Coronel is a great coaling station, and the bay,
which is surrounded by tall chimneys, shafts, and piers, connected
with the mines, was full of steamers and colliers.
Our road now ran for some time through undulating pasture-land, in
which were many large trees, the scene resembling a vast park. Masses
of scarlet verbena, yellow calceolaria, and white heath, grew on all
sides, while the numerous myrtle, mimosa, and other bushes, were
entwined with orange-coloured nasturtiums, and a little scarlet
tropaeolum, with a blue edge, whose name I forget. Beneath the trees
the ground was thickly carpeted with adiantum fern. The road over
which we travelled was of the worst description, and our luncheon was
eaten with no small difficulty, but with a considerable amount of
merriment. Once, when we jolted into an unusually big hole, the whole
of our provisions, basket and all, made a sudden plunge towards one
side of the coach, and very nearly escaped us altogether.
Half-way between Coronel and Concepcion, we met the return
stage-coach, crowded with passengers, and looking as if it had just
come out of the South Kensington Museum or Madame Tussaud's, or like
the pictures of a coach of Queen Elizabeth's time. It was a long low
vehicle, with unglazed windows all round it, painted bright scarlet
decorated with brilliant devices on every panel, and suspended, like
our own, by means of innumerable leather straps, from huge C springs.
Pages:
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224