Baths of Apoquinto—Slopes of the Cordillera—Excursion to Santa Rosa de los Andes and the valley of Aconcagua—Return to Valparaiso—Voyage in the German steamer Rhamses—Visit to Lota—Parque of Lota—Coast of Southern Chili—Gulf of Pe?as—Hale Cove—Messier’s Channel—Beautiful scenery—The English narrows—Eden harbour—Winter vegetation—Eyre Sound—Floating ice—Sarmiento Channel—Puerto Bueno—Smyth’s Channel—Entrance to the Straits of Magellan—Glorious morning—Borya Bay—Mount Sarmiento—Arrival at Sandy Point.
Having devoted the day following my return to Santiago to botanical work, chiefly in the herbarium of Dr. Philippi, I started on the following morning in company with his son, Professor Friedrich Philippi, for an excursion up the slopes of the mountain range nearest the city. My companion had kindly sent forward in advance his servant with horses, and we engaged a hackney coach to convey us to the Baths of Apoquinto, where a warm mineral spring bursts out at the very base of the mountain. The common carriages throughout South America are heavy lumbering vehicles, and the road, though nearly level, was deep in volcanic sand; but the horses are excellent, and, in spite of several halts to collect a few189 plants yet in flower, we accomplished the distance of nine miles in little over an hour.
BATHS ON APOQUINTO.
The establishment at Apoquinto is on a small scale and somewhat rustic in character, but it had been recently taken by an Englishman, and now supplies fair accommodation, which would be prized by a naturalist who should be fortunate enough to visit Chili at a favourable season. We mounted our horses without delay, and at once commenced the ascent, gentle for a short way, but soon becoming so steep that it was more convenient to dismount at several places. Under the experienced guidance of my companion, I found more interesting plants still in flower or fruit than I had ventured to expect at this season. I here for the first time found a species of Mulinum, one of a large group of umbelliferous plants characteristic of the Chilian flora, and nearly all confined to South America. The leaves in the commonest species are divided into a few stiff pointed segments, reminding one somewhat of the Echinophora of the Mediterranean shores, once erroneously supposed to be a native of England.
I was especially struck on this day with the extraordinary variety of odours, pleasant or the reverse, that are exhaled by the native plants of Chili. As commonly happens in dry countries, a large proportion of the native plants contain resinous gums, each of which emits some peculiar and penetrating smell. I had already observed this elsewhere in the country, but, perhaps owing to the great variety of the vegetation on these slopes, the recollections of the day are indelibly associated with those of the impressions190 on the olfactory nerve. If there be persons in whom such impressions are sufficiently distinct to be accurately recalled by an effort of the memory, I can imagine that in some countries the nose might afford a valuable help to the botanical collector. To judge, however, from personal experience, I should say that of all the senses that of smell is the one which supplies the least accurate impressions, and those least capable of certain recognition.
We reached a place where a small stream from the upper part of the mountain springs in a little waterfall from a cleft in the rocks, and which is known as the Salto de San Ramon. This is probably about four thousand feet above the sea-level, and between us and the lower limit of the snow which covered the higher slopes there stretched a rather steep acclivity, covered, like the ground around us, with bushes and small shrubby plants. A few small trees (chiefly Kageneckia) grew near the Salto, but higher up scarce any were to be seen. Professor Philippi, who is well acquainted with the ground, thought that little, if anything, would be added to our collections by continuing the ascent, so we devoted the spare time to examining the ground in our immediate neighbourhood, thus adding a few species not before seen. In summer, however, an active botanist, starting early from Apoquinto, who did not object to an ascent of six or seven thousand feet, would reach the zone of Alpine vegetation, and be sure to collect many of the curious plants of this region of the Andes.
May 22 and the following day were fully occupied in Santiago. Among other agreeable acquaintances,191 I called upon Don F. Balmacedo, then minister for foreign affairs, and now President of the Republic, who favoured me with a letter of introduction to the governor of the Chilian settlement in the Straits of Magellan. I also enjoyed an interesting conversation with Dr. Taforò, then designated by the Chilian Government for the vacant archbishopric of Santiago. Some canonical objections appear to have created difficulties at Rome, and the see, as I believe, remains vacant.
THE CUMULATIVE VOTE IN CHILI.
I found in Dr. Taforò an agreeable and well-informed gentleman, who appeared to hold enlightened views, and to be free from many of the prejudices which the Spanish clergy have inherited from the dark period of ecclesiastical tyranny and absolute royalty. With regard to the Chilian clergy in general, I derived a favourable impression from the testimony of my various acquaintances. At all events, they appear to be respected by the mass of the population, whereas in Peru they are regarded with dislike and contempt by all classes alike.
