CHILOE. 153 



CHILE. 



is scarcely possible to imagine anything more beautiful than 

 the beryl -like blue of these glaciers, especially in contrast 

 with the dead white of the upper expanse of snow. The 

 fragments which had fallen from the glacier into the water 

 were floating away, and the channel with its icebergs pre- 

 sented, for the space of a mile, a miniature likeness of the 

 Polar Sea. 



The boats being hauled on shore at our dinner-hour, we 

 were admiring from the distance of half a mile a perpendicu- 

 lar cliff of ice, and were wishing that some more fragments 

 would fall. At last down came a mass with a roaring noise, 

 and immediately we saw the smooth outline of a wave trav- 

 elling toward us. The men ran down as quickly as they 

 could to the boats, for the chance of their being dashed to 

 pieces was evident. One of the seamen just caught hold of 

 the bows as the curling breaker reached it: he was knocked 

 over and over, but not hurt, and the boats, though thrice 

 lifted on high and let fall again, received no damage. This 

 was most fortunate for us, for we were a hundred miles dis- 

 tant from the ship, and we should have been left without 

 provisions or fire-arms. 



CHILOE. 



EARLY on Sunday morning, November 30, 1834, we reach- 

 ed Castro, the ancient capital of Chiloe, but now a most for- 

 lorn and deserted place. The usual quadrangular arrange- 

 ment of Spanish towns could be traced, but the streets and 

 plaza (public square) were coated with fine green tuif, on 



