Henry Stephens

It is not the intention of the writer in these pages to go into a detailed and minute historical, geographical, and statistical description of Chile. This will appear in a later work. Therefore here will be taken up only those statistics, political conditions, and geography that the reader should digest in following me on my trips.

The Republic of Chile, whose total length of 2660 miles is included between latitudes 18° and 56° south, averages in width but 150 miles which is the territory embraced between the summits of the Andes on the east and the Pacific Ocean on the west. It is divided into twenty-four provinces and one territory. Each of these provinces is in turn divided into departments. Each of the provinces has its own governor and each has its own representation in the national government at Santiago. Of the twenty-four provinces, fifteen are latitudinal, stretching the whole width of the country. From north to south these are Tacna, TarapacÁ, Antofagasta, Atacama, Coquimbo, Choapa, Aconcagua, Santiago, Colchagua, Curico, Talca, Concepcion, Cautin, Valdivia, and Llanquihue. Four provinces are maritime, Valparaiso, Maule, Arauco, and ChiloÉ; their eastern limits are defined by the summits of the Coast Range and do not extend to the central valley. ChiloÉ is an archipelago. In the littoral provinces the climate is cooler than in others whose latitude is farther south owing to the breezes that blow from the Pacific. Four provinces are Andean, O'Higgins, Linares, Ñuble, and Bio-Bio. These extend from the Argentine frontier westward to the central valley but in no part do they ever reach the coast. There is only one interior province, Malleco; it is absolutely surrounded by other provinces, and neither extends to the ocean on the west nor to the mountain peaks on the east.

Diagram Showing Idea of Central Valley of Chile in Relationship to the Andes Mountains and the Coast Range, with Course of Streams

From Santiago southward 350 miles to the Bio-Bio River there is what is known as the central valley; here in the cities, villages, and country between the Andes and the Coast Range live two thirds of the entire population of the republic. Although this central valley is but one long valley and traversing it longitudinally from Santiago to the Bio-Bio there is no marked difference in elevation, yet it is not the valley of one single river, nor do any rivers run through it lengthwise as do the San Joaquin and the Sacramento in California. This valley is formed by the valleys of countless small rivers which cross it and widening out midway between their sources and their mouths form one large valley which has an average width of about sixty miles. The geological theory is that in the pre-glacial period the small rivers like to-day rushed headlong from the Andes into the ocean. The Coast Range sprang up, but the rivers worked faster than the mountains grew, so that their courses were not altered, and the Coast Range instead of being one continuous range of mountains, even though it is a mountain chain, became bunches of land islets, separated from one another by streams.

Of the thirteen largest cities of Chile, only four are found in this valley, Santiago, the metropolis, Talca, the sixth city in population, ChillÁn, the seventh, and Curico, the twelfth. This signifies nothing for although less than one third of the large towns are situated here, yet the valley teems with towns that have between 1500 and 4000 inhabitants. The central valley is of remarkable fertility, but although the soil is highly productive, irrigation is resorted to for it seldom rains during the summer months. In the winter there is plenty of rainfall. Owing to the great number of streams, most of which, however, are unnavigable and all of which rise in the Andes, there is plenty of water for irrigation. In their course to the ocean they bring much silt which gives them a muddy color. In contrast to them are the clear streams of transparent water which feed them. The latter are mostly from springs in the foothills, and not having to cut their way for any great distance carry no silt. The products of the central valley are wine, fruits, cereals, and stock. A Californian whom I met in Santiago said to me: "This central valley of Chile reminds me of California, but it is more productive, and in a much more advanced state of cultivation."

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

Scenery, Central Valley of Chile

Of northern Chile, nothing much needs to be said. From La Serena northward it is one large sterile tract of land, with the exception of a few river valleys where there is verdure and vegetation, such as at Tacna, CopiapÓ, and Vallenar. It is one large desert and ranges of barren mountains rising to a great height, and on whose lower slopes on plateaus is found most of the world's nitrate of sodium supply. In the higher altitudes are borax fields and great mineral deposits of copper, silver, and gold. The coast is absolutely rainless and water is unobtainable by wells. It seldom rains even in the interior. The small rivers formed by the melting of the snow on high mountain peaks lose themselves in the sands and seldom reach the ocean. Near their upper reaches water is piped from them to the coast towns, which are at a great distance. It is thus that Iquique, Tocopilla, and the thriving port of Antofagasta get their water supply.

