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Updated: June 14, 2025
Leaving Santiago we crossed the wide burnt-up plain on which that city stands, and in the afternoon arrived at the Maypu, one of the principal rivers in Chile. The valley, at the point where it enters the first Cordillera, is bounded on each side by lofty barren mountains; and although not broad, it is very fertile.
They were also beginning to feel keenly the burnt-up dryness of that whole countryside and the extreme heat of the season.
He glanced at it for a few seconds, then remarked: "Humph! not much the matter with you, I see. How d'ye feel?" I explained that my head was giving me excruciating pain, and that I felt burnt-up with fever and thirst; at which he laughed. "Pooh! pooh!" he exclaimed, "that's nothing. Thank your lucky stars that you have got off so lightly as you have.
Drabble, ruled him most despotically in the matter of meals, and it was amusing to see how she kept him and Mr. Tudor in order: neither of them ventured to keep the dinner waiting, for fear of the housekeeper's black looks; such an offence they knew would be expiated by cold fish and burnt-up steaks. Uncle Max might invite the bishop to dine, but if his lordship chose to be late Mrs.
In the space sheltered by the high palisades there lingered the smell of decaying blossoms from the surrounding forest, a taint of drying fish; with now and then a whiff of acrid smoke from the cooking fires when it eddied down from under the leafy boughs and clung lazily about the burnt-up grass.
The angle of this wall is great, and its appearance from below is impressive from its enormous breadth, and its abrupt rise without bend or droop for a good 2,000 feet into the air. It is covered with short, yellowish grass through which the burnt-up, scoriaceous lava rock protrudes in rough masses.
Winifred remembered ridiculously the flowers in her window-boxes after a blazing summer day; the way they lay, or rather stood parched, yet rested by the sun's retreat. It was as if a little dew had come already on her burnt-up husband. He said apathetically: "I suppose you've been to Park Lane. How's the old man?" Winifred could not help the bitter answer: "Not dead."
There, on the slope of Carmel, with the brassy heaven gleaming hard and dry above them, and the yellow, burnt-up plain of Jezreel at their feet, the expectant people stand.
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