in some eighteen inches of water.  First the carriage stuck in the sand, and then the horses refused to move, but after a great deal of splashing, and an immense display of energy in the way of pulling, jerking, shrieking, shouting—­and, I am afraid, swearing—­we reached the bank, emerged from the water, struggled through some boggy ground, and were taken at full gallop through the streets of the town, until we reached the Hotel Comercio, where we found comfortable rooms and a nice little dinner awaiting us.

This was all very well, as far as it went, but when we came to inquire about our onward route we were disappointed to learn that the line to Angol was closed, owing to the breaking down of a bridge, and would remain so until next month, and that, with the exception of a contractor’s train, which runs only once a week, there was nothing by which we could travel.  ‘To-morrow is Friday,’ added Monsieur Letellier, ’and that is so near Monday, what can Madame do better than wait here till then?’ By way of consolation, he informed us that there were no Indians now at Angol, as the Araucanian [6] Indians had recently all been driven further back from the frontier by the Chilenos, but that, if we were still bent on trying to get there, we could go by boat as far as Nacimiento, where we might, with some difficulty, procure a carriage.  The river just now, however, is so low, that the boat frequently gets aground, and remains for two or three days; therefore, taking everything into consideration, we have decided to abandon this part of our programme, for otherwise we shall not reach Santiago in time.  In any case, the journey will be a much longer one than we expected.

[Footnote 6:  I have lately received a letter from a friend in Paris, who says:  ’Strange to tell, it is only a few days ago that poor Orelie Antoine I., ex-King of Araucania, died at Bordeaux, in a hospital.  He reigned for some years, and then made war upon Chili, which gave him a warm reception; even captured his Majesty and sent him back to his native land.  I met him here a few years ago, surrounded by a small court, which treated him with great deference.  I found him a dignified, intelligent sovereign.  He attempted to return to his kingdom, but was captured on the high seas by a Brazilian cruiser, and sent back to France to die a miserable death.]

Friday, October 20th.—­We went out for a short stroll round the Plaza before breakfast, which meal was scarcely over when Mr. Mackay arrived in a carriage, and took us off to see what there was to see in the town.  The Plaza was full of bright-looking flower-beds, in which were superb roses, and many English flowers, shaded by oranges, pomegranates, and deutzias.  Each plot belongs to one of the principal families in the town, and great emulation is displayed as to whose little garden shall be in the best order and contain the finest collection of plants and flowers.