Village Scene, Central Chile.

The area of Chile is 289,829 square miles, about the size of the States of Texas and Arkansas combined, but the opposite to them in geographical contour. The population December 31, 1915, was 3,641,477 or 12.57 inhabitants to the square mile.

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

Chile has a system of longitudinal railways, nearly completed, which are of the greatest military value. Nearly two thousand miles from Puerto Montt in the south to Tacna in the north, with the exception of a short stretch between Pisagua and Arica, are open to traffic, and at no place do they touch the sea excepting at Coquimbo and their terminals. In quick time troops and ammunition can be moved to any part of the republic. There are many spurs and branch lines that run to the coast, to the mining centers, and to the numerous inland towns. Most of the railroads are broad gauge; some are both broad and narrow; others are narrow, while in the central valley there are a few light railways, for example the one between Linares and PanimÁvida, and the coÖperative railway in the Province of Ñuble. There is a heavy traffic both in freight and in passengers, but sad to relate, most of the railways owned by the government, which constitute the majority, are run at a loss. This is caused in a great measure by the large personnel employed, most of whom are the henchmen of the politicians in power in Santiago. To overcome the monetary loss, one half of the regular number of trains have been taken off from the service schedule so that at the time of this writing one cannot enjoy a ride from Santiago to Concepcion on an express train or in a Pullman car as previously. The only express trains are those that run between Santiago and Valparaiso and vice versa. Even though but one half of the trains are still in operation, the State lines are still showing a deficit, and there is talk of leasing them to private corporations. The cars are mostly of American manufacture although some of the sleeping cars are English. The locomotives, formerly German, are now for the most part manufactured in Valparaiso. The narrow gauge lines in the north, which are in the nitrate regions, all pay for they are of private ownership and there is no chance of giving unnecessary employment. The Transandine Railroad, narrow gauge, which formerly had trains running thrice a week from Los Andes to Mendoza, Argentina, now has through trains only once a week, and the trip is made in the daytime on account of dangerous curves.

The Valdivia Breweries Company, Valdivia

Formerly the Anwandter Brewery

There is but little manufacturing in Chile, most of it being centralized in Valparaiso. The great drawback is on account of the lack of iron; some of this mineral has been discovered in the Province of Coquimbo, and I understand that the property known as La Higuera is on a paying basis. There is plenty of coal, the mines at Lota being the largest, but it is of an inferior quality. Outside of Valparaiso, the only manufactures of importance are those of beer and flour. In this respect the manufacturing conditions are similar to those of Argentina. Nearly every small town in the grain belt, the country lying south of the Bio-Bio, has its flour mills; as the brewing business is in the hands of a trust, there is but a small opportunity in this field unless one starts with considerable capital. The beer trust, capitalized at 18,000,000 pesos ($3,070,800) paid in, includes all the large breweries in Chile excepting two firms, that of Aubel in Osorno which is flourishing as an independent brewery and that of Keller which has two breweries, one in Concepcion and the other in Talca. Those belonging to the trust are the United Breweries Company in Limache-CousiÑo, the Valdivia Breweries Company in Valdivia, the Andres Ebner Brewery in Santiago, the Calera Brewery in Calera, and the Floto Brewery in La Serena, the last named being a small one. Scattered through Chile are a good number of independent breweries all run on a small scale and catering only to local trade such as Horstmann's Brewery in Santiago, a brewery in San Felipe, one in ChillÁn, one in La Union, one in Puerto Montt, and two in Punta Arenas. Since the Anwandter firm in Valdivia sold out to the trust their successors brew a much better beer than previously was brewed there, but I am sorry to say that the product of one of the trust breweries, that of Calera, is vileness incarnate. Beer is cheap in Chile, three cents buying a schuper, but it likewise is apt to go to the head and make the imbiber see double lamp-posts. The German residents claim that it is mild, yet I have seen many of them unable to pace a crack in the floor after imbibing a few libations of it. The saloons in Santiago do a big business but they have to pay a high rent which cuts into their profits.

