
 and picturesque to a degree ! We have promised 
 ourselves to come again to Poitiers and wander 
 at leisure through its curious streets. Alas, the 
 world is so big and we must leave so much un- 
 seen to the right and left as we journey through 
 it! Rural France is delightful even to those who 
 like nature best in its wild, untrained state; the 
 order, the care, the neatness, the study that has 
 been made of every variation of the earth's sur- 
 face, the trimming of every branch and twig to 
 make all symmetrical and fruitful, are admirable. 
 The train we took from Biarritz to St. Sebas- 
 tian was a perfect joke. It showed the least haste 
 of any train I have ever met, stopping every- 
 where, apparently, though we didn't much mind, 
 for the views from the car windows were pleas- 
 ing as we wound among the low spurs of the 
 
SOUTHWARD THROUGH SPAIN 25 
 
 Pyrenees that run out to the ocean. At Irun, 
 the frontier, I first tried my lately-acquired Span- 
 ish on the Spaniards, and ordered a chicken sand- 
 wich from a waiter without injuring him, — even, I 
 fancied, with credit to myself. Oh, this affair of 
 languages, what a comedy it is, sometimes akin 
 to tragedy ! 
 
 F — says that for years he has wanted to see 
 Spain and has anticipated its wonders, has pic- 
 tured in his mind the lofty Pyrenees, the semi- 
 tropical vegetation, the picturesque costumes of 
 the men, the beautiful dark-eyed women, the far- 
 famed Prado, the famous Madrid itself, to say 
 nothing of galleries, ruins and old castles. He 
 expected to find all these just as he had treas- 
 ured them in mind for many years, ever since 
 studying their history in a school and, a little later, 
 reading of the country which, some four hundred 
 years ago, was one of the most famous and influ- 
 ential in the universe, really mistress of the world. 
 The time of year, of course, is bad, the tour too 
 brief, too small a part of the country is seen, and 
 yet he feels that his dream has vanished, and he 
 is greatly disappointed. 
 
26 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 Our first stop on Spanish soil was at Gain- 
 churisqueta, which sounds larger and more im- 
 portant than it looks. At St. Sebastian we began 
 to see dark-mustachioed men walking about in 
 long capes, the type pf Spaniard who plays the 
 heavy villain in melodrama. The Plaza del Toro, 
 or Spanish bull-ring, that objectionable but na- 
 tional institution, we now saw for the first time. 
 To what can I compare it? Imagine one of our 
 huge oil-tanks, or city gas retorts, painted in gay 
 colors of red, yellow and black, pierced with 
 regularly recurring arches for entrance, then un- 
 roof it and seat it in amphitheater fashion, in- 
 close the center by a railing, and you have a 
 present-day bull-ring. A more classic compari- 
 son would be the Roman Colosseum, of which 
 it is evidently an evolution. We did not have an 
 opportunity to see the cruel sport in Spain, even 
 if we had wished, for the best bull-fighting has a 
 regular season, beginning in the spring and last- 
 ing until late in the fall. There was advertised, 
 however, a special fight at Madrid for a certain 
 feast day soon. The nipping, frosty January 
 weather made the thought of an afternoon in the 
 
SOUTHWARD THROUGH SPAIN 27 
 
 open air anything but alluring, but I suppose the 
 devotees of bull-fighting are like our football en- 
 thusiasts and never mind the weather. It just 
 depends on one's bringing-up as to a taste for 
 either. 
 
 The Iberian peninsula is so effectually sep- 
 arated by mountains from the rest of Europe as 
 to give rise to the French proverb, "Africa be- 
 gins at the Pyrenees." 
 
 We crossed the Pyrenees near the coast, so of 
 course did not see them towering up to the blue 
 dome of heaven, the summits beyond the reach 
 of the naked eye — as they should have been! 
 The railroad climbs up some four thousand five 
 hundred feet to the pass and affords a number 
 of fine views, but nothing remarkable. Imme- 
 diately upon descending to the Spanish side you 
 are on a rocky, treeless plateau, then a sandy, 
 treeless plateau — dreary miles and miles of it — 
 clear to Madrid. 
 
 We wanted to see the country, so stopped at 
 Burgos for the night. We reached there at ten 
 p. m. on a beautiful, clear, moonlight night. As 
 we were to depart at half after five the next 
 
28 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 morning", we went right down and saw the 
 famous cathedral by a silver moon that was 
 nearly full. It was built in twelve hundred and 
 something, and so was the grand gate, I suppose, 
 and the wall, and possibly some of the many 
 buildings that cluster about and nearly hide it 
 from view; everything, I believe, but the impos- 
 ing front and beautiful spires. Twas a rare 
 pleasure to see this fine old edifice by moonlight, 
 and we were thankful for the opportunity. In 
 the morning as we came down to the hall at the 
 entrance of the miserable hotel, we found two 
 Americans and a guide waiting for the omnibus 
 to take them to the same train we were planning 
 to take. They were with us all the time until we 
 left Madrid, and we found them very agreeable 
 companions. 
 
 All the hotels in Spain charge exactly as those 
 in the United States, on the American plan — 
 that is, so much per day, everything included. 
 At Madrid we tried the Hotel Paris, a charming 
 hostelry, where we had two rooms, one being 
 used as a salon, and the charge was only thirty- 
 five pesetas per day for the two; one peseta is 
 
TERRACE OF THE ESCORTAL 
 
SOUTHWARD THROUGH SPAIN 29 
 
 equal to eighteen cents in our money, so we paid 
 but six dollars and ten cents. Everything con- 
 sidered, this is the best hotel for the money we 
 have found in all Europe. 
 
 Spain's capital is not beautiful for situation, 
 Philip the Second having chosen about the most 
 undesirable part of the country for it : a high, bar- 
 ren, dun-colored, wind-blown plateau, said to be 
 unhealthy, too, but commanding passes connect- 
 ing the south with the north of Spain and France, 
 and a geographical center. Modern Madrid is 
 not typically Spanish, being quite like most other 
 cities of importance in other countries, and of no 
 peculiar interest; but old Madrid looks oriental 
 with its narrow, crooked streets and motley, fan- 
 tastic bazaars. We enjoyed the Prado, the 
 Champs-filysees of Madrid, and saw many beau- 
 tiful equipages there, always a pleasurable sight. 
 I read that in the province of Madrid alone are 
 found more than three hundred and fifty species 
 of butterflies. Does this account for the Spanish 
 love of brilliant color in dress ? 
 
 The Escorial, that wonderful piece of kingly 
 extravagance and folly, a great palace and mon- 
 
30 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 astery in memory of the martyred St. Lawrence, 
 is some twenty-eight miles northwest of Madrid. 
 Train service is so miserable that it takes an en- 
 tire day to see it and get back to the city. This 
 massive and gloomy gridiron-shaped structure is 
 full of interesting courts and rooms, but is cold, 
 cold, no heat at all within its walls, and one needs 
 warm weather and a clear sky to enjoy it. The 
 church is beautiful, a copy of St. Peter's at Rome, 
 and we admired it far more than anything else. 
 The monastery adjoins the church. Philip the 
 Second's cell is on a level with the floor of the 
 high altar and separated from it by a glass door. 
 It was in this cell and at this very door that he 
 lay dying while the rich tones of the favorite 
 organ soothed his weary, wicked soul and the 
 last sacrament was administered. The library 
 would have interested S — . It has a small but 
 choice collection of rare old volumes, richly il- 
 lumined by the monks, one being made as early 
 as 976. 
 
 The ancient city of Toledo is about fifty miles 
 south of Madrid. It was for us far and away 
 the most interesting sight in Spain. It is com- 
 

 
 
 
 
 
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 BRIDGE OVER THE TAGUS. TOLEDO 
 
SOUTHWARD THROUGH SPAIN 31 
 
 pactly built on a rocky hill, with the river Tagus 
 circling- one-half of it, and three walls built at 
 different periods, one dating back to 900, inclos- 
 ing all. The buildings and walls are of a brown 
 sandstone, which age has given a rich gold-brown 
 color exactly suited to the old city. We are 
 taken in a coach drawn by three horses abreast 
 and go galloping up a hill, through a fine old 
 Moorish gateway, over a stone bridge that looked 
 a thousand years old, underneath which the 
 Tagus rushes on its way to Lisbon; then up a 
 long winding street under old historic walls to 
 the top, which lands us in a tiny plaza, the largest 
 in Toledo. The driver cracks his whip and we 
 go for a black slit between two houses which, to 
 my surprise, proves to be another street; we can 
 reach out on either side and touch the buildings. 
 There is a sudden stop, a great shouting, and we 
 look and see a diminutive burro with water bot- 
 tles, blocking the way. This patient beast will 
 not move, so a lot of boys pull and push him into 
 an arched doorway. This wedge being withdrawn, 
 we proceed to the hotel without further difficulty. 
 All the streets are narrow and winding, fully as 
 
32 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 hard to follow as those in a Chinese city. The 
 scenes, as one strolls about, are of indescribable 
 interest, and make up one of the many charms of 
 the place. The cathedral is grand, sublime, the 
 finest I have seen. 
 
 We had planned to leave Madrid, for Lisbon 
 Saturday night. That morning I went over to the 
 Wagon-Lits office with F — to engage a sleeper, 
 and there learned that there was a strike on the 
 road over which our tickets read. Everything 
 tied up ! The mails sent through with a military 
 escort! Here was a pretty howdy-do! If we 
 didn't get there by Tuesday morning we should 
 miss the steamer and there would be no other for 
 two weeks. As we couldn't wait for a settle- 
 ment of the trouble, although we had already 
 paid our passage all the way to Rio — sixty 
 pounds, if I remember — we had to take a round- 
 about way, so bought tickets via Medina del 
 Campo. 
 
 We had used up all the morning fussing over 
 tickets and a little shopping. The afternoon had 
 been reserved for the art gallery. After lunch 
 we hurried over to the entrance and found it 
 
SOUTHWARD THROUGH SPAIN 33 
 
 closed ! This one visit we had been saving up so 
 carefully landed us at the door on a holiday! 
 My Spanish at that moment was worth all the 
 time I had devoted to it, for, after some parleying 
 with the doorkeeper and a tip, he let us in and 
 furnished one of the guards to take us about. 
 This old man proved too full of information, 
 was slow, but knew the history of every picture. 
 I understood him very well, so we saw the pic- 
 tures under more favorable circumstances than 
 usual. The many and great masterpieces by 
 Ribera, Velasquez and Murillo were a treat to 
 look upon, and will remain with me many, many 
 years. 
 
 You know what a severe test of one's disposi- 
 tion traveling is, and here the slow-going Span- 
 iards make the strain greater. F — gets woe- 
 fully provoked at their laziness; you know how 
 he hates laziness in man or animal, but he has 
 to depend on me to do the scolding here. The 
 fact that he can not expostulate with these people 
 himself makes their shortcomings annoy him the 
 more. I translate his protestations into a much 
 milder form, for I have more sympathy with the 
 
34 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 lazy. It always amuses me to see F — out of pa- 
 tience, for an exhibit of temper is so foreign to 
 him. Yesterday he was in a particularly severe 
 mood with a slow and stupid fellow down at the 
 station, and was provoked with me because I 
 would not fight with him in French or Spanish. 
 (I thought he was doing very well.) Later, 
 when we got around to laughing about it, I told 
 F — that the only person he does not dare fight in 
 this country is "wifie." He retorted that I had 
 completely gone back on my avowed theory that 
 husbands and wives should stand by each other 
 in everything, right or wrong, and that I had re- 
 fused to fight for him. Oh dear, what tangles 
 you do get into when you are traveling in strange 
 countries! but they all straighten out, and, for- 
 tunately, you carry away the memory of only the 
 agreeable things. 
 
 At eight p. m. we were at the station and soon 
 in a compartment with two gentlemen. They 
 proved to be a French engineer and his assistant, 
 who were to change cars at our station. We 
 conversed a part of the way, and the rest of the 
 six hours of gloom was spent in trying to keep 
 
SOUTHWARD THROUGH SPAIN 35 
 
 warm. At two a. m. Medina was reached. This 
 railroad junction had a dirty row of old build- 
 ings for a station. Attached to one was a res- 
 taurant, with four cells and single beds in each. 
 We had to remain there eight hours. It was out 
 of the question to hang around for that length 
 of time, so for warmth we tackled one bed, and 
 thereby gained a little comfort, some rest, and 
 many fleas; but we paid only sixty-three cents 
 for our room, two breakfasts and a proportion- 
 ately generous tip to the waiter ! Everything was 
 scrupulously clean, and the breakfast was good. 
 The train de luxe arrived at ten o'clock. This 
 train runs to Lisbon but twice a week, and it 
 was a great piece of luck on our part to catch it. 
 The time from there to Lisbon is eighteen hours, 
 the railway running almost due west to the Port- 
 ugal frontier. The scenery as far as the frontier 
 was the same dreary plateau that we had had be- 
 fore. After crossing into Portugal it commenced 
 to be more interesting. The soil improved and 
 the inhabitants seemed more industrious. The 
 little patches of tilled ground showed green, and 
 trees and bushes were in blossom, but before we 
 
36 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 had traversed many miles it grew dark, so we 
 must have missed seeing the most interesting 
 part. 
 
 As we rolled into the Lisbon station at two 
 in the morning, we drew long sighs of relief, for 
 now we were sure to catch the steamer. In an 
 open carriage we were whirled through the 
 streets, up hill and down, at a speed that was 
 positively frightful. Driving is the only thing 
 done with speed in the Iberian peninsula. I un- 
 derstood later why we went so quickly: cabby 
 was giving us the worth of our large bill. The 
 Braganza Hotel seemed to be peacefully sleeping, 
 not a sign of life at the entrance or in the hall. 
 We noticed a door under the stairs, entered by it, 
 and found the porter fast asleep. Our trunks, 
 satchels, camera and typewriter were all depos- 
 ited at the door, and then cabby was asked his 
 price. I nearly fainted when I heard, "Two thou- 
 sand rets!" This must be almost the amount left 
 on our letter of credit, I thought. It took F — 
 some time to bring him down to twelve hundred 
 and just about as long to convince the astonished 
 F — that it only amounted altogether to ninety-six 
 
LISBON 
 
SOUTHWARD THROUGH SPAIN 37 
 
 cents! One hundred rets are worth about eight 
 cents. The enormous totals of a few purchases are 
 appalling, and each time I faced them I had a feel- 
 ing that our money would not hold out. The hotel 
 bill was twenty-seven thousand seven hundred 
 and fifty-five rets. Wouldn't that jar even a 
 banker? It looked so funny to see hats in the 
 windows marked six thousand and eight thou- 
 sand reis, veils three hundred and fifty and four 
 hundred, and so on. Wouldn't that discourage 
 the most zealous shopper ? 
 
 The morning was clear and balmy, and when 
 the sun rose we thoroughly enjoyed walking 
 about and thawing out our bones. F — said it was 
 the first time he had been warm since leaving 
 New York. 
 
 Lisbon was a charming surprise to us both. 
 The grass was green, apple and peach trees in 
 blossom, and oranges for sale that were picked 
 in the city. For beauty of position Lisbon has 
 the third place in European cities. Only Con- 
 stantinople and Naples excel it. It is built on 
 seven hills and every available foot of ground 
 is used. All the buildings are of sandstone or 
 
38 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 marble, and appear to be piled one on top of the 
 other. As you look down on the city from the 
 elevation of the botanical garden, you see noth- 
 ing but tiled roofs and white streets. Lisbon's 
 beauty and cleanliness are due to misfortunes. 
 Plagues, earthquakes and tidal waves have vis- 
 ited it, followed by improved restoration and 
 greater beauty. There are many curious sights 
 and historical places to visit, but we had to pass 
 them by, as we had no time for anything but a 
 little shopping and the garden. History is piled 
 up in this Iberian peninsula even as the houses are 
 piled up on one another in this fascinating city. 
 My Spanish again serves me here in Portugal, 
 and I manage to make myself understood, but 
 Portuguese seems to be Spanish gone wrong. I 
 discovered that the Portuguese use the Chinese 
 word cha for tea. Probably they were the first 
 to open up trade with China and bring tea to 
 Europe, so gave it the Chinese name. 
 
 There was no mail at Lisbon, except, of course, 
 from Sharlie, who is a wonder for catching mails. 
 F — says she is a trump because she always gets 
 some word to him, no matter in what corner of the 
 
A STREET IN LISBON 
 
SOUTHWARD THROUGH SPAIN 39 
 
 globe, and she can figure out to the very delivery 
 at which the postman will toss mail in at the door. 
 F — says to tell Dad that he found some cigars 
 in Lisbon that are just right, but he does not dare 
 give the brand for fear Dad will insist on im- 
 portation. Our shopping in Spain and Portugal 
 was mostly in the way of Spanish books (one of 
 these was El Allegoria del Capitan Ribot) and 
 music, though we did purchase some of the in- 
 crusted or Damascened steel and gold work 
 which belongs to the country. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 ON THE S. S. THAMES FOR SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 How futile it is to plan to do this and that on 
 shipboard ! One never does them. I always in- 
 tend to accomplish wonders, but once I get aboard 
 I find myself a veritable Spaniard for putting 
 things off till manana. I can not concentrate my 
 thoughtlets sufficiently to write about what we 
 have seen and are seeing. 
 
 Here we are on the Thames, St. Valentine's 
 day, lazily sailing along in the southern Atlantic, 
 hunting cool and breezy corners. It seems pass- 
 ing strange to be in ducks and straw hats when 
 two weeks ago snow lay on the ground in Madrid 
 and we sighed to be in some place where we could 
 get warm. The thermometer hovers around 84 
 degrees day and night, which is really very re- 
 spectable weather for the torrid zone. Last night 
 the southern cross hung clear and sparkling in 
 the southern sky, and at half after two we crossed 
 40 
 
ON THE STEAMSHIP THAMES 41 
 
 the equator. This passing into the southern 
 hemisphere was an event for me, and I greatly- 
 regretted that it occurred at such an unseemly- 
 hour. I wanted to have sensations and feelings 
 at the portentous moment, but couldn't decide 
 to keep my sleepy self awake till so late an hour. 
 This is F — 's fifth trip across the equator, and by 
 far the coolest, he says. The chief officer told 
 me tales for an hour last evening of the celebra- 
 tions that take place on crossing the line on sail- 
 ing vessels, when Father Neptune comes on 
 board — a curious Father Neptune, with raveled 
 manila rope for a beard, a trident of bread sticks 
 — and superintends a series of wicked tricks that 
 are played on the poor greenies who are crossing 
 the line for the first time. 
 
 There has been a heavy swell most of the time 
 since we left Lisbon, and the Thames, which has 
 an unusually light load, has rolled merrily, so 
 that my elbows and toes are tired with the effort 
 to hang on to my seat and to the floor. I don't 
 mind the rolling so much as some other things, 
 the smells, for instance, which are terrific. The 
 kitchens are along under the promenade deck, 
 
42 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 and ventilate to it, so you can imagine the torture 
 our poor noses endure, especially mine, which is 
 like my mama's. 
 
 I have felt quite humiliated to go to the wall, 
 figuratively speaking, in a rather smooth sea 
 when I have distinguished myself in so many 
 rough ones. It may be because of some hundred 
 or so dear little red radishes that I ate in Lisbon. 
 Anyway, I was upset, and understand better why 
 some people do not hanker for sea voyages. F — 
 was a perfect angel when I was not well, and 
 did everything to help me. 
 
 The clear skies and light winds have been 
 daily the same, as monotonous a stretch of sail- 
 ing as one would find. It's an untidy ship and 
 poorly managed from top to bottom, the captain 
 and officers drinking whenever they are thirsty, 
 which is too often. Luckily, we have a good- 
 sized cabin and opposite to it an empty one, which 
 we use for trunks and dressing-room, so we are 
 fairly comfortable. 
 
 The Thames' passengers are varied: English, 
 a few Americans (North Americans, that is, for 
 in this part of the world South America takes 
 
ON THE STEAMSHIP THAMES 43 
 
 precedence over North), Portuguese, Spanish, 
 Brazilians, Chilians, and Peruvians. It is a sur- 
 prise to me to find that some of these South 
 Americans have light brown hair and fair skins, 
 and are not at all our accepted idea of the Spanish 
 type. A blond, blue-eyed young fellow who 
 takes tea with us is from Montevideo, and an- 
 other fair young man, whom I thought at first to 
 be from the States, lives in Lima, Peru. Two 
 sweet Sisters of Charity, whose somber, trailing 
 robes seem strangely out of place on the deck of 
 the steamship, are going down from Belgium to 
 the Argentine. A beauty is always interesting, 
 and we have one real beauty to whom my eyes 
 often turn, other eyes as well, whose olive, oval 
 face, with large brown eyes and mass of dusky 
 hair, is of an unaccustomed type. She wears two 
 large sparkling diamonds in her pretty little ears 
 that are wonderfully becoming. She really is 
 ready to frame. Some of the Portuguese men 
 with their dark skins and straight jet-black hair 
 strongly suggest the Japanese. 
 
 We have had just one glimpse of land. One 
 evening at sunset we passed the Canary Islands. 
 
