128 A BOOK-LOVER'S HOLIDAYS 



After the sports we motored down to a great 

 pasture on one side of a lake, beyond which 

 rose lofty mountains. Then we returned to 

 the ranch-house itself — a huge, white, single- 

 storied house with a great courtyard in the 

 middle and wings extending toward the stable, 

 the saddle-rooms, and the like. It was a house 

 of charm and distinction; the low building — 

 or rather group of buildings, with galleries and 

 colonnades connecting them — being in the old 

 native style, an outgrowth of the life and the 

 land. After a siesta our hosts led us out across 

 a wide garden brilliant and fragrant with 

 flowers, to the deep, cool shade of a row of 

 lofty trees, where stood a long table spread with 

 white linen and laden with silver and glass; 

 and here, we were served with a delicious and 

 elaborate breakfast — the Chilean breakfast, 

 that of Latin Europe, for in most ways the Hfe 

 of South America is a development of that of 

 Latin Europe, and much more closely kin to 

 it than it is to the hfe of the Enghsh-speaking 

 peoples north of the Rio Grande. 



In the afternoon we drove back to the rail- 

 road. At one point of our drive we were joined 

 by a rider who had taken part in the morning's 

 sports. He galloped at full speed beside the 

 rushing motor-car, waving his hat to us and 