Regarding the inhabitants, the Chileno is called the Yankee of South America. He is not afraid of work, consequently steamship companies like to employ him, because for less pay he will do more work than any person of any nationality will do, including North Americans. He is the only native south of Texas who if hit will come back at his aggressor. In behavior he is apt to be rough and coarse (this does not apply to the aristocracy), but rarely is he uncivil. Many Chilenos ape the tonsorial adornment of a man who died in the year 33 A.D., but I do not believe their actions jibe with his if what we read in history is true. The women are beautiful; they have no comparison anywhere else in the whole world. They have dark complexions, are finely featured, and are voluptuous. A poor figure is unknown among them. If a man prefers a different type than the average he can go to southern Chile and have the choice of a dark red-cheeked Araucanian maiden or a native girl of German extraction, whose eyes are like the still deep water of a pool, and whose cheeks have that rosy tinge of a ripening apple. In the railway eating-house in Rancagua, I met a man from Thomasville, Georgia, who said that on account of the looks of the Chilean women, he would lose his religion if he remained much longer in the country. I do not know what his religion was, but their beauty is enough to affect a man's head.

One of the Chilean institutions that bears comment is that of the table waiters in the hotels and restaurants. It needs serious improvement. The waiters are a white-aproned, moustached, whiskered set who go after and bring back food on the run. They never walk and vie with one another to make the most noise and bring their feet down heaviest after taking orders. The waiter takes your order on the run, slams the food in front of you on the run, takes your money on the run, accepts his tip and thanks you on the run. In Europe and in the United States, these actions would not be tolerated in a first-class cafÉ. In Chile, however, these are the instructions given to the waiters when they seek employment.

In the larger towns, especially in Santiago and in Valparaiso, there is a great illegitimacy of births among the lower classes. This is due to the inconstant actions of the men. For instance a poor laborer will marry a girl and live with her several years, during which time she will become the mother of several children. The husband in the meantime finding that the support of a family leaves him with no pocket money to indulge in his periodical debauches, all of a sudden, without saying anything to his wife, deserts her and strikes out for the country where he obtains employment. He rarely comes back. The poor wife, left destitute with several offspring, has a hard time making a living. Other young women, cognizant of the fickle actions of the men, prefer living with them outside of wedlock, for if the man deserts her a woman still has a chance of getting married, while if she was once married, it would be impossible for her to marry again, because there is no divorce law in Chile. I have known of people in Chile who desired a divorce being obliged to go to Uruguay to live as I understand that is the only republic in South America where divorces are granted. As to morals I imagine Chile is no worse off than any other country, excepting among the lower element. Speaking of them to a friend of mine, one of the most prominent men in Valparaiso and a high official of the Pacific Steam Navigation Company, he said: "Among the lower class there is but little distinction between the women who are virtuous and those who are not. The former are always on the qui vive to increase their income providing they do not get caught at it."

Among this stratum the Fiesta of the Angelito (Feast of the Little Angel) plays an important rÔle. They maintain that if a child dies it becomes a little angel, and many of the poor to whom the expense of rearing a superfluous child is a burden welcome its decease although they do much wailing at the funeral. They welcome it for they have a chance to make some money and also indulge in an alcoholic debauch. When the child dies the parents invite all their friends to their home. Great quantities of cheap wine are ordered and consumed. Each friend gives as much money as he can afford toward the burial expenses and towards the purchase of the liquid refreshments. A drunken orgy lasting all night takes place. After it is over and the body is buried, the parents have money left over. Owing to the high mortality among infants, on account of neglect, malnutrition, and ever present typhoid fever, these Fiestas of the Angelito are of frequent occurrence in every neighborhood.

Chile is the only country in South America which has strict prohibition laws. There are quite a few localities that are "dry." Saloons are closed all day Sundays; bars also close early at night. The penalties for breaking these laws are heavy, yet in no other country in South America, with the exception of Peru, is there as much drunkenness as in Chile, and all these other countries have no prohibition laws, and their towns are wide open.

