224 TIERRA DEL FUEGO chap. 



smooth water. The only thing which reminded us of the gale 

 outside was every now and then a puff from the mountains, 

 which made the ship surge at her anchors. 



December 2^th. — 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 residence ; but they return at intervals to the 

 same spots, as is evident 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 work 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 past, 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 



