The Buenos Aires and Pacific line across the continent from the Argentine capital to Valparaiso is a magnificent achievement in railway enterprise. Perhaps at no great distance of time the Pan-American railway will be completed and the traveller will be able to take the train at New York for Valparaiso and so to Buenos Aires, but as yet that line consists chiefly of missing links, and the Buenos Aires and Pacific Railway Company (which, curiously enough, happens to be English, not German), is the first in South America to join the oceans. To Mendoza the journey is easy and pleasant. The train leaves the Retiro station at Buenos Aires at 8 a.m. and reaches Mendoza early the next morning at about 5 a.m. The trains are extremely comfortable; the carriages are on the American plan and restaurant cars are attached; a reasonable amount of luggage is allowed. Only first and second (we should less logically say first and third) carriages are in use and the fares are high. They will doubtless be lowered when traffic increases; at present only three through trains are run a week. Compared with English trains they are not fast, but they are faster than the average of those of Continental Europe. Altogether the Buenos Aires and Pacific is a very fine line and under extremely efficient management.

The journey affords no feature of natural interest, for the country, covered with maize or grass, is extremely flat, but it is pleasant to see the evidences of wealth—noble cattle grazing in the fields, great flocks of sheep, and the heavy crops of grain. The general air of prosperity is the more pleasing to one who has recently passed through Brazil and seen there every sign of wretchedness. There are few towns of importance on the route; indeed, such as there are owe their consequence chiefly to the railway. This is the case with Mercedes, which was founded in 1856 as an outpost against the Indians, and their depredations were for a long time a bar to its prosperity. It is now a great railway junction. San Luis was a small village in 1788, and although it is now the capital of the Province, it has had an unfortunate history. Its sons fought valiantly for the independence of Chile and Peru, but during the civil wars, which were the result of the Rosas tyranny, its sufferings were far greater. Up till recently the female population far exceeded the male, and it was one of the poorest cities in Argentina. The situation is excellent; the town stands high with views of the snow-peaks of the Andes, and the country round about is well wooded. It may one day be a place of remarkable prosperity.

The train reaches Mendoza at an unconscionably early hour, and the cold and gloom prevent the formation of any impression about the beauties of the garden city. For South America, the Province and city of Mendoza are extremely ancient. It was in 1559 that Garcia de Mendoza, the Governor of Chile, sent Pedro Castillo with a small force to annex the district of Cuyo. This included not only Mendoza, but also the Provinces of San Juan and San Luis, and for more than two centuries it formed part of Chile, but the famous Decree of 1776 transferred it to the Viceroyalty of Buenos Aires. During the Revolution it was divided into three provinces. Mendoza, the town, which is as old as the Province, was in the early part of the nineteenth century a beautiful place, extremely prosperous, and its dolce far niente won the hearts of all who visited it.[140] But it was destroyed by one of the most terrible and devastating catastrophes that ever visited a community. It was the evening of Ash Wednesday, March 20, 1861, and the whole of Mendoza was at church. Suddenly a rumbling noise was heard, and in a moment the city was razed to the ground and thirteen thousand people destroyed. Barely two thousand escaped. One of the survivors was a gentleman named Don Jaime Albarracin, who has given a vivid account of the affair.[141] He tells how the weather had been sultry for some days. His family had gone to church and he was sitting at the window of his house talking to M. Bravard, the well-known French geologist, whose researches had led him to predict the destruction of Mendoza by earthquake. Don Jaime heard a crash and immediately found himself buried under the ruins of his house with a broken leg. Fires had broken out and raged all night within a short distance of him. All day long he remained there and for another night. "The horror of my situation was increased by a dreadful thirst; the very air I breathed was thick with dust and smoke. It seemed an interminable night. The second day I heard voices, and summoning all my strength, called out loudly for assistance. All was again silent for a couple of hours, till the afternoon, when I woke from a short sleep to hear footsteps quite close to me. The first man who approached me replied with a coarse insult when I begged him to lift the beam under which I lay. His comrades were no less inhuman, for they were one of the numerous gangs of banditti attracted like birds of prey to the scene of disaster. They had seen the flames afar off on the pampas, and came in scent of booty." Yet another night was passed, but on the following day he bribed a robber with his gold watch to lift him out of the debris, and finally he was taken to a hut. The fires continued to rage and they were followed by an unbearable smell from the decomposing carcases, and the survivors had to be carried away to farmhouses. The Governor perished, as also did the French scientist who made the all too accurate prediction. "So complete was the destruction, that when a new Governor was appointed a year later, and the site marked out for reconstruction, the Government could find no heirs or claimants on behalf of three-fourths of the families of the old city." The only vestige of old Mendoza that remains is the pillars of the Cathedral, to which is affixed the following tablet: "Ruinas del templo de San Augustin destruido por el terremoto del 20 de Marzo de 1861."

