delay, and our traveller was delighted enough
to find himself at Mendoza, on the frontier of
Chile.  This is a well-built city, with streets
crossing each other at right angles, as in most
of the Spanish towns.  It is by no means
oppressively hot, as it stands four thousand
eight hundred feet above the surface of the
sea, and is cooled by the breezes that come
down from the Cordilleras.  The women are
well dressed; and though education, even in
the higher circles, does not always comprise
the art of writing, life goes on merrily.  There
is abundance of dancing; dinners are good,
and toasts are patriotic.  However, the worst
bit of the journey was yet to come; the
Cordilleras were to be crossed, and it was
necessary to make haste; since as the season
advances the dangers and difficulties of the
passage greatly increase, as is most distinctly
shown by the scale of prices.  In summer it
costs something like five or seven pounds
sterling to cross these famous mountains; in
winter the price rises to seventy pounds.

Of the various passes, the pass of Uspalata,
which is the most frequented, was chosen,
and off set Herr von Raumer and his
fellow-travellers on mules, preceded by one
of these animals, who with a bell attached to
him officiated as guide.  The first day's
journey from Mendoza was simply dull,
lying through stones and sand; but, on the
second day, dangers and sublimities began: ice
and snow, and waterfalls, and thunder and
lightning, and huge condors measuring fifteen
feet across their outstretched wings, came in
rapid succession.  A pathetic incident too
occurred by the way.  One of the drivers
found the remains of a brother, who had been
devoured by wild beasts.  So little of him
was left, that the mourner carried away all
the beloved relics in his pocket-handkerchief.
The cold all this time was so intense, that
Herr von Raumer could even feel it in his
nipped face, and it pinched his fingers.

The downward journey, though difficult,
was still enlivened by the re-appearance of
vegetation, and the gradual disappearance of
snow.  The road, too, was less lonely, and
when our traveller had reached San Felipe
he was regaled by the sight of some Chilian
ladies riding on horseback, in the position
here taken by gentlemen only.  An imaginary
Englishman, who accompanied Herr von
Raumer, was shocked by this posture, and also
by the presence of cigars in the mouths of
the fair equestrians; but the historical
professor himself was manifestly delighted by
the little feet and silver spurs of the ladies,
and by the gaiety of their dresses, which
included all the colours of the rainbow.

The republic of Chile, which our traveller
entered by crossing the Cordilleras, is remarkable
for the fixity of its boundaries.  On the
east are the Cordilleras, only to be crossed by
adventurous travellers; on the north there
is the great desert of Atacama, which cuts it
off from Peru, and at the south point it
touches the uncivilised Patagonians.  Nature
seems to have said to Chile in express terms,
"Thus far shalt thou go, and no farther."

Although the Cordilleras come to a sudden
termination on the western side, there are
mountains, which, extending to the sea, are a
great impediment to agriculture; and, in
former times, there was another impediment
in the shape of the truck system, the large
landed proprietors usually selling the
necessaries of life to their vassals; so that the
latter were nearly always in debt.  This
system has been brought to an end by the
division of land, which was formerly prohibited
by law.  Rain is said to fall only on
twenty days throughout the year; but, such is
its violence, that it is said as much water
falls annually in Chile as in England.  The
sowing season is June, and harvest is in
December.  More wheat is grown than either
maize or barley, and there is a sort of bean,
which is put to much the same use as the
potato in Europe.

St. Jago, which is the largest city in Chile,
makes, upon the whole, a favourable
impression.  The climate reminded the voyager
of that of Sicily, and from the chief
promenade of the town, the Alameda, he could
enjoy a magnificent prospect of the Cordilleras.
Moreover, the streets are better paved
than in Buenos Ayres, and there is abundance
of pure water.  To the houses of the richer
classes, which, though simple and low-pitched,
are extremely neat, the abodes of the poor
stand in unfavourable contrast; being mere
wooden huts, in which, as in the Pampas, a
suspended hide is often the apology for a
door, while there is only one bed, which
descends from father to son, as an heir-loom.

The ladies of Chile Herr von Raumer could
better realise to himself than those of the
other South American countries.  He did not
find many perfect beauties, but pretty
vivacious faces were in plenty; and, although there
was not much reading, there was a great
deal of music and dancing, elder sisters
usually acting as preceptresses to the younger
branches.  The dances were frequently
accompanied by songs, after the fashion of
Buenos Ayres, and these generally set forth
a lover's quarrel and reconciliation, ending
with the very naïve question, "When will the
wedding come?"  All this was pleasant
enough; but the practice of making large
presents to a fiancée, of which her mother fixes
the value, was deemed by the historical professor
prosaic and indelicate.  Neither did he
believe that the gentlemen of Chile were
much more literary than the ladies; for, in
one of his imaginary visits to the public
library, the first book that fell into his nands
was a theological dissertation on the lawfulness
of drinking chocolate on a fast day.

As the etymological skill of Herr von
Raumer had informed him that Valparaiso
signified the Valley of Paradise, he felt some-
what disappointed when his imagination,