The reception given at Santiago to the occupants of the private train from Buenos Aires bearing the special ambassadors and their staff to the installation of Chile's president was tremendous. As the train rolled into the great and high vaulted Mapocho station amid the fanfare and beating of drums, martial music broke out and rent the air with the national march. Great sturdy, powerfully built blonde officers, helmeted, in their full dress uniforms, exact replicas of the German army of a decade ago, grouped themselves on the platform to greet the guests. Their subordinates stood at attention until the last of the officers who had boarded the train at Los Andes left the train. In the background stood symmetrical rows of policemen parting a human aisle down which we passed to the vigorous blasts of a band. Thousands of people cried "Hurrah" which was echoed and reËchoed through the lofty waiting room of the great building. At the windows and on the street behind the iron grating of the train shed were squeezed myriads of faces endeavoring to catch a view of the impressive spectacle. At the curb outside the station doors, to where the guests had already advanced, stood dignified statesmen in Prince Alberts awaiting the arrival of the automobiles from the Ministries of Brazil and of Argentina which were to drive the envoys of those two respective countries away. Soon several limousines arrived, their chauffeurs decorated with large rosettes of green and yellow, and blue and white, the symbolical colors of those two large South American republics. There was no car whose driver was adorned with red, the color of Portugal, for that last-named country has no minister to Chile solely (their representative to Buenos Aires looks after the affairs of Portuguese in Chile), so little Botelho was obliged to take a non-decorated automobile which drove him and de Lima to the Hotel Oddo, to which place Mr. Alexander and myself also went.

The military pageant which continued throughout the ensuing week was most impressive. The Chilean army, trained by German officers, and their navy by British officers, are always prepared and on the alert for any infringements on their national rights. Chile is the strongest fighting power in South America, and has the best military organization. Its men are born fighters who have the advantage of superior training. The whole personnel and equipment of their army can undoubtedly put in the background any country in the world which has a population double that of Chile. The Brazilian and Argentine officers and soldiers taken as a whole show up mighty poorly compared to those of Chile. Here we have a reproduction of the German army on a small scale. The uniforms are similar to those that Germany had before the latter country adapted the gray color. It is interesting to note that von der Goltz, who reorganized the Turkish army at the time of the Balkan War, had been once loaned by Germany to Chile to bring its army to a state of efficiency.

Santa Lucia Hill, Santiago

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

The city of Santiago is compactly and massively built within the small area which constitutes that part of terrain included within the city limits. The streets are invariably straight, forming square and rectangular blocks of houses whose average height of two stories forms an even sky line. Although there are several different styles of architecture prevailing in the residences, the old Spanish type predominating, yet there is a great and unmistakable similarity as to the appearance of the streets. The business section is a direct contradiction to the residential part in so far that it is modern and is becoming more so. Here the buildings are three and four stories in height and a look down either of the streets that are named Ahumada and Estado leaves an impression of Vienna although it is a concrete instead of a stone one. In several other parts of the city this similarity is present for the long fronts of divers beneficial societies and the towers of churches and convents present a scene very much like that of the Austrian capital.

The population of Santiago is slightly over four hundred thousand. The growth of the city as well as of the other towns of the central valley is imperceptible. It has been this way for ages. There is little immigration to Chile, and that which does come in, goes either to the northern or southern provinces of the republic where labor conditions are better. With the exception of the business section, Santiago is an extremely reserved, conservative, and quiet old place. It can also be called serious. After nine o'clock at night, even on the Ahumada, all is quiet, a pleasant contrast to the din and racket of Buenos Aires, which murders the darkness, making sleep impossible. There is but little gayety about the Chilean metropolis; the aristocracy of the city, which can boast of the purest white blood of any American capital, form a society into which a foreigner, no matter how prominent his antecedents are, is seldom admitted. This dignified aristocracy constitute the brains of the country and control the politics. Prominent in the affairs of state, finance, and daily doings are the names Vergara, Edwards, Sanfuentes, Subercaseaux, Sotomayor, Balmaceda, Montt, Tocornal, and Luco. Their mansions, the pride of Chile, are not located on show places like the Alameda or in what we would call the fashionable suburbs, but are situated on those downtown streets which fringe the business section. Their stateliness seems to exhale an air of their own. Excepting Buenos Aires no South American city has as fine a collection of private residences.