44 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 On one side we could see villages and farm- 
 houses along the lower slopes of the hills that rise 
 sharply from the water in picturesque irregular- 
 ity; on the other we had a glimpse of just the 
 peak of Teneriffe, which lifts its head twelve 
 thousand one hundred and eighty feet from the 
 sea. The whole of this island was hidden by a 
 bank of clouds, and the little peak which peeped 
 above it seemed well in cloudland, too. We sailed 
 between the peaks and gaunt hills, solemn and 
 awesome as those Dore studied, into the night, 
 and our next view of land will be in tropical 
 Brazil. What a wonderful waste of water lies on 
 the globe ! To think that four-fifths of the earth's 
 surface is covered by the restless, lonely, mighty 
 ocean! What a speck, what an atom each of us 
 would be if left to battle with it single-handed! 
 Sturdy, independent, courageous Captain Slocum, 
 who circled the globe in his little craft, The Spray, 
 alone ! 
 
 We had hoped to land at Pernambuco and 
 sleep in a real bed again, but the length of time 
 we could stay and the one pound ten shillings 
 which the robber boatman wanted for taking us 
 
ON THE STEAMSHIP THAMES 45 
 
 ashore made us give up the plan. We came into 
 Pernambuco in the late afternoon, and we stood 
 on deck, of course, peering eagerly out for our 
 first view of the South American continent. One 
 distant shore is very like another, irregular and 
 dimly green, but along the ridge of the hills we 
 could see with a glass the notched plumy edge 
 of tree-tops which we know are the palms that 
 belong in the tropics. The weather is not op- 
 pressively warm, — quite ideal summer weather 
 in fact, with cool fresh breezes. 
 
 Pernambuco, the City of the Reef, is curiously 
 protected from the sea by a long, narrow reef of 
 rocks about five hundred feet from the shore, mak- 
 ing a safe, deep harbor into which large ships can 
 go, not as large as the Thames, however. The 
 Pernambucans seemed to take our arrival very 
 calmly. As we came in late, the doctor, who must 
 be the first aboard, was said to be at dinner and, 
 being a Portuguese, did not bother himself to 
 come out that evening. We consoled ourselves for 
 not getting ashore by dancing on the deck, enjoy- 
 ing in the intervals the bright stars overhead and 
 the brilliant lights of the city that lay along the 
 
46 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 water's edge. In the morning our hopes again 
 rose high for landing, my hopes at least, but only 
 a straggling lighter or two came out with a little 
 freight, and a few passenger-boats, whose amaz- 
 ing tariff nobody was willing to pay. A brown 
 boy with many bright-colored, tropical birds came 
 on board and made some sales, a few of the trav- 
 elers being courageous enough to add a bird-cage 
 to their other hand-baggage. One handsome bird 
 with rich rose-red feathers tipped with black, a 
 glossy jet bill with a single effective white spot on 
 either side, caught my fancy, though I felt sorry 
 for him in his confinement and thought that the 
 poor fellow's gay wings ought to be flashing in 
 the sunlight and the free air. 
 
 It was posted that we would sail at nine 
 though we did not get off till twelve, an irritat- 
 ing characteristic of steamships. It was all very 
 dispiriting, but we had to be content with the sea 
 view of Pernambuco, so near and yet so far. 
 Queer little box-like buildings with red-tiled 
 roofs showed up in the business part of the town. 
 Well over to the right, as we lay facing the city, 
 was the lovely hill-suburb called Olinda, where 
 
ON THE STEAMSHIP THAMES 47 
 
 the foliage looked beautifully luxuriant and 
 green against the reddish soil, and the quaint, 
 Spanish-looking convents and churches, which 
 cap the hills, looked most interesting. Between 
 the city and Olinda was a large white building 
 with a tall smoke-stack, which we were told was 
 a sugar refinery. Cotton and sugar are the chief 
 articles of commerce. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 BEGUILING BAHIA 
 
 From Pernambuco to Bahia the coast' was visi- 
 ble most of the time and the cliffs stood out with 
 cloud-like whiteness. Indeed they looked more like 
 clouds than earth. We passed many funny little 
 craft, mere eggshell boats, and a flat catamaran, 
 made of several timbers lashed together with an 
 odd little three-cornered sail, tilted at an unfa- 
 miliar angle that seemed about to blow away. 
 No sooner had we anchored at Bahia than a fleet 
 of boats, big and little, put out from shore and 
 soon were clustered about us, bringing pineapples, 
 bananas, the sweet, green-skinned oranges and 
 other fruits, and one a collection of green parrots. 
 Oh, what a treat it was to go ashore at Bahia! 
 One is in danger of being over-enthusiastic in 
 telling about the first day on shore after a long 
 sea voyage. I am not sure that every one feels 
 my keen joy in the fruitful earth. The shore 
 48 
 
A BELLE OF BAHIA 
 
BEGUILING BAHIA 49 
 
 looked invitingly green and tropical. We round- 
 ed a picturesque lighthouse, set in the inclosure 
 of an old and weather-worn fort, and turned into 
 Bahia's beautiful bay. Bahia, indeed, means 
 "bay." The indented, curved shore-line of the 
 bay must cover many miles, for the hills of the 
 opposite side are far away and misty. The mouth 
 of the harbor is lost and we seem to be in a large 
 and beautiful inland lake. 
 
 Bahia is a feast of entertainment for the new- 
 comer. It is a center of the black population of 
 Brazil, having in former times been a thriving 
 slave market, and the gregarious blacks still 
 gather here in great numbers. Some homesick 
 Portuguese from Lisbon must have chosen the 
 sight, for Bahia is hung upon a hillside in much 
 the same remarkable manner as Lisbon, though 
 the buildings are not piled upon one another so 1 
 thickly and the green peeps out between, — that 
 fresh, healthy resplendent green of warm, moist 
 climates. The buildings are painted in many pret- 
 ty colors and the effect against the background 
 of green is gay and pleasing. In the narrow strip 
 of land that runs along the water's edge under 
 
50 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 the cliff the streets and buildings have been 
 squeezed close together with hardly a breathing 
 space between. One feels the summer indolence 
 that hangs over the place, though the narrow 
 streets are crowded with people of many colors. 
 The variations of brown complexions are a reve- 
 lation. Cunning, fat, little brown babies caper 
 around clad in nothing but complexion. The 
 most picturesque and attractive figures are the 
 handsome, big, graceful negresses who walk 
 along with their baskets of wares balanced on 
 their heads or sit on the curb-stone offering their 
 fruit or knickknacks to passers-by, especially to 
 strangers, with a most engaging, beguiling smile 
 that creeps into their eyes and shows their rows 
 of white teeth to great advantage. They are such 
 handsome, well- formed creatures and must be the 
 belles of the colored population, for they are well- 
 dressed and, among a class where one sees a 
 great deal of untidiness and dirt, are clean and 
 neat. Their full, colored petticoats and white em- 
 broidered or lace-trimmed waists are freshly laun- 
 dered and the white kerchiefs they knot about 
 their heads are snowy. The negresses wear neck- 
 
BEGUILING BAHIA 51 
 
 laces and bracelets of bright-colored beads, and 
 the white waists are very low-necked and sleeve- 
 less, often dropping away from the shapely shoul- 
 ders. The young are plump; the older, alas, are 
 more than plump. Sitting alone or in little 
 groups, or walking in their stately fashion, they 
 are always attractive. They move with a peculiar 
 rolling gait that clings to them when they have 
 no burden, and in many of the old, wrinkled, clean 
 mammies who creep along the streets I could see 
 an old-time handsome wench. The black men, 
 too, are muscular, big fellows with a remarkable 
 development of chest and shoulders that they get 
 from their work of loading and unloading great 
 bundles of tobacco and cocoa. 
 
 Bahia is the second city of Brazil in size, 
 though not in commercial importance. The 
 blacks fare much better than the other races in 
 Bahia, for the climate is enervating and very un- 
 healthy for white people. 
 
 At least one handsome, well-built road climbs 
 the cliff, supported by walls of solid masonry, a 
 fine bit of work. There is also an inclined plane 
 that goes up a hair-raising grade, and an ele- 
 
52 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 vator, which you enter from one of the lower 
 streets, lifts you two hundred and eighty feet, 
 from which you step thankfully forth to the pub- 
 lic square of the upper town. I did not see any 
 public carriages in the city, but the tram-cars, 
 drawn by two rat-like little mules, take you about 
 very comfortably. In one place the mules left us 
 and we coasted down a hill by gravity. The busi- 
 ness part of the upper town is better than the 
 lower, and we found the shops rilled with fancy- 
 dress costumes, masks, and confetti ready for the 
 approaching carnival before Lent, which is the 
 great fete of the year for Brazilians. The houses, 
 always painted in many colors, variegate pleas- 
 ingly down the street. Some of them, like those 
 we saw in Lisbon, have the whole front in tiles, 
 blue and white usually, with the ornamental iron 
 balconies painted in blue and white to correspond. 
 It seems we might copy these, for they are at- 
 tractive, though it is possible we could use the tile 
 only in the states where there are no great ex- 
 tremes of temperature. The balconies are usually 
 filled with people gazing curiously down into the 
 street. The natives seem to have a great deal of 
 
BEGUILING BAHIA 53 
 
 leisure and what we call idle curiosity. There are 
 many charming little gardens filled with lovely 
 flowering vines and shrubs, and many bushes and 
 even trees have exquisitely colored foliage. 
 There are beautiful Royal Poinciana trees which, 
 with their lace-like green foliage and wealth of 
 red blossoms like giant azaleas, are correspond- 
 ingly decorative. The heavy, green foliage of the 
 mango is the dark note in the gamut of lovely 
 greens. And high above all on his gray columnar 
 stem the royal palm, that aristocrat of the tree 
 kingdom, bows and bends his plumed head with 
 befitting dignity. 
 
 Our return to the Thames from Bahia was ex- 
 citing. We came out to the ship about nine 
 o'clock and learned that a little while before one 
 Jamaica negro sailor had killed another, had 
 stabbed him to the heart, causing instant death. 
 They had quarreled over the splicing of some 
 rope ! I had watched the two men at work on the 
 rope that morning, and it was a shock to hear 
 that one of them had been killed. Of course the 
 question of arrest and trial came up and officers 
 hastened ashore for consuls and other officials, 
 
54 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 had a preliminary examination in the dining- 
 saloon, and, as a result, sent the dead man and the 
 murderer ashore. The captain said the murderer 
 was one of his best sailors, but that the victim 
 was a disagreeable, quarrelsome fellow, so we all 
 felt sorry for the living one over the terrible mis- 
 take he had made. That was the second tragic 
 occurrence of our voyage. Soon after we left 
 Lisbon one of the third-class passengers showed 
 symptoms of insanity and the first mate caught 
 him and locked him in a cabin, intending to go 
 back a little later and put a strait- jacket on 
 him if necessary. When he did return the door 
 was locked but the man was gone. He had man- 
 aged to work himself through the port hole, had 
 dropped into the water, and was no doubt soon 
 drowned. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 RIO DE JANEIRO 
 
 It was early morning when we ran up on the 
 deck of the Thames and found we were fast ap- 
 proaching the irregular row upon row of moun- 
 tains which run to the right and left of the en- 
 trance to the famous Bay of Rio, a bay large 
 enough to hold the navies of the world. A soft 
 mist hung over the water, making the mountains 
 about the harbor dim and indistinct. 
 
 One hesitates for a word for these surround- 
 ing highlands of Rio Janeiro (the River of Janu- 
 ary). They are hardly high enough to be called 
 mountains in the large sense and are of too noble 
 height to be called hills. The circumference of 
 the bay is about one hundred miles and the en- 
 trance only one mile across, making it in appear- 
 ance more like an inland lake than a bay, and 
 around it in infinite variety, no two peaks rising 
 to the same height nor following a range appar- 
 
 55 
 
56 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 ently, cluster these great wooded hills, with the 
 Organ Mountains closing the horizon to the 
 north. 
 
 Where shall I begin to tell of the charms of 
 Rio de Janeiro and where end ? With all the one 
 hundred thousand words of the English language 
 at my command, its beauty would still be inde- 
 scribable. My photographs can not convey color 
 as well as my pen, and any pen needs to be dipped 
 in the solar spectrum. Look with me this golden 
 afternoon from my airy perch on the piazza of 
 our little chalet up behind the Hotel International 
 and see with my eyes the fair view that spreads 
 itself out far below. The sky is blue as Italy's 
 sky, a clear, pure azure against which the white 
 clouds stand out with exquisite distinctness. The 
 atmosphere is dreamy and a faint haze hangs 
 over the distant mountains. The great slopes of 
 the hills of Santa Thereza near-by at the left are 
 a mass of shaded green with splashes of yellow 
 and purple here and there from blossoming trees. 
 Over to the right is a great hill with verdure 
 swirling about its base like a green wave, the 
 summit crowned with vegetation, but against 
 
RIO DE JANEIRO 57 
 
 whose steep, gaunt, brown sides no living thing 
 finds root. Down, down, under us in a cavernous 
 valley are little groups of houses that look like 
 toys, the trees surrounding them like shrubs, the 
 roads like paths. As the valley widens the build- 
 ings increase in number, and far below at the end 
 we see a bit of Rio that peeps around the hill, 
 quaint, charming, red-roofed Rio! Beyond are 
 the blue waters of the bay and beyond them in 
 misty distance the faint, undulating line of moun- 
 tains which everywhere surround Rio and are 
 one of its wonders and beauties. In the middle 
 distance is a great, precipitous, unscalable rock 
 suitably called Sugarloaf from' its shape, and be- 
 yond I can see islands and the sparkling waters 
 of the ocean. It would seem that everything has 
 been given to Rio to make her lovely, these mag- 
 nificent ranges of mountains of which the eye 
 never tires, the radiant vegetation, and heavenly 
 blue sea. I am regretfully certain that I can not 
 make it appear as it is. One can not write in 
 colors, least of all in tropical colors, and Rio is, 
 of all places that I have seen in the world, fullest 
 of splendid, rich color. 
 
58 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 This garden spot of earth has its drawbacks 
 which one by one lift their ugly little heads, but it 
 remains first and last beautiful, wonderfully beau- 
 tiful. Where can you find a finer electric car ride 
 in the world than the one which leaves the Largo 
 Carioca, down in the heart of the city, and winds 
 on and out along the picturesque hills toward 
 Santa Thereza, turning, twisting and always 
 mounting, giving at each moment new glimpses 
 into flowery gardens and woods, and new vistas 
 over the city to the bay and off to the mountain 
 range? As one rides up, the greater part of 
 Rio spreads itself out in bird's-eye view, though 
 some of it is always creeping behind the hill, a 
 green hill that eludes and slips behind another 
 green hill. It is only from the heights of Corco- 
 vado, which also can be reached by cog railway, 
 that the whole city unrolls and you see what a 
 great place it is. Circling round the curving line 
 of the bay, rising on the hills and running up the 
 hundred valleys, it is a city surpassing all others 
 in beauty. 
 
 Most of the foliage is novel and therefore 
 more interesting to new-comers from temperate 
 
RIO DE JANEIRO 59 
 
 climes. Tall clumps of bananas stand out against 
 the hillsides, waving their flapping leaves like ban- 
 ners ; the feathery bamboo springs up everywhere 
 in green clusters; fine mango trees delight one's 
 eyes with their rich, glossy foliage; poincianas 
 spread their boughs of green ; lofty palms lift their 
 heads high above all and low down underneath 
 runs a riot of creeping, growing, flowering things 
 that make a glimpse of the red soil a rarity. 
 Among the wealth of greenery it is a keen pleas- 
 ure to spy bits familiar to our northern eyes — 
 the scarlet spikes of salvia which grow in wild 
 profusion, the crimson canna, the sturdy stalk 
 and leaves of the castor bean, the yellow blossom 
 of the honeysuckle with its sweet breath. The 
 royal palm is perhaps the most interesting of all 
 nature's family of trees, and in the rich soil and 
 warm moist climate of Brazil it attains even 
 greater height than in its native home, often 
 towering to a height of one hundred and fifty 
 feet, from the ground to its waving fronds. 
 
 Out in the botanical garden I came upon a 
 Royal palm quite apart from the splendid and 
 famous avenue of palms, with a low wall of stone 
 
60 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 around it and a tablet which tells the visitor that 
 this palm is the father of all those growing in 
 Brazil and was planted by Don Joao VI in 1809. 
 He brought it from Portugal, I believe, though 
 the Royal palm is a native of India. This inter- 
 esting patriarch is still fine and flourishing. In- 
 deed he looks younger than many of his children 
 and grandchildren. 
 
 A number of things are topsy-turvy in this 
 southern hemisphere. The moon hangs wrong 
 side out in the sky, and though 'tis February, we 
 are in the midst of summer. I had to come to 
 Brazil, too,, to hear rainy weather called "pleas- 
 ant." One rainy day when I was pattering about 
 down in the narrow, close streets of the lower 
 city, burdened with umbrella, overshoes and all 
 the wearing appliances that wet weather de- 
 mands, I made a casual remark to a shopkeeper 
 about the disagreeable weather. "Disagreeable !" 
 he exclaimed; "why, this is fine weather. Look 
 what a beautiful day it is, cool and pleasant. We 
 haven't had such a fine summer for years, rain 
 every day, you might say." It seems that in the 
 wet seasons it is much cooler and the yellow fever 
 
RIO DE JANEIRO 61 
 
 and other contagious diseases are not so viru- 
 lent. The dry seasons are dreaded. A paragraph 
 from the Rio News on the city's general health 
 is not without interest. 
 
 According to the semi-monthly bulletin of the 
 board of public health, the number of deaths dur- 
 ing the second half of this January was five hun- 
 dred and eighty-four in this city of seven hun- 
 dred thousand inhabitants, a very low number for 
 mid-summer, the cool weather and much rain ac- 
 counting for this. The smallpox, which is always 
 present in the city, showed an increase during the 
 period, the deaths numbering thirty-six against 
 eighteen in the first half of the month. From 
 other diseases the deaths were: Pulmonary con- 
 sumption, one hundred and seven ; malaria, thir- 
 ty-nine; yellow fever, seven; beriberi, seven; bu- 
 bonic plague, six ; other diseases, seventeen. The 
 births numbered five hundred and forty-three and 
 the marriages one hundred and two. There have 
 been times when the death rate in Rio from yel- 
 low fever alone has averaged two hundred per 
 day. This beriberi, by the way, is a curious dis- 
 ease, somewhat resembling rheumatism, which 
 
62 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 attacks the legs, making the sufferer totter about 
 like a paralytic. If not given prompt and careful 
 treatment, the disease is fatal. The best remedy 
 is a change of climate. This list of diseases 
 sounds ominous, yet I find an American long 
 down here who declares that Rio Janeiro is 
 healthier than New York, and that the death rate 
 is lower. 
 
 It is with the greatest difficulty that I get any 
 sort of reliable information about the city or its 
 surroundings, though of course I am a bundle of 
 questions. In the good-sized book store of the 
 Ouvidor, the best business street, so narrow that 
 no animal or wheeled vehicle is allowed in it, I 
 was amazed to find nothing in the way of books 
 of history or information about the country or 
 city in either Spanish, French or English, not 
 even a guide book ! 
 
 I am told that the Brazilians are quite indiffer- 
 ent as to where things came from and how and 
 why they were constructed, and the only infor- 
 mation extant is with the foreigners. There is an 
 amusing discrepancy between the good opinion 
 the Brazilians have of themselves and the opinion 
 
f/-'S 
 m 
 
 THE OUYIDOR 
 
RIO DE JANEIRO 63 
 
 outsiders have of them. True, it is never just to 
 the individual to speak of a nation as having cer- 
 tain characteristics, for there are always excep- 
 tions and notable ones, but foreigners freely ex- 
 press the opinion that the Brazilians are quite in- 
 capable of developing the resources of their large 
 and rich country and the task must eventually be 
 given into the hands of Europeans or North 
 Americans. The country at present is in a la- 
 mentable financial condition, which is attributed 
 entirely to misgovernment. Revolutions have fol- 
 lowed one another merrily in Brazil, as they do in 
 most South American republics, and successive 
 sets of political freebooters, with their satellites, 
 have made haste to fill their pockets while the sun 
 shone, the country's commercial interest mean- 
 while suffering demoralization. 
 
 The street people of Rio are not particularly 
 picturesque. Perhaps they would be more so to 
 one unaccustomed to the black faces of our ne- 
 groes. The Brazilians are an unhealthy race, 
 undersized and thin even in youth and anemic 
 and weazened when they grow old. It is the rarest 
 exception to see a white native who looks in per- 
 
64 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 feet health. The color of the natives runs through 
 all the shades from cafe au lait to inky black. 
 A curious feature of the situation is that families 
 are by no means warranted to be all of the same 
 color. One child goes back to one grandfather 
 and another to another for his complexion, I sup- 
 pose, and the result is that the same fathers 
 and mothers have assorted shades of children. 
 Did you ever ! Here is a poser for the man who 
 does not believe in heredity. 
 
 The black people in Brazil seem to be on a foot- 
 ing of equality with the white, going to the same 
 hotels, and eating at the same tables in dining- 
 rooms and on steamships. 
 
