of slaves; and I sent before thy face Moses, and Aaron, and Mary; I fenced thee in, and planted thee with the choicest vines; and what is there that I ought to do more to my vineyard that I have not done to it ?' He has poured on us His grace, He has been with us in our perplexities, He has led us on from one truth to another, He has forgiven us our sins, He has satisfied our reason, He has made faith easy, He has given us His saints, He shows before us day by day his own Passion; why should I leave Him? What has He ever done to me but good? Why should I re-examine what I have examined once for all? Why must I listen to every idle word that flits past me against Him, on pain of being called a bigot or a slave, when I should be behaving to the Most High as you yourselves who so call me would not behave towards a human friend or benefactor?

WILFRID WARD.

THE BOMBARDMENT OF IQUIQUE.1

THE bombardment of a defenceless town is happily now of such rare occurrence, that the unfortunate exception in the case of the Chilian port of Iquique has attracted considerable attention, and an account of it by one who was present may not be lacking in interest, if only because of the fact that the town contains so much English property and so many English lives. Iquique has become well known within the last few years as the port of Tarapaca, a province on the west coast of South America, acquired by Chile as the prize of her successful war against Peru, and rich in the nitrate product which has exercised such a fascination over the speculative dreams of the English public. The town lies on a level sandy tract standing out at the foot of barren hills, which rise to a height of some two to three thousand feet immediately behind it, and shut out all view of the country beyond. On either side of the town, and not more than a mile or two from it, the hills approach the sea again, so that the only means of reaching the interior is by surmounting them. As rain never falls in this district, these hills are perfectly destitute of verdure, and in the daytime are of a sandy and, in parts, a mouse-coloured tinge; but towards evening, as the sun sinks into the far Pacific, they acquire delicate hues of soft gold and pink which give a unique and by no means unpicturesque effect to their usually monotonous aspect. An island at the southern corner of the bay forms an excellent breakwater against the rollers driven on by the prevalent south-west winds.

Beyond the summit of the hills lies the Pampa, an undulating expanse of barren sand, compared to which, as a great traveller has remarked, the winter plateau before Sebastopol is a luxuriant parterre and the desert between Kassassin and Tel-el-Kebir a very garden of Eden. To add to the uninviting aspect of the scene, large deposits of discoloured common salt are visible everywhere, very similar in appearance to the patches of dirty snow to be seen in the country in England after several days of thaw. In this dreary waste are erected the oficinas, or establishments for the reduction of nitrate from the caliche or raw material. An oficina has usually a staff of at least a dozen Englishmen, presided over by a manager, or administrador. They are entirely dependent on the outside world for the means of existence, and their surroundings are monotonous in

1 Pronounce Ik-ec-kee.

the extreme; yet, with Englishmen's facility for making the best of circumstances, they manage to spend their leisure hours happily enough, and young clerks in Iquique look forward to a holiday on the Pampa with as much pleasure as a Londoner anticipates a week in the country or at the seaside. The railway runs from Iquique obliquely up the mountain-side to Molle, some six miles to the south, whence it strikes inland, and finally takes a northerly direction till it again descends to the sea at Pisagua, a smaller town about fifty miles in a direct line from Iquique. The ascent from Iquique to Molle is very steep, and trains drawn by the powerful double-boiler Fairlie engines may be seen toiling slowly up the side of the hill on the scarcely discernible railway-track, all at similar distances, rigidly maintained, from each other.

Iquique is built in rectangular blocks, similar to most towns in South America of Spanish origin. On account of the frequency of earthquakes, all buildings, with the exception of the stone Custom House, are made of wood. The dwelling-houses are, for the most part, only one story high, but many business houses and offices possess two or three floors. The more pretentious buildings are covered with stucco, the Cathedral and the Opera House being both in this style. All buildings have, by law, to be painted every year. The favourite colours are light shades of yellow, pink, or blue, and in the Calle Baquedano, where the English for the most part reside, the houses, with their balconies in front and their miradoras or flat roofs above, on which to catch the fresh sea-breeze, present a bright and by no means inartistic appearance. In the principal plaza there is a clocktower dedicated to the national hero, Arturo Prat, and some prettily laid gardens, all the more refreshing from the total absence of verdure elsewhere. Trams, with young girls for conductors and drawn by mules, run along the principal thoroughfares, the driver whistling loudly every time he nears a cross road, so as to give warning of his approach. Owing to the formation of the town these cross roads are very frequent, and the whistle seldom leaves the driver's mouth. The whistle is the great weapon of modern Iquique. Steam-launches whistle shrilly as they pick their path among the lighters in the bay, the railway engines scream for the whole length of their passage through the town, and at night, when the tram-driver at length retires to his well-earned rest, the policeman takes up the burden of his plaint and wanders along the streets giving vent to the most weird and melancholy calls upon his whistle, with all the stolid assiduity of the lower class Chilian official.