The Avenida de las Delicias, called the Alameda, runs east and west, and divides Santiago into two nearly equal parts. The quarter of the city lying north of it is the mercantile part, while that south of it is the residential district. This broad avenue, which inside the city limits is two miles long, is in some places at least one hundred yards wide. Its center is a broad unpaved parkway, bordered by ancient trees; its hard dirt walks constitute the rambla of the inhabitants evenings. At short intervals are statues, some of them being very fine. Vendors of cigars, cakes, soft drinks, and magazines have established booths here, and it is a very common sight to see men freezing ice cream under the trees. The benches are of concrete and are plastered over; when a person with a dark suit sits on one of them he generally departs with a white daub on the seat of his trousers. Along both sides of the parkway are wide carriage roads, the paving of which is full of holes and ruts, making driving uncomfortable. On the whole the Alameda falls short of what can be called beautiful for although it is flanked by some very handsome residences yet between them are sandwiched many second-class shops. This avenue is essential for Santiago for it affords a breathing space for the overpopulated city as the parks are quite a distance from downtown and the Plaza de Armas is nearly always crowded during the heat of the day. At the western city limits where the name of the Alameda changes from that of Avenida de las Delicias to Avenida Latorre is the large glass-roofed train shed and station of Alameda, the principal one of Santiago, whence all passengers for southern Chile depart. Near the eastern city limits the Alameda becomes the Avenida de la Providencia. It here reaches the muddy Mapocho River, whose southern bank it skirts, and continuing into the country enters the defile of its headwaters.

One of the most curious freaks to be found anywhere is the Cerro de Santa Lucia which rises abruptly about two hundred feet from the very center of the plain on which Santiago stands, and is well within the city limits. This hill has been created into a beautiful park with every imaginable species of native tree, and has within its confines grottoes, groups of rocks, lookout towers, and statues, those of Caupolican and of Valdivia being the best. No stranger to Santiago should fail to walk to its summit, especially at evening when the sun casts its rays on the high Andes in the background. There is a small admission fee to be paid on entering the park at the Cerro de Santa Lucia, but it is well worth it. On the hill is a restaurant cafÉ which is popular with the public on summer nights, for on its terrace one can take meals out-of-doors.

I was specially fortunate in being able to see the ceremonies pertaining to the installation of the new President, SeÑor Don Juan Luis Sanfuentes, having obtained an excellent seat through the kindness of the American Ambassador, Honorable Henry Prather Fletcher. I acquired a reserved seat in the Capitol in close proximity to the whole proceedings. There is no inauguration like in Washington. In a lofty rectangular hall of the Capitol, called the Camara de Diputados, there are arranged, on both sides of a carpeted open space, seats in order, which during the sessions of Congress are occupied by deputies. These seats on December 23, 1915, were occupied by their proper holders. In seats of honor near the west end of the hall sat the ambassadors, ministers, and attachÉs of the foreign powers. At the extreme west end was a platform with several arm-chairs. On all four sides of this high room rose balconies, those on the north and south having two tiers while those on the east and west had one tier. They were packed to overcrowding with the invited guests of the deputies and statesmen, many of the occupants of the seats being ladies. At two o'clock sharp there was a sudden hush to the conversations of those present. The ranks at the north door stood aside, and through their opening tottered the aged Ramon Barros Luco in dress suit, the red, white, and blue tricolor of Chile fastened obliquely on his white stiff bosomed shirt. The applause was great. Following quickly in his footsteps came several members of his cabinet; all crossed the carpeted room and seated themselves on the platform.

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

From the Capitol the procession went to the cathedral where the archbishop held mass and delivered his blessing, for Chile is still allied to the Roman Catholic Church. There was a great street parade after this ceremony. I viewed it from a balcony on the Ahumada down which street it marched. It was really very good. Helmeted German officers galloped back and forth giving orders, while a cordon of blue-jacketed, white-trousered policemen held the sidewalk mob back by means of ropes strung lengthwise the whole block. No procession ever lacks something of the ridiculous. It was in evidence this day. Scarcely had the presidential victoria passed when a limousine automobile containing high officials appeared. To its running board clung a large, middle-aged, drunken monk, his black and white garments tied together by a cord, flowing in the breeze. This hideous spectacle had reached a spot underneath the balcony where I was standing, when a dignified man wearing a silk hat stepped from the crowd and grabbed the inebriated fool, dragging him from the running board. A good-sized crowd hissed the monk as with staggering steps he betook himself to the sidelines.