 In the lower city the streets are mere lanes, so 
 narrow that carriages can not pass in them; a 
 hand, painted on the corner of the buildings, 
 shows in which direction a vehicle may go. The 
 tram-cars, "bonds' ' as they are called, drawn by 
 two or sometimes only one lonesome mule, 
 thread their way about, running so close to the 
 buildings and leaving such scant space on the 
 narrow sidewalk that one must step hastily back 
 into the open doors of the shops to let them pass. 
 
RIO DE JANEIRO 65 
 
 The Brazilians call the street-cars "bonds," be- 
 cause, when an English company came down, got 
 the right of way and bonded the roads, the street- 
 cars mixed themselves with the bonds in the 
 primitive native mind and were never untangled. 
 The electric lines have been of tremendous ad- 
 vantage to Rio, making the heights readily acces- 
 sible and taking one easily along the cool, shady, 
 winding mountain roads, past the fine houses and 
 gardens of the rich and well-to-do, up into the 
 cool forest. 
 
 As in the Hawaiian Islands, the Mother Hub- 
 bard is the negligee morning costume of the Rio 
 woman, or sometimes a skirt and loose sack, then 
 late in the afternoon she dresses herself for the 
 interesting occupation of looking out the win- 
 dow. 
 
 People move so leisurely, so indifferently in 
 this dreamy heavy air. The only example of real 
 speed that I have seen since landing was an 
 ostrich that was being chased by a yellow dog out 
 in the botanical garden. F — and I have fallen 
 asleep with the rest and have lost all recollection 
 of what we did for some days after we came. 
 
66 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 We have roused ourselves somewhat, but I think 
 it will take a nip of Jack Frost really to wake us 
 up again. 
 
 In going to Tijuca one passes many hand- 
 some, suburban homes, always set in the same 
 flowery gardens with the usual groups of soar- 
 ing palms, their tall gray columns lifted high 
 before putting forth their tufts of plumy leaves. 
 The style of these villas might make an architect 
 squeal, for their multiform decoration is of the 
 wedding-cake variety, but they are not unpleas- 
 ing in their setting of green, for they are neat, 
 home-like and inviting, and the lovely gardens re- 
 deem them. They are always attractively painted, 
 too, in harmonious combinations of the soft tints 
 that we call pastel. This quiet taste in colors is 
 noticeable in the city streets as well, where the 
 stucco buildings are all painted in many mellow 
 tints. Many of these country places are literally 
 hung on the hillsides with massive stone retain- 
 ing walls to keep them in place. This bird-like 
 dexterity in building out into the atmosphere 
 must come to them honestly from their Portu- 
 guese ancestors, for it is Lisbon over again. The 
 
i 
 
RIO DE JANEIRO 67 
 
 whole of the attractiveness of Rio might be 
 summed up in two words, view and verdure. 
 
 It is damp and muggy in our little chalet to- 
 day and everything feels wet and sticky, really is 
 wet and sticky, and we are wishing for sunshine 
 to dry us out and keep us from molding. This 
 paper even is wet and my pen almost refuses to 
 slip, on it. I don't believe the ink ever dries here. 
 It is a blessing for which I am not sufficiently 
 grateful to have hair that is not of the kind to 
 straighten out to strings in this moist air. But 
 our airy perch is a thousand times better than the 
 city, and we came up here for comfort and for 
 health's sake as well. Poor F — and I entertained 
 ourselves on our half-hour ride up the mountain 
 last evening, thinking of a dinner we would like 
 to eat with, the home folks, our mouths fairly 
 watering as we named over the good things. At 
 the time we knew we were coming toward a poor 
 dinner here at the International. F — says he pays 
 these people five dollars a day each to get some- 
 thing good to eat and all the time his stomach 
 goes flip-flap and cries out for food. Nothing is 
 really good and appetizing, not even the fruit. 
 
68 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 We are again spending money at a reckless rate. 
 Eleven thousand reis for a dinner! It sounds 
 calamitous and looks even worse, for they write 
 it 1 1 $000. A bottle of beer costs 2$ooo and a 
 bottle of champagne 30$ooo. We are neither of 
 us much in love with Rio, even though it has such 
 transcendent beauty. The air is miserably heavy 
 and enervating', making one feel lifeless. 
 
 We are soon going to Petropolis, the Simla of 
 Brazil, where it rains every day, but where the 
 weather is really cool. Petropolis is in the moun- 
 tains back of Rio amid fine scenery reached by 
 steam-cars and by steep inclines through jungles 
 and over deep ravines, along huge walls of stone 
 ready to fall upon you from above. There is a 
 handsome house for the American legation at 
 Petropolis and a flourishing Methodist school for 
 girls. After that we go to San Paulo, the largest 
 city of Brazil away from the coast. F — goes 
 there on business and we shall both enjoy the 
 glimpse of the country inland. We have met a Mr. 
 Cooper here at the International, an American 
 who is superintending the construction of an im- 
 mense electric power plant at San Paulo, one of 
 
RIO DE JANEIRO 69 
 
 the largest in the world; also an interesting Mr. 
 MacKenzie, who amused us one day by saying that 
 he had pored and prayed and perspired over this 
 Portuguese language and still couldn't put three 
 words together. He says he does not think these 
 Portuguese could understand one another in the 
 dark. We think of South America as a Spanish 
 continent, but it really might be called Portu- 
 guese, the one hundred and eighty million peo- 
 ple in Brazil speaking the Portuguese language. 
 
 The prices of things in Rio are hair-raising, 
 the shop things I mean. They asked me one dollar 
 and fifty cents a yard for some mosquito netting 
 such as you pay forty cents for in Paris, one dol- 
 lar and fifty cents in gold! I didn't invest, but 
 unearthed a net for our bed at the hotel. 
 
 A million ants are crawling over the table as 
 I write, but there is a greater freedom here from 
 insects than I had expected. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE GREAT POWER PLANT AT PARNAHYBA 
 
 Usually I do not consider food of the first im- 
 portance in life, but in traveling it gets to be a 
 serious matter when day after day you can have 
 nothing that is palatable or wholesome. The 
 meats in this country are poor, the vegetables 
 few and unappetizing, the fruits insipid, really 
 the worst food I have ever known. Fortunately 
 we keep well and I should not speak of the short- 
 comings of Brazilian hotels when writing from 
 San Paulo and the Grand Hotel de la Rotissiere 
 ( Sportsman) , where we now are, for this is the 
 best we have found thus far. The rooms are not 
 so barn-like ; they seem to have been swept some 
 time; the management has more system and the 
 table is quite fair. We were half-starved when 
 we came here to San Paulo, and now we wish 
 we could carry this hotel around with us, at least 
 while we are in Brazil. Of course we have fallen 
 
 70 
 
CORCOVADO RAILWAY 
 
POWER PLANT AT PARNAHYBA 71 
 
 into the eastern way of late breakfasts, so have 
 coffee and rolls in bed, the real breakfast at 
 eleven, tea at four and dinner at seven o'clock. 
 I must admit that I don't like the hours for meals, 
 unless it be the one in bed. We have been revel- 
 ing in other good things that have come our way 
 in San Paulo. Our new friends have been very 
 kind and we have dined twice with Mr. MacKen- 
 zie, whom we met at the International, a Cana- 
 dian who is the lawyer for the San Paulo Tram- 
 way Light and Hydraulic Power Company. He 
 keeps house with three Americans, who are at the 
 heads of the different departments of the work. 
 Their womanless establishment was quite a curi- 
 osity to me. Poor fellows, they get along pretty 
 well after a fashion, but it's hard lines that they 
 have no one to look after the domestic side of life 
 for them. 
 
 The finest of all the fine days we have had 
 down here was the day we went to Parnahyba to 
 see Mr. Cooper's dam, one of the big ones of the 
 world, which dams the Tiete River and is to give 
 San Paulo all the electric power it needs. At Mr. 
 Cooper's urgent invitation we had come by rail, 
 
72 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA ' 
 
 after the usual fuss with fumigation, to the city 
 of San Paulo. 
 
 San Paulo, by the way, is a flourishing city of 
 some two hundred and fifty thousand people, 
 three hundred and ten miles from Rio de Janeiro, 
 southwest, built upon a broad plane with low hills 
 about it. The houses are low and unpretentious, 
 though there are some pretty country houses be- 
 longing to wealthy coffee planters reached by the 
 now universal tramway. Four lines of steam rail- 
 ways run out to the great coffee districts of the 
 interior, San Paulo being the center of the coffee 
 trade. You know Brazil grows two-thirds of the 
 coffee of the world and we coffee topers of the 
 United States take one-half of this exportation. 
 Coffee has been grown in Brazil only for the past 
 one hundred and fifty years, and requires a cer- 
 tain altitude and certain conditions even here. It 
 must have heat and dampness and be neither too 
 near nor too far from the sea-shore, and at an 
 elevation of from one to four thousand feet. With 
 these favorable conditions there will be two or 
 three gatherings a year from the plantations. 
 Many think San Paulo will some day be the me- 
 
BOTANICAL GARDEN, RIO JANEIRO 
 
THE POWER PLANT AT PARNAHYBA 73 
 
 tropolis of Brazil, and it is now a clean, healthy, 
 attractive city with wide streets and the air and 
 bustle of a northern place. It is the capital of its 
 richest state and received sixty million dollars of 
 good American gold last year for its coffee. Rio 
 Janeiro is sleepy and dead compared with it. 
 
 Mr. Cooper, the engineer of the great dam at 
 Parnahyba, twenty-five miles in air-line from 
 San Paulo, is a clever, self-made, capable Ameri- 
 can, with much of the salt of youth. about him, 
 a man of intelligence and power, and he also 
 proved himself to be a delightful host, making 
 every possible arrangement for our pleasure. At 
 half after five Tuesday morning Mr. Cooper's 
 man met us at the door of the hotel in San Paulo 
 with a carriage, took us to the station, handed 
 out two return tickets, put us on the train and 
 said, "The second stop is Barnery, where the 
 company's 'trolley' will meet you." One hour and 
 ten minutes later the little narrow-gage train 
 came to the second stop ; a fierce-looking Italian 
 with a huge whip around his neck thrust his head 
 in through the car window and, catching sight 
 of us, beckoned us to come out, saying, "Trol- 
 
74 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 ley." He looked so dangerous that it was a ques- 
 tion whether to remain on the train and be car- 
 ried into the interior of Brazil, or trust ourselves 
 to this wild, murderous-looking man. F — says 
 he would have been on that train yet if I hadn't 
 jumped up and run out to see what the "trolley" 
 looked like. It proved to be like the American 
 buckboard, but very much stronger, with a seat 
 in front hung high, so the forward wheels would 
 pass under the body, a good vehicle for the rough 
 roads of Brazil. 
 
 The first thing Mr. Cooper did was to build 
 this road of seven miles to the village of Parna- 
 hyba, which was accomplished in thirty-seven 
 days. It winds along the face of the hills, with 
 flowering trees and interesting plants and ferns 
 on all sides. We drove over it early in the morn- 
 ing while it was cool, and every green thing 
 sparkled with rain-drops left by the shower of a 
 few moments before our arrival. There were 
 many wild flowers, morning-glories, the delicate 
 mimosa, and others. Mr. Cooper came down the 
 road to meet us, and as he rode at our side, point- 
 ed out the dam and the changes in his quick, ener- 
 
THE POWER PLANT AT PARNAHYBA 75 
 
 getic way. I thought he looked the part of a 
 leader and understood how he had accomplished 
 such wonders in this far-off land, with Brazilian, 
 negro, Indian and Italian workmen, a mixture 
 not easy to handle. His speech was smooth, but 
 his manner convincing, and when that broad jaw 
 closed it was evident his word was law and every 
 man under him knew it. 
 
 One day a big Italian came at one of the fore- 
 men with a large club and a threatening manner. 
 The fellow said he was going to kill the foreman, 
 and it looked as though he was going to carry out 
 his threat. The foreman stepped into his office, 
 got a pistol, and, as the man attempted to strike, 
 shot him in the leg and he dropped in his tracks ; 
 then the whole crowd of men, six or seven hun- 
 dred, started for Mr. Cooper. He was in his of- 
 fice and saw them coming. He jumped up, 
 caught the American flag, and without any other 
 means of defense ran with it right into their 
 midst and in five minutes had quieted the trouble. 
 I must mention that Mr. Cooper's salary is fifteen 
 thousand dollars a year and expenses, and I am 
 sure he earns every cent of it. 
 
76 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 Mr. Cooper accompanied us to the house, 
 which is large and airy, gave us his own room, 
 left a pitcher of ice water and said, "Breakfast in 
 ten minutes." We had been up nearly four hours 
 without breakfast and we had an appetite to grat- 
 ify any cook. Fruit, steak, bacon, eggs and 
 chicken, and then came griddle cakes. F — had 
 finished twelve and was going to quit, when I 
 suggested he make it thirteen and let it go at 
 that. Most of the table things are from the 
 States, and as his staff are all Americans, he tries 
 to give them an American table. He buys con- 
 densed milk and cream made by Hylands, of 
 Elgin, Illinois. At dinner we had ice-cream made 
 from this, and it seemed to me the finest I ever 
 tasted. It was served in soup-plates, and F — sent 
 back for a second pint. The house is built on a 
 hill, commanding a fine view of the valley, at the 
 bottom of which rushes the swift Tiete, though 
 before the clearing was commenced not a thing 
 was to be seen from this point but jungle. The 
 dam is eight hundred and sixty feet long; from 
 the top to the footing stone is seventy-two feet; 
 the spillway is about six hundred feet long and 
 
THE POWER PLANT AT PARNAHYBA 77 
 
 built in the shape of an ogee. What a grand 
 sight it will be to see this long sheet of water 
 forming the graceful curves and then tumbling 
 into white foam on the rocks below ! Fine granite 
 for the dam is taken from quarries only a little 
 distance away. Mr. Cooper was thoughtful 
 enough to have the man hold a blast for us, so 
 when we came along I touched the button and a 
 handful of black powder lifted huge blocks of 
 stones the size of a small house and tossed them 
 about with volcanic effect. 
 
 The San Paulo Tramway Light and Power 
 Company is a Canadian and American concern 
 that is investing eight million dollars in a water 
 power and electric station to furnish the city with 
 electric street-cars, electric lights and electric 
 power generally. It is one of the largest projects 
 of the kind in the world. Some three years ago 
 Mr. Pierson, of the Metropolitan Company of 
 New York City, went down with Mr. Cooper to 
 investigate the proposition. The Tiete River was 
 to be dammed and turbines installed to furnish 
 power for the electric generators, and then cop- 
 per cables to transmit it to San Paulo, twenty- 
 
78 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 five miles away. Mr. Cooper could do the hy- 
 draulic and Mr. Pierson the electric work. When 
 they arrived on the ground they found the banks 
 of the river one tangled mass of tropical jungle. 
 Mr. Cooper told us he had to climb trees to make 
 his observations and cut paths down to the water 
 to learn the contour of the banks. There were 
 rapids too swift to navigate and, in the prelimi- 
 nary survey he had to judge the volume of water 
 and fall by the roar and fuss it made. Mr. 
 Cooper made his estimates and handed them to 
 Mr. Pierson ; they were standing in a dense jun- 
 gle, where it was impossible to swing a war club. 
 Mr. Pierson examined them for a few minutes, 
 then pointing over toward the roar of waters 
 where the angry torrents were grinding up huge 
 boulders, said : "Mr. Cooper, your scheme is ex- 
 cellent, you must take charge of the job; go to 
 New York, design the dam, buy all the necessary 
 machinery and return and put it up !" Thus was 
 born twenty-five thousand hydraulic horse power, 
 the third largest in the world. The dam is a fine 
 stone affair and the water used to supply the 
 power is carried down to the power-house in a 
 
THE GREAT PIPE AT PARNAHYBA 
 
THE POWER PLANT AT PARNAHYBA 79 
 
 huge steel pipe twelve feet in diameter and two 
 thousand eight hundred feet long. Each section 
 of pipe, about three feet long, will weigh, when 
 full of water, ninety thousand pounds. I forget 
 how many thousands, rather hundreds of thou- 
 sands, of rivets they have put into this monster, 
 now nearing completion. It's the longest pipe of 
 its size in the world. 
 
 You see one must deal with large figures down 
 here at the south end of Brazil. So Mr. Cooper 
 went back to New York and the drafting-board, 
 and with fifteen assistants and a lot of mid- 
 night oil, he planned the whole thing, from 
 the huge pipes to his Wisconsin pancake flour. 
 He bought a million dollars' worth of machinery, 
 collected his staff, most of whom had been with 
 him before, and with Mr. MacKenzie sailed away 
 for three years of hard work. Mr. MacKenzie 
 went down to start the legal matters and to re- 
 main two months. He has been there twenty- 
 two, and says, "The Lord only knows when I'll 
 see home." Poor fellow, he looks white and worn 
 and tired, for he has had a hard fight to keep 
 those sharks from tearing to pieces and appropri- 
 
8o ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 ating to themselves the eight million dollars he is 
 investing for his clients. The company rents a 
 fine house in San Paulo, which is at the disposal 
 of all the officials. 
 
 We went all around looking at every detail of 
 the work and enjoying it. There is a cable swung 
 high above the dam to carry out stone and con- 
 crete. We had a ride across the river on it, dang- 
 ling like flies, way, way up in the air. Three of 
 us rode in a rough box swung by chains, and I 
 for the first time appreciated the iron nerve it 
 took to walk across Niagara on a rope. How 
 did Blondin ever do it ? I was not at all alarmed, 
 though Mr. Cooper had told me before we 
 started that the car had upset once, throwing 
 five men into the water below, drowning two of 
 them ! It was a mistake of the engineer's and not 
 likely to be repeated, I should say. Poor en- 
 gineer! How distressed he must have been over 
 the affair ! Mr. Cooper's own brother was one of 
 those who went down, but fortunately was saved. 
 It happened in the evening late, and they were 
 not able to pick the men up till morning. They 
 clung to some trees and rocks all night. I can not 
 
THE DROP TO SANTOS 
 
THE POWER PLANT AT PARNAHYBA 81 
 
 say I was as tranquil as a drawing-room cat or 
 that I quite enjoyed the spin across and back, but 
 it gave us fine views up and down the river. 
 
 In the afternoon we rode over to the village on 
 horseback. It's many a day since I have been on a 
 horse, but I managed to stick on, and after a few 
 minutes of getting used to it, I really liked it 
 again. The village has an expensive Catholic 
 church in it built by the workmen. They are 
 nearly all Italians, the Brazilians being good-for- 
 nothing when it comes to manual labor. One of 
 the saints in the church is black as the ace of 
 spades ! Under the altar they have a figure of the 
 dead Christ in a coffin, the most gruesome thing I 
 have ever seen in a church. Many of the people 
 of the village show plainly their Indian blood. To- 
 day I poked around in an old curiosity shop here 
 kept by a French Jew, I think. He had some in- 
 teresting things among the usual claptrap, and I 
 felt tempted to buy some old Brazilian ear-rings 
 of him, a lot of little indifferent diamonds set in 
 a curious design, one of the diamonds green. 
 They sometimes find a green diamond of fine 
 color in Brazil which is very valuable. Brazil was 
 
82 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 once a great diamond market, and many small 
 diamonds were found, but now the African fields 
 have taken away the trade from Brazil. There 
 are some other gems in the country, topaz, ame- 
 thyst and small emeralds. 
 
 My ukulele has been giving a great deal of 
 pleasure here to those who have not heard home 
 songs for a long time. Mr. Cooper and his men 
 seem delighted with my ditties, and one lovely 
 moonlight night all sat out on the porch while I 
 sang, accompanied by its sweet strings. My at- 
 tentive audience and the beautiful moon were in- 
 spiring. 
 
 We had a perfect day for the forty-mile ride 
 by the English railway from San Paulo to San- 
 tos, which is the shipping port of San Paulo for 
 its coffee, sugar, tapioca and other exports, but 
 though San Paulo is only such a short distance 
 away it lies high on a tableland two thousand 
 eight hundred feet above the level of Santos and 
 the sea. To get down you must cross the Serra 
 do Mar and drop down the mountain sides. This 
 is done by an inclined-plane railway in four sec- 
 tions, a fine piece of English engineering with 
 
THE POWER PLANT AT PARNAHYBA 83 
 
 wonderful provision in the way of masonry up 
 and down the mountain-side to take care of the 
 torrential rainfalls that they often have. The cable 
 is fastened around the car and another car com- 
 ing down acts as a balance to the one coming up. 
 The cable slips along in wheels very smoothly. 
 
 Through Mr. Cooper's kind thoughtfulness 
 there was a bench placed for us out on the front 
 platform, so nothing obstructed the view. "It al- 
 ways rains on the Serra," somebody had said, 
 "and when it doesn't rain it's foggy." This pessi- 
 mistic remark was not encouraging, so you can 
 imagine how pleased we were to have a beautiful 
 clear morning that gave us a magnificent view 
 down the great green valleys and over the range 
 of mountains. All the interior of Brazil that 
 we have seen has been hilly, gently rolling like an 
 ocean of verdure, the green always bright and 
 fresh. Creeping things run riot, while orchids, 
 those lovely freaks of the flower kingdom, with 
 all sorts of parasites, hang thick upon the trees. 
 The soil is everywhere a beautiful rose-red, 
 which stands out vividly against the green. Per- 
 haps the time is nearing when all this land will be 
 
84 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 tilled, as it is in many states of North America. 
 
