Val-paraiso means the “Vale of Paradise,” and it is the name of both a province and a city. The name is so incongruous on this unattractive shore as to cause a smile, for the location of Valparaiso does not merit any such appellation. It was so named after a little town in Spain, which was the home of Juan de Saavedra, the man who captured the Indian village located at this point in 1536. There is only a narrow strip of land between the bay and the barren hills behind it, which, in places, rise up to a thousand or fifteen hundred feet in height. At one place it is wide enough for only two streets, which are very close together. At other places this ledge creeps back farther, but nowhere does the gap between sea and hills exceed half a mile, and a part of this has been reclaimed from the sea. Through the centre of this level space runs Victoria Street, which follows the coast line the entire length of the city and is several miles in length. It is the main commercial street, and is lined with business houses, public buildings and even private residences.

It used to be that all of the city was built on this narrow strip of land. Little by little, however, the city has crept up the side of the hills, and the streets rise in terraces one above the other. On the edges of the cliffs in many places the poorer classes have built for themselves dwellings of the rudest kind from all sorts of debris. Some of these are perched upon almost inaccessible rocks, and are propped up with wooden supports. On the extreme upper part of the rock has been built the real residence quarter, and many fine homes are found there. It is reached by steep and winding roads, which tire the pedestrian not used to them; but there are a dozen inclined elevators, or “ascensors,” as they are called in Valparaiso, which carry the passenger to the upper heights for a very small sum. Up the steep roadway the poor horses may be seen drawing their loads, while the drivers beat them and vociferously berate them with their tongues.

From the heights one has a magnificent view of the bay, which is like a half-moon, and is one of the prettiest bays in the world. It has a northern exposure, however, and is subject to terrific storms in the winter season, which lash the seas into a fury and the waves beat upon the sea front with destructive force. It is still to all extents and purposes an open roadstead, although plans have been drawn for a breakwater to provide a sheltered harbour. The drawback has been that the bay is very deep only a short distance from shore, and the problem of building such a protection is a difficult one. The surface of the bay is always dotted with vessels from almost every quarter of the globe. One can at any time see the flags of a half dozen or more different nations floating from the mastheads. Then there are hundreds of small lighters which are used to carry the freight between vessel and shore, as no docks have been constructed at which vessels can unload. In the far distance may be seen, on a clear day, the backbone of the continent, the Andes, with its serrated ridges and snowy summits glistening in the sunlight. The hoary head of Aconcagua, the highest peak of the Cordilleras, can easily be distinguished from the others by reason of its superior height.

Next to San Francisco, Valparaiso is the most important port on the eastern shores of the Pacific. This city of two hundred thousand has as much commerce as the average town of double that size, as it is the port for Santiago and the greater part of Chile. A business-like character is impressed upon the entire city. Here live the men who design and carry out the vast nitrate and mining enterprises of northern Chile, and practically all business, except that of politics, is managed from this city. The docks and warehouses are at all times busy places, and are crowded with boxes and bales from almost every commercial nation. Banditti-like rotos drive carts and wagons filled with merchandise. One of the first sights after being set down on the landing-stage is the two-wheeled dray of Valparaiso. It is drawn by two or three wiry and sweating horses, on the back of one of which rides the driver, who lashes the horses unmercifully. The ridden horse is hitched by a trace just outside the shafts, and he is trained to push at the shaft with his shoulder, or pull at right angles when the occasion arises, and in every way is as clever as any Texas bronco. One of these drays with the driver lashing his team might well figure on the escutcheon of this city.

The “U. S.” mark is less frequently seen in Valparaiso than that of Hamburg or London, for the United States has not become such an exporting country of manufactured products as those commercial nations of the older world; nor is the Yankee in flesh and blood. The predominance of the British is shown by the prevalence of the English language. Nearly every one engaged in business has at least a slight acquaintance with that tongue. One can not go far without crossing the path of some ruddy Briton or voluble Irishman. Many of the best stores bear English names, and one will see the same goods displayed as in New York or London. In fact it is more predominantly English in appearance than any other city of South America. There are cafÉs where they meet to drink their “half-and-half” or other beverages, and there is a club where the Times, Punch, and other favourites can be read. It is said that the foreign population almost equals the native in numbers. Only a small part of this foreign element is English, as there are many Italians, Germans and French, but the English are the bankers and tradesmen, and have impressed their characteristics more forcibly upon the city than the other nations. There are amusements in plenty, for there are clubs, concerts and an abundance of theatres to provide recreation as a relaxation from the strenuous life. There are tennis grounds, football fields and a golf course at ViÑa. There are many monuments over the city in the plazas and on the new alameda, erected to the nation’s heroes, and one to William Wheelwright, the American who did so much to aid Chile in developing her transportation facilities. The naval school, which crowns one of the hills, is one of the most attractive places in Valparaiso, and provides one of the finest views of the bay and surrounding hills.