Among the various claims of the Chilian republic to be regarded with interest by the student of political progress, I must note the fact that it has for some time successfully adopted a system of suffrage which is supposed to be too complex for the people of our country. In political elections for representatives the mode of voting is, I believe, very nearly the same as that known amongst us as the Hare system; while in municipal elections the cumulative vote is adopted, each voter having as many votes as there are candidates to be elected, and being allowed to give as many192 votes as he pleases to the one or more candidates of his choice. I unfortunately was not aware of these facts while in the country, and therefore failed to make inquiry on the subject; but the fact that, while there is a keen interest in political life, no one has proposed to alter the present mode of voting, seems to prove that the existing system gives general satisfaction.
Early in the morning of May 24 I left Santiago, bound for Santa Rosa de los Andes, the highest town in the valley of the Rio Aconcagua. That river is mainly fed from the snows of the great peak from which it takes its name, the highest summit of the New World.29 In its lower course it waters the Quillota valley, through which the railway is carried from Valparaiso to Santiago. In travelling from the latter city it is therefore necessary to return to the junction at Llaillai, whence a branch line leads eastward along the river to San Felipe and Santa Rosa. The sky was cloudless, the air delightfully clear, and the views of the great range were indescribably grand and beautiful, especially in the neighbourhood of San Felipe. The summit of Aconcagua, as seen from this side, shows three sharp peaks of bare rock, too steep to retain the snow which now lay deep on the lower declivities. It has been inferred that the summit must be formed of crystalline or metamorphic rock, as there is no indication of the existence of a crater. This is by no means improbable, as we know that193 granite, old slates, and conglomerates, as well as newer Secondary rocks, are found at many points along the axis of the main range; but, on the other hand, we know that most of the higher peaks in Central Chili are volcanic, and the removal of all but some fragments of the cone of an ancient crater may leave sharp teeth of rocks such as are seen at the summit of Aconcagua. In the view which I obtained from the Morro of Cauquenes I observed several lofty peaks of somewhat the same character, which struck me as probably the shattered remains of ancient craters.
SANTA ROSA DE LOS ANDES.
Reaching Santa Rosa early in the afternoon, I proceeded to the Hotel Colon in the plaza, which, as usual, forms the centre of the town. The French landlord and his wife were civil, obliging people, and, although the establishment seemed to be much out at elbows, I was soon installed in a tolerably good room, and supplied with information for which I had hitherto been vainly seeking. The main line of communication between the adjoining republics of Chili and Argentaria30 is over the Uspallata Pass at the head of the valley of Aconcagua; and Santa Rosa, or as it is more commonly called, Los Andes, is the starting-point for travellers from the west. Don B. V. Mackenna had kindly furnished me with a letter to the officer in charge of the custom-house station at the foot of the pass, known as the Resguardo del Rio*194 Colorado, and led me to believe that a carriage road extended as far as that point. The latter statement was, however, disputed by several of my acquaintances in Santiago, and the most various assertions were made as to the distance and the time requisite for the excursion. As it turned out, Mr. Mackenna, as he generally is, was correctly informed. The road, as I now learned, was in bad order, but quite passable for a carriage; and the distance could be accomplished in little over three hours.
Having ordered a vehicle for the next morning, I inquired for a man or a boy acquainted with the neighbourhood of the town, who might serve as guide and carry some of the traps with which a botanist is usually encumbered. An ill-looking fellow, who seemed to have been drinking heavily overnight, soon made his appearance, and we started through a long, dusty street, with only very few houses at wide intervals, which led to the road by which I was to travel on the following morning. Seeing the ground near the town to be much inclosed, while on the opposite side of the river a broad belt of flat stony ground, partly covered with bushes and small trees, gave better prospect to the botanist, I desired to be conducted to the nearest bridge by which I might cross the stream. When we reached the place it appeared to be even a more rickety structure than usual, requiring some care to avoid the numerous holes in the basket-work which formed the floor. Having ascertained that I meant to return the same way, my guide proceeded to stretch himself on the bank, where I found him fast asleep on my return.
195
A LAZY GUIDE.
The character of the vegetation was the same as that about Santiago, but the general aspect indicated a decided increase of dryness in the climate, so that at the present season there was very little remaining to be gleaned by the botanical collector. As usually happens, however, careful search did not go quite unrewarded. I found several species not before seen, and even where there were no specimens fit for preservation something was to be learned. My next object was to ascend the neighbouring hill, or cerro, which immediately overlooks the town of Santa Rosa. A new proprietor had bought a tract of land on the left bank of the river, and erected very substantial fences rather troublesome to a trespasser. My so-called guide dropped behind as I began to ascend the hill—only five or six hundred feet in height—finally turned back, and, having deposited my goods at the hotel, claimed and received an ill-earned fee. The stony slopes were utterly parched, yet I found a few botanical novelties. A small shrubby composite with prickly leaves, but with the habit and inflorescence of a Baccharis, was still in tolerable condition. I took it for the female plant of some species of that characteristic South American di?cious genus; but I afterwards ascertained that it belonged to a completely different group, namely, the Mutisiace?, being the Proustia baccharoides of Don.