 On our way to Santos, as we were slowly slid- 
 ing up and down those slanting tracks which, for 
 the first time, at least, are a little awesome, I re- 
 marked : "Well, I am always glad to be in Eng- 
 lish hands, for I feel safe in them. They are a lit- 
 tle slow in England, perhaps, but sure." And F — 
 replied : "Well, I'd rather go a little faster and 
 lose my life occasionally." I laughed till I nearly 
 fell off my bench into space. 
 
 We were fortunate in meeting on the way to 
 Santos a Mr. Bueno, a wealthy coffee merchant, 
 who was educated in the States at Tufts College. 
 By the way, the train which left San Paulo at 
 seven twenty a. m. was full of business men who 
 have their homes in San Paulo and go all the 
 way to Santos every day to look after business. 
 Mr. Bueno was very kind and asked us around to 
 have a cup of Brazilian coffee with him, made 
 just as it should be. It was very fine, too, clear 
 and of a good flavor, the best we have had in 
 Brazil. There is a wicked Brazilian proverb 
 which says that good coffee should be as strong 
 as the devil, as black as ink, as hot as hell, and 
 
THE POWER PLANT AT PARNAHYBA 85 
 
 as sweet as love. They brown coffee very differ- 
 ently from our method, however, roasting it until 
 it is almost black, though not burned, and then 
 powdering it. This gives it a peculiar flavor which 
 I do not like as well as ours. Mr. Bueno gave us 
 a box of roasted coffee and a box of the pow- 
 dered, which we'll try in America. I examined 
 the coffee-pot to see how they make it, and was 
 much surprised. They must use three or four 
 times as much coffee as we do to a cup, so their 
 method would not appeal to the frugal house- 
 wife. The powdered coffee is put in the top of 
 a double boiler, the bottom part of this top being 
 perforated, of course. The water is then put un- 
 derneath and allowed to boil until the coffee is 
 made. It rises in steam and filters back, bringing 
 the coffee flavor with it, no water being poured 
 through the coffee. 
 
 Great vessels were at the wharf in Santos re- 
 ceiving their loads of coffee, the huge bags lifted 
 and carried by the stalwart blacks as easily as 
 bags of sawdust. The houses in Santos, in true 
 Brazilian style, were in all the prismatic colors of 
 the rainbow. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE ARGENTINE REPUBLIC 
 
 At last we have shaken the dust, or mud, of 
 Brazil off our shoes, and because of it are the two 
 happiest souls afloat on the Atlantic. The moist 
 heat, rains, the mosquitoes, fleas and poor hotels 
 will try the most philosophical temperaments, 
 and ours have been tested from the very first day. 
 At the end of three weeks we were ready to go 
 and never, never return. I must not say that, for 
 it would mean no more of San Paulo, and that 
 would be a pity. The recollection of our visit 
 there is one of the pleasantest that hangs on mem- 
 ory's walls, and will be for many years. We shall 
 wish to return there, but leave out the rest of 
 Brazil. Oh, how glad we were to see Rio for 
 the first time ! How we have enjoyed its beauty, 
 and how glad we were to get away from it ! 
 
 We are lazily slipping along in the southern 
 Atlantic again towards Montevideo, on board the 
 
 86 
 
UNFINISHED CATHEDRAL AT LA PLAT, 
 
THE ARGENTINE REPUBLIC 87 
 
 Magdalena, a ship so like the Thames that the 
 old groove in my brain still responds and I'm 
 always walking into the wrong cabin, thinking it 
 the one I had coming down to Rio. The ship 
 is cleaner and more attractive, the passengers 
 likable, though in so short a time we shall not get 
 to know them well. I have had some chats with 
 a missionary of the Southern Methodist Church 
 stationed at Rosario, a sweet-faced woman who 
 has interested me in her work in her girls' school. 
 She says she has a mixture of nationalities, al- 
 most all of Europe being represented, as well as 
 the Argentinos and Creoles. I have been wish- 
 ing for an opportunity to look up "Creole" in the 
 Century Dictionary, for, although I have looked 
 it up half a dozen times in the past, its exact 
 meaning always slips from me. Down here they 
 call a person with European father or mother, 
 grandfather or grandmother, who is born in 
 South America, a Creole. The girls who come 
 to the school, the missionary says, seem quite as 
 bright as the ordinary child with us, and will 
 learn history, geography, grammar, anything 
 which requires memory, page after page; but 
 
88 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 arithmetic or any study which calls for reasoning 
 is almost beyond them. She has a great many 
 Italian girls of the better class, Italians having 
 thronged to the countries on The Plate, as they 
 say down here, meaning the countries that border 
 La Plata River — Uruguay, Paraguay and the 
 Argentine, as well as Brazil. One of our passen- 
 gers is a retired lieutenant-colonel of the English 
 army, tall, slim and soldierly, with a kind, hand- 
 some face. His steamer coats are done in the 
 most remarkable black and white checks that I 
 have ever seen. We find that he intends making 
 the same journey that we do across the Andes 
 and up the west coast to North America, only he 
 has been urging us to go up through some Cen- 
 tral American or Mexican port to the City of 
 Mexico and on to the States. The colonel is un- 
 married, and is traveling all over the world for 
 pleasure. 
 
 I am promising myself a grand overhauling of 
 my effects at Buenos Aires, things having been 
 so mixed up by repeated fumigations. How one 
 hates to see or touch his woolens in this hot 
 region! Passengers from Rio for anywhere by 
 

 MUSEUM OF LA P 
 
THE ARGENTINE REPUBLIC 89 
 
 rail or sea are watched for all sorts of objection- 
 able diseases, sometimes quarantined, and their 
 baggage always taken away and fumigated for 
 hours. We have had no exceptionally unfortu- 
 nate results from this process of fumigation, ex- 
 cept the wear and tear of spirit and that every- 
 thing comes out of our trunks and bags sadly 
 wrinkled. Once at Petropolis they broke a bottle 
 in my hand satchel, making a horrid mess of 
 veils, gloves, precious neck ribbons and all my 
 best feminine frippery. 
 
 We had an extra fine dinner last evening and, 
 if we should not go to Lima and so fail to have 
 a ride over that wonderful Lima and Oroya rail- 
 way, I can be consoled, for I went over it all and 
 more in my dreams last night, crossing the lofti- 
 est bridges, whizzing around the most startling 
 curves, mounting the steepest grades I have ever 
 seen ; all my friends ought to have taken this re- 
 markable journey with me. F — , after the same 
 dinner, eloped with me (at this late day!), drag- 
 ging me back and forth up a great mountain- 
 side, with my irate father leaping from crag to 
 crag in hot pursuit. After such adventures and 
 
po ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 flights, it is hard to come back to the morning 
 and the time we arrived off Montevideo, where 
 we were apparently as much at sea as ever, only 
 the water was of a muddy yellow color, indicat- 
 ing that it was fresh. We were in the broad 
 mouth of La Plata River, but couldn't see land 
 on either side. Montevideo means "I see the 
 mountain," but not a mountain was in sight. 
 The River Plate they call it down here (such an 
 ugly name for the Silver River), and they speak 
 of going down to the Plate or coming up from 
 the Plate, meaning any part along La Plata River. 
 After a while we came up to Flores Island, the 
 quarantine station, where they took off the 
 Montevideo passengers, while we steamed on till 
 we were alongside the city. 
 
 Though some distance away, the city looked 
 inviting, and we longed to land, but were not 
 allowed to. We had simply dragged down from 
 Rio de Janeiro, because they will not have pas- 
 sengers from there landed in the Argentine under 
 five days, and it was no use to arrive any sooner. 
 A stiff, cold breeze was blowing and the lighters 
 that came out tossed about frightfully as they 
 
THE ARGENTINE REPUBLIC gi 
 
 unloaded the Montevideo freight, coffee and 
 sugar principally. Late that evening we steamed 
 away, and next morning at daybreak we were 
 ready to enter the canal which leads up to the 
 city of La Plata, the capital of the Argentine 
 Republic. We were up, packed and ready to 
 leave the ship with our hats on at seven o'clock 
 in the morning, and we never landed till four in 
 the afternoon! Only imagine how fidgety it 
 made us to be moored alongside the dock all that 
 time and not be allowed to set foot on it. The 
 quarantine is really a serious affair down here. 
 A steamer of the French line had been near us 
 all the way down, first ahead and then behind, 
 and we were all very much elated when by a 
 clever move our pilot beat her into the canal, 
 where the rule is, first come first served. 
 
 The fine docks along the Ensenada Canal were 
 nearly empty and the immense warehouses had 
 only a handful of merchandise in them, for La 
 Plata, you know, is a deserted city, one of the 
 most gigantic failures in history. Some one con- 
 ceived the idea of building this new city forty 
 miles below Buenos Aires as a new capital of the 
 
92' ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA-, 
 
 Argentine Republic. It was laid out on a grand 
 scale, with boulevards, plazas and a large park, 
 and millions of dollars put into it : the port alone 
 was to cost fifteen millions, but it did not succeed. 
 Its collapse caused the great failure of Baring 
 Brothers, the London bankers, as you probably 
 will recall. The public buildings were on a grand 
 scale, a government palace, a palace of justice, 
 a museum, library, national bank, observatory, 
 and so on, with handsome residences, too. At 
 one time it had a population of forty thousand. 
 At present it is abandoned, desolate, the shops 
 deserted, the houses empty, a burst bubble, a 
 melancholy spectacle. There is a fine opera 
 house there which was never opened, and you can 
 rent a palatial house on a grass-grown street for 
 ten dollars a year. The electric lighting of La 
 Plata was to be a wonder — night turned into 
 day. Only the museum is occupied now, and 
 that with fossils, a noteworthy collection of skel- 
 etons of extinct monsters found everywhere be- 
 neath the surface of the great pampas — the 
 megatherium, the giant armadillo, huge elephants 
 and other creatures horrible for size. 
 
ARGENTINE MILKMAIDS 
 
THE ARGENTINE REPUBLIC 93 
 
 The government requires all its officials to have 
 a residence in La Plata, and in consequence they 
 rent houses down there and never occupy them, 
 but give them into the hands of a care-taker, 
 going back and forth from Buenos Aires them- 
 selves when necessary. 
 
 As we rode up by rail that March day from 
 the Silver River to the city of Good Airs, the 
 country reminded me in many ways of Illinois 
 and other western prairie states. It was level, 
 there were wide stretches of pasture, and we saw 
 many ripened fields of corn; March there cor- 
 responds to our September. At one time this 
 whole pampas, two thousand miles in length and 
 five hundred in width, had no trees upon it ex- 
 cept here and there a low ombu, good only for 
 shade. But now, as in our west, clumps and 
 groves of trees here and there mark the estancias, 
 or farms. Like our prairies, it requires but the 
 turning of the soil to make it ready to till. There 
 were horses and colts innumerable in the pas- 
 tures, but I did not see many cattle. The country 
 everywhere, in contrast to the city, is called "the 
 camp," from the Spanish el Campo, so going 
 
94 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 into the country is always going into the camp. 
 While the herding of cattle and horses is a great 
 industry, the wheat crop is also a large and in- 
 creasing one. 
 
 Buenos Aires is a fine city, the largest Spanish- 
 speaking city in South America, and remarkable 
 in more ways than one, when you think of its 
 being away down here in the southern hemisphere 
 where nearly everything must be brought by sea. 
 The city is laid out in squares, the houses of the 
 usual Spanish stucco type, and most of the streets 
 are quite narrow. The tramways take up so 
 much room in the narrow streets that the drivers 
 toot a tune as they come to each corner to warn 
 other drivers of their approach. In the Avenida 
 Mayo, the best street, the French style of build- 
 ings of uniform height, the rows of trees, the cafes 
 with their sidewalk tables, the handsome shops 
 and those little islands of refuge that save your 
 life when crossing the crowded streets, all strongly 
 suggest the boulevards of Paris. The Florida is 
 the fashionable shopping street, a small Rue de la 
 Paix, and the handsome Argentine women are 
 evidently good patrons of the lovely high-priced 
 
A FARMER OF THE ARGENTINE 
 
THE ARGENTINE REPUBLIC 95 
 
 things in the shops. Nothing seems to be low- 
 priced in this country except the horses. You 
 can buy some sort of a steed for two dollars and 
 a half, and a fairly good riding horse for eight 
 dollars. There are really "beggars on horseback" 
 in the Argentine. Polite, courteous beggars, too. 
 Carriage-riding can also be done in Buenos Aires 
 at delightfully low prices, and the city is full of 
 vehicles of every description. On Sunday every 
 one drives to Palermo, the fashionable park of 
 the city. There are miles and miles of well-paved 
 streets, asphalt and block, of the native iron- 
 wood, that have all been made in the last six or 
 seven years and are still in perfect condition. 
 There is a wonder of a railway station with 
 marble entrance hall, and a beautiful water-works 
 building with outer walls encased in Doulton tile, 
 built, of course, in the boom period. There is 
 an interesting Paraguayan lace in the shops here, 
 netted of filmy thread and very expensive. It is 
 said to be manufactured mostly by the nuns in 
 convents, and I remember seeing an exhibit of it 
 at the Chicago Exposition. 
 
 We have had some interesting callers, there 
 
96 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 being- many North Americans in Buenos Aires; 
 one, Mrs. E — , is at the head of a training school 
 for kindergarten teachers, and was a pioneer in 
 the work down here. The kindergarten schools 
 in all the Argentine are free, which is a step 
 ahead of some parts of our own country. Political 
 intrigues here, however, constantly bring unex- 
 pected difficulties to the schools.- Mrs. E — is a 
 lovely woman, and has been most kind, inviting 
 us to her house, to her kindergarten, and again to 
 a tea, where we met a number of Americans who 
 have interests in this city, two Indiana brothers 
 owning the leading dry goods house. # 
 
 The housekeepers all around may be interested 
 to know that I have very much enjoyed a simple 
 addition to scrambled eggs that they serve here : 
 little cubes of buttered toast stirred right in with 
 the eggs ; you chew up the crisp little lumps with 
 much the same pleasure that you do hickory-nut 
 kernels in a cake ; each one is a find. I must tell 
 you, too, something about the yerba mate, the 
 national drink of South America, for I have al- 
 ready grown very fond of it, and the after effect 
 seems harmless. The yerba is a low-growing 
 
THE ARGENTINE REPUBLIC 97 
 
 bush, and the mate is made from its dried leaves 
 and twigs, a discovery of the Jesuit missionaries, 
 it is said. In serving it there is just one small 
 gourd or silver cup used for a whole family 
 group, successive fillings with hot water only im- 
 proving the flavor, the decoction being sipped 
 slowly through a long tube called a bombilla, 
 having a bulbous end with holes in it. After the 
 boiling water is first poured on the powdered 
 yerba, the cup is passed to the most important 
 person present or to the honored guest ; then after 
 a sip it goes on from one to another, the gourd 
 being filled up with boiling water as required, 
 and sometimes another pinch of fresh yerba 
 added. So it goes on its round again and again, 
 no one ever expecting to get his fill at any one 
 time. The taste is not unpleasant even at first; 
 something between licorice, cocoa, and Garfield 
 tea, and I can't help thinking they get the ma- 
 terial for the latter down here, yerba being very 
 cheap. 
 
 The G — s also called and took me to a wed- 
 ding at the American church, which I quite en- 
 joyed, for my heart still beats a little faster to 
 
98 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 the strains of the wedding march. With them 
 we also heard Bishop McCabe lecture on "The 
 Bright Side of Life in Libby Prison," and, with 
 the large audience present, were quite captivated 
 by the Bishop's witty discourse. F — says that 
 this country needs some good North American 
 banks, but, bless my soul, how I would dread, 
 for any financial gains whatever, to expatriate 
 myself and live in one of these far-away lands. 
 
 The weather here is perfect, just like some of 
 our beautiful October days; the hotel, too, is 
 good, with fine large rooms about a hundred 
 times as big as a ship's cabin. We are thoroughly 
 relishing the delicious Argentine grapes, sweet 
 and juicy as any from California, and now at 
 their best. 
 
 To-morrow we start on the long-talked-of trip 
 across the Andes. We call this departure start- 
 ing for home. Hooray ! From the time we left 
 Lisbon we have been asking how long it took to 
 make the journey across and have received no 
 two answers alike, the length of time varying 
 from two weeks to five days. Now we learn 
 from official source that it can be done in three 
 
THE ARGENTINE REPUBLIC 99 
 
 days. This is the last continent F — has to visit 
 in the interests of his business. This completes 
 the chain, so we are going away with light hearts. 
 I wish I could say the same of our baggage ; just 
 the extra weight to Valparaiso costs thirty gold 
 dollars. It might be worse, however, and you 
 can't expect a company to carry weighty baggage 
 by such a difficult route without paying well for 
 it. Our tickets were a hundred and twenty-five 
 dollars each, in paper worth forty-two cents to 
 the dollar. We have been wondering all along 
 what the cost of this unusual journey would be, 
 and are pleased to find that it is no greater. We 
 have given ourselves into the hands of the Villa 
 Longa Express Company, the Cooks of the Ar- 
 gentine, which sells us a through ticket and sees 
 that we arrive in safety with our baggage in good 
 order. It's a very satisfactory way for us, since 
 we know nothing of the country and its customs. 
 As I said, it only takes three days now from 
 ocean to ocean, by railway, coach and mule-back, 
 and we expect to arrive in Valparaiso on Friday. 
 Good Friday it is, and I suppose the rest of the 
 week will be a holiday. We may run back on the 
 
ioo ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 spur of railway to Santiago for a visit of a* day 
 or two. Our English colonel has gone up the 
 Parana to Asuncion and will not be back till the 
 seventh, so we leave him behind here, expecting 
 him to catch up with us in Chili. We are both 
 tanned brown and expect to be browner before we 
 reach the Pacific coast. Hasta la Vista. 
 
REFUGE HOUSE IN THE ANDES 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 ACROSS THE ANDES 
 
 What a blessing- the cable is ! You must have 
 the news this evening- that we are alive and on 
 the Pacific side of the Andes, while F — , too, has 
 had word from home that business is good. We 
 have had a glorious but nerve-and-muscle-rack- 
 ing experience in crossing the Andes, and right 
 glad we are to have come through without mis- 
 hap and be landed safe among the belligerent 
 Chilians, here at Valparaiso. Our party kept 
 dwindling and dwindling, even strong men feel- 
 ing the need of stopping for rest, so that toward 
 the last there were but seven of us, and I the 
 only woman. We shall stay in Valparaiso for a 
 three days' rest. By that time all weariness will 
 have passed and we'll be gay as larks again, re- 
 membering only the glory and grandeur of the 
 Andes. The weather could not have been better, 
 clear moonlit skies at night and cloudless skies 
 
 IOI 
 
102 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 by day, so we came over with a maximum of en- 
 joyment and a minimum of discomfort. And 
 now we want to tell you of the trip, and you will 
 be obliged to listen; or shall we have to hire lis- 
 teners, as the traveled young man did in Stock- 
 ton's amusing House of Martha? 
 
 The long shed of the Retiro station at Buenos 
 Aires is a busy place from nine thirty until ten 
 the evening that the through Pacific train leaves 
 for Mendoza, at the foot of the mountains. This 
 train runs only three times a week, so the de- 
 parture is more of an event than an ordinary, 
 every-day train. There were a number of pretty- 
 Argentine senoritas down to see their friends off, 
 wearing the gay Frenchy costumes which they 
 like, and I sat watching their bright black eyes 
 and dramatic gestures with a great deal of pleas- 
 ure. Mr. E — handed me a parcel at the station, 
 which, when opened, proved to be a fine large 
 cake. I declare that cake just saved our lives on 
 the long journey across the plains! By ten 
 o'clock the last good-by to our hospitable friends 
 was of necessity said, and we rolled away, soon 
 leaving the city lights behind us. The moon, 
 
JjlapClpaTaelViqfede 
 
 j rice versa 
 
 por la Compariia National de Trasportes 
 
 Administration . BlieilOS Aires , Balcarce Z36 } f .JMJ '*£ &ilA 
 
 REFERENC/AS 
 
 SANTIAGO 
 
 VEL DEL HI A ft 
 
ACROSS THE ANDES 103 
 
 which in the first quarter had hung wrong" side 
 out in this southern sky, has now become full and 
 looks like itself again. It shone beautifully clear, 
 and dimmed the radiance of the fair southern 
 cross, which so grows in one's affection as it be- 
 comes familiar. 
 
 The Pullman sleeping cars of the Argentine 
 are not as luxurious as our so-called palace cars 
 of the States, showing much less effort in the 
 way of upholstery and elaboration. But this was 
 not to be regretted, and they give you a com- 
 fortable bed which answers the purpose very 
 well. The trains make only fair time, not more 
 than twenty miles an hour, I should say. You 
 may look all over the world and you will not find 
 any one who will take his own time like a Span- 
 iard, and that blood is in the Argentino in spite of 
 his enterprise. 
 