“One of the great advantages of life in Valparaiso,” says Arthur Ruhl in “The Other Americans,” “is the absence of a professional fire department. The glorious privilege of fighting fires is appropriated by the Élite, who organize themselves into clubs, with much the same social functions as the Seventh Regiment and Squadron A in New York, wear ponderous helmets and march in procession in great style whenever they get a chance. One comes upon these bomberos practising in the evening, on the Avenida, for instance, in store clothes and absent-mindedly puffing cigarettes, getting a stream on an imaginary blaze. In any emergency they perform much the same duties as our militia.

“It is the delightful privilege of the bombero to drop his work whenever the alarm is given, dash from his office to the blaze, and there man hose-lines, smash windows, chop down partitions, and indulge to the fullest one of the keenest primordial emotions of man. Inasmuch as buildings are seldom more than two or three stories in height and built of masonry, there is comparatively little danger of a large conflagration, and the average of one fire in four days is ‘just about right,’ as one of my Valparaiso acquaintances explained, ‘to give a man exercise.’ Their only unhappiness, he said, was that there were about fifteen hundred firemen in town, and they were getting so expert that what one could call a really ‘good’ fire was almost unknown.”

Like its commercial rival, San Francisco, Valparaiso suffered from a destructive earthquake in 1906. Slight quakes are quite common in this city, but the inhabitants do not seem to fear them, and go along the even tenor of their way as though such a thing as an earthquake was unknown. In one year as many as thirty-five shocks have been recorded, but the one mentioned above is the only one for a half century or more in which any lives were lost. In fact Valparaiso has had its full share of troubles and vicissitudes of all kinds. It was captured and sacked three times by buccaneers, twice by the British and once by a Dutch pirate. It has suffered severely from earthquake shocks on half a dozen different occasions, was destroyed by fire in 1858, bombarded by the Spanish fleet in 1866, and much property was destroyed in the Balmaceda revolution a little later. Few cities in the New World have had a career so troubled and diversified.

The most disastrous experience in the history of Valparaiso occurred in 1906. On the 16th of August of that year, only four months after the destruction of San Francisco, the greater part of the city was destroyed by an earthquake and the fire that followed. The day had been unusually calm and pleasant. About eight o’clock in the evening the first earthquake shock was felt, which was almost immediately followed by others. The whole city seemed to swing backward and forwards; then came a sudden jolt, and whole rows of buildings fell with a terrific crash. The electric light wires snapped, and gas and water mains were broken. The city was left in intense darkness, which was rendered all the more horrible by the shrieks of the injured and terrified inhabitants. Fires soon started which, fanned by a strong wind, soon became conflagrations. Between the fires and earthquake a large proportion of the lower town was completely destroyed, but the upper town was practically uninjured. Many of the better-built business houses withstood the earth’s tremblings, and the wind blew the flames in the opposite direction.

The authorities acted promptly in the matter, so that patrols of troops and armed citizens were soon on guard. The progress of the fire was impeded by the use of dynamite. Appeals for help were sent to Santiago and other cities, which were responded to as promptly as possible. There was necessarily some delay, for telegraph lines and the railroads had likewise suffered. The shocks continued for the two following days at irregular intervals, which likewise interfered with the work of cleaning up the city. A terrific downpour of rain also added to the confusion of the first night, for the vivid flashes of lightning and the clanging of the fire-bells made it a night not easily forgotten by the inhabitants. The killed and injured numbered at least three thousand persons. But fifty thousand or more were rendered homeless. Thousands of these were camped on the barren hills above the city, and thousands more were cared for by boats in the bay.

Strangely enough no damage was done to the shipping in the bay. The destruction was not confined to Valparaiso alone, but extended inland as far as Los Andes, and many of the small inland cities near Valparaiso suffered more or less damage. The property loss in Valparaiso has been estimated at one hundred million dollars. Like San Francisco, however, a new Valparaiso is arising which will be superior to the old. The greater part of the destroyed district has been rebuilt in a better and more enduring manner. The national government has advanced large sums of money to the municipality, which, in turn, has given it under certain conditions to those who suffered losses. To-day in the business section of Valparaiso it would be almost impossible, after only five years, to find evidence of this disastrous earthquake, but a little farther out its handiwork can quickly be traced.

