_Wednesday, October 25th_.--The bath was so delightful this morning,
that we felt quite sorry it was to be our last. One could very well
spend a week or two here, and find plenty to do in the way of
excursions into the valleys of the Andes, which look most inviting in
the distance.
At half-past ten, we set out on our return journey to the railway,
changing horses at the same place where we had stopped at coming up,
and which we reached half an hour before the train was due; when it
arrived we were allowed to get in with our belongings in rather a less
hurried fashion than we had alighted. Luncheon was procured at
Rancagua, and we finally reached Santiago at about 4.50 p.m. No sooner
had we got fairly into the station than the car was invaded by a crowd
of Porters touting for employment. They are all dressed in white, and
wear red caps, on which is a brass number, by means of which they are
easily recognised. The landlord from the Hotel Ingles, M. Tellier, met
us, and we at once drove off, leaving our luggage to follow, in charge
of one of the red-capped gentlemen. The drive from the station was
along the Alameda, on either side of which were many fine houses; but
the road was ill-paved and shaky as usual.
[Illustration: Cacti of the Cordillera]
The Grand Hotel, which used to be considered the best in South
America, is now shut up, the company who owned it having recently
failed; so all the smaller hotels, none of which are very good, are
crowded to overflowing.
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