The view from the summit of the Cerro towards the Andean range was not equal to that from San Felipe, but on the opposite side the outlook towards the plain was interesting. The contrast between the zone of cultivation in the low lands accessible to196 irrigation and the higher ground, burnt by the summer to a uniform yellow-brown tint, was striking to the eye. The town of Santa Rosa, laid out on the flat at the foot of the hill, was a curious feature in the prospect. It was designed on the regular plan which seems to have recommended itself to all the European settlers in the American continent, but which I have nowhere seen so exactly carried out as at this place. A chess-board supplied the model, with one row of squares cut off to avoid some rough ground. Fifty-six squares—quadras—exactly equal in size, are divided by broad roads, and the whole is surrounded by a wall about half a mile in length each way. The quadra in the centre forms the plaza; the others were to be occupied by houses and gardens. To make the town, as planned by its founders, a perfect model, it wants nothing but houses and people to live in them. It was, perhaps, imagined that, being on the main line of communication across the Andes, this might become a place of some importance; but the traffic is very limited, and, such as it is, it is carried on by trains of horses and mules that travel to and fro between Valparaiso and Mendoza. The area of land fit for cultivation in the valley above San Felipe is small, and the resort of retail traders doubtless very limited. The result is that Santa Rosa is a town without houses. Many of the quadras are occupied by a single house and annexed garden, and only round or close to the plaza is such a thing as a row of adjoining buildings to be seen.
The morning of May 25 was noteworthy as producing the solitary instance of punctuality in a native197 of South America that I encountered in the course of my journey. The virtuous driver of the carriage which I had engaged to take me to the Resguardo was actually at the door of the hotel at the appointed hour, soon after sunrise; but it availed little for my object. Not a soul was stirring in the hotel; and though I made no small disturbance, it was long before I could induce the lazy waiter to make his appearance. I had not thought of providing my breakfast overnight, and could not start without food for a long day’s expedition.
VALLEY OF ACONCAGUA.
At length we started on the road by the left bank which I had followed on the previous evening, and, the weather being again nearly perfect, I thoroughly enjoyed a very charming excursion, which carried me farther into the heart of the Cordillera than I had yet reached. As very often happens, however, the nearer one gets to the great peaks the less one is able to see of them. The general outline of the slopes in the inner valleys of high mountain countries is usually convex, because the torrents have deepened the trench between opposite slopes more quickly than suba?rial action has worn away the flanks; and it is only exceptionally that the summits of the ridges can be seen from the intervening valley. Among mountains where the main lines of valley are, so to say, structural—i.e. depending on inequalities produced during the original elevation of the mountain mass—the case is somewhat different. Such valleys are usually nearly straight, as we see so commonly in the European Alps, and the peaks lying about the head of the valley are therefore often in view; but in the Andes,198 as in many parts of the Rocky Mountains, it would appear that the valleys are exclusively due to erosive action, and, their direction being determined by merely local conditions, they are extremely sinuous, and rarely follow the same direction for any considerable distance.
The road up the Aconcagua valley seemed to me at the time to be about the worst over which I ever travelled in a carriage, but I had not then made acquaintance with the mountain tracks, which they are pleased to call roads, in the United States. Looking back in the light of subsequent experience, I suppose that the Chilian roads should rank among the best in the American continent, although this one was so uneven that in awkward places, where it overhung the river, the carriage was often tilted so much to one side that I was thankful not to have with me a nervous companion.
About half-way to the Resguardo the road crosses the river by a stone bridge, where it rushes in a narrow channel between high rocky banks. Seeing botanical inducements, I descended to examine the banks on either side, and in crossing the bridge noticed, what I might otherwise have overlooked, that the crown of the arch was rapidly giving way. There was a large hole in the centre, and the structure was sustained only by the still solid masonry on each side, where the wear and tear had been less constant. I have often admired the calm good sense displayed by the horses in all parts of America, and was interested in observing the prudent way in which our steeds selected the safest spots on either side of the199 hole without any appearance of the nervousness which seems hereditary in English horses, partly due, I suppose, to the unnatural conditions in which they live. With every confidence in animal sagacity, but none whatever in the stability of the bridge, I thought it judicious on my return in the evening to recross it on foot.
A SENSITIVE PLANT.