There is a quaint side to life in Valparaiso. A visit to the market reveals many things of interest. One will first be impressed by the fine fruits of Chile, for nowhere in the world can one find more delicious pears, peaches and plums. The marketers bring their produce in huge two-wheeled carts drawn by the slow-moving ox. The stalls presided over by men and women fill every available inch of space, until it is almost impossible to force one’s way through. Everywhere are groups bargaining over fruits, vegetables or household articles, for these people dearly love a bargain. Many show by their faces a tinge of the Indian blood that runs in their veins.

The peripatetic merchants, who carry supplies from door to door, come to the market for their stock in trade. It is invariably carried on the back of a donkey or mule, as it is difficult to draw a loaded wagon up the steep ascents. Their quaint cries may be heard in almost any part of the city during the morning hours. As a rule this merchant carries only one article, or possibly two or three, if it is vegetables. The chicken peddler has built little coops for his birds which take the place of a saddle. It is interesting to watch him gesticulate and praise the excellence of his fowls to the good housewife, or the servant who comes out in answer to his warning cry. The scissors-grinder and dealers in notions swell the list of perigrinating business men who make the streets vocal with their calls. The milkman carries the milk in cans swung over the back of his mule or donkey, or else drives the cows themselves from door to door.

“Leche de las burras y vacas,” meaning donkey’s and cow’s milk, was the cry that reached my ears one morning in Valparaiso. On looking around I saw a man leading two donkey mares and three cows through the streets. Each donkey mare was closely followed by its pretty but comical little colt. This is a custom imported from Spain and Italy, where goats are also taken from door to door and oftentimes up three or four flights of stairs to be milked. It might even be possible to find a milkman with donkeys, cows and goats in his collection, so that a regular department store variety of milk could be provided his customers. Add to these the camel and reindeer, and you have the sources of the world’s milk supply. Donkey’s milk is used a great deal for babies in South America, as it is considered better for them than the milk of either cows or goats. Milk delivered in this way does not need a sterilized label upon it, or a certificate from the department of health. Furthermore, there is very little danger of adulteration. The housekeeper reaps the benefit of this style of milk delivery, but it must be a slow and costly method for the dairyman. It is another evidence that primitiveness has not entirely disappeared from Chile.

One other peculiar feature of life in Valparaiso is that the conductors on all the street cars are women. This innovation was introduced in the time of war with Peru, when men were hard to secure for that work. They did the work so well that they have been employed continuously ever since. It can not be said of them that they are especially attractive, or even look very jaunty in their uniforms of blue surmounted by a sailor hat. The fares are the cheapest I have ever found. The cars are all double-decked. For two cents one can ride inside, and it costs only half that rate to ride on the upper deck, which is a far better way to see the city. The service is good, and there are more than twenty-five miles of trolley in and about the city. The electric current for this as well as lighting is generated by water power a few miles north of the city, where a huge dam has been built across a stream.

A night view of Valparaiso from the bay is delightful. The many electric lamps in all parts of the city illuminate the otherwise dark shadows, and are reflected in the waters near the shore. Here and there move streaks of light in the lower town, as the electric cars dash along from one end of the city to the other; similar lines of light move up and down in a dozen places, as the “ascensors” carry their loads between the upper and lower town. At such times Valparaiso looks like a city of enchantment, a chosen bit from fairyland.

A trolley line leads out to the aristocratic suburb of ViÑa del Mar, where the rich people of Chile also have their summer residences. There are some beautiful homes in this city, of splendid architecture and surrounded by luxuriant foliage. In these villas the wearied and worried man of business finds rest after business hours. For a few months in the summer this resort is the centre of the social life of the republic, and the hotel is so crowded that it is difficult to secure accommodation, unless arranged for beforehand. There are delightful drives, when not too dusty, and then there are tennis courts, golf links, polo grounds and other places of recreation. A fine club building has been erected, where the devotees of games of chance can find the alluring games that their natures seem to crave. At Miramar is a small bathing resort, but it is extremely dangerous, for just a short distance from shore the bottom seems to drop to a great depth. It is used principally as a place for promenades and dress show for the society folks, and every day a long line of carriages wend their way out to that pleasant little bit of beach.

AN ATTRACTIVE HOME, VIÑA DEL MAR.