It is for this reason that the new Mendoza was laid out with very wide streets and roomy squares and almost all the houses were built of wood. This spaciousness adds greatly to the attractiveness of the[257]
[258] town and is a great relief after Buenos Aires. The town, thus covering a large area, appears to be more considerable than it in reality is, but it is rapidly growing, and its forty thousand population will probably soon be doubled. Land in the outskirts is rapidly rising in value, and great credit is due to the State of Mendoza, which is planning the extensions on a very handsome scale. At the west end a large park and zoological gardens are being made, and at sunset there is a beautiful prospect from their pleasant walks, which seem to be under the very shadow of the Andes. Their grim and jagged forms appear to be within an easy walk. But Mendoza itself is like a large park; conduits of clear water run on each side of the streets and their banks are lined with trees. The principal street, the Calle San Martin, is quite as rustic as the others, and it contains nearly all the shops which are large and good for a provincial town. There is an excellent English Club with a large membership, and as the climate of Mendoza is genial, the town is by no means a bad place of residence. The chief peculiarity of the climate is the almost complete absence of rain. Mendoza stands at an elevation of nearly 3,000 feet above the level of the sea, and is thus, as might have been expected, temperate. The thermometer rarely touches freezing-point, and seldom or never 100° F., but the rainfall is only a few inches yearly, and this rich district is entirely dependent for its fertility on irrigation. In the industrial chapters something is said about the wine-growing at Mendoza. Here it will be sufficient merely to mention the system which covers the uplands with vine and grain—an ancient system which was bequeathed to the present inhabitants by the Guarpes, the peaceful and industrious people who lived here before the Spaniards came. The Zanjon Canal passes from the river Mendoza, near Luxan, traverses through the city and joins the Tunuyan River, which in turn is united by another canal to the Desaguadero River, far away to the east. The canals and their branches are 1,100 miles in length, and they are said to irrigate a quarter of the Province. Much fruit is raised, also tobacco, and in 1835 the mulberry was introduced, so the silk industry flourishes. As far as its fruit and streams are concerned, Mendoza may compare with Damascus, and in every respect is the only Argentine city, except Cordoba, which possesses any old-world charm. It is an old Spanish City, and the people have the leisurely ways and open-air habits of their forefathers. From the nature of the case it cannot possess fine buildings, because, in case of another earthquake, the inhabitants desire light houses that will either resist the shock, or, if they fall, do the minimum of damage. But the Cathedral, though plain, is an imposing edifice, and it attracts very large congregations of men as well as women. The people of Mendoza are intensely religious. In Spanish towns the charms of the streets are quadrupled on Sundays and Holy Days, for they are full of pretty women in mantillas hurrying to church. Why the ladies do not always give this beautiful headdress preference over ugly imported hats is a mystery to the masculine mind.

Adjacent is the Province of San Juan, and the little capital of the same name is at no great distance and is reached by a railway. Founded by the same Pedro Castillo in 1561, it has few features of interest, but it has a considerable trade and very good wine is manufactured at or near it. A considerable part of the Province is a desert, but fortunately it possesses a useful river, the San Juan, by which parts are irrigated, and this work will doubtless be extended. According to trustworthy figures, the population of this Province decreased from 91,000 in 1883 to 84,251 in 1895. This was doubtless due to the commercial catastrophes of the early nineties.

More interesting is the quiet little town of San Rafael to the south. It is the capital of a department of that name and is connected by rail with Mendoza. In the early days of Rosas it was an important frontier post. Population, owing to Indian wars and the undeveloped nature of the country, increased but slowly, the figures for the whole department being 1,000 in 1857 and 2,000 in 1883. San Rafael is now a flourishing little town, and its prosperity is assisted by industrious French settlers. The French language is to be heard almost as often as Spanish in its streets.

When the traveller has exhausted the attractions of Mendoza and the neighbourhood he will probably wish to pursue his way along the Transandine Railway into Chile. As the start is made very early in the morning his first near view of the Andes will be made under favourable circumstances, for the rising sun will flush them with a glorious crimson.

But the general scenery of the Mendoza Andes is most disappointing. In autumn, at least, even the mighty Aconcagua shows very little snow, and in general the mountains are perfectly bare with the straightest of contours. Their size is their only attraction. In the Province of Mendoza alone the following huge mountains are to be found:—

Nothing can be more desolate than the appearance of these unlovely monsters. In some places there is enough coarse herbage to afford scanty grazing for ponies, but there is literally nothing else, not a tree, not a blade of real grass, and all forage and supplies of every kind have to be brought up by rail. The valley up which the railway goes is redeemed to some extent by the river Mendoza, which rushes down crystal or foaming, but those who are accustomed to the green forests and boundless snows and rugged precipices of old-world mountains, will say, "The old is better."