I found two or three curious plants not before seen on the rocks here, and again found the singular Zygophyllaceous shrub Porliera hygrometrica, which is not uncommon in this part of Chili. The numerous stiff spiny branches diverging at right angles must produce flowers during a great part of the year, as I observed at this season both nearly ripe fruit and flowers in various stages of development. The small pinnate leaves, somewhat resembling in form those of the sensitive plant, have something of the same quality. But in this case the effective stimulus seems to be that of light, causing them to expand in sunshine and to close when the sky is covered. If at all, they must be very slightly affected by contact, as I failed to observe it. If I am correct, the appropriate specific name would be photometrica rather than hygrometrica.
In the hedges and among the bushes a pretty climbing plant (Eccremocarpus scaber) seemed to be common on the right bank of the stream, producing flower and ripe fruit at the same time. It belongs to the trumpet-flower tribe (Bignoniace?), though not rivalling in size or brilliancy of colour the true Bignonias which I afterwards saw in Brazil.
Having passed on the left the opening of a narrow200 valley which appears to contain the main stream of the Aconcagua, I reached the Resguardo somewhat before noon, and proceeded at once to deliver my letter to Captain X——, the officer commanding the frontier station. I was most courteously received, with a pressing invitation to join the almuerzo, or luncheon, which is the ordinary midday meal in Chili. Besides the lady of the house, I met at table an officer of the Chilian navy, a friend of my host, who had come to recruit in mountain air after recovery from a serious illness, and who spoke English fairly well. The conversation was interesting, and I was struck by the excellent tone and quick intelligence displayed by these agreeable specimens of Chilian society. In the kindest way, and with evident sincerity, my host pressed me to remain for a week at his house, and promised me many excursions in the neighbourhood. It was with real reluctance that, owing to imperious engagements, I was forced to decline the hospitable invitation; and it has been a further regret that, having failed to note it at the time, my treacherous memory has not retained the name of this amiable gentleman.
Meanwhile, although the time passed so pleasantly, I was burning with the desire to make use of the brief interval available for seeing something of the surrounding country. The Resguardo stands at the junction of a rivulet that descends from the Uspallata Pass with the Rio Colorado, which flows from the north-east apparently from the roots of the great peak of Aconcagua. As far as I could see, the track leading to the pass wind in zigzags up steep201 slopes, at this season almost completely bare of vegetation, and I decided on following the valley of the Rio Colorado, where, at least along the banks of the stream, vegetation was comparatively abundant. My obliging host had provided a horse and a guide, and I rode for about an hour up the valley, which in great part is narrowed nearly to a ravine. In one place, where it widens to a few hundred yards, I passed a peasant’s cottage, with a few stony fields from which the crop had been gathered.
THE VERBENA FAMILY.
Among the plants not before observed, I was at first puzzled by a sort of thicket of long green leafless stems eight or ten feet in height, growing near the stream. Only after searching for some time I detected some withered remains of a short spike of flowers at the ends of the stems, which showed the plant to be of the Verbena family. Whatever may be the original home of that ancient tribe which has spread throughout all the temperate and tropical regions of the earth, it is in South America, and especially in the extra-tropical regions, that it has developed the greatest variety both of genera and species. On the heights of the Peruvian Andes, from the snows of the Chilian Cordillera to the shores of the Pacific, as well as on the plains of Argentaria and Uruguay, the botanist is everywhere charmed by the brilliant flowers of numerous species of true Verbena. In the warmer zone the allied genus Lippia becomes predominant, and displays an equal variety of aspect; but in Chili especially we find a number of plants very different in aspect, although nearly allied in structure to the familiar types. The plant of the Rio Colorado—202known to botanists as Baillonia spartioides—appears to be rare in Chili, as it is not among the species collected by the earlier explorers of this region.
I was interested in finding here two species of Loranthus, which, unlike their congeners, grow in a respectable way, depending on their own resources for subsistence. The great majority of nearly four hundred known species of this genus live as parasites on the stems of other plants, but these form bushes with woody roots, which apparently have not even an underground connection with those of their neighbours. When I returned to the Resguardo, laden with plants, it was high time to think of starting homeward to Santa Rosa. I did not much fancy travelling by night over the curious road that I had followed in the morning, and my coachman seemed to hold the same opinion very strongly. Accordingly I soon started, after cordial leave-taking, but was a little surprised when, without previous warning, the driver pulled up his horses at the garden gate of a substantial house, which I had noticed in the morning a few hundred yards below the Resguardo. Presently a young man came out, and, addressing me in very fair English, explained that he had written to order a carriage for the following day, but would be thankful if I could give him a seat to convey him to his family at Santa Rosa. Of course I willingly consented, and in the conversation, which was carried on alternately in Spanish and English during the following three hours, I gained an opportunity for some practice in a language which has never been quite familiar to me.
