lise the
immense strain which would be required to cause one to give way. The
next morning at daybreak, the interior of the church presented a
terrible spectacle. Mr. Long described it as being full of women,
standing up, tightly wedged together, their hands stretched out as if
in an attitude of supplication, their faces and the upper part of
their bodies charred beyond recognition, the lower part, from the
waist downwards, completely untouched.

Their remains were buried in one large grave, in the cemetery of the
Recoleta, and the spot is now marked by a square piece of ground, full
of bright flowers, enclosed by iron railings, almost hidden by the
creepers that entwine them, and shaded by willows, orange-trees,
cypresses, and pomegranates. In the centre is a large cross, and on
either side of the iron railings there is a marble tablet with the
simple but touching inscription, in Spanish--

'Incendio de la Iglesia
de la Compania,
8 de Diciembre, 1863.
Restos de las Victimas;
2000, mas o menos.'

(Burning of the Church of the Compania, December 8th, 1863
Remains of the victims. 2,000, more or less.)

Almost every household in Santiago had lost one of its members. One
lovely girl of seventeen was pulled out through the roof and taken to
Madame Cousino's residence, where she lay for nearly a fortnight. She
suffered the greatest agonies, but was sensible to the last, and gave
a graphic account of the whole harrowing scene. The site of the
church, hallowed by such sad memories, has never been built upon, but
is preserved as an open space, surrounded by a strip of garden, and
having in its centre a finely carved monument.

The Houses of Congress were the next thing we went to see, after which
we drove through a great part of the city and over a handsome bridge
with statues and small niches on either side. Beneath it, however,
there is little more than a dry torrent bed; and it is said that an
American, when visiting this spot with a Santiago friend, who was
showing him round, remarked, 'I guess you ought either to buy a river
or sell this here bridge.' We also went to the Church of La Recoleta.
From the church we went to the cemetery of the same name, which is
prettily laid out, and well stocked with flowers and trees.

It being now past eleven o'clock, we began to think about breakfast,
and accordingly returned to the hotel, where I was disappointed to
find no news from Tom and no answer to the telegram I sent