With the exception of two military parades which I had previously seen in Europe, that which took place at 6 P.M. the next day at the Parque CousiÑo in front of the temporary grandstand and which was reviewed by the President was the finest that I had ever witnessed. Picture to yourself a large hard dirt oval parade ground, half a mile long by nearly as wide; imagine this oval to be bristling with the lances of cavalry and glittering with the bright light of polished weapons. Picture in the foreground a small grandstand of lumber draped with the red, white, and blue Chilean flags; imagine this grandstand filled with beautiful ladies in gowns of the latest creations, whiskered gentlemen in silk hats, and army officers in full dress uniform. Behind this scene imagine a forest of pine and eucalyptus above whose dark green crests tower high brown, barren, snow-capped mountains. This is the scene that unfolded itself to the spectator of that memorable military review.

Long before the President drove up in his victoria, the buzzing of airships caused one to look up and there at a height of two thousand feet five of these mechanical birds were disporting themselves. All hats came off, and there was a great clapping of hands when Sanfuentes arrived. He drove twice around the parade ground and finally stopped in front of the grandstand. First came in review before him four companies of the military school in uniform of light blue coats with white trousers and white horsehair high hats; next came innumerable infantry companies each preceded by a brass band which stood to one side as the columns marched by. The infantry was followed by the artillery which came by at a gallop, smothering the field in a cloud of dust. This and the cavalry which followed seemed to be the most admired by the spectators, judging from the cheers which greeted them.

I wish to state that in the choice of Honorable Henry Prather Fletcher, who at the time of this writing is United States Ambassador to Mexico, he having left Chile in 1916, our government should be credited with having made such an admirable selection. He is as fine a representative of man as exists in the diplomatic service of any country. When I was in Chile in 1912, a certain gossiping old woman, the daughter of one of Chile's former presidents, knocked him to me, and I being a stranger was fool enough to believe her. At my first meeting with Mr. Fletcher in December, 1915, I at once saw what caliber of man he is, and have felt like kicking myself ever since for believing DoÑa Anna Swinburne de Jordan. I came to Santiago in 1915 absolutely unknown to Mr. Fletcher, and he showed me great kindness in procuring for me admission to the different ceremonies pertinent to the installation of the new President besides entertaining me at his own residence.

I met two of his secretaries to the embassy, a Mr. Martin, who seemed to be a fine clean-cut young man, and a fellow named Johnston or Johnson, I being mixed in his surname because I never took the trouble to recall it. This Johnston was the worst snob that I ever recollect to have met. While I was at the embassy in the presence of Mr. Fletcher he was extremely cordial and agreeable, and even invited me to dine with him at his club to which he was going to procure me a card. The next day Mr. Henry Alexander of Philadelphia and I were walking along Bandera Street near the Capitol when we happened accidentally to meet Johnston who was approaching us from the direction we were walking in. He was dressed in a Prince Albert and a high silk hat crowned his tall, slim figure. We greeted him but he returned our salutations with the curtest imitation of a nod possible. I met him a dozen times afterwards by accident, sometimes on the street and sometimes at the Grand Hotel where he generally dined at noon. All these times he cut me dead as if he had never seen me before. Later I had the next seat to him on the Pullman car on a train but he did not deign to recognize my presence, even though he had been most affable in his treatment of me while I was a guest of Mr. Fletcher.

Santiago, although it is a pleasant and agreeable place with a most benign climate, I am sorry to say is none too clean nor are its streets well kept up. In the Alameda there are big holes in the asphalt, and the cobblestones on the side streets are uneven and out of place. Many of the streets are not paved. There are holes in some of the sidewalks where a pedestrian is apt to sprain his ankle, and there is much refuse dirt and filth accumulated along the curbs. There are no alleys in the city so the inhabitants deposit the swill in iron pails. The garbage man comes along with his wagon every morning and stopping in front of every house rings a bell to let the inmates know of his presence so that they can bring out the pails. On the poorer lighted side streets inhabitants perform the calls of Nature on the sidewalks, in the middle of the road, and against the sides of the buildings, which besides being unsanitary causes hideous stenches. There is always a good complement of typhoid fever in the Chilean and Peruvian towns so while on my visit at the time of the presidential installation I warned my servant, O'Brien, to drink mineral water instead of that of the city supply. The latter evidently interpreted other drinks in the clause for when I came to settle my bill at the Hotel Oddo, I found that he had run up a considerable wine bill which necessitated me to dispense with his services.

