112 RAMBLES AFTER SPORT. 



he would have gone on I don^t know, but we were 

 eventually cliarged and stopped by a villanous-looking 

 man on a horse, with a dh'ty blue uniform, a red cap, and 

 a huge sword, who forthwith proceeded to take us to the 

 police station, distant about two miles, there being a 

 fine of one dollar for galloping through the streets. 

 However, fortunately, on my way I met Mr. G., whom 

 everyone seemed to know. A little talkee-talkee ensued, 

 and the presentation of 20 cents (or one shilling) to the 

 " peeler '' settled all difficulties in a moment ; and, after 

 many apologies and adios from that functionary, we went 

 on our way. 



" I suppose the best way is to tip them when you are 

 caught V '' Oh yes," said Mr. Gr., '' that's the best 

 way ; or a good way is to go by full gallop, and when 

 they attempt to stop you cry out ^ Soy doctor.' '' It 

 appear that doctors are allowed anywhere and over 

 anything. 



A Chileno paco or policeman is a dreadful scamp ; 

 he is usually about five feet high, dressed in a coat down 

 to his heels, a dirty cap on his head several sizes too big 

 for him, and an immense sword reaching almost to his 

 ears. In a difficulty they lay about them with these 

 instruments pretty freely, especially if they can get a 

 drunken sailor up a back lane; they never miss a chance 

 of taking the change out of Jack. Their pay is miser- 

 able, and their dispositions accordingly vile. Their 

 mode of communicating with each other is by blowing 

 a bone whistle of peculiar shrillness; I never saw a 

 paco do anything yet but smoke straw cigarritos 

 and blow his whistle ; when about a dozen of them are 

 all blowing away together like steam engines, the efiect 

 is horrible. 