I became interested in the poor young fellow, who203 was evidently in an advanced stage of pulmonary consumption. He had been on a visit with friends, in the vain hope that the pure air of this mountain valley might arrest the disease, and now, as the season was far advanced, wished to rejoin his wife and children at Santa Rosa. Like many consumptive patients, he had a feverish proneness for talk; and, having first told me his own story, he asked me a multitude of questions respecting my present journey and as to the other countries that I have visited. At length, with evident reference to my age, he gravely said, “No le parece Se?or que es tiempo para descansar?” I answered that there would be time enough to descansar when one is laid underground, and that for the present I saw no occasion to rest. As I stopped the carriage only two or three times to gather plants, and the driver kept his horses at a smart trot most of the way, we accomplished the return journey of eighteen or twenty miles in a little under three hours, and reached the town at nightfall.
RETURN TO VALPARAISO.
On the 26th I returned to Valparaiso, meeting the Santiago train at the now familiar junction station of Llaillai. Although the weather was still fine, clouds hung round the Cordillera, and I was not destined again to enjoy the glorious view of the great range. My first care on reaching the port was to secure my passage in the German steamer as far as the Straits of Magellan. I found that the steamship Rhamses of the Cosmos line, which in ordinary course should have departed on the 28th, was delayed until the following day, May 29. It was inevitable to regret that the additional day had not been devoted to the Rio204 Colorado, but, in fact, I found my time fully occupied during the two days that remained available. The collections of dried plants made up to this time had to be packed securely in the chest in which they were to remain until they reached England, and, as every botanist knows, it is expedient to hasten the process of drying fresh plants as far as possible before going to sea, where the operation is always one of difficulty.
I was invited to dinner on the day of my arrival by Mr. C——, one of the chief English merchants established in Chili, and acquired some interesting information from his conversation. Having been at work during a great part of the previous night, I was, however, thoroughly tired, and was able to profit less than I should have done by the hospitable entertainment. On the morning of my departure from Cauquenes I had met Mr. Edwin Reed, an English naturalist many years resident in Chili, and by appointment called upon him at his house in Valparaiso. Mr. Reed has a good knowledge of the botany and zoology of his adopted country, and several hours were agreeably spent on each of the two available days in going through parcels of his duplicate collections, when he was good enough to give me flowering specimens of plants which I had seen only in imperfect condition, as well as of many others from the higher region of the Cordillera which had been entirely inaccessible to me.
My visit to Chili had now come to an end. All needful preparations were concluded; and, after a busy morning and an excellent luncheon at the Hotel Colon, I went on board the Rhamses early in the205 afternoon of May 29, not without deep regret at quitting a country where I had spent twenty of the most enjoyable days of my life. The only occupants of the first-class saloon were a German gentleman, Mr. Z——; his wife, a delicate Peruvian lady, who remained in her cabin during most of the voyage; five children; and a maid. I found a good clean cabin, which had been reserved for my use, and before long a tall, handsome man of pleasant countenance introduced himself to me as Captain Willsen, commanding the Rhamses.
GERMAN STEAMERS.
The steamers of the German Cosmos line, of which this is, I believe, a fair example, differ in many respects from the great English ocean steamships which conduct most of the intercourse between Europe and South America. They are mainly destined for cargo, the accommodation for passengers being comparatively very limited, and of scarcely half the dimensions, being of rather less than two thousand tons displacement by our measurement. In our passenger ships speed is always the foremost consideration. In accordance with the national temperament, the German steamers set slight store on that object; safety and economy are the aims constantly kept in view, and the consumption of an increased quantity of coal in order to gain a day would be regarded as culpable extravagance. The especial advantage which they offer to every traveller in this region is that, owing to their light draught, they are able to traverse the narrow and intricate channels of Western Patagonia between the mountainous islands and the mainland; while to sea-sick passengers the object of avoiding206 more than four hundred miles of the heavy seas of the Southern Pacific is a further inducement. A naturalist finds an additional attraction in the general sympathy and helpfulness which he may expect from every officer in a German ship. Courtesy and friendly feeling are almost invariably to be found on board our steamers, but the pursuits of a naturalist rarely seem to call forth the slightest show of interest.
Our departure was fixed for two p.m., but in fact we did not move till past seven, long after dark at this season. On getting out to sea we found a moderate swell running from the southward, and moved slowly, as coal was economized. On the following morning we found ourselves rather far from land, and, although the weather was moderately clear, we had only a few distant glimpses of the coast during the day. The barometer fell slowly about two-tenths of an inch from morning to night, and it seemed evident that we were about to bid farewell to the bright skies of Central Chili. We were to take in coal for the voyage to Europe at Lota, about two hundred and fifty nautical miles south of Valparaiso. That distance could be easily accomplished, even by the Rhamses, in twenty-four hours; but as there was no object in arriving before morning, we economized fuel and travelled slowly. Heavy rain fell during the entire night, and ceased only when, on the morning of May 31, we entered the harbour of Lota.