coaches,' as they are called, landaus of French manufac

The hired carriages of Iquique, or deserve some notice. They are mostly ture, and are drawn by a pair of horses. The fare from any one part of the town to another is only twenty cents, or fivepence at the old rate of exchange. The reason for this low charge is that horses are

cheap and the roads are good. While Iquique was still in the hands of the Peruvians the streets were ankle-deep in sand, but soon after the Chilian possession the much-desired improvement was commenced. Ripio, or refuse from the manufacture of nitrate, mixed with lime, was laid down and hardened into almost the solidity of concrete. An excellent footpath to Cavancha, a bathing-resort about a mile to the south of the town, is made of this material, as well as the cricketground and tennis-court enclosed within the railway property. On account of their cheapness, the coaches are much in request, and several large coaching establishments have sprung into existence to meet the demand. The horses from these livery stables can be seen early in the day being driven in herds like cattle along the Cavancha road, to take their morning bath in the sea. Mules are greatly used to carry packs to the Pampa, and also to bring down the carts loaded with ore from the neighbouring silver-mines of Huantajaya. These carts are roughly constructed, with broad wheels of large circumference, and are drawn by six, and sometimes nine, mules, harnessed three abreast. The driver rides on the near-side wheeler, and is provided with a long stock-whip, with which he keeps his team at a quick trot, while the heavily-laden cart rolls along with the thunder of a metal gun-carriage.

The resources of Iquique in the way of pastimes or amusements are somewhat limited. In the cool season riding, cricket, and tennis can be enjoyed, but in summer the temperature is too high for any of these to be a favourite means of recreation. There is only one road out of the town on which it is possible to drive-the road to Cavancha; and this place is, consequently, the favourite resort. A tramway also runs along by the side of the road, the trams drawn by horses, instead of mules, on account of a fairly steep gradient at the end. The major portion of the journey being across a sandy track with no houses on either side, there is not much getting in or out, and the services of the girl-conductors are dispensed with. The driver, usually a boy, hangs the ends of the reins on the brake-handle, and may be seen lounging in one of the front seats-the trams are for the most part light, open American cars, with seats running athwart, instead of lengthways-conversing with any chance acquaintance among the passengers, or buried in contemplation over the smoke of the universal yellow-papered cigarette. When the journey has commenced he rises leisurely and collects the fares. Should anyone wish to get down during this operation, he pulls the strap which rings the bell. This has the effect of stopping the horses, which are set in motion again by the same means. The Chilian youth are adepts in the art of economising vital energy.

In the afternoon Cavancha Bay presents a spectacle which might almost recall some of our own watering-places at home. Large, bright-coloured sunshades, with prettily-dressed English children

playing beneath them, are dotted here and there over the sand-a beautifully clean grey sand which seems specially adapted for children's games. On the ripio pathway the Iquique citizen is to be seen, taking his wife and children to enjoy the fresh sea-breeze, while along the beach are scattered many more, watching the huge rollers of the Pacific curling in transparent arcs and dashing into white foam upon the returning wave. The Gaviota and Serena baths at one end of the bay and the Cavancha baths at the other are always full, for the Chilians of both sexes are great lovers of sea-bathing, in spite of the low temperature of the water along this coast, due to the ice-laden currents from the Straits. Towards five o'clock a stream of coaches begins to issue from the town and the tramcars are filled to overflowing. One of the bathing establishments at Cavancha has a restaurant built out on piles supported on rocks which are surrounded with water. Its appearance is greatly enhanced by carefully tended plants and creepers, always grateful to the eye in Iquique. This restaurant is the usual resort of the English and the better class Chilians, and late in the afternoon is filled with gaily dressed people, laughing and talking, or watching their friends bathing from the bathing-place close by. Towards half past six the coaches are summoned, and the return to town is made across the sandy track, between the waters of the Pacific, glistening in the rays of the setting sun and the mountain-side lit up with all the glorious tinges from the declining orb of day. The usual dinner-hour is seven, and at eight a military band plays in the plaza. Here one can sit and listen to the music and watch the stream of people walking round and round, while the shadow of the lofty hills-those eternal hills from whose presence it seems impossible to escape in any Chilian town-hangs towering and majestic over all.

But Iquique in times of peace and Iquique in times of war bear two very different aspects. The trouble which has lately burst upon the country, and of which Iquique was almost the first to bear the brunt, has long been brewing. The President, José Manual Balmaceda, early succeeded in disappointing all the hopes which were raised at his election, five years ago. He had been Minister of Foreign Affairs to the late President, Santa Maria, and was then reckoned a warm supporter of progressive principles. Born in Santiago in the year 1840, he threw up the profession of the Church, for which he was originally intended, and in 1864 became attaché to ex-President Montt. In 1870 he was elected a member of the Congress, in which he sat uninterruptedly till his election to the presidential chair. This event was hailed on all sides with enthusiasm, for he had been the trusted Minister of a popular and much-respected President. But with his accession to power Balmaceda seems to have abandoned his Liberal principles, and soon acquired the reputation of carrying matters with a high hand, regardless of the authority of Congress.