 Early next morning I peeped curiously out at 
 the new and strange landscape. Bless me, what 
 a flat country! Flat as Holland; flatter even, if 
 possible. Not an object to break the eye's long 
 sweep to the horizon. Grass and sky, sky and 
 grass, not even a stone as big as an egg for the 
 
io 4 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 small boy's diversion. I rubbed my eyes and felt 
 relieved after a few minutes to see some cattle 
 grazing; far-away dots they were, but they re- 
 lieved a great lonesome stretch of country. A 
 little later we arrived at Furino, a half-grown 
 awkward town with low one-story brick and mud 
 buildings, set unevenly about. Among the sta- 
 tion loungers were a number of dark-skinned 
 rough fellows with curious loose boots that came 
 half-way to the knees, and carrying whips with 
 silver-mounted handles. These are the gauchos 
 or cowboys of South America. All day long we 
 rode through this level country, fertile, it seems, 
 but mostly undeveloped. There was nothing to 
 break the monotony, only the green tussocks of 
 pampas sending up occasionally their plumed, 
 waving spikes, the coarse, low grass growing as 
 far as the eye could see. Occasionally there were 
 groups of cattle and horses, often their bleaching 
 bones, and sometimes a far-away clump of trees 
 would indicate an estancia, as they call a South 
 American ranch or farm, where trees are always 
 planted. 
 
 The building of a railroad could not be more 
 
ACROSS THE ANDES 105 
 
 simple and inexpensive than over this vast tract, 
 where the slight slope to the Andes is so gradual 
 that it is imperceptible, neither river, hill nor 
 valley to stop the track's monotonous stretch or 
 give it a winding course. I wonder if there is 
 another railway in the world as long and straight 
 and level. The villages we passed, with their 
 miserable huts, were most forlorn, though before 
 many years this part of the Argentine is likely to 
 be irrigated and tilled, but the present inhabitants 
 certainly fight against odds for existence. In the 
 evening the landscape grew a little rougher, and 
 we had a glimpse of the scrubby brush and low 
 hills hinting of the mountains to come before the 
 darkness closed down. In the morning we were 
 at Mendoza with just time for a breakfast before 
 we took the narrow-gage train of the Trans- 
 andine Railway, which runs up through the cleft 
 made by the Mendoza River. The little cramped 
 coaches were crowded, and we sent up a prayer 
 that this large-sized company was not all bound 
 for Chili, a prayer which was answered, for a 
 number were starting for the hunting of guan- 
 acos and vicugnas in the mountains, others for 
 
106 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 some baths farther up the railway, and by the 
 time we got to Punta de Vacas, the end of the 
 railway, only about forty were left for the moun- 
 tain journey. Almost all of these had put their 
 fate in the hands of the Villa Longa Company, 
 which sells you the convenient through tickets 
 from ocean to ocean. 
 
 The second morning at Mendoza the whole sky 
 was covered with what seemed like heavy gray 
 clouds, except for a narrow bright rim at the 
 horizon, which reassured us somewhat, and in- 
 deed before we were an hour on our way the 
 rising sun had rolled this low-lying mist away as 
 if by a magic wand, and a sky of clearest, purest 
 blue hung over us. When we had left the fertile 
 valley of Mendoza, with its tall poplars, corn- 
 fields, and vineyards, we ran through desolate 
 sandy wastes along the shallow bed of the stream 
 directly toward the mountains. Finally we came 
 so near it seemed we must run plump into them 
 if we continued our journey; but no, at the last 
 moment we slipped into a gorge, where the gaunt 
 stone precipices rose in dizzy heights above our 
 puffing, straining little train, as it climbed stead- 
 
ACROSS THE ANDES 107 
 
 ily and slowly along the winding course of the 
 river, first to one side and then to the other, cling- 
 ing to the great cliffs and crossing on high 
 bridges the dashing torrent far below. After a 
 time the gorge widened into a narrow valley, 
 where for hours we mounted, mounted, still fol- 
 lowing the narrow stream's course between 
 gaunt, timberless, massive mountains of stone, 
 fascinating and awesome. It seems that this val- 
 ley, with its giant slopes, must be an avenue of 
 the gods. No hint of tiny, puny human life on 
 these gaunt, tremendous slopes. A part of their 
 solemn charm was the variety of coloring, and we 
 never tired of watching the contrasting shapes 
 and shades of these great foothills clear up to the 
 beautiful line of snow, which began to peep in 
 shining glory above their somber heads. Occa- 
 sionally a scant brush clung to the slopes, but for 
 the most part they were bare, naked granite and 
 mineral rock, and more inscrutable and impres- 
 sive for their lack of vegetation and life, their 
 oppressive loneliness. 
 
 Some of the mountains were twisted in lava 
 shapes, burning with the colors of the crucible; 
 
108 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 it seemed they might have been molten only yes- 
 terday. Others had hardened into stone that 
 shone white in the sunlight, while just beyond in 
 the vista would be a mighty peak that glowed 
 dull red. A splendid company they are, the 
 great mountains that lead the way to the Uspal- 
 lata Pass, the forerunners of the eternal snows, 
 which have ever for me a breathless, indescrib- 
 able charm. How sweet, how gloriously pure the 
 air blows over the peaks and snows! What a 
 wonderful experience it is to climb to these great 
 heights, where the snow-crested mountains stand 
 for ever in lonely grandeur and centuries pass as 
 days! How rare and exciting to penetrate the 
 only narrow path across the great Cordilleras of 
 the Andes, which extend in such a marvelous un- 
 broken line from north to south of a continent ! 
 
 At Punta de Vacas, the present end of the 
 railway, there was a beautiful natural bridge, 
 bubbling warm springs called Champagne, and 
 baths in the side of the cliff, grotto-like. The 
 bridge was formed by huge stalactite formations, 
 beneath which the Cuevas River has cut its way 
 for countless centuries. There was a good-sized 
 
ACROSS THE ANDES 109 
 
 hotel here for invalids, and an Englishman, 
 steaming away in one of the baths, said he could 
 not walk when he came, but was now almost well. 
 
 Toward sunset we came to a lower mountain, 
 which blocked the end of the Inca Valley, and 
 there we found mules awaiting us. We went up 
 a zigzag path, looking back to the splendid wide 
 valley where the sun was throwing its last red 
 beams, then over the mountain we looked for- 
 ward into the higher valley of Las Cuevas. 
 
 "I am not going to wash my face till I get to 
 Valparaiso, and you shall not either." This re- 
 markable determination by F — is explained when 
 I tell you that a man familiar with the journey 
 had warned us not to use the snow water of the 
 mountains, and assured us that an unwashed skin 
 stood the snow, glare and wind much better than 
 a washed one. 
 
 Oh, how cold we were when we rose at half- 
 past five at Las Cuevas ! "We will start at six," 
 our driver said. "It is much warmer then than 
 it is later." This was another curious statement 
 for which there was also an explanation. In the 
 early morning about sunrise there is less wind 
 
no ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 than later, and it is by all means advisable to go 
 over the Cumbre when there is no wind. The 
 wind is always bitter cold, and sometimes a veri- 
 table hurricane sweeps through the gap against 
 which the mules can not mount. Mules and men 
 must crouch against the earth until the wind's 
 violence is past. 
 
 The route up to the Cuevas lies over a per- 
 fectly barren lower mountain, which blocks the 
 end of the valley and fills what would otherwise 
 be a lower passage through to the Chilian side. 
 At one time a wagon-road was completed from 
 railway to railway, but the winter storms have 
 destroyed it in many places and necessitated the 
 mule trails again. The trail zigzags up the moun- 
 tain-side, and when our party was set a-winding 
 up the slope we looked like nothing so much as 
 ants crawling up a mound of sand. A super- 
 annuated mule with no harness, a bell around his 
 neck, was the pilot, leading the way, and the 
 other mules following. I felt most unhappy 
 when any of the baggage-laden mules came near 
 me, for they were loaded well out on each side 
 and were only particular about finding a place 
 
ACROSS THE ANDES in 
 
 for themselves, giving no thought to the scraping- 
 off possibilities of their wide loads or to the 
 nerves of travelers. Our irrepressible English 
 friend, Mr. R — , convulsed us by speaking in 
 tones and terms of affectionate praise to his ill- 
 looking mule, calling him "Beauty," "Beauty," 
 "Good Mule," and "Baby," when we were follow- 
 ing along a narrow, precipitous path, then lam- 
 basting him soundly on more level and less dan- 
 gerous stretches. It was not at all a bad journey 
 up, though a little frightful to look back over our 
 steep path. The sun was getting well up, there 
 was no wind, and, laden as we were with woolens 
 and coats and over them heavy ponchos, the con- 
 venient and picturesque outer garment of the 
 country, we did not suffer from the cold. Neither 
 did we suffer from puna, the mountain sickness, 
 fortunately, though we were now at a height of 
 eleven thousand feet above the ocean level. 
 
 They who have a really perilous journey and 
 suffer great hardship are the brave fellows who, 
 in the winter, when the pass is filled with ice and 
 snow, take the mails regularly across the moun- 
 tains. Sometimes a life is lost in the attempt. 
 
ii2 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 There are queer little casuchas, or shelters, built 
 for them along the way, which look like the old- 
 fashioned brick ovens of our grandmothers. 
 These have rounded tops, enormously thick walls, 
 are strongly braced with iron to withstand ava- 
 lanches, and have no light or air except from the 
 low door and a small opening in the top. Life 
 in them, shut up for days, as sometimes happens, 
 must be the reverse of pleasant. 
 
 At the summit of the Cuevas we stopped to 
 have sensations, realizing that we were on the 
 boundary between the Argentine and Chili. 
 When we were talking about the weather in the 
 morning Mr. R — had said, "It is sure to be Chili 
 on the other side." And so it was, Chili and 
 chilly, for we were in the western shadows and 
 the sunbeams had not yet reached us, so we shook 
 with the cold. We stood looking for a little while 
 at the beautiful vista of snow mountains to the 
 right and snow mountains to the left, a grand 
 panorama of a lonely, lifeless region : utter soli- 
 tude and barrenness, the land of the sky. Then 
 we began the descent. Below us lay a valley 
 so deep that one caught one's breath in look- 
 
A CHILENO BEAUTY 
 
ACROSS THE ANDES 113 
 
 ing down into it, all shut in by the moun- 
 tains that glowed in many colors, the hues of a 
 painter's palette spilled on the earth. All day 
 we descended these splendid valleys, down, down, 
 down, thinking we saw the end of one only to 
 have a new one open before us. The sound of 
 mountain torrents was ever in our ears, rushing 
 eagerly and swiftly to the Pacific, as those of the 
 east to the Atlantic. These water-paths had made 
 it possible to pierce the Cordilleras. The scenery 
 on the Chilian side was finer than the Argentine, 
 the mountains being yet more massive and richer 
 in color. As we came winding down to a little 
 group of buildings that lay far, far beneath us, 
 we could see lying under the snow of the moun- 
 tains a clear lake, as green as the sky above was 
 blue. It was the Uspallata Lake, one of the high- 
 est in the world, and surely the loneliest, no bush 
 or bird or tree about it. The region around it 
 must at some age have been torn in mighty con- 
 vulsions, for the purple rocks twist and turn as 
 if they had bubbled in a caldron and been tossed 
 madly out. Down again we went, over a last 
 wicked hill, where the descent was most unpleas- 
 
ii4 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 antly steep, the footing loose and the stones slip- 
 pery, to El Portillo, where we found carriages 
 waiting for us. The wagon-road lay curved be- 
 low us like a great coiled snake, and our three 
 mountain horses whisked us down in a jiffy 
 through the dust to Juncal, where we had our 
 second meal of the day, about two o'clock. It 
 seemed incredible that we had left Las Cuevas 
 only eight hours ago, so much had been crowded 
 into those hours. Again we took carriages and 
 were driven down another valley, which began to 
 show traces of vegetation all the way to Salto de 
 Soldado. The horses tore down the good but 
 dusty road at a gallop, and after a mad ride of 
 an hour we were at the other end of the Trans- 
 andine Railway. We washed our faces once 
 more, fidgeted for two hours, and then took the 
 train for Santa Rosa and Valparaiso. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 ON THE PACIFIC 
 
 This April day, the middle of autumn down 
 here, we are homeward bound, although we are 
 making slow progress. We came into Iquique 
 on the steamship Mapocho yesterday morning, 
 and as I write, at half-past eight this evening, we 
 are still coaling. Car-rr-amba! Car-rr-amba! 
 That is not a wicked oath, as I thought at first, 
 but a quiet, genteel and musical way of saying in 
 Spanish, "Botheration! O dear!" You know 
 how disagreeable a ship is when she is taking on 
 coal, and you can imagine that we are impatient 
 at having to wait forty-eight hours in a dull port. 
 How we need the pacienca of the languorous 
 Chilians! These west Pacific steamships are 
 very slow, for they still combine the freight and 
 passenger service and make many long stops, but 
 they are not uncomfortable, and we must accept 
 the inevitable with philosophy and thus enjoy 
 115 
 
n6 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 our long trip up to San Francisco. Yes, San 
 Francisco. For we have now decided to come 
 home that way. Some Valparaiso acquaintances 
 gave us such an unfavorable report of the line 
 from Panama to New York that we decided to 
 go the long way round. We're sure to enjoy the 
 interesting Central American ports, only at this 
 stage of our journey we are beginning to have 
 enough of sailing and would like a direct route 
 for home. At Callao, the port of Lima, we shall 
 take the Palena, the best boat on the line. If you 
 believe me, I have not had enough of South 
 America, and am glad we are to see old Lima and 
 have a trip over the wonderful Oroya Railway, 
 the highest in the world. I am hungry for all I 
 can get of the splendid Andean scenery, and Fd 
 like nothing better than to take the difficult jour- 
 ney into La Paz, the capital of Bolivia, and to 
 Quito ; but it's always better to leave something 
 for next time, and it would take months more 
 to see all of this west coast. 
 
 Valparaiso, the Vale of Paradise, could only 
 be such to those of extraordinary climbing ability. 
 The City of Stairsteps would be appropriate, 
 
ON THE PACIFIC 117 
 
 for it is built up and down such steep, high 
 cliffs, the little crowded houses barely stick- 
 ing to the walls, with an occasional yard about 
 the size of a door-mat that is kept in place by 
 high walls of masonry. There are tiny zigzag 
 paths called "climbs," which are the principal 
 means of communication, though there are a few 
 lifts from the lower to the upper town. The ever- 
 debatable question among the people is as to 
 which level is safer in times of the frequently re- 
 curring earthquakes. The Spanish, in their love 
 of ease, prefer the lower town and wonder why 
 the Germans and English and other foreigners 
 care to exert themselves by such strenuous climb- 
 ing, while the foreigners will not risk being en- 
 gulfed by a tidal wave. The tidal wave would 
 probably sweep away the lower, while the earth 
 would open up and swallow the upper town in a 
 convulsion. 
 
 We walked on the public promenade in the 
 moonlight of Good Friday night to get a glimpse 
 of the pretty Chilian girls in their gay gowns. 
 The poor women always wear the black, shawl- 
 like mantos in graceful folds about the head and 
 
n8 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 body, and black is always the prevailing color 
 for church service. 
 
 The great Aconcagua is in view at Valparaiso, 
 though many miles away. It lifts its snowy crest 
 twenty-five thousand feet high. The Uspallata 
 Pass, through which we had come, lies between 
 it and another great peak, the Tupungato. 
 
 One of the oldest railroads of South America 
 takes you to Santiago, the capital of Chili, one 
 hundred and fifteen miles from Valparaiso with 
 a gradual rise from the coast level to the height 
 of eighteen hundred feet. 
 
 The city is regularly laid out with wide, well- 
 paved streets, covers a large area, and is said 
 to have an equable and charming climate. Near 
 the upper end of the town is a rocky hill, really a 
 peak eight hundred feet high, called Cerro de 
 Santa Lucia, which has been made into a beauti- 
 ful park with winding drives and interesting paths 
 which lead over many small bridges and under 
 waterfalls, gradually ascending until the summit 
 is reached, where there is a beautiful view of the 
 city with the magnificent snow-capped Andes in 
 the background. They appear so close that you 
 
A HACIENDADO 
 
ON THE PACIFIC 119 
 
 get a good effect of the tremendous height. In 
 this little park is an astronomical observatory and 
 historical museum. A little farther down in the 
 city is the National Library, the richest in South 
 America in books relating to American History. 
 
 The Plaza Independencia is quite imposing, and 
 not like those of other large South American 
 cities. In the center is a handsome marble foun- 
 tain, and on the sides are the municipal buildings, 
 fine shops and the largest cathedral in Chili. 
 
 The capitol is an imposing structure of two 
 stories, with rows of great columns, built of brick 
 with the exterior of yellow stucco. In front is 
 a small park which was formerly the site of the 
 Jesuits' Church which was burned December 
 eighth, 1868. This was caused by a lighted candle 
 setting fire to some of the altar trimmings. The 
 dreadful accident happened early in the evening 
 during a special service for commemorating one 
 of the saints' days when the church was filled 
 mostly with women, and it is said that over two 
 thousand lost their lives ! 
 
 Our journey up from Valparaiso has been al- 
 most in the shadow of the desert coast range, 
 
120 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 beautiful in the rich, warm shades of sand and 
 rock, and especially so at sunset, when all is 
 lighted gloriously. Along almost the whole of 
 this western coast is a desert strip about one hun- 
 dred miles wide; all the rains fall east of the 
 great Andes Range or in its inner valleys. It 
 never rains here. Strangely enough, Iquique, 
 where we are now, is the second port of Chili in 
 size, and it owes its existence entirely to the 
 nitrate fields. The city is a flat, forlorn affair, 
 though thriving, built directly on the desert. 
 They bring fresh water one hundred and fifty 
 miles to it. The whole place has a wild-west 
 appearance and is a great curiosity to me. The 
 harbor is full of big sailing vessels, which will 
 carry the nitrate to all parts of the world. It is 
 used, I believe, for a fertilizer and for making 
 high-grade explosives. This nitrate of soda is 
 found in all colors of the rainbow, but when 
 chemically treated for market it all turns white. 
 The inexhaustible nitrate beds lie back of the 
 coast range in the first low valley, and the Iquique 
 is the center of the industry. 
 
 The Chilians are called the Yankees of South 
 
ON THE PACIFIC 121 
 
 America, and from what we have seen we feel 
 that they are a great deal more energetic than 
 their neighbors. We hear that many English 
 and Americans have made fortunes here. There 
 are silver mines as well, and the old silver in the 
 markets is interesting. In troublous times, the 
 people, instead of putting their silver in the 
 banks, make it into household utensils, plates, 
 cups, bowls, even stirrups. I delighted my heart 
 to-day with a charming little mate cup (pro- 
 nounced mahtay), from which I shall hereafter 
 take my mate in luxurious style. Sometimes its 
 taste reminds me of the licorice root we used to 
 chew on the way to school. I shall take some of 
 the yerba home with me, and I learn that I can 
 get more in the States. 
 
 We had some good sea-food to-day, clams and 
 crabs, at Cabancha, a pretty resort built out over 
 the water, with beautiful views all around. 
 Iquique is pronounced ee-kee-kay. The name 
 seems to have been struck by an upheaving earth- 
 quake. There are some pleasant traveling com- 
 panions for us on board the Mapocho, Mr. Beau- 
 clerc, the British Minister to Peru ; a clever young 
 
122 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 Frenchman, Monsieur Barth, who comes fre- 
 quently to Peru and Chili on business and knows 
 all about the history and customs ; and then there 
 is a charming young couple, a Mr. and Mrs. R — . 
 Mr. R — had an American father and a Chilian 
 mother, and Mrs. R — was a Chilian girl. When 
 we are all together it is funny to hear us pass 
 Spanish, French and English around till all under- 
 stand. 
 
 The fleas are just chewing me up, taking course 
 dinners on me right along and never touching 
 F — . He says all sorts of smooth things about 
 their good taste, but the fact that they revel on 
 me is one that nobody regrets more than I. The 
 same colony seems to have pursued me ever since 
 it first joined me in Brazil. 
 
 We landed at Pisco, going off in a small boat 
 to the handsome long pier. Here was the first 
 vegetation to gladden our eyes after the long 
 journey along the desert coast, and the sight of a 
 few waving palms reminded us that we were re- 
 turning to the tropics. The sun beat down with 
 force, but there was a fresh sea breeze. Indeed, 
 the weather along this coast is irreproachable at 
 
ON THE PACIFIC 123 
 
 this season. This wonderful Pacific is beautifully 
 serene and smiling and the sky a lovely blue, 
 but those who are poor sailors complain of the 
 continual rolling of the ship. 
 
 There is Pisco harbor and Pisco proper, with 
 hardly a choice between them for dust and deso- 
 lation. We wandered along the empty street 
 bordering the harbor, looking for something to 
 buy. Our first purchase was, I regret to say, a 
 jug of the famous Pisco brandy, which is made 
 from grapes and is as clear and colorless as 
 water, with a flavor, too, which makes it a souve- 
 nir worth having. This brandy is put up in 
 native earthen jars, shaped a little like the bowl 
 of a clay pipe, some of them enormous, standing 
 four feet high when upright and stacked to- 
 gether. It is an unwieldy and curious receptacle 
 for liquor, easily broken, no doubt, and so shaped 
 that it will not stand up without a prop. Our 
 small jar, which we hope to carry home intact, 
 will be a real curiosity to our friends who have 
 never seen one. 
 