Lota is a place which, although not marked on Stanford’s latest map of South America, has within a short time risen to considerable importance, owing to the discovery of extensive deposits of lignite of207 excellent quality. I have heard various estimates of its value as steam coal, the lowest of which set five tons of Lota coal as equal to four of Welsh anthracite. The seams appear to be of considerable thickness, and the underground works have now extended to a considerable distance from the shore. All the ocean steamers returning to Europe now call here for their provision of fuel, and in addition the proprietor has established extensive works for smelting copper and for making glass. The owner of this great property is a lady, the widow of the late Mr. Cousi?o, whose income is rated at about ￡200,000 a year. About 2500 people are constantly employed, who, with their families, inhabit a small town of poor appearance which has grown up on the hill overlooking the harbour.
COAL DEPOSITS OF LOTA.
I was courteously invited to the house of Mr. Squella, a relation of Madame Cousi?o, who has the direction of this great establishment, and there had the pleasure of again meeting my former travelling companion, Mr. H——, and also Captain Simpson, an officer of the Chilian navy of English extraction, who, while commanding a ship on the southern coast, has rendered some services to science. The conversation was carried on chiefly in English, which has decidedly become the lingua franca of South America, but was shortened by my natural anxiety to turn to the best account the short time at my disposal. I had a choice between three alternatives—a descent into the coal mine, a visit to the works above ground and the miners’ town, or a ramble through the so-called park, which occupies the promontory stretching westward208 which forms the natural harbour of Lota, and covers a great portion of the precious deposit to which the place owes its new-born importance. I naturally preferred the latter, feeling that my limited experience as a geological observer would not allow me to profit much by a subterranean excursion. I made inquiry, however, as to the vegetable remains found in the lignite, and I was told that they are abundant, although the few specimens which I saw showed but slight traces of vegetable structure. I was led to believe that a collection of specimens had been sent to Europe to my late lamented friend, Dr. Oswald Heer, but I am not aware that he has left any reference to such a collection, or even that it ever reached his hands.
The parque of Lota, to which I directed my steps, has rather the character of an extensive pleasure-ground than of what we call a park; but the surface is so uneven, and the outline so irregular, that I could not estimate its extent. The numerous fantastic structures in questionable taste that met the eye in every direction create at the first moment an unfavourable impression, but the charms of the spot are so real that this is soon forgotten. The variety and luxuriance of the vegetation, and the diversified views of the sea and the rocky shores, were set off by occasional bursts of bright sunshine, in which the drops that still hung on every leaflet glittered like jewels of every hue. The trees here were of very moderate dimensions, the largest (here called roble) being of the laurel family, which, for want of flower or fruit, I failed to identify. The Spaniards in South209 America have given the name roble, which properly means “oak,” to a variety of trees which agree only in having a thick trunk and spreading branches. The shrubs were very numerous, partly indigenous and partly exotic, and a peculiar feature which I have not noticed in any other large garden is the number of parasites living on the trunks and branches of the trees and shrubs. Ferns were very numerous and grow luxuriantly, showing a wide difference of climate between this coast and that of the country two or three degrees further north. But the great ornament of this place is the beautiful climber, Lapageria rosea, now producing in abundance its splendid flowers, which so finely contrast with its dark-green glossy foliage. The specific name rosea is unfortunate, as the colour of the flowers is bright crimson, verging on scarlet.
THE PARQUE OF LOTA.
One of the special features of this garden was the abundance of humming-birds that haunted the shrubs and small trees, and darted from spray to spray with movements so rapid that to my imperfect vision their forms were quite indistinguishable. Whenever I drew near in the hope of gaining a clearer view, they would dart away to another shrub a few yards distant, and I am unable to say whether the bright little creatures belonged to one and the same or to several different species.
At one place where the garden is only some twenty feet above the beach, I scrambled down the rocks, and was rewarded by the sight of two or three plants characteristic of this region. The most attractive of these is one of the many generic types peculiar to210 the Chilian flora, allied to the pine-apple. The long stiff leaves, edged with sharp teeth and radiating from the lower part of the stem, are coloured bright red along the centre and at the base, forming, when seen from a distance, a brilliant, many-rayed red star. Another novelty was Francoa sonchifolia, which also clings to the rocks by the sea. It has somewhat the habit of a large crucifer, but the structure of the flower and fruit is widely different. It was regarded by Lindley as the type of a distinct natural family, but has been, with one other Chilian genus (Tetilla), classed as a tribe of the saxifrage family.
