them having children
attending the school.

From the beginning of the school, Mr. Wood had tried to dominate it.
This was another reason for the employes' grievances and, chief of
all, they were now being paid in the depreciated currency of the
country. The meeting was conducted in a quiet business manner. The
sentiment was to strike until Mr. Wood was removed from office.

I told the men that that would be an injustice, as the general manager
was in Lima and we had no one to appeal to. Therefore we should
continue to work until we could communicate with him. This appeal had
the desired effect, as all could see the injury our strike would
inflict on the railway.

I was then selected as the representative of the employes to go to
Lima and lay the matter before the general manager. I was about to
start when I was handed a note from the superintendent, saying that my
services were no longer required. I replied that I would receive my
orders from his superior and proceeded on my journey.

At Lima I succeeded in reinstating Mr. Robinson, and shortly after my
return to Arequipa, Mrs. Robinson died. Grief at the injury inflicted
upon her husband and a feeling of friendlessness in a foreign land,
had hastened her end. Another indignation meeting was held and Mr.
Wood was dismissed from the service of the company. Mr. Robinson
became despondent and after a few months decided to leave the
country.

The war with Chile was still on. The Peruvian army suffered defeat
after defeat. Her navy had made some show of success at first, but not
after the terrible fight between the Huascar, and two Chile ironclads,
in which the Peruvians lost. The currency of the country became
practically worthless. My accumulation of years was almost swept
away.

Mr. Robinson decided to return to their home in San Louis Obispo,
California, and about this time I received an offer from the Peruvian
government to bring a torpedo boat from Panama to Mollendo. The
Robinson family were going north on the steamer which would carry me
to Panama. On leaving, our friends gave us a splendid banquet and
assembled at the station to bid us farewell. Poor Chico, I can see him
yet, waving his old red handkerchief with his right hand, his left
covering his eyes.

When the ship moved out of the port, I stood on the deck with Hattie.
Mr. Robinson and the aged mother stood near us looking upon the scene
amid a flood of tears. The memory of their dead they were leavi