The Hotel Ingles is considered the best,
though I cannot say much in its favour. The rooms are good, but the
situation is noisy, being at the corner of two streets; the servants
are attentive, but the cuisine and arrangements are bad. Independently
of all this, we have great reason to complain of the conduct of the
landlord, for my first question, as soon as he had introduced himself,
was, of course, 'Have Mr. and Miss Brassey arrived?' 'Yes, Madame, and
went away this morning.' 'What! and left no letter?' 'No; but Monsieur
returns to-morrow.' Imagine my surprise and disappointment! But there
was nothing to be done but to go to the hotel and wait patiently. We
afterwards found that _Tom had left a long letter, and that he had
never said a word about returning_. The wretched man would not give me
the letter, because he thought he could detain us, and he never sent
the telegram I handed to him to forward to Tom at once, asking for an
answer.
[Illustration: Huasso Huts.]
Our luggage arrived just in time to enable us to dress for the second
table-d'hote at six o'clock, after which we went for a walk through
some arcades, paved with marble, and full of fine shops, past the
Grand Hotel, which was situated at the end of the Alameda, and is
built over an arcade of shops.
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