Time passed quickly in such an interesting spot, and the hour appointed for returning to the ship had nearly arrived, when Mr. Reilly, the gardener who has the management of the parque, invited me to see his house. He came, as I learned, from Wexford, in Ireland, had had some training in the Royal Gardens at Kew, when his fortunate star led him to Chili. I found him installed in a very pretty and comfortable house, charmingly situated, in as full enjoyment of one of the most beautiful gardens in the world as if he were its absolute owner. This was only one more instance of the success which so often attends my countrymen when removed to a distance from their native land. Freed from the evil influences that seem indigenous to the soil of that unfortunate island, they develop qualities that are too rarely perceptible at home. The arguments for emigration are commonly based only on the economical necessity for relieving the land of surplus population; to my mind it may be advocated on other and quite different211 grounds. For every Irishman who is carried to a distant land there is a strong probability of a distinct gain to the world at large.
CAUTIOUS SEAMANSHIP.
I left the parque at Lota with my memory full of pictures of a spot which, along with Mr. Cooke’s famous garden at Montserrat, near Cintra, and that of M. Landon in the oasis of Biskra, I count as the most beautiful garden that I have yet seen.
A rather large island—Isla de Sta. Maria—lies off the Chilian coast to the west of Lota, and is separated on the southern side from the promontory of Lavapie by a channel several miles wide. But as this is beset with rocks, the rule of the German steamers is to avoid the passage, excepting in clear weather by day. In deference, therefore, to this cautious regulation, we set our helm to the north on leaving Lota, two or three hours after sunset, and only after keeping that course for some ten miles, and running past the small port of Coronel, steered out to seaward, and finally resumed our proper southerly direction. Our sleep was somewhat disturbed by the heavy rolling of the ship during the night, and the morning of the 1st of June broke dimly amid heavy lowering clouds, just such a day as one might expect at the corresponding date (December 1) on the western coast of Europe. Although the sea was running high, there was little wind. The barometer at daybreak stood at 29·98, having risen a tenth of an inch since the previous evening, and the temperature was about 52° Fahr. In our seas one would suppose that a gale must have recently prevailed at no great distance, but I believe the fact to be that in the Southern Pacific high seas212 prevail during a great part of the year, even where no strong winds are present to excite them. Gales are undoubtedly common in the zone between the fiftieth and sixtieth degrees of south latitude, and the waves habitually run higher there than they ever do in the comparatively confined area of the Atlantic. The disturbances are propagated to great distances, modified, of course, by winds, currents, and the form of the coasts when they approach the land; but the smooth waters that extend more than thirty degrees on either side of the equator are rarely encountered in higher latitudes. The skies brightened as the day wore on, and the sun from time to time broke through the clouds; but we were out of sight of land, and the only objects in view during the day were the sea, the sky, and the numerous sea-fowl that followed the ship. The incessant rolling made it difficult to settle down to any occupation.
We were now abreast of that large tract of Chili which has been left in the possession of its aboriginal owners, the Araucanian Indians, extending about one hundred miles from north to south, and a rather greater distance from the coast to the crest of the Cordillera. It is unfortunate that so little is known of the Araucanians, as, in many respects, they appear to be the most interesting remaining tribe of the aboriginal American population. For nearly two centuries they maintained their independence in frequent sanguinary encounters with the Spaniards, which are said on Chilian authority to have cost the invaders the loss of 100,000 men. Since the establishment of Chilian independence, the policy of the republic has been to213 establish friendly relations with this indomitable people. The territory between the Bio-Bio river to the north and the Tolten to the south was assigned to them, and small annual donations were made to the principal chiefs on condition of their maintaining order amongst the tribesmen. During the last forty years, however, white settlers have trespassed to a considerable extent on the Indian territory, both on the north and south sides, but have generally contrived to keep up friendly intercourse with the natives, while Chilian officials, established at Angol on the river Mallego, exercise a species of supervision over the entire region.
ARAUCANIAN INDIANS.
The present Araucanian population is somewhat vaguely estimated at about 40,000, and it is a question of some interest whether, like most native races in contact with those of European descent, they will ultimately be improved out of existence, or be gradually brought within the pale of civilization and fused with the intrusive element. The soil is said to be in great part fertile; they raise a large quantity of live stock, and some of the chiefs are said to have amassed wealth, and to have begun to show a taste for the comforts and conveniences of civilized life.
While at Santiago, I made some inquiry as to the language of the Araucanian tribes. I was informed that in the seventeenth century the Jesuit missionaries published a grammar of the language, of which only two or three copies are known to exist. About the beginning of this century a new edition, or reprint, of this work appeared at Madrid, but, as I was assured, has also become extremely rare, and copies are very seldom to be procured.