 The port of Pisco is connected with the city 
 proper by a tramway, whose rolling stock con- 
 
124 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 sists of one car drawn by two little mules, who 
 amble back and forth, steered by a darky driver. 
 The low, scattered houses along the way have no 
 roofs, only bamboo screens to shut out the sun 
 above, the only intruder from that direction, 
 never any rain or mist. The blank adobe walls 
 have occasional doors, and if there is anything 
 of beauty or cheer in the place, it is kept for the 
 patios. Even the verdure, that owes its exist- 
 ence to irrigation, is rather painful to see. It 
 suggests a precarious struggle for life on the part 
 of the growing things, and the desolate dust as 
 dry as a bone intrudes everywhere! And the 
 people, bless me, what a strange collection! A 
 few well-to-do, well-brushed and attractive men 
 among the nondescript people, wearing the finely- 
 woven, broad-brimmed Panama hats, which, by 
 the way, come principally from Guayaquil. 
 "You'll not find any Panama hats in Panama," 
 some one said to me! Isn't it strange how per- 
 sistently an article of commerce will take the 
 name of a place it does not come from? Most 
 India rubber comes from Brazil, most Peruvian 
 bark from Bolivia, most Panama hats from Ecua- 
 
^ 
 
ON THE PACIFIC 125 
 
 dor, and so on through the list. We are becom- 
 ing accustomed to the many-shaded complexions 
 of the South Americans, but it is especially curi- 
 ous to note the traces of Indian blood among the 
 common people of the region, just as we noted 
 the features of the negroes in many lighter- 
 skinned folk on the east coast, but Peru reserves 
 still another surprise. In Pisco a funny little fat 
 youngster about three years old came up to me 
 and stood staring at me with wide-open eyes. 
 I was quite as much of a curiosity to him as he to 
 me, and that turn of affairs always amuses me. 
 This urchin stood gazing at me as if fascinated, 
 and as I looked down at him good-humoredly, my 
 glance taking in his round, brown face and little 
 black eyes, I suddenly gave a start. Where had 
 I seen before such features, such beady, black, 
 slanting eyes? In Chinese babies, as I live, no- 
 where else ! Yes, if you will believe it, my small 
 admirer or my critic, I shall never know which, 
 had a mixture of Chinese and negro blood, an 
 oddity indeed, but which is to be found fre- 
 quently in Peru. Before I left Pisco I saw many, 
 many faces that showed the Chinese strain. 
 
126 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 When we inquired for a hotel we were told 
 that the only ones in Pisco town were Chinese, 
 and we hastily decided to go back to the Ma- 
 pocho for lunch. It seems that the Chinese were 
 brought over from their country twenty or thirty 
 years ago by an envoy, under contract to work 
 in the cane fields, and once in the country they 
 were reduced to a state of abject slavery, being 
 chained together and driven in gangs to their 
 work. After a while their condition became the 
 subject of legislation, the abuses were done away 
 with and they were freed, but they remain to-day 
 the very lowest stratum of society, despised by the 
 Peruvians and living only by the most menial 
 work. In Pisco I saw the dragon-backed roofs 
 and characteristic portal of the Chinese temple, 
 and in Lima, I believe, there is a Chinese quarter 
 like that in San Francisco. 
 
 The ubiquitous old Spanish cathedral with its 
 open bell towers fronting the ubiquitous Plaza 
 was not without interest, but we liked better the 
 shambling market, where we found the old 
 crones of the place hovering over little booths of 
 fruit which looked exceedingly tempting to our 
 
SELLING ALLIGATOR PEARS 
 
ON THE PACIFIC 127 
 
 sharpened appetites. There were bananas, apples, 
 pomegranates, mangoes, alligator pears, fresh 
 dates, oranges, plums, yuccas, melons, grapes, 
 all deliciously fresh and deliciously cheap. We 
 carried away a famous lot of them, and I am 
 enjoying the mangoes and alligator pears to my 
 heart's content. We have seen none of these since 
 we left them behind in this same latitude over in 
 Brazil. The mango is a smooth yellow fruit like 
 a great plum, which has a peculiar aromatic taste 
 that is most tempting. Its detractors say it has a 
 flavor of turpentine, but I think there is no fruit 
 that surpasses it unless it is the acid-sweet mango- 
 stine of the Orient. The skin has a strong flavor 
 and must be carefully removed, when the golden 
 juicy pulp, which clings to a large stone, makes 
 the finest eating of the tropics. Like the water- 
 melon, let me whisper, it will be most thoroughly 
 enjoyed in a bath-tub or behind the barn door. 
 The alligator pear or palta is a green, deadly- 
 looking affair, but when cut apart and the big 
 round stone removed, the brownish flesh of the 
 fruit is very good. It has a decided nut flavor 
 and with a bit of sugar and ice is a real delicacy. 
 
128 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 One of our passengers from Molendo is a baby- 
 vicugna, the cunningest little fellow with yellow 
 furry back, slender legs, long neck and big bright 
 eyes. He raises his slim ears and sniffs the air 
 like a deer. The vicugna is a goat-like animal of 
 this region, prized for his soft skin, the prey of 
 the hunter. At Iquique we saw many robes of 
 yellow vicugna skin and heard that fine chinchilla 
 is also found in the interior. The llama, a big 
 cousin of the vicugna, is a pack animal of the 
 Andes, coming over the mountains in great cara- 
 vans from Bolivia. They bring light loads, how- 
 ever, for this ungainly animal is the only one 
 which I know that determines just how much he 
 will carry and sticks to it in spite of all man's 
 efforts to the contrary. He will submit to a small 
 load, from sixty to one hundred pounds, but if 
 more is put on he lies down and nothing under 
 the sun will induce him to move until his pack is 
 lightened. He defends himself, too, by vicious 
 kicks and, like the vicugna, has a very reprehensi- 
 ble habit of spitting upon those who torment 
 him. 
 
LLAMAS 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE CITY OF PIZARRO 
 
 Our first thought on arriving at Lima was not 
 so much of the picturesque old city of Pizarro 
 itself as of arranging for a ride over the wonder- 
 ful Lima and Oroya Railway, officially known 
 as the Ferrocarril Central del Peru, of which so 
 much has been said and written, probably the 
 most marvelous example of railroad engineering 
 in existence, as well as the most expensive road 
 to build. It is the triumph of an American, Mr. 
 Henry Meiggs, a practical engineer as well as a 
 man of resources, though the thought of its pos- 
 sibility originated in a Peruvian mind. It cost a 
 lot of men and money: seven thousand human 
 lives and forty-three million dollars. It assails 
 the mighty Andes, winds up and up their forbid- 
 ding slopes, undaunted by mountain, gorge, val- 
 ley or precipice, climbs on and up in spite pf 
 nature's most formidable barriers, rising three 
 miles in less than one hundred, and finally pierces 
 129 
 
i 3 o ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 the great divide by tunneling through Mount 
 Meiggs at a height of fifteen thousand six hun- 
 dred and sixty-five feet above the sea level, from 
 which it started. At the present time there are 
 only three passenger trains a week from Lima to 
 Oroya, slow trains, too, and not arranged for 
 tourists' comfort and pleasure, compelling travel- 
 ers to stay over night at a miserable place in the 
 mountains and then to take the long ride down 
 again next day ; so my strenuous husband learned 
 that La Favorita, a curious combination of en- 
 gine and coach, using Peru petroleum for fuel, 
 could be obtained for special parties, and he 
 forthwith engaged it at an extravagant price. 
 And the very next day after our arrival in Lima, 
 having no time to invite friends to accompany 
 us, we started on what seemed a most perilous 
 trip, feeling very much excited and important 
 and pleased to have a special train all to our- 
 selves. Of course La Favorita had an engineer 
 and his assistant. It was an ideal way to go, for 
 we could stop and start at the hours we pleased, 
 lingering as well at the many interesting points 
 along the way. 
 
THE CITY OF PIZARRO 131 
 
 From the time the low plain between Lima 
 and the foothills is crossed it is one continuous, 
 toilsome, wonderful climb toward the heights. 
 One feels the masterful, undaunted mind of the 
 engineer at every step. It is usually called the 
 greatest piece of engineering in the world, though 
 we know wonders have been accomplished else- 
 where and greater things are yet in store. It is 
 certain that nothing more daring has been at- 
 tempted than the Infernillo, the "Little Hell" of 
 the Oroya. Its name gives one an idea of what a 
 ticklish place it is. Here is a point that seems 
 impenetrable. The huge mountains narrow to a 
 gorge, whose straight sides rise sheer for thou- 
 sands of feet above the dashing Rimac. The nar- 
 row opening is tortuous, and you might throw 
 a stone across it. What a doubly awe-inspiring 
 place it must have been before the opposite 
 mountains were pierced by the tunnels, for it is 
 here that the railroad, coming up through a 
 winding tunnel in the solid rock, crosses the 
 bridge that hangs above the tremendous gorge 
 and plunges into another tunnel again immedi- 
 ately. We stopped on the hanging bridge over 
 
132 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 the cavern and had a magnificent view from it up 
 and down the gorge. When you go through the 
 tunnel that pierces Mount Meiggs, the Galera 
 Tunnel, it is called, the middle point is the high- 
 est on the road, fifteen thousand six hundred and 
 sixty-five feet, the waters from its eastern en- 
 trance flowing toward the Atlantic, from its 
 western toward the Pacific Ocean. All about are 
 great glaciers and mountains of snow. These 
 mountains are rich in minerals and where ex- 
 posed are beautifully tinted in many colors. You 
 know the meaning of the Indian word Andes is 
 "mountains of copper." The Rimac River, which 
 empties into the ocean at Callao, is not a large 
 stream; a part of the year it becomes quite dry, 
 but at others it is a mad, foaming torrent, which 
 has cut a deep pathway in the rocks on its long 
 descent from the summit of the Andes. The fol- 
 lowing of this river offered the only route for the 
 railroad. It leaves it of necessity only when its 
 descent is too abrupt. The railway winds and 
 twists, loops over itself, skirts breath-taking 
 precipices, tunnels no end of times, passes over 
 several hanging bridges with the rapid changes 
 
THE CITY OF PIZARRO 133 
 
 of a cinematograph, and see-saws back and forth 
 up the mountain steeps in what is called the V 
 system. 
 
 Mr. Meiggs in his lifetime carried the road only 
 as far as Chicala, I believe, but it now goes down 
 the east slope as far as Oroya. Oroya is no place 
 in particular, just a mining settlement as yet, and 
 the road must be built still farther before through 
 traffic of any sort is opened up and made profita- 
 ble. When the road is extended into the coffee- 
 growing regions and from there to the water- 
 ways of the Amazon, the Atlantic will be con- 
 nected with the Pacific in this part of South 
 America. Now you can only finish the gap on 
 mule-back by narrow, dangerous and precipitous 
 trails, then through the jungle to the navigable 
 tributaries of the Amazon. A gentleman living 
 in Peru told me he had a son over in the Amazon 
 district, beyond the Andes. Their letters are ex- 
 changed back and forth by way of New York, 
 though they are really only a few hundred miles 
 apart. From this side they go to Panama, then to 
 New York, then to Para, on the Amazon, then up 
 the river, taking three months in all ! 
 
134 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 We spent the night at Matucana, going from 
 there on to the summit and making the return 
 journey the next day. At intervals we would 
 give chase to some llamas and my heart would be 
 in my mouth from the great danger to them and 
 to ourselves. At other times we would meet 
 them, laden with ore, coming down from the 
 mountains and using the railway as a convenient 
 though treacherous path. 
 
 The weather was perfect, and we did not suf- 
 fer much from the dreaded sirroche, or mountain 
 sickness, as many do. It is often a serious mat- 
 ter and recovery from it is slow. The altitude 
 causes excruciating pains in the head and back, 
 nausea and sometimes hemorrhage. My pulse 
 was quickened, my breath came short, and my 
 head felt a bit dizzy, but F — '$ pulse was beating 
 as steadily as at sea level. By the time we got 
 down to Casatalca I had a severe headache for 
 about an hour, but it passed away and I arrived 
 at Lima at half-past eight in remarkably good 
 trim after such a long, trying journey. La 
 Favorita is a bit rough, noisy, too, and also 
 smelly of the petroleum. The Indians (Cholos) 
 
LA FAYORITA 
 
THE CITY OF PIZARRO 135 
 
 who are born and grow up in the mountains are 
 the only men who can work at the elevation of 
 the big smelter at Casatalca, twelve thousand 
 feet. The Bockus and Johnston's smelter it is, 
 and Mr. Guyer, the manager, knows some old 
 friends of ours. It pleased F — to see a calen- 
 dar of his firm lying on Mr. Guyer's desk. Think 
 of finding it at that height in the Andes ! 
 
 I must tell you that the latest news from Chili 
 gives an account of a terrible loss of life in the 
 Uspallata Pass, over which we came a short time 
 ago. Fourteen people lost their way in a heavy 
 snow-storm and were frozen to death. It was too 
 late in the season for a safe crossing. 
 
 From first to last our visit in Lima has been 
 charming and marked by several social events of 
 interest. You remember Mr. Beauclerc, the 
 British minister to Peru, our fellow passenger on 
 the Mapocho. It is strange to learn that he was 
 in Hong Kong while we were all there four years 
 ago. Soon after we arrived in Lima we received 
 an invitation to dine with him and his daughter. 
 We were secretly rejoiced to have a taste of food 
 not flavored with onions or garlic. Mrs. Beau- 
 
136 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 clerc is in London with her younger children, 
 and the oldest daughter remains here with her 
 father, a beautiful English girl, five feet eleven 
 inches, a perfect Du Maurier type, and only 
 seventeen years old. She was in school in Brus- 
 sels several years, and though so young, she fills 
 the rather trying place of hostess remarkably 
 well. The dinner was an elegant affair, beauti- 
 fully prepared by a French cook and beautifully 
 served, with no end of wines. Mr. Beauclerc paid 
 me a pretty compliment by having my name on 
 the menu, "Glace Delight." My left-hand neigh- 
 bor at the table was a most agreeable young 
 Frenchman. The other guests were the German 
 minister with an unrememberable name, an in- 
 teresting woman from Washington, D. C., who 
 now resides in Lima, a Mr. V — and Mr. and 
 Mrs. Ahers. Mr. Ahers is a correspondent of the 
 London Times and was married about a year ago 
 to a wealthy and handsome American girl. Mrs. 
 Ahers was dressed in black, which I learned she 
 was wearing for the queen. She wants to sell her 
 place near Lenox, Massachusetts, and go to Eng- 
 land to live ! 
 
THE CITY OF PIZARRO 137 
 
 Mr. Dudley, our American minister, enter- 
 tained us at a very elaborate breakfast with the 
 same guests and a few more added. Mr. Dudley 
 is a fine American, the sort of man who represents 
 us with dignity in a foreign land. Would that 
 we had more representatives like him ! I had the 
 honor of going out with him to the breakfast, so 
 felt "quite proud and haughty," as Blanche R — 
 used to say. The Dudleys have an attractive home 
 with a beautiful garden, but Mrs. Dudley is now 
 in Evanston, Illinois. I notice that many of the 
 wives are away from here, so I judge they do 
 not like South America for a residence, nor 
 would I. I grow to have more and more sympa- 
 thy for the expatriated. 
 
 Oh ! I have so many things to tell you of Lima, 
 the old Spanish city, but I have not the patience 
 to write them all down, besides a book might be 
 written about Lima alone. Its narrow, cobble- 
 stone streets, its old houses with beautiful carved 
 wood balconies, its curious cathedral, showing 
 the bullet marks of a recent revolution; its old 
 adobe-walled university, founded in 1508; its 
 hall of deputies, with its tales of assassination; 
 
138 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 its convents, its missions, its art collections, as 
 well as its fine public gardens, its street lights of 
 the present day and its active business interests ! 
 
 I want to make your eyes stand out with an 
 account of what we have seen in the pawnshops 
 of Lima. Pawnshop visiting is quite the fashion 
 here, for since Peru has lost her rich nitrate and 
 guano beds, which made many of the Peruvians 
 so fabulously rich, many rare and fine things 
 have found their way into the pawnshops. I'll 
 tell you how I accidentally stumbled on to one in 
 the shadow cf the archbishop's palace in Lima. 
 'Twas a dingy little hole in the wall. What daz- 
 zling strings of diamonds the little faded pro- 
 prietor swung before my eyes ! You shall hear of 
 a purchase F — and I made, but 'twas not a dia- 
 mond necklace. Such a quantity of old silver in 
 the market, too. They let it stay dingy and it 
 looks like tin, but it is really pure silver and sells 
 by weight. I bought some little religious placques 
 in silver that are characteristic of the place. 
 
 I can not write of everything, but I shall have 
 to make a fresh chapter of my first, last and only 
 sight of a bull-fight. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 a woman's impressions of a bull-fight 
 
 There is not a more interesting city in South 
 America than Lima — Leema, as it is always called, 
 where the soft Spanish vowels are known — 
 Pizarro's City of the Kings, with its strange 
 rainless climate, its flimsy yet substantial-looking 
 houses, its quaint balconied streets, its black-eyed 
 Limenas, their pretty heads wound in the sober 
 manto and usually going devoutly on their way 
 to the endless churches ; its stirring history, that 
 runs back to the Spanish conquerors, and weaves 
 in the thread of the ever-romantic story of the 
 lordly Incas. History starts from the paving- 
 stones, as it does in Paris. 
 
 Lima, lying in the shadow of the great Cor- 
 dilleras of the Andes, with the breath of the 
 twentieth century blowing but faintly upon it as 
 yet, takes one back a hundred years or two from 
 United States standards. Parenthetically, — I 
 139 
 
140 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 wonder why we, of the United States, have come 
 to call ourselves Americans and the American 
 People, as though it designated our nationality, 
 when there are no end of other Americans of 
 many colors and tongues almost from pole to 
 pole. When we travel abroad we have to be more 
 explicit, and it is amusing to notice, though it's 
 perhaps no more than natural, that south of the 
 equator they give us a Roland for our Oliver 
 and we occupy second or third place as Ameri- 
 cans! 
 
 Lima is picturesque and charming. When one 
 has made the round of the churches, and the lat- 
 er-day public buildings, of which the citizens are 
 justly proud, visited the Senate and thrilled over 
 the dark horrors of the Inquisition that once took 
 place in that historic building, gazed admiringly 
 at the statue of Bolivar the Liberator, in the 
 plaza (Boleever he's called!), dulled a trifle 
 one's charmed interest in the fascinating silver 
 and old jewelry in the shops and pawnshops, 
 there remains the bull-fight to be seen. Bull- 
 fights, as every one knows, are often heard of 
 but seldom seen, and have much of the attraction 
 
ON THE OROYA RAILWAY 
 
IMPRESSIONS OF A BULL-FIGHT 141 
 
 that hovers around harems, and joss houses, and 
 moats and dung-eons, and other things distinctly 
 un-United States. But bull-fights are every-day 
 matters, Sunday matters rather, in Peru, and 
 such is the elasticity of conscience, that, far away 
 from home, one forgets for the moment that one 
 has been properly brought up, and wishes to see 
 one! 
 
 Bull-fighting is the national sport in Peru, and 
 Peru and Bolivia are the only countries in South 
 America, I believe, where it is allowed; I speak 
 of the fights to the death, where the bull is killed. 
 "It could not be stopped here," I heard an Eng- 
 lishman say, "it would cause a revolution imme- 
 diately, " so it must have a strong hold among 
 the people. The bull-fighting of Peru has suf- 
 ficiently gory features, I am sure, but it is much 
 less cruel and bloody than the fights in Spain, 
 where the men fight the bull from horses, misera- 
 ble worn-out old hacks which they purposely al- 
 low the bull to gore, making no effort to save 
 them. I doubt if I could witness such a fight as 
 that. In Peru there is a bit of exciting play with 
 the bull by the horsemen at first, but they are 
 
142 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 soon withdrawn and the horses are never injured. 
 The bull-ring in Lima, inaugurated by the Span- 
 iards in 1768, is one of the largest in the world, 
 being about two hundred and fifty feet in diame- 
 ter, and can accommodate, when crowded, ten 
 thousand people. The large size of the ring is 
 really a disadvantage to the fighters. It tires 
 them out to make such long runs and they dislike 
 it. Some of the men are Spanish, some natives, 
 and bull-fighting is even in favor among ama- 
 teurs in Lima. There is a young Englishman 
 who fights a bull admirably as an amateur sport. 
 This particular corrida that we saw was given 
 as a benefit for the French fire company and was 
 pronounced the best of the season, the bulls being 
 good fighters and the attendance large. The fire 
 companies in South America are volunteers from 
 among a very good class of men, and these 
 French bomberos, who were scattered about in 
 gay uniforms, lent a very pretty touch to what is 
 really a picturesque scene. The advertisements 
 had announced that the fight would begin at half- 
 past three o'clock on Sunday afternoon, and that 
 six bulls would be killed. Some of the shop win- 
 
IMPRESSIONS OF A BULL-FIGHT 143 
 
 dows had displayed photographs of the bulls 
 browsing quietly in an open field all unconscious 
 of their doom. A gaily-painted booth in the 
 Plaza de Armas also called the attention of the 
 public to the event and solicited attendance. The 
 bulls were curiously named — Smoke, Fire, Ter- 
 ror, Alarm, Water and Tranquillity — why Tran- 
 quillity I can not imagine. 
 
