We rode all over the farm, attended by half-a-dozen peones, who drove the young thoroughbred stock together, in the enormous fields, for us to see, and afterwards did the same thing with some of the cattle.  We also went through the farm buildings, in one part of which we saw the operation of making lassoes.  The best are composed of neatly plaited strips of cured hide, about a quarter of an inch wide, the commoner sort being made from an undressed cow’s hide, with the hair on, cut from the centre in an ever-increasing circle, so that they are in one piece, many yards in length.  In another part of the farm there were a few acres more of flower-gardens, orange-trees, and kitchen-gardens.

[Illustration:  What makes Horses go in Chili]

Beautiful as the whole place is, it loses much in interest from its vastness.  You never seem to know where you are, or when you have come to an end.  I hear that Madame Cousino talks of extending the park still further, right up into the mountains, which seems almost a pity, as it is already too big to be kept in really perfect order, even with a hundred and twenty men employed upon it.  Everything is completely surrounded and overgrown with flowers.  Even the fields are separated by hedges of sweet-smelling double pink roses, and these hedges are larger than many a ‘bull-finch’ in the old country.

After a delightful gallop of about two hours, we returned to the farmhouse, where we found a fresh pair of horses waiting for us in the break, and drove back to Santiago by moonlight.

It was eight o’clock when we reached the hotel, and as the table-d’hote dinner only lasts from five till half-past seven, I asked for a private dinner in our own room or in the general dining-room, for our own party and two guests in addition.  But the landlord said he was not at all sure about giving us dinner; he must see what there was in the kitchen first.  We then declared we would go and dine at a cafe, and in less than half an hour managed to get an excellent little dinner at the Cafe Santiago, though even Mr. Long, who ordered it for us, could not induce them to give us native wine.  I am bound to confess, however, that we punished ourselves at least as much as the landlord, for as we paid so much a day for board and lodging, he was of course bound to provide us with dinner, and we had thus to pay for our food twice over.

Friday, October 27th.—­Still no news from Tom.  Mr. Long called at half-past eight, to take me to the market, and my first step was to send another telegram, this time taking care to see that it really was despatched.