212 TIERRA DEL FUEGO. [chap. x. 



now and then a puff from the mountains, which made the ship 

 surge at her anchors. 



December 26th. Close by the cove, a pointed hill, called 

 Kater's Peak, rises to the height of 1700 feet. The surround- 

 ing islands all consist of conical masses of greenstone, associated 

 sometimes with less regular hills of baked and altered clay -slate. 

 This part of Tierra del Fuego may be considered as the extremity 

 of the submerged chain of mountains already alluded to. The 

 cove takes its name of " Wigwam" from some of the Fuegian 

 habitations ; but every bay in the neighbourhood might be so 

 called with equal propriety. The inhabitants, living chiefly upon 

 shell -fish, are obliged constantly to change their place of resi- 

 dence ; but they return at intervals to the same spots, as is evi- 

 dent from the piles of old shells, which must often amount to 

 many tons in weight. These heaps can be distinguished at a 

 long distance by the bright green colour of certain plants, which 

 invariably grow on them. Among these may be enumerated the 

 wild celery and scurvy grass, two very serviceable plants, the 

 use of which has not been discovered by the natives. 



The Fuegian wigwam resembles, in size and dimensions, a 

 haycock. It merely consists of a few broken branches stuck in 

 the ground, and very imperfectly thatched on one side with a 

 few tufts of grass and rushes. The whole cannot be the M r ork of 

 an hour, and it is only used for a few days. At Goeree Roads 

 I saw a place where one of these naked men had slept, which 

 absolutely offered no more cover than the form of a hare. The 

 man was evidently living by himself, and York Minster said he 

 was " very bad man," and that probably he had stolen something. 

 On the west coast, however, the wigwams are rather better, for 

 they are covered with seal-skins'. We were detained here several 

 days by the bad weather. The climate is certainly wretched : 

 the summer solstice was now passed, yet every day snow fell on 

 the hills, and in the valleys there was rain, accompanied by sleet. 

 The thermometer generally stood about 45, but in the night 

 fell to 38 or 40. From the damp and boisterous state of the 

 atmosphere, not cheered by a gleam of sunshine, one fancied the 

 climate even worse than it really was. 



While going one day on shore near Wollaston Island, we 

 pulled alongside a canoe with six Fuegians. These were the 



