Halfway to Los Lirios I arrived at the hamlet of Colihue (mispronounced by the natives Collegua) with its adobe hovels bordering the now broad and extremely dusty road. Everybody in rural Chile travels on horseback, and the people I met riding were many. A man loses caste if he journeys on foot. At Colihue another road turns off to the left to the Lake of Cauquenes in the mountains and which teems with fish. The road now left the Cachapoal and after skirting some barren hills on the right-hand side for a couple of miles it reaches the settlement of Cauquenes a most queer place. It consists of a great square compound of dirt which is surrounded on all four sides by a five-foot-high adobe wall excepting where there is a church on the west side and a few open sheds on its east side. An estancia house stood beyond the wall on the south side and there were some buildings beyond the wall on the north side where the priest and his servants lived. The highroad both entered and left this compound by openings rent in the adobe wall. It may be possible that this place once held a Spanish garrison, and that the compound was the parade ground, and that the open sheds were former stables. Everybody that I asked knew nothing about the early history of the place.
A broad avenue one mile long bordered by giant plane trees led westward from here. Their foliage was so thick that it made the road dark, and not seeing my way well I rode my horse onto a pile of bricks, the impact being so great that it nearly brought us both down. The road emerged to a pebble river bed, then forded a river, and wound around the sides of some high hills. Every horseman in Chile takes a slight upward grade at a gallop and I saw ahead of me a group of horsemen doing the same; behind us came galloping around the curves six horses pulling a carriage. These horses were three abreast and on each outside leader two lackeys were mounted. It was the doctor's wife from the Baños en route to Los Lirios where her sister has a post station. Chileans frequently travel on horseback, accompanied by their servants who follow a couple of horse lengths behind mounted on inferior animals. When the master stops, the servant likewise does so, but with the same distance between the two.
Los Lirios consists only of a small wooden railway station, a warehouse, a large open horseshed around a yard filled with wagons which is the post station, a small store, and a saloon. To this latter place I repaired, after dismounting, to get a glass of water after the hot dusty trip. The building and its stock of goods were poorer than the poorest backwoods blind pig, and yet for a third-class license the congenial and friendly proprietor, who was likewise barber and plied that trade in an adjacent room in the same building, had to pay yearly two hundred pesos ($34.12). From the appearance of the shack it did not look as if he took in that much money a year. Some of the moustached clientele that happened along, I called up to the bar to have a treat on me. The proprietor brought forth two goblets, each one being of a quart capacity, and filled them to the brim with red wine which he poured from a big jar. The contents of one of these goblets sells for 8½ cents, the cheapest wine that I have ever seen. If my surprise was great in seeing men take a quart of wine for one drink, it was even greater when I saw them drink it in nearly one gulp and put the goblet back on the bar in anticipation of a duplicate. I treated them two or three times and never once did they renege. I know what would have happened to me if I had followed suit, yet it seems incredible when I must state that it had absolutely no effect on the imbibers. It is inconceivable why a man in that part of Chile need ever touch an intoxicant, for the sweet, balmy air and the voluptuous appearance of Chile's maidens are sufficient to intoxicate any normal, healthy man.
An hour after leaving Los Lirios the train arrived at San Fernando, population 9150, the capital of the Province of Colchagua where we had lunch. Colchagua which has a population of 159,030 is one of the most productive provinces of Chile, but the next two provinces south of it, Curicó and Talca are not. It is a sorry sight after having passed through the well-tilled, highly productive country ever since leaving Santiago, to come suddenly upon land that is going to waste on account of lack of settlement. With the exception of the six northernmost provinces of Chile, Curicó and Talca are to me the least attractive of any of the republic. South of San Fernando the first town of importance is Curicó, its name meaning "Black Water" in the language of the aborigines; then are reached Molina, population 4327; Talca, the sixth city of Chile with a population of 42,088 inhabitants, and San Javier in the Province of Linares which has 4898 people. This town lies about three miles east of the railroad track but is connected to the depot by horse cars and to Villa Alegre, the next town south of it, by trolley.
The Andean Province of Linares and its southern neighbor Ñuble are very important agriculturally, both being two of the best in the republic. Their crops are diversified, run high in percentage of measure to the hectare and are of good quality. The capital of the Province of Linares is the city of Linares with a population of 11,122. It has good stores and buildings most of which are painted pink. Like in Rancagua the samples of merchandise on display in the shops are cloth, ponchos, and drygoods. Although but slightly larger than Rancagua it is a much finer town, and even though its streets are none too clean they are far superior to those of the capital of the Province of O'Higgins. In comparing the two cities it is fair to say that Rancagua presents more activity in street life and in business. There is one hotel which is fair, the Comercio. A peculiarity about Linares is that on the streets, especially that one on which the railroad station faces, native women are seated in front of portable stoves offering for sale cooked edibles which should be eaten on the spot. I saw one man who, when he had finished eating, left the spoon on the table near the stove. The woman who owned it licked it dry, and after having wiped it on her undershirt, replaced it in a dish that would be sold to the next customer. The native women have an art peculiar to Linares and nonexistent anywhere else in the world of weaving a certain delicate fiber into small baskets, jugs, and ornaments. These woven wares are very diminutive and are valuable only as ornaments and curiosities. They are multicolored and are in much demand by strangers. It is possible to buy them in Santiago but at an exorbitant price for all that are on sale there are imported from Linares.
A two-and-a-half-foot gauge railroad runs from a station a block and a half north of the main depot to the springs of Panimávida, two hours distant to the northeast. Having seen those of Cauquenes, in order to augment my education along thermal lines, it was up to me to see Panimávida and to especially sample its mineral waters, as its bottled water is the most widely drunk of any mineral water in Chile. It corresponds to White Rock and to Still Rock.
Main Street of Linares
The place Panimávida is nothing. It is just as if somebody had erected a big hotel in the middle of an Illinois or a Wisconsin landscape. The attractions are absolutely nil. There are six practically tasteless lukewarm springs covered over with glass tops which supply the popular table water of Chile. These springs are the property of the Sociedad Vinos de Santiago (Santiago Wine Company), and as that stock company is well capitalized the Panimávida waters are well advertised by them. As people like to dilute their wine with seltzer, this company has installed a carbonizing plant here, which changes the still water into a sparkling one. The plant with hotel is leased to a man named Hernandez, a fine, fat, young fellow with a flowing beard. He is a good and accommodating hotel man and gets the trade, even having his runners meet the trains at Linares. Panimávida is an excellent old-maids' paradise. Under the shady roof of the patio porch they can sit, gossip, and knit. The proverbial parrot is present and a black cat could be easily imported. President Sanfuentes arrived during my visit to rest up after the strenuous strain connected with his installation. It was an ideal place for this with nothing to distract his attention except the broad meadows and the corrugated-iron, yellow-painted Catholic chapel.