already mentioned, never said a word about coming back.  Thursday was spent in seeing what little there is to see in Valparaiso, and in visiting the ‘Opal.’  On Friday Tom went for a sail, moved the yacht close inshore, had a dinner-party on board, and went to a pleasant ball afterwards, given by the Philharmonic Society, an association of the same sort as the one at Rio.  It was not, however, called a regular ball, but a teriulia, so the ladies were in demi-toilette.  Tom described the room as good, the floor first-rate, the music excellent, the ladies good-looking, and the men agreeable.  To-day he met us at the station with the children; and now, therefore, one account will describe the movements of the whole reunited party.

Sunday, October 29th.—­We all went ashore to church, having been told it was only five minutes’ walk from the landing-place, instead of which it took us at least a quarter of an hour, in an intensely hot sun, to climb up a steep hill.  The building itself was large, airy, and cool, and there is a good organ and choir, but most of the choristers had gone away to-day to a picnic in the country.  During the Litany our attention was suddenly drawn to the fact that earthquakes are matters of frequent occurrence in this country, by a special prayer being offered up for preservation from them and their destructive effects.

At four o’clock we went ashore for a ride, and having climbed the hills at the back of the town, which command extensive views over land and sea, we galloped across the downs and through some villages on to the old high road from Valparaiso to Santiago, along which we rode only for a few yards, turning off into a romantic valley, where the path was so narrow that we could barely squeeze through between the thickly growing shrubs and trees.  At last we went up a steep hill on to another high road, and re-entered the town quite at the opposite end to that at which we had left it, after which a ride of two miles along the stony, ill-paved streets brought us to the landing-place.

Monday, October 30th.—­We were to be off directly the sea-breeze sprang up, at about eleven o’clock, and as I had many letters to write, I was called at 4 a.m., and finished them all before breakfast at eight.  But first one visitor and then another arrived, and it was nearly eleven o’clock when we landed to make the final preparations for starting on our long voyage of eleven thousand miles across the Pacific.

Our route, as at present, arranged, will be via the Society, Friendly, and Sandwich Islands.  Juan Fernandez (Robinson Crusoe’s Island), which we at first thought of visiting, we have been obliged, I am sorry to say, to give up, not on account of its distance from Valparaiso, as it is only 270 miles off, but because it lies too far to the southward, and is consequently quite out of the track of the trade wind, which we ought to pick up, according to the charts and sailing directions, about 500 miles to