At Mendoza it was necessary to change carriages and enter the narrow-gauge train. The locomotive is a modest affair compared with the great trains which climb to much greater heights in the Peruvian Andes, but the gradients are very steep and sometimes the rack and pinion have to be used. After a run of eight or ten hours the famous Puente del Inca is reached.

This, standing at an elevation of 9,100 feet, is one of the dreariest of places, being situated in a desert, and consisting merely of the station and a hotel. Beyond the Bridge there is no object of interest and it is not necessary, perhaps, to speak of the hotel. The Bridge[142] itself has a commonplace appearance,[261]
[262] but it is an extraordinary natural phenomenon. It appears to be a natural dam of earth and rock lying athwart the Cuevas River, which has managed to bore a passage through the barrier. The stones, earth, and shingle which compose the arch have been cemented together by deposits from the hot-springs, and the Bridge is 66 feet high, 120 feet wide, and 20 or 30 feet thick. Underneath the vaulted arch there bubble up springs of very high temperature, and the most striking feature here is the glittering and jagged masses of stalactite which adorn the grotto. The baths are considered to have great medicinal value, and there is a variety called the champagne bath which all arrivals are urged to take. In course of time Puente del Inca will no doubt be a much-frequented health resort, and there would not be the slightest difficulty in obtaining from the perennial river sufficient water to make a pretty town with trees and flowers, but it could never be a place of any natural attractiveness owing to the poverty of the scenery. Nobody seems to know why it should be called the Inca's Bridge; probably the name merely illustrates the tendency of simple people to attribute strange natural phenomena to the most powerful active force with which they are acquainted. Our rustics invariably attribute such things to the Devil.

However, the climate is cold and bracing, and the walk—some 10 miles—to Las Cuevas, up the valley and over the pass, is worth taking. There is, of course, nothing to see on arrival but some tin huts, and there is nothing to do but return on foot or by train to Puente del Inca and long for the train to Valparaiso.

This calls only on alternate days. The journey up the valley is renewed and the train slowly makes its way to Las Cuevas. Here the traveller has the opportunity, which he will soon lose, of riding over the Andes. The line comes to an end at Las Cuevas, until it is linked up with that of Chile by the completion of the permanent way. Here it may be well to advise the traveller to provide himself at Mendoza with a supply of Chilian money, for, though the railway officials are ready and anxious to change English sovereigns into the grimy notes of Chile, their estimate of the Chilian dollar is apt to be of a highly optimistic character, which is rarely borne out by the rate of exchange.

Some people amuse themselves with telling travellers exciting stories of the dizzy precipices to be passed, and advising them to go by carriage, as the slightest false step on the part of the mule would result in certain death. But, in fact, the journey over the pass is perfectly safe and easy; there is no precipice up which a boy of twelve could not easily scramble, and the mule, frequently disdaining the path, shuffles down these dangerous heights at a great pace. This pleasant break in the monotony of the journey is now to be a thing of the past. The enterprise (English) of the Buenos Aires and Pacific Railway knows no obstacle, and succeeded in linking the Atlantic and Pacific with hoops of iron. A few months ago the tunnel, nearly 2 miles long, was completed, the rails are now laid down, and it is expected that the line will be open for traffic by the time these lines are printed. Some people, however, doubt whether it will be possible to keep it open all the year round. At present all passenger traffic is at an end from about May to October, for the blizzards and snow-drifts make it dangerous if not impossible, and there is great difficulty in getting even the mail-bags through by hand. It remains to be seen whether snow-ploughs and other implements can be employed which will be sufficient to clear the line and the tunnel. But at least the tunnel will be a great convenience in summer, although some may regret the short ride, breasting the keen air.

The mountain-peaks are, of course, as barren as ever, though a few glittering glaciers can be seen on distant heights, but the bright sun, the lumbering carts, the whistling wind, and the shouts of the mule-drivers are pleasant sights and sounds.

The pleasant open-air conditions keep off the dreaded soroche, or mountain sickness, which will probably attack many of the future passengers through the tunnel, but riding over the pass has merely an exhilarating effect. At the summit there is a board with Argentina on one side and Chile on the other. Here also is a colossal statue of Christ. This boundary line had long been a source of dispute between the two nations. Several times their jealousies had appeared to make the task of delimitation impossible, and the two countries had been on the brink of war. At last, aided by the good offices of King Edward VII., the statesmen on either side composed their differences and averted a fratricidal war by tracing a satisfactory boundary line, and on that line, as a pledge that war and discords from their lands should cease, the people decided to place a visible sign of concord to show to every traveller that the neighbours should wage no more wars one with another. They placed on the summit of the Andes a statue of the Prince of Peace.