his
shirt sleeves. As to a cap, that seems to be considered as unnecessary a
part of a well-conditioned uniform, as shoes and stockings. After sunset
every person who passes the governor's house is challenged. "Who goes
there?" is the first question; the second is _Que gente?_ (what
country?) The sailors amuse themselves by returning jocular answers to
these challenges; and the sentinel, irritated by their jeers, sometimes
runs after them through part of the town, and when weary of the chace
returns to his post.

Poverty and uncleanliness vie with each other in San Carlos. The lower
class of the inhabitants are exceedingly filthy, particularly the women,
whose usual dress is a dirty woollen gown, and a greasy looking
mantilla. In their damp gloomy habitations, they squat down on the
floor, close to the _brasero_ (chafing pan), which also serves them as a
stove for cooking. They bruise maize between two stones, and make it
into a thick kind of soup or porridge. When employed in paring potatoes
or apples, or in cutting cabbages, they throw the skins and waste leaves
on the ground, so that they are frequently surrounded by a mass of
half-decayed vegetable matter. Their favorite beverage is _mate_ (the
Paraguay tea), of which they partake at all hours of the day. The mode
of preparing and drinking the _mate_ is as follows: a portion of the
herb is put into a sort of cup made from a gourd, and boiling water is
poured over it. The mistress of the house then takes a reed or pipe, to
one end of which a strainer is affixed,[1] and putting it into the
decoction, she sucks up a mouthful of the liquid. She then hands the
apparatus to the person next to her, who partakes of it in the same
manner, and so it goes round. The mistress of the house and all her
guests suck the aromatic fluid through the same pipe or _bombilla_.

The poverty of the people is extreme. Specie is seldom current, and is
exclusively in the hands of a few traders, who supply the Indians with
European articles, in payment of their labor, or in exchange for the
produce of the island, which is sent to Chile and Peru. With much
surprise I learned that there is no saw-mill in Chiloe, where the vast
abundance of trees would furnish a supply of excellent deals, for which
ready and good payment would be obtained in Peru.

The inhabitants direct their industry chiefly to agriculture and
navigation. But rude and imperfect are their implements for field labor,
as well a