The stature of the Santiaguinos is much greater than that of the inhabitants of Buenos Aires. It is in every respect equal to the North American standard. The profanum vulgus are apt to be rough, showing their independence. One observes quite a few red-haired natives, which denotes that in the course of genealogy one or more of their maternal ancestors have been chased by Irishmen. The women outnumber the men and are well formed and comely, many being beautiful. I prefer the looks of the Chilenas to those of any other women in South America. In 1912 in Santiago there were but few Germans and the number of foreigners was exceedingly small. In 1916 the city was teeming with Germans and they outnumbered all the other foreigners put together. In Valparaiso in 1915 the English and German residents of that port had a street fight. The tram company was a German syndicate and the natives, angered by the car fare rates, which they thought were excessive, sided with the English and rose against the Teutonic element. A riot followed in which some windows were broken and there was a certain local sentiment against the Germans which became so strong that it caused an exodus of a great many of them to Santiago. Also many of the crews of the interned German merchantmen left their ships and came to Santiago and other towns of the interior where they have established themselves in business, many of them having become proprietors of hotels, restaurants, and beer saloons. They have prospered and have taken out citizenship papers, preferring to remain in Chile than in their own country.

There was a German immigration to Chile in 1848, and another one in 1866. Both of these exoduses were due to the oppression of the military system in the old country and it is safe to surmise that there will be another such exodus to Chile at the end of the present war. I have read statements that one quarter of Chile's population is either German or of direct German extraction. This seems to be an exaggeration, although I believe that one fourth of the population has some German blood.

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

On my trip to Santiago in 1915, I was not aware that Mr. Kehle had a hotel in that city, so I went to the Oddo where I had previously stayed on a former visit. The rooms in the Oddo were good but I am sorry to say that the cuisine and dining room service was execrable. Unkempt and unshaven waiters dropped food from the platters onto the floor, and clumsily running to serve a guest would slip in the spilled soup and drop plates of unsavory and indescribable edibles to the din of broken dishes. For seventy years this hotel had been in existence, the last twenty-five of them under the proprietorship of the French family of Girard. The bung-eyed but accommodating daughter told me that on January 3, 1916, this hotel would close its doors for good. "We are returning to France to live as we have worked long enough," she said. Yet, however, when I came back to Santiago in March, 1916, they hadn't returned to France and the Oddo was still running, though minus its dining room. The other hotels are the Milan, well spoken of, and the Melossi near the Alameda Station, poorly located as it is too far from the center of activity.

The restaurants are fair, that named the Club Santiago being good. The Restaurant Niza is fair. It is owned by a Spaniard who, if the guest does not understand the local name of the meat on the menu, will demonstrate on his own fat physiology that part from which the succulent morsel is taken. There is a good restaurant in the Palacio Urmaneta. It must be taken under consideration that ladies do not frequent these places unaccompanied for no other reason solely than that it is the custom of the country. They generally take their meals in the hotel dining rooms.

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

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

I took the piece of pasteboard that he so eagerly extended to me. It was about an inch long and half as wide. The printed inscription on it read: "Pension Norte Americana" giving street name and number. I turned to the professor and said: "It reads, North American boarding-house with the number of the street."

"Just what I thought," he said. "It's the very thing I want. I certainly would like to be among my fellow countrymen again, and now that the Oddo is closing its doors, I shall go there at once and inquire about the terms." He did, and immediately upon admittance was pounced upon by four ladies of pleasure.

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

The Chilean capital is a rat warren; rodents abound everywhere. Most of the buildings being adobe, these animals have bored holes all through the walls and have perforated the foundations. I do not believe that New Orleans in its rattiest days ever had anywhere near such a large population of the family MuridÆ as Santiago at the present time possesses. Lying in bed nights one is kept awake by the patter of their little feet as they run across the corrugated iron roofs mingled with their sharp squeals. Oftentimes looking out of the window at night, their long tails can be seen silhouetted in the moonlight hanging over the window-tops.

