s sighted
the sterile shores and barren mountains of Patagonia, and next the
volcanic rocks, wave-worn and wind-worn, of Tierra del Fuego. Through
the Strait of Le Maire, which separates the latter from Staten Island,
they sailed onward to the extreme southern point of the American
continent, the famous promontory of Cape Horn. It is the termination of
the mighty mountain-chain of the Andes, and is formed of a mass of
colossal basaltic rocks, thrown together in wild disorder, as by a
Titan's hand.

Rounding Cape Horn they encountered a violent gale, which lasted for
several days; and soon discovered, like other voyagers, how little the
great southern ocean deserves its name of the Pacific. But they reached
Valparaiso in safety. Its appearance, however, did not very favourably
impress Madame Ida Pfeiffer. It is laid out in two long streets at the
foot of dreary hills, these hills consisting of a pile of rocks covered
with thin strata of earth and sand. Some of them are covered with
houses; on one of them is the churchyard; the others are bare and
solitary. The two chief streets are broad, and much frequented,
especially by horsemen; for every Chilian is born a horseman, and is
usually mounted on a steed worthy of a good rider.

Valparaiso houses are European in style, with flat Italian roofs. Broad
steps lead up into a lofty entrance-hall on the first floor, from which,
through large glass doors, the visitor passes into the drawing-room and
other apartments. The drawing-room is the pride not only of every
European settler, but of every native Chilian. The foot sinks into heavy
and costly carpets; the walls are emblazoned with rich tapestry; the
furniture and mirrors are of European make, and sumptuous in the extreme;
and every table presents the evidence of refined taste in gorgeous
albums, adorned with the choicest engravings.

As to the lower classes of the population, if we would obtain an idea of
their manners and customs, we must stroll on a fete-day into one of their
eating-houses.

In one corner, on the ground, crackles a tremendous fire, surrounded by
innumerable pots and pans, between which are wooden spits with beef and
pork, simmering and roasting with appetizing savour. A rude wooden frame-
work, with a long broad plank on it, occupies the middle of the room, and
is covered with a cloth, the original colour of which it is impossible to
determine. This is the guest-table. The dinner is served