 We had accepted the invitation of a kind Eng- 
 lish friend, Mr. E — , to occupy a box with him, 
 and our American minister, Mr. Dudley, was to 
 make a congenial fourth. So on Sunday morning 
 I opened my eyes with that agreeable feeling that 
 the day was to be an eventful one. I was to see a 
 bull-fight! Conflicting little sensations ran up 
 and down my spine, for I dreaded to go quite as 
 much as I wanted to go, while gruesome curiosity 
 was drawing me as a spider does a fly. "Why 
 did I want to see it at all?" I give you that 
 woman's reason — Because ! 
 
 The day of a bull-fight is a good deal like cir- 
 cus day at home, the same pleasant titillation of 
 excitement in the air, the same small boy who 
 wants to go and hasn't the price of a ticket. At 
 
144 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 three o'clock we drove away from our hotel, 
 crossed the Plaza de Armas and made our way 
 toward the old bridge known as the Stone 
 Bridge, which crosses the Rimac. This venerable 
 bridge of Chorrillos granite, which has the solid 
 handsome lines of an old Roman structure, was 
 built by order of one of the Spanish viceroys in 
 1608, and stands to-day, in spite of the attacks 
 of earthquake and flood, offering the same quaint 
 arched path to the wayfarer that it did a hundred 
 or two hundred years ago. We found many 
 other carriages bound in our direction and, driv- 
 ing past the Alameda de Acho, a long green ave- 
 nue of as fine trees as you will find in Lima, we 
 arrived at the bull-ring. 
 
 The open place in front of the new Balta 
 bridge was rilled with people. There were many 
 booths about where they were selling red chicha, 
 instead of lemonade. The crowd was moving 
 toward the ring, which stands in a space that has 
 been closed about with buildings and is reached 
 through several entrances from the neighboring 
 streets. The ring itself is built in amphitheater 
 f ashion, the entrance to the seats and boxes being 
 
IMPRESSIONS OF A BULL-FIGHT 145 
 
 through little doors on the outside. Those who 
 occupy places above climb to an outside circular 
 balcony, from which the doors lead in. On the 
 ground floor there is a circle of curious low 
 boxes which give the inmates barely room to 
 stand. The only windows are long, narrow, hori- 
 zontal slits, through which one peers directly into 
 the ring. The contest must look doubly exciting 
 from this place on the ground, where the bull and 
 the fighters are often within touching distance of 
 the spectator. I was told that the devotees of the 
 sport go there. We mounted to the more fashion- 
 able upper tier of boxes, little compartments up 
 under the roof, where there was a circle of well- 
 dressed folk in French costume. 
 
 Look about with me ! In the large circle below 
 us are the people, a great crowd, largely men, 
 with the Panama hat much in evidence, and occa- 
 sionally the head of a woman, swathed in the 
 black manto of the country, a somber nun-like 
 head-dress, with here and there the uniform of a 
 bombero. Over above the band-stand, where the 
 band is playing a lively air, with a click of casta- 
 nets that gets into one's toes, is the president's 
 
146 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 box, draped in red and gold. Romana is there 
 with some of his cabinet and watches the fight 
 like a man of wood, showing no excitement if he 
 feels it. A bull-fight perhaps seems a tame affair 
 to a South American president. The late-comers 
 are taking their seats. The big crowd is ex- 
 pectant, waiting, with its eye on the box of the 
 judges opposite. 
 
 I studied the bull-ring proper curiously. It is a 
 big sandy circle, open to the sky. There are the 
 wide wooden doors through which the bull is to 
 come. Directly facing it are the doors through 
 which the horsemen are to appear. At intervals 
 around the ring are low wooden screens, painted 
 in harlequin colors, with narrow openings at the 
 sides and in the middle, which are meant to save 
 the fighter when pursued by the bull. A high step 
 also runs around the ring on which he may climb, 
 at a pinch, to escape the bull's wicked horns. In 
 the center is a small square of stout poles, set a 
 little apart, into which he can also slip, leaving 
 the baffled animal outside. This may sound like 
 considerable protection, but it is really very 
 small, for the ring is large, especially so, I am 
 
IMPRESSIONS OF A BULL-FIGHT 147 
 
 quite sure, when an enraged bull is very close 
 behind. 
 
 Suddenly there is a signal. The band begins 
 a marching step as the fighters appear — the 
 cuadrilla, as the company is called. They form a 
 square and march around the ring, while the 
 crowd waves and shouts applause. The cuadrilla 
 makes a brave array. First, the leader, Manuel 
 Corzo, known as Corcito, "the little Corzo" ; then 
 the espadas, called also the matadores, the 
 swordsmen who give the skilful death-blow; 
 then the handerilleros and capeadores, who plant 
 the banderillas and wave their gay cloaks to en- 
 rage the foe; then the capeadores de a caballo, 
 the mounted fighters who receive the animal as 
 he dashes into the ring ; and, following them, the 
 gaily-caparisoned four-in-hand, whose duty it is 
 to drag away the fallen, vanquished bull. The 
 espadas and handerilleros wear the Spanish cos- 
 tume, that has always a touch of Andalusian ro- 
 mance: a velvet jacket and knee breeches, richly 
 embroidered in tinsel, colored stockings and flat 
 black slippers. On their heads they wear an odd 
 black cap with a Spanish pompon on either side. 
 
148 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 Their hair is drawn into a comical knot behind, 
 from which a flat black ribbon dangles. The 
 horsemen must be a Peruvian evolution, for they 
 wear broad-brimmed Panama hats, and their 
 shapely little horses have the handsome braided 
 and silver-mounted bridles of the country. The 
 saddles have the big- carved wooden stirrups as 
 well, while down the horse's back runs a dia- 
 mond-shaped flap of carved leather. 
 
 There is a murmur of recognition among the 
 crowd. "Corcito! El Rubio! Fosforito!" we 
 hear them say, each fighter having a pet name by 
 which he is known. "Ah, Chaleco! Oye, Chal- 
 eco !" and a burst of applause, for it is Chaleco, 
 the lithe, the daring, who seems to be the popular 
 favorite. With what easy grace he steps, ac- 
 knowledging the compliments by showing his 
 white teeth in a smile. Now the procession has 
 made the round and withdraws to one side. 
 There is a scramble among the hangers-on in the 
 ring for the honor of taking care of the bright 
 capes which some of the fighters discard, while 
 Chaleco runs over and stops under the presi- 
 dent's box. What is he going to do? To dedi- 
 
IMPRESSIONS OF A BULL-FIGHT 149 
 
 cate the first bull to the president, if you please, 
 as a mark of especial esteem. I was too far away 
 to catch Chaleco's words, but enjoyed the rare 
 grace of his gestures as, cap in hand, he made his 
 little speech. Then he tossed his cap high into the 
 president's box and ran back quickly to take his 
 place. 
 
 A buglei)lew. A single capeador cantered over 
 toward the wooden doors toward which we had 
 been furtively glancing, from time to time. He 
 is to go through the little ceremony of "receiving 
 the bull," as it is called, a position which none of 
 us envies him. His horse plunges about nervous- 
 ly. He evidently knows just what is going to 
 happen, but whether he is enjoying himself or is 
 inclined to flunk, I can not tell. The doors swing 
 back and out rushes the bull. His temper is evi- 
 dently already upset. He makes straight for the 
 horseman, who deftly turns aside, flaunting his 
 red cape before the bull's eyes. He turns angrily 
 and makes for him again, and again, and again, 
 the rider escaping his charges each time by what 
 seems a perilously narrow margin of space. It is 
 a daring, pretty feat. The bull is a powerful 
 
150 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 black and white animal and his horns look omin- 
 ously sharp. 
 
 The bugle blows and the horse canters away. 
 The second act of the tragedy is about to begin. 
 The bull paws angrily, looking from one to an- 
 other of his tormentors. The little company of 
 fighters edge toward him, always on the alert to 
 save one another, to protect the man who dares 
 the bull's wrath. As they wave their cloaks he 
 runs first at one and then at another, but they 
 spring aside as he charges heavily toward them, 
 or run for safety to the screens. El Rubio runs 
 forward. In each hand he has a wooden stick, 
 about a yard in length, gaudily decorated in col- 
 ored tissue paper. In the end is a cruel barb. The 
 bull charges toward him. You hold your breath. 
 It seems he must get him. "Oh, he has him !" — 
 but no, at the last moment El Rubio leans for- 
 ward; with a quick thrust he plants a banderilla 
 on either side of the bull's fat neck near the shoul- 
 ders, and like a flash springs aside, not an instant 
 too soon to save his skin. 
 
 It is well done ! The banderillas both stick and 
 there is a flash of applause. The bull raises his 
 
IMPRESSIONS OF A BULL-FIGHT 151 
 
 head and strides on toward another foe, who is 
 waving the hated red cloak. The banderillas flap 
 against his neck and little streams of blood flow 
 from the wounds, but blood is what the people 
 want. Again a less skilful hand plants the 
 banderilla in his neck. Only one sticks this time. 
 A third time the effort is made. Now he is bar- 
 barously decorated for the slaughter. He drags 
 the cloak of the last banderillero half-way across 
 the ring on the tip of his horn, so close he was to 
 impaling the man himself. 
 
 Now comes Chaleco with his easy, command- 
 ing stride. Every muscle of his shapely body is 
 on the alert, no doubt, but he shows perfect com- 
 posure, a superb daring. The bull glares at him 
 for a moment, as if astonished, then he darts for 
 him. "Oh, Chaleco! Jump! Jump! Save your- 
 self!" you feel like screaming. But no, Chaleco 
 has the agility and the nerve to spring, at the last 
 possible moment, coolly aside from the maddened 
 animal. It was just far enough to escape him. 
 The dust flies up in a cloud, but you see that he is 
 safe. There he stands, barely a step away from 
 where he was before, calm, erect, smiling at the 
 
152 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 cheers, while the stupid bull has gone on, divert- 
 ed by another enemy. If you are not made of ice 
 your heart beats fast. Truly it was well done. 
 "Bravo, Chaleco!" and you find yourself clap- 
 ping your hands! The bull, the ethics of the 
 sport are forgotten. It is the skill, the daring, 
 that attracts. There are those who say that bull- 
 fighting is not dangerous. From the outside of 
 the ring they pronounce it child's play, but I ven- 
 ture to say they would not accept an invitation to 
 change places with Chaleco. These attacks and 
 escapes are sometimes too thrilling for the novice 
 to watch. Several times I turned my head, find- 
 ing the excitement too great a strain. Once 
 Chaleco stood for some seconds facing the angry 
 bull, his feet set together, not four feet away 
 from him. Another time he turned his back on 
 the furious but puzzled animal and walked coolly 
 away, while a hushed "Ah!" of admiration and 
 appreciation came from the crowd. 
 
 The bugle blows again. This is the last act. 
 The bull is doomed. The matador, the killer, 
 takes the stage. The little company circle around 
 him, the gay colors of their costumes making a 
 
IMPRESSIONS OF A BULL-FIGHT 153 
 
 bright touch in an intense picture. They edge al- 
 ways toward the bull as he goes about the ring, 
 scattering if he attacks them, but coming cau- 
 tiously back again. The matador has thrown 
 away cap and cloak. He looks repressed, intent. 
 The noises in the crowd die away one by one. 
 In his left hand he holds a red cloth mounted on 
 a stick; in his right, a sword. Several times he 
 angers the bull with the flag so that he charges, 
 but the matador springs away. He does not 
 strike. "Kill him, Corcito!" the crowd cries, 
 "Good boy ! Kill him !" The bull charges again. 
 Are you anxious to know just how he struck 
 him? Forgive me that; that I can not tell you. 
 I did not once find the courage to look when the 
 matador made the thrust. When I looked again 
 the bull was running about the ring with the 
 sword buried deep in his back, between the 
 shoulders. The hilt and a part of the blade stood 
 out and dark crimson blood was pouring down 
 his glossy neck. It was not a death blow, alas! 
 They waited a moment to see if the blow were 
 vital, but it was not. Three times they had to 
 give this first bull the sword-thrust before he 
 
154 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 died, and he fought them to the last. I breathed 
 a sigh of relief when I knew that he was gone. 
 As soon as he dropped a man ran out and gave 
 him the coup de grace, though I suppose he was 
 already beyond suffering, severing the spinal 
 cord at his neck with a small instrument. He lay 
 there a moment, a limp, pathetic heap, while 
 some boys quickly tore out the banderillas, as 
 souvenirs, I suppose; then the Arrastradores de 
 Cab alio ( !), (who get their names on the pro- 
 gram at the bottom) came in with a grand flour- 
 ish to take him away. The bull's head was lashed 
 to a low two-wheeled drag, and a hook being 
 fastened to this, the four horses hauled him out 
 at a gallop, making a great sweep around the cir- 
 cle at full speed. The first of the six bulls was 
 done for, and we had seen a bull-fight ! 
 
 The mat ad ores ran over to the president's box 
 and bowed low, while a shower of coins fell in 
 the ring around them. Then they all marched 
 around, the crowd cheering lustily, many throw- 
 ing their hats ahead of the procession, the men 
 picking them up and tossing them back again. 
 This pulse of the crowd is one of the stirring 
 
IMPRESSIONS OF A BULL-FIGHT 155 
 
 features of the fight. They follow it so closely, 
 are so impassioned. My heart was dancing with 
 mingled feelings, interest and repugnance each 
 having a place, for bull-fighting is a sport like 
 another where skill and daring call for admira- 
 tion, and is undeniably exciting. The bull repre- 
 sents a certain dangerous force to be overcome. 
 His rights, more's the pity, are not considered. 
 I appreciated in a measure the fascination, for 
 while I was there the cruelty of the struggle did 
 not affect me as it did afterward, when all the 
 gruesome details stood out clearly, and the horrid 
 wounds in the poor creature's throat and the 
 flowing blood haunted me. 
 
 But like other things of which we hear hair- 
 raising tales, bull-fighting turned out to be rather 
 less dreadful than I expected. For one thing, the 
 bull is in the ring much less time than I thought. 
 The third bull, El Fuego, who was a quick, dan- 
 gerous fighter, was killed six minutes and a half 
 after he entered the ring. It seemed incredible 
 when we heard the time — we had lived an hour ! 
 — but Mr. Dudley assured us that he kept careful 
 account. The bull ran in at 4.08, at 4.10 the 
 
156 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 horsemen retired, from 4.10 to 4.14 the capea- 
 dores played the bull, and at 4.14 the matador 
 killed him. It was a strange and awesome thing 
 to see the great creature die. The first blow went 
 straight to the heart, only the little red hilt of 
 the sword showing against his hide. He stood, 
 breathing heavily, then took two or three stag- 
 gering steps, blood gushing from his mouth, and 
 fell down dead. If these bulls suffer keenly they 
 do not show it. They do not bellow or writhe, so 
 let us hope, for their sake, that their taking-off is 
 as merciful as the one they would meet at the 
 hands of the butcher. They fall into his hands, 
 anyway, let me whisper, as soon as they leave the 
 bull-ring. Bulls are heavy, unsympathetic, stu- 
 pid creatures. Better kill a bull than a deer. The 
 effect most to be deplored is that on the spec- 
 tators, to whom this sight of blood and death can 
 be nothing but debasing. 
 
 We sat in the bull-ring a scant hour and a half, 
 and in that time six bulls were killed. One bull 
 was cowardly. He would not attack either horses 
 or men, thereby unwittingly prolonging his life. 
 iC Al corral" they shouted, meaning to take him 
 
ENTRANCE TO LEGISLATIVE HALL, LIMA 
 
IMPRESSIONS OF A BULL-FIGHT 157 
 
 back to the pen. The method of getting him out 
 of the way was amusing. The doors opened and 
 three steers came galloping in, followed by some 
 cowboys on horseback. Sir Taurus lifted his 
 head and sniffed the air. In these strange and 
 bewildering surroundings he recognized some 
 old friends and ran over to them. Then the 
 cowboys rounded them all up and drove them out 
 in a bunch. 
 
 The appetizing lunch that was served to us in 
 one of the intervals had a distinct local flavor. 
 Papas con aji and chicha was the bill of fare. 
 The papas amarillas, yellow potatoes, that one 
 finds in Peru are as good-flavored as they are 
 golden, and covered with thin slices of peppers, 
 lettuce, and, of course, onions, make a very pret- 
 ty dish. I am sure a South American would miss 
 onions from his food as we would miss salt. 
 That onion savor pursues pne from Panama to 
 Cape Horn. San Lorenzo in Peru, it is said, is 
 the home of the potato. Chicha, the national 
 drink, is a pleasant beverage, red and sweetish, 
 which is prepared from red corn. Just before the 
 end of the last fight there was a great scuffling 
 
158 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 and scampering over at one side. They were let- 
 ting a swarm of small boys in to see the finish. 
 Evidently these young folk are being brought up 
 to enjoy the national game. The bull-ring is in 
 the hands of the Beneficent Society ! 
 
 When we returned to the Francia e Inglaterra 
 there was a small boy in the upper hall. In one 
 hand he had a little cane, in the other a red hand- 
 kerchief. "Toro!" he shouted, waving his hand- 
 kerchief and thrusting with his cane. 
 
 "Oh yes," said Madame Torre, our plump and 
 smiling little French landlady. "He likes to play 
 the torero." 
 
 This is the bull-fight as I saw it, a fine Sunday 
 afternoon in April, nineteen hundred and one. 
 How clean-cut first impressions are! How much 
 familiarity does to change them ! Of pin-pricks of 
 conscience I will not speak. The spectacle rolls 
 now before my eyes, half as a dream, a bit of 
 thrilling decadent sport, a picture not soon for- 
 gotten. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 IN THE LAND OF PANAMA HATS 
 
 We are in the land of Panama hats — Payta to- 
 day, Guayaquil to-morrow. The sky is cloudless, 
 the sea a beautiful green, while the desert's sandy 
 shore gleams a soft yellow-pink through a light 
 haze. The big, green swells rock the Palena like 
 a cradle. There is a chatter of Spanish, Italian 
 and English outside my cabin and the micro- 
 scopic bark of a microscopic doglet, who is on 
 his small way to Genoa. We have several canary 
 birds, too, as first-class passengers. The weather 
 is beautifully cool. Yesterday the thermometer 
 went down to sixty-five degrees. Think of it, 
 the thermometer at sixty-five degrees in the re- 
 gion of seven degrees south latitude! At seven 
 degrees, north, we shall be sizzling. The cool 
 breezes of this part of the Pacific and the re- 
 markably pleasant climate of the coast are due 
 to the Humboldt Antarctic Current, which brings 
 iS9 
 
i6o ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 a refreshing breath to this tropical land all the 
 way from the far-away southern ice fields. The 
 evening we left Callao the breeze was so fresh 
 that the passengers were wearing their overcoats 
 and jackets. The sun set gloriously that evening, 
 dropping like a great red balloon into the sea, 
 and sending rosy beams over the high chain of 
 the Andes that lies just back of the coast. From 
 the deck of the Palena we could look away back 
 over the green valley of the Rimac and see the 
 spires of the many churches in Lima. I wish 
 that I might hear again the deep ring of its great 
 Cathedral bell. 
 
 Next morning we awoke to find ourselves 
 steaming past just such a barren coast as had 
 greeted our eyes all the long journey up from 
 Valparaiso. The minor ports on this west coast 
 are as like as two peas, with scarcely a feature to 
 distinguish them. The whole coast strip of Peru 
 is a desert, except where the mountain streams 
 from the Andes have cut their way down to the 
 sea and so permit irrigation along their banks. 
 The coast towns give no hint of the fertile, 
 verdant valleys which lie beyond and between 
 
IN THE LAND OF PANAMA HATS 161 
 
 the ranges of the mountains. In these lowlands 
 a great deal of sugar-cane is raised, cocoa and 
 sugar being Peru's chief exports. 
 
 This afternoon, just after leaving Payta, we 
 passed the most western point of South Amer- 
 ica, and with a glass could see the many derricks 
 that dot the oil fields of Payta. The venders of 
 Panama hats came aboard, and, though we 
 dickered with a blear-eyed old Indian for a while, 
 we decided to wait for the greater choice that we 
 can have in Guayaquil. A number of Guayaquil 
 passengers came aboard who had been down to 
 Payta taking the sea-baths. 
 
 The early morning finds us in Guayaquil. 
 While we slept the Palena has threaded her way 
 thirty-five miles up the broad Guayas River from 
 the coast, and now lies opposite the city, the chief 
 port of this land of Ecuador, in English, the 
 Equator. We rubbed our eyes in astonishment 
 when we first stepped out on deck. What an 
 amazing transformation ! Yesterday evening we 
 left a barren shore, cool breezes, clear skies ; this 
 morning the sky is full of watery clouds, the air 
 is oppressively warm and everything is sticky 
 
162 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 and damp. The banks of the broad river are 
 beautifully green and luxuriant and clumps of 
 tall cocoanut palms fringe the sky. The Guayas 
 River, the largest on the Pacific side of the con- 
 tinent, into which many of the small tributaries 
 of the Andes flow, is a mile wide at Guayaquil, 
 making a harbor for the largest of the Pacific 
 steamships. The water is muddy and thick, but 
 from the river Guayaquil looks like a clean, well- 
 built city of marble and stone, stretching along 
 one busy street and rising to the wooded hill in 
 the rear. 
 