214 On the evening of the 1st the barometer had risen about a tenth of an inch, but by the following morning had returned to the same point (very nearly thirty inches) as on the previous day, without any change in the state of the weather; but we enjoyed more sunshine, and the proceedings of the birds that ceaselessly bore us company afforded us constant occupation and amusement. Two species were predominant. One of these was the well-known cape pigeon (Daption capensis), familiar to all mariners in the southern hemisphere. This is a handsome bird, much larger than a pigeon, exhibiting a considerable variety of plumage in what appeared to be adult individuals. In all the ground colour is white, and the tips of the spreading tail feathers are dark brown or nearly black. The upper surface of the wings sometimes showed a somewhat tesselated pattern of white and dark brown, but more commonly were marked by two transverse dark bands, with pure white between. They were very numerous, as many as from fifty to a hundred being near the ship at the same time, keeping close company, and often swooping over the deck a few feet over our heads; but, although seemingly fearless, they never were induced to take a piece of meat from a man’s hand, though the temptation was often renewed. The next in frequency—called on this coast colomba—is nearly as large as the cape pigeon, with plumage much resembling that of a turtle dove. This also approached very near. Both of these birds seemed to feel fatigue, as, after circling round the ship for half an hour at a time, they would rest on the surface of the water, dropping rapidly astern, but after some215 minutes resume their flight and soon overtake the ship. More interesting to me were the two species of albatross, which I had never before had an opportunity of observing. These were more shy in their behaviour, never, I think, approaching nearer than seventy or eighty yards, and usually following the ship with a slow, leisurely flight still farther astern. The common, nearly white, species (Diomedea exulans) is but a little larger than the dark-coloured, nearly black species, which I supposed to be the Diomedea fuliginosa of ornithologists.31 If, as is probable, the same birds followed us all day, we saw but two of the latter, which are, I believe, everywhere comparatively scarce. In both species I was struck by the peculiar form of the expanded wing, which is very narrow in proportion to its great length.
BIRDS OF THE SOUTHERN OCEAN.
The moment of excitement for the birds, as well as for the lookers-on, was when a basket of kitchen refuse was from time to time thrown overboard. It was amusing to watch the rush of hungry creatures all swooping down nearly at the same point, and making a marvellous clatter as they eagerly contended for the choice morsels. It did not appear to me that the smaller birds showed any fear of the powerful albatross, or that the latter used his strength to snatch away anything that had been secured by a weaker rival.
About noon on the 2nd of June we were abreast of the northern part of the large island of Chiloe, but were too far out to sea to get a glimpse of the high216 land on the west coast. At the northern end the island is separated from the mainland by a narrow channel (Canal de Chacao) only two or three miles in width; but on the east side the broad strait or interior sea between Chiloe and the opposite coast is from thirty to forty miles in breadth, and beset by rocky islets varying in size from several miles to a few yards.
Another unquiet night ushered in the morning of the 3rd of June. This was fairly clear, with a fresh breeze from the south-west, which, as the day advanced, rose nearly to a gale. The sea did not appear to run higher than before, but the waves struck the ship’s side with greater force, and at intervals of about ten minutes we shipped rather heavy seas, after which the deck was nearly knee-deep in water, and a weather board was needed to keep the saloon from being flooded. The barometer fell slightly, and the temperature was decidedly lower, the thermometer marking about 50° Fahr. Some attempts at taking exercise on the hurricane deck were not very successful, my friend, Mr. H——, being knocked down and somewhat bruised, and we finally retired to the saloon, and found the state of things not exhilarating. We saw nothing of the Chonos Archipelago, consisting of three large and numerous small islands, all covered with dense forest, and separated from the mainland by a strait, yet scarcely surveyed, about a hundred and twenty miles in length, and ten to fifteen in breadth.
Darwin, writing nearly fifty years ago, anticipated that these islands would before long be inhabited, but I was assured that no permanent settlement has ever been established. Parties of woodcutters have from217 time to time visited the islands, but no one has been tempted to remain. The excessive rainfall, which is more continuous in summer than in winter, makes them unfit for the residence of civilized man; but it seems probable that Fuegians transported there would find conditions favourable to their constitution and habits of life. It is another question whether the world would be any the better for the multiplication of so low a type of humanity.
HEAVY SEAS OF THE SOUTH PACIFIC.
In the afternoon, as the sea was running very high, the captain set the ship’s head to the wind. We saw him but once, and perceived an anxious expression on his usually jovial countenance. It afterwards came out that he apprehended the continuance of the gale, in which case he might not have ventured to put the helm round so as to enter the Gulf of Pe?as. At nightfall, however, the wind fell off, and by midnight the weather was nearly calm, though the ship gave us little rest from the ceaseless rolling. During all this time sounds that issued at intervals from the cabin of the Peruvian lady and her children showed that what was merely a bore to us was to them ............