294 CHILOE. (CHAP. XIV, 
January 23rd.—We rose early in the morning, and reached 
the pretty quiet town of Castro by two o’clock. The old governor 
had died since our last visit, and a Chileno was acting in his 
place. We had a letter of introduction to Don Pedro, whom we 
found exceedingly hospitable and kind, and more disinterested 
than is usual on this side of the continent. The next day Don 
Pedro procured us fresh horses, and offered to accompany us 
himself. We proceeded to the south—generally following the 
coast, and passing through several hamlets, each with its large 
barn-like chapel built of wood. At Vilipilli, Don Pedro asked 
the commandant to give us a guide to Cucao. The old gentle- 
man offered to come himself; but for a long time nothing would 
persuade him, that two Englishmen really wished to go to such 
an out of the way place as Cucao. We were thus accompanied 
by the two greatest aristocrats in the country, as was plainly to 
be seen in the manner of all the poorer Indians towards them. 
At Chonchi we struck across the island, following intricate 
winding paths, sometimes passing through magnificent forests, 
and sometimes through pretty cleared spots, abounding with corn 
and potato crops. This undulating woody country, partially eul- 
tivated, reminded me of the wilder parts of England, and there- 
fore had to my eye a most fascinating aspect. At Vilinco, which 
is situated on the borders of the lake of Cucao, only a few fields 
were cleared; and all the inhabitants appeared to be Indians. 
This Jake is twelve miles long, and runs in an east and west 
direction. From loca] circumstances, tlie sea-breeze blows very 
regularly during the day, and during the night it falls calm: 
this has given rise to strange exaggerations, for the phenomenon, 
as described to us at San Carlos, was quite a prodigy. 
The road to Cucao was so very bad that we determined to em- 
bark in a periagua. The commandant, in the most authoritative 
manner, ordered six Indians to get ready to pull us over, without 
deigning to tell them whether they would be paid. The periagua 
is a strange rough boat, but the crew were still stranger: I doubt 
if six uglier little men ever got into a boat together. They 
pulled, however, very well and cheerfully. The stroke-oarsman 
gabbled Indian, and uttered strange cries, much after the fashion 
of a pig-driver driving his pigs. We started with a light breeze 
against us, but yet reached the Capella de Cucao before it was 