 It looks inviting, but when you go ashore the 
 disillusionment comes. The artistic stone and 
 marble palaces are but ornamented stucco build- 
 ings, framed of timbers and joined and fastened 
 in a way to make them yielding, then lathed 
 with bamboo and coated with cement. In the 
 earthquakes, which are so frequent here, they 
 sway and bend without collapsing. The rows 
 of arcades and balconies along the street El Male- 
 con look rather like Shanghai. The Guayas 
 rushes by in a muddy flood, bamboo poles and 
 logs floating on its surface — quantities of little 
 
IN THE LAND OF PANAMA HATS 163 
 
 green islands that have been washed away from 
 the verdant shores. 
 
 Before noon rain was falling, the first that we 
 have seen since we left Buenos Aires, many 
 weeks ago. The falling drops look most refresh- 
 ing, yet we are not content. It is so humid and 
 hot and oppressive that we ungratefully wish 
 ourselves almost anywhere else. Distance cer- 
 tainly lends enchantment to the tropics. They are 
 so beautiful to look at, so lovely to dream about 
 and so uncomfortable to live in. What a blessing 
 the changing seasons are to us! This monoto- 
 nous, enervating tropical heat is fatal to energy 
 and buoyant health. It is appropriate that the 
 most noticeable building in Guayaquil is a hos- 
 pital. Fever claims hundreds of victims every 
 year. There are no sewers, malarial smells are 
 everywhere and the death rate is appalling. 
 
 The old market house and the shops on either 
 side of the principal streets were crowded with 
 merchandise of all sorts, a confusion of wares be- 
 ing hung up in every available nook, quite like 
 the bazaars of the Orient, in their crowded stuffi- 
 ness. The sidewalk venders added to the general 
 
164 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 muddle of untidiness and dirt. The crowds of 
 people, as usual on this continent, were of all 
 shades of color, from black to white. 
 
 Running the length of El Malecon was a small 
 railway for hauling freight to and from the docks 
 and warehouses. Business seemed to be flour- 
 ishing. At the postoffice we examined a list of 
 the mails from Guayaquil to Quito with interest. 
 It takes five days by coach and mule to go from 
 this principal port of Ecuador to the capital, 
 though the distance is only two hundred miles. 
 Quito lies almost directly on the equator in the 
 great tableland between two giant ranges of the 
 Andes. A cluster of snowy peaks surrounds it 
 and the scenery is said to be as fine as any found 
 in the Andes. 
 
 No, according to a well-established precedent, 
 Panama hats do not come from Panama. They 
 are as thick along the northwestern coast of 
 South America as fezzes are in Turkey, but they 
 are all made in Ecuador and Peru, principally 
 at Payta, and the best market for them is Guaya- 
 quil. We had carried Panama hats on the list 
 ever since we left New York, but we found our- 
 
THE PALACE, LIMA 
 
IN THE LAND OF PANAMA HATS 165 
 
 selves as babes in the wood when it came to 
 buying them. They run in price all the way from 
 twenty cents to one hundred and fifty dollars. 
 The poorest of them are neatly woven and the 
 fine ones are really wonderful. It seems incred- 
 ible that it could cost one hundred and fifty dol- 
 lars to weave any straw hat, but Doctor Lopez, 
 a Guayaquil acquaintance, paid that for one 
 which he sent to the Paris Exposition. At his 
 office we saw one which cost one hundred dollars, 
 truly a marvel of the weaver's art. Even under 
 the microscope, the texture seemed to have the 
 mathematical perfection of machine-turning on a 
 watch. Such a hat is made only by the most ex- 
 pert of workmen, and he can work at it only in 
 the early morning and in the evening for a few 
 hours. In the middle of the day the air is too 
 dry to turn the straw so perfectly. You must 
 have patience if you want to possess a treasure 
 like this, for it takes months to fill an order. The 
 straw is obtained from a long grass of the coun- 
 try, and the hat is plaited from the center of the 
 crown outward, over a wooden form. What a 
 world of patience it must take to turn and turn 
 
166 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 the strands so carefully while the hat slowly 
 grows. 
 
 The general effect of the hats is much the same, 
 with their low crowns and rolling brims, but a 
 comparison quickly shows the difference of the 
 quality and grain, and one quickly grows to be 
 appreciative. The dealers have them piled in 
 great stacks, doubled and flattened out so they 
 fit inside one another. With a deft pinch and a 
 roll, they open them out in quick succession before 
 your eyes, and it is safe to say that by the time 
 you have seen a couple of dozen, you will be be- 
 wildered. What a time we had before we finally 
 selected our three ! With the piles to select from, 
 and fit, shape, quality, size and becomingness to 
 consider, it became a question for the wisdom of 
 Solomon. We almost lost our minds over them. 
 The hats are unlined and unribboned, and you 
 know the wretched little dealer is trying to sell 
 you a twenty-dollar hat for forty if he can. He 
 is like Mahomet, the rug dealer, — as honest as 
 he can afford to be. But the three we bought 
 grew even handsomer and increased in value as 
 we brought them toward home. 
 
A STREET IN LIMA 
 
IN THE LAND OF PANAMA HATS 167 
 
 While we were buying hats and the unmatch- 
 able hammocks of South America, the Palena 
 was taking on eight hundred tons of cocoa-beans, 
 a very valuable cargo, most of it on its way to 
 chocolate-loving France. The natives who han- 
 dle the heavy bags are powerfully developed fel- 
 lows. The cocoa-bean is the seed of a tropical 
 fruit. They put it wrong end first in Spanish 
 and call it cacao. The inside of the bean fur- 
 nishes the well-known chocolate, and the hull 
 makes the cocoa. The beans look much like lima 
 beans with a reddish brown skin, and the dark 
 brown center has a nutty and slightly bitter taste. 
 
 One of the luxuries along the west coast is the 
 delicious honey we find made from the sap of 
 certain palms as we make our maple syrup. 
 F. F. P — throws caution to the winds and eats 
 great quantities of it for all the world like a 
 greedy boy. 
 
 The English colonel is with us again, and he 
 and the captain are sitting near as I write, poring 
 over stamps. I believe the stamp fever is in- 
 creasing instead of abating. The captain has 
 just given me the handsome Chilian dollar stamp. 
 
168 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 How good it will be to stretch our legs, as the 
 English say, at Panama. 
 
 Poky is the only word that describes our pro- 
 gress northward. Ten days from Valparaiso to 
 Callao, eight days from Callao to Panama, and 
 then about three weeks more from Panama to 
 San Francisco. With the Atlantic service it 
 could be done in about one-third the time. Early 
 morning arrivals seemed to be the order of the 
 day on the Palena, and the morning of the eighth 
 day from Callao found us in the harbor of 
 Panama. What a time we had hanging round, 
 as F — calls it, while boxes and bundles and bales 
 were hoisted on and off ! As our old darky Jerry 
 used to say, it got to be "monopolous." 
 
 How pretty Panama looked from the harbor, 
 its red-tiled roofs standing out against the rich 
 tropical green! The coloring in the tropics is 
 enchanting. The landscape is as riotous in tints 
 as the plumage of the birds and the petals of the 
 flowers. 
 
A CONTENTED MILK PEDDLER 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 ACROSS THE ISTHMUS 
 
 It all depends on the point of view. If you 
 should run down to the Isthmus direct from New 
 York, especially in midwinter, and exchange, 
 almost magically, a nipping frosty atmosphere 
 for the moist breath and waving palms of the 
 tropics, no doubt you would be struck by the 
 strangeness of the conditions there, the people 
 and the climate. But we had come all the long 
 way up the coast from Valparaiso, and even be- 
 fore that our path lay in a long and winding 
 circle from New York, so a panorama of many 
 nations had passed before our eyes, and, curi- 
 ously enough, we found the Isthmus home-like! 
 There were the Jamaica darkies, speaking Eng- 
 lish, and that was sweet to our ears; there was 
 the Hotel Washington at Colon, and the Fourth- 
 of-July saloon ! 
 
 I can imagine that some people would not ap- 
 169 
 
170 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 prove of Panama. It is dirty and hot and smelly, 
 with suggestions of yellow fever and kindred 
 creepy things, but the narrow, irregular streets, 
 where the balconied buildings almost nod to- 
 gether, are quaint and interesting. You have the 
 pleasant feeling that you are making explorations 
 as you go about ; and you may even find ruins in 
 Panama, picturesque and crumbling walls that 
 suggest the abbeys of England, for the city is 
 old and historic. The cathedral and churches 
 are interesting, too. 
 
 May is winter in Panama, called winter by 
 courtesy because it is the beginning of the rainy 
 season. We find it oppressively warm, with the 
 humidity very high and the thermometer at 85. 
 There is usually a fresh breeze, however, and 
 Warm, heavy showers fall frequently. 
 
 From the deck the passengers had picked out 
 the entrance to the famous canal, and we made 
 our way to the shore on a tug, passing between 
 the lines of buoys that mark the channel, already 
 partly dredged. The entrance lies a little above 
 Panama and the railroad connects the two. We 
 steered toward the company's big pier. The tide 
 
ACROSS THE ISTHMUS 171 
 
 was so low and the pier stood so high out of the 
 water that we had to be hauled up in a cage-like 
 elevator, dangling like flies, while our lives lit- 
 erally hung by a thread. This is less humiliating, 
 however, than being hoisted in a barrel to the 
 ship's deck, with a row of gaping passengers 
 hanging over the rail, rather wishing for a little 
 excitement! This latter is the common fate of 
 passengers at many ports on the almost harbor- 
 less west coast. 
 
 It is only forty-five miles from ocean to ocean 
 by the railroad, which runs rather unexpectedly 
 from northwest to southeast. My recollection of 
 geography, as taught in the grammar grade, led 
 me to think that the Isthmus would naturally be 
 cut square across, from east to west, but I had 
 forgotten the crook. The route lies through the 
 jungle, and it is a popular saying that in building 
 the railroad a life was lost for every tie in the 
 track. The difficulties must have been enormous, 
 though one hardly realizes it now. One has to 
 peer into the thick tangle of the swampy forest, 
 a network of palms, trees, ropy vines and creep- 
 ers, that most of the time crowds to the track's 
 
172 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 edge, to realize what it means to blaze a way for 
 the iron horse in a tropical wilderness. De Les- 
 seps fought the desert sands at Suez, the dark 
 jungle at Panama. 
 
 There are a number of towns along the way, 
 now inhabited entirely by the blacks and a few 
 Chinese. The native house has walls of bamboo 
 poles and a thatch of palm leaves, a picturesque 
 affair that harmonizes with the jungle, but, alas, 
 corrugated iron, that is making ruthless attacks 
 against the picturesque all over the world, is 
 finding its way here. The route of the canal is 
 practically the route of the railroad, so one has 
 almost constant and interesting views of the 
 famous attempt at canal making, though it is 
 difficult to judge the value or extent of what has 
 been done. The vegetation quickly creeps over 
 the earthwork, and the ditch, as it would be bet- 
 ter called now, soon fills with loose washings. 
 It is plain that something has been accomplished, 
 however, and at Culebra, the backbone of the low 
 mountain range, where thousands of men worked 
 for years, a huge wedge has been taken out. It 
 looks at this point as if a hopeful proportion of 
 
AN ISTHMIAN GIRL 
 
ACROSS THE ISTHMUS 173 
 
 the excavations has been made. We heard stories 
 of dredges set up and fraudulent excavations 
 made, entirely off the route of the canal. The 
 men who had commissions on supplies ordered 
 them by wholesale, whether they were needed or 
 not. The waste and mismanagement were colos- 
 sal. Now everything is decay and desolation. 
 The hundreds and hundreds of chalet-like houses 
 built by the company, which dot the hillsides all 
 the way, are for the most part empty and boarded 
 up. They are all set on piles which lift them well 
 above the ground. Many of them were never 
 occupied. Their rotting verandas and shutters 
 are dropping away. The negroes have taken 
 possession of a few of the most convenient ones. 
 Expensive dredges are left to fall to pieces, quan- 
 tities of dump-cars, rails, and bridge materials 
 lie in rusting heaps. One sees line after line of 
 locomotives that have never been fired. The lies 
 and deceptions and cruel losses that lie back of 
 this strange state of affairs make the rotting 
 ruins a melancholy spectacle. It is a lasting dis- 
 grace to the French. There are many graves 
 along the way, too, that remind one vividly of 
 
174 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 the great number who have met death in this far- 
 away land. 
 
 The wonderful Cordillera which runs from the 
 north to the south of the Americas is visible even 
 on the Isthmus, for there is a central ridge from 
 which the country slopes in either direction to 
 the sea. The lowest point in the whole range 
 lies here, so this seems the natural place to 
 attempt to force a passageway from ocean to 
 ocean. 
 
 The railroad ascends the course of a small 
 stream on the Pacific side and descends the val- 
 ley of the Chagres to the Atlantic. The pretty 
 scenery of the Isthmus was a surprise. There 
 are many wooded hills around which the rivers 
 wind, taking the railroad along an almost con- 
 tinually curving course. Everywhere is luxuri- 
 ant green, and all over the lowlands is the fas- 
 cinating, beautiful, unheal thful jungle. A little 
 strip has been cleared on either side of the track, 
 and here and there attempts have been made to 
 cultivate bits of ground, but the jungle closes in 
 like a green sea, tangled, impenetrable. Palms 
 and bananas and bamboo are abundant, and we 
 
ACROSS THE ISTHMUS 175 
 
 occasionally saw the handsome head of a splen- 
 did tree, the gramalota, which rises on a lofty 
 trunk and spreads its green branches like a mon- 
 ster umbrella. One of these monarchs of the 
 jungle escaped destruction in the clearing for the 
 railway, and you might almost reach out and 
 touch its great trunk as you pass. It was under 
 this beautiful tree that one of the surveyors of 
 the railroad died, and it stands as his monument. 
 
 The darkies who inhabit the little settlements 
 along the line live in the most primitive fashion. 
 They offered us many strange fruits for sale. 
 One looked like a huge cranberry, with a lima 
 bean on the end for a stem. The flesh of this 
 fruit felt exactly like a clam, but it tasted like a 
 crab apple ! The oranges are sugar sweet. One 
 is warned against the danger of eating fruit by 
 the very cautious, but it is worth while to take 
 one's life in one's hands occasionally, to eat a 
 good mango. 
 
 We had to remind ourselves that we were in a 
 new country, the Republic of Colombia, with 
 Bogota for capital, when we saw squads of sol- 
 diers drilling ; such sorry-looking soldiers as they 
 
176 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 were, unkempt and ununi formed, the pawns in 
 the game of revolution. There was skirmishing 
 in the neighborhood, but it is a question whether 
 any one knew what the fighting was about. 
 Bogota is farther away from Panama than New 
 York, I believe, in point of time, certainly in 
 point of convenience. 
 
 It seemed strange to see the posterish red and 
 black signs of the Chinese shops along the way, 
 with their spidery, almond-eyed proprietors sit- 
 ting inside, as calm and inscrutable as they are in 
 China. Most of the Chinese who were imported 
 to work on the canal could not endure the climate 
 at all. They died like flies. One of the stations 
 along the way is called Matachin — dead China- 
 man. People tell awesome tales of the old days 
 when the yellow fever raged and claimed its vic- 
 tims by the thousands, when gold flowed like 
 water, and men gambled and drank and schemed 
 for fortunes in the face of death. The Panama 
 lottery formerly had drawings of twenty-five 
 thousand dollars each week. Sarah Bernhardt 
 came out to Panama and played for five nights 
 there to crowded houses, with seats at ten dollars 
 
ACROSS THE ISTHMUS 177 
 
 gold. It was a mad dance they tripped till the 
 bubble burst. 
 
 Colon, formerly called Aspinwall, which is at 
 the Atlantic end of the railway, is little more than 
 a railroad town. The poor suburbs are as bad as 
 anything I have ever seen. The people live in 
 squalid houses that are raised only a few inches 
 above the marshy ground, and surrounded by 
 stagnant and slimy pools. Ugh ! how dreadful it 
 is, in that miasmatic region ! The poor souls ^re 
 the riffraff of humanity, an unruly crew from 
 far and near, and the Board of Health loses no 
 sleep over them. Many of the good buildings 
 put up in the town when Colon was to be the 
 metropolis of the Isthmus have been destroyed by 
 fire, against which there is no protection. What 
 are left are ragged and untidy or worse. 
 
 Over in the part called Cristobal Colon, the 
 quarter nearest the entrance of the canal, is a fine 
 curving avenue of cocoanut palms, which shade 
 some attractive houses. These palms have a curi- 
 ous effect. The trunks dart up at every angle and 
 end in a plumy burst of verdure, like so many 
 green sky-rockets. Along the sea-beach is a line 
 
178 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 of valuable concrete blocks, which were to have 
 been used in dam building, but were finally 
 dumped there as a breakwater. The so-called 
 palaces of the De Lesseps, father and son, at the 
 end of the avenue, are large, handsome frame 
 houses, of a Swiss type, with overhanging roofs 
 and wide verandas. One is closed and emptied 
 of the handsome furniture it once contained, the 
 other is occupied. The sky is bright blue, the sea 
 laps lazily, the palm trees drone in the light 
 breeze, but the air is moist and hot, with that 
 irritating stickiness that makes one forget all 
 one's blessings, so I did not envy the dwellers in 
 Cristobal Colon. 
 
 The Hotel Washington, which lies at the oppo- 
 site end of Colon from the avenue of palms, 
 dates back to the completion of the railroad in 
 1852. It has a distinct charm. The verandas of 
 the rambling old building close around a tri- 
 angular garden filled with palms, and beyond 
 you look out over the Caribbean. 
 
 As I sat on the veranda, an old colored man 
 came sidling up, and, smiling by way of intro- 
 duction, asked me if I wouldn't like to have him 
 
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 1 
 
 
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 1 
 
 
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 ^jil 
 
ACROSS THE ISTHMUS 179 
 
 get me a cocoanut from the tree. These negro 
 servants came from Jamaica, and it was a great 
 pleasure to hear again our language, with that 
 peculiar soft inflection of the negro's voice. 
 Negroes and Chinese who speak Spanish only- 
 are among the curiosities of South America. I 
 told the old black fellow that I would like very 
 much to taste a green cocoanut, and looked about 
 for a bit of silver to save him from disappoint- 
 ment, also warning him not to fall and break his 
 neck before my eyes. He went up the tall tree 
 like a monkey and soon began to drop the cocoa- 
 nuts, which hung in clusters around the base of 
 the leaves. They came down with a plunk which 
 warned one against strolling absent-mindedly in 
 a cocoanut grove. I suppose my wily darky- 
 knew all the time that these were too green to be 
 good, but he adroitly planned to slip away before 
 I made the discovery. A little later in the season 
 the milk is sweet, refreshingly cool and nourish- 
 ing, and the part which finally forms the nut is a 
 palatable jelly, to be eaten with a spoon. While 
 the darky hung in his airy perch, a white man 
 crossed the garden. "Hi, Murphy," he called, 
 
180 ONE WAY ROUND SOUTH AMERICA 
 
 "save me a couple of them, will you ?" I wonder 
 where and how Murphy got his name. 
 
 Everywhere there were hints that home lay at 
 the other end of the steamship line. We stood 
 on the deck of the Alliance as she was ready to 
 sail, and our heels fairly stuck to the boards when 
 we learned that she would be in New York in 
 six days. But we had chosen the long- way round 
 by San Francisco. If you are ever in Panama at 
 the end of a long journey, think twice before you 
 decide on the long way home. 
 
 If you hear that I am nearing home, I wish 
 you'd engage all the laundresses in the vicinity 
 for me. This living in trunks in the moist air 
 and heat of a tropical country damages all one's 
 good clothes, and we'll be in a sadly unwashed 
 state when we reach our native land. Why does 
 not some clever traveler invent a folding ironing- 
 board in these days of collapsible furniture, one 
 that would fit in a trunk? F— was a perfect joke 
 before we got back from our railway journey 
 across the Isthmus. He wore a white duck suit, 
 which was not perfectly fresh when we started, 
 and all the dirt seemed to fly to it and stick. We 
 
ACROSS THE ISTHMUS 181 
 
 were only gone from the ship two days, but he 
 looked like a small boy who had been making 
 mud pies, and I took my turn at teasing. It 
 really did embarrass him, for he hates dirt and 
 felt very uncomfortable in such a soiled suit of 
 clothes. I told him that the sight of him like 
 that was a great disenchantment. 
 
 Hooray ! We're off for San Francisco to-day, 
 and you'll get no further news from your chicks 
 till we reach that port. 
 
 After all is said and done, the best part of a 
 journey is the coming home. Home to our na- 
 tive land; home to our own state; home to our 
 own city; home to our own books and pictures 
 and dear familiar corners; home to those who 
 love us and forgive us! How I wish that the 
 Palena could just now take wings like the swift- 
 flying sea-gulls in the air about us — be trans- 
 formed by some magic into an air-ship that 
 would float us toward home quickly and quietly. 
 Who knows but our next long journey may be 
 made in such an air-ship! Good-by, till you see 
 us. Hooray ! Hooray ! 
 
19&5 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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