The death rate of Santiago is high, excessively so in infantile diseases which cause the largest mortality toll. The rate for all Chile is 29.4 per thousand inhabitants, while that of Santiago alone is 36.7. Only one South American city of which any record is kept surpasses it in this negligible respect, that being Lima, Peru, with a death rate of 51 per thousand inhabitants. Even Guayaquil, notorious for yellow fever and bubonic plague, has a better record than these two last-mentioned cities, which have no yellow fever, and Santiago minus bubonic plague. Typhoid fever is always prevalent in the Chilean capital, but I doubt if it is as malignant as in North America, on account of its being so common. This large death rate is mostly among the lower classes who are ignorant and have no knowledge of sanitation. Longevity is more common than in any other South American capital with the possible exception of Rio de Janeiro which is testimony that if a person survives childhood, a healthy old age is allotted him.

The cemetery named the Cementerio Jeneral is the largest in Christendom, not in area but in the number of bodies interred. It is exceeded in size by only one other cemetery in the world, that one being the Mohammedan cemetery in Scutari in Asia across the Bosporus from Constantinople. In fineness of its monuments it is only surpassed by the Campo Santo in Genoa and the Recoleta in Buenos Aires. The nature of the Santiago cemetery is entirely different from these last-mentioned two. It is not a rivalry between the grave lot owners who shall have the most expensive allegorical marble sculpture as in Genoa, but is a vast conglomeration of brick tombs, some of them being veritable mausoleums. Here are buried the most famous families of Chile. The Chilenos make a great deal of ceremony about their dead. A poor family will stint itself for years to accumulate enough lucre to erect a proper sepulchre. It will spend $10,000 to build a monument, while for $1000 it could place in their dwelling a modern sanitary system, which when installed would do away with the cause that would lead the person to be buried beneath the monument. This cemetery is divided by straight walks into square blocks; at the intersection of each of these walks is a cross or a fountain. Cedars, pines, eucalyptus, cypresses, boxwood, and other funereal trees abound; there are also beds of brilliant flowers. The tomb of ex-president Don Pedro Montt who died in Bremen, August, 1910, is here; it is a tall monolith with a glazed green and brown tile frieze. There is a morgue near the left entrance to the cemetery and the stench of the ripe corpses is decidedly odoriferous.

About ten miles northeast of Santiago on the slopes of the Andes are the springs of Apoquindo, visited much by the inhabitants of the capital Sunday afternoons. The trip is worth while making once, but that is sufficient, for the poor condition of the country roads together with the dust take away much of the pleasure of the drive. The best road leads through the city of Providencia, which adjoins Santiago on the east and which is so much like a continuation of the capital that it is impossible to tell without looking at a map where the boundary line between the two cities is. At the Avenida Pedro de Valdivia, a broad boulevard on which are magnificent villas and the summer homes of the wealthy Santiaguinos one turns to the right and keeps straight ahead until the main street of NuÑoa is reached. NuÑoa is a town of nine thousand inhabitants, a mixture of wealth and poverty with well shaded streets, poor shops, and adobe buildings.

A few miles beyond NuÑoa is a roadhouse named the Quinta Roma, which was formerly the mansion of an estanciero but is now the terminus for joy-riders, many of whom are to be met with returning to the capital late afternoons in a highly hilarious condition. To the credit of the Chileno joy-rider, he does not hit up the great speed of his North American brethren; thus there are but few automobile accidents. The roadhouse stands in a garden of flowers well back from the thoroughfare in a nicely kept lawn. Here is a liquid refreshment dispensary where I have seen gay youths hoist comely maidens upon the bar, and seated there clink glasses with their standing male affinities whose arms encircle their waists to the tune of popping corks and the metallic ring of beer caps as the latter fall to the floor. In the garden behind the bar is a bamboo thicket planted in the form of room partitions. It is so dense that no peeker can look through its foliage to observe the love affairs being enacted in these natural chambers which correspond to the European "separÉes" or the so-called "private dining rooms" of the North American roadhouses.

At Apoquindo there are several soda springs with baths and a swimming pool all of which are kept in a filthy condition. Like at Cacheuta and at Cauquenes but few people come to take the baths and none to drink the water. Most everybody congregates at the bar in the hotel across the street—the baths are but the name of an excuse.