The Story of Ida Pfeiffer | Page 9

A hole was cut in it slantwise,
and six fibres of the stem were kept up in an elevated position at each
end, by means of a small bridge. The fingers played upon these as upon
a guitar, drawing forth a very low, harsh, and disagreeable tone. The
dance, thus pleasingly accompanied, was called the Dance of Peace and
Joy.

A wilder measure was next undertaken by the men alone. They first
equipped themselves with bows, arrows, and stout clubs; then they
formed a circle, indulged in the most rapid and fantastic movements,
and brandished their clubs as if dealing death to a hundred foes.
Suddenly they broke their ranks, strung their bows, placed their arrows
ready, and represented all the evolutions of shooting after a flying foe,
giving utterance to the most piercing cries, which resounded through
the forest- glades. Madame Pfeiffer, believing that she was really
surrounded by enemies, started up in terror, and was heartily glad when
the dance ended.
[Cape Horn: page51.jpg]
From Rio Janeiro Madame Pfeiffer sailed in an English ship, the _John
Renwick_, on the 9th of December, bound for Valparaiso in Chili. She
kept to the south, touching at Santos, where the voyagers celebrated
New- Year's Day, and reaching the mouth of the Rio Plata on the 11th
of January. In these latitudes the Southern Cross is the most
conspicuous object in the heavens. It consists of four stars of much
brilliancy, arranged in two diagonal rows. Late in the month the
voyagers sighted the sterile shores and barren mountains of Patagonia,
and next the volcanic rocks, wave-worn and wind-worn, of Tierra del
Fuego. Through the Strait of Le Maire, which separates the latter from
Staten Island, they sailed onward to the extreme southern point of the
American continent, the famous promontory of Cape Horn. It is the
termination of the mighty mountain-chain of the Andes, and is formed
of a mass of colossal basaltic rocks, thrown together in wild disorder,
as by a Titan's hand.
Rounding Cape Horn they encountered a violent gale, which lasted for
several days; and soon discovered, like other voyagers, how little the
great southern ocean deserves its name of the Pacific. But they reached
Valparaiso in safety. Its appearance, however, did not very favourably
impress Madame Ida Pfeiffer. It is laid out in two long streets at the
foot of dreary hills, these hills consisting of a pile of rocks covered with
thin strata of earth and sand. Some of them are covered with houses; on
one of them is the churchyard; the others are bare and solitary. The two

chief streets are broad, and much frequented, especially by horsemen;
for every Chilian is born a horseman, and is usually mounted on a steed
worthy of a good rider.
Valparaiso houses are European in style, with flat Italian roofs. Broad
steps lead up into a lofty entrance-hall on the first floor, from which,
through large glass doors, the visitor passes into the drawing-room and
other apartments. The drawing-room is the pride not only of every
European settler, but of every native Chilian. The foot sinks into heavy
and costly carpets; the walls are emblazoned with rich tapestry; the
furniture and mirrors are of European make, and sumptuous in the
extreme; and every table presents the evidence of refined taste in
gorgeous albums, adorned with the choicest engravings.
As to the lower classes of the population, if we would obtain an idea of
their manners and customs, we must stroll on a fete-day into one of
their eating-houses.
In one corner, on the ground, crackles a tremendous fire, surrounded by
innumerable pots and pans, between which are wooden spits with beef
and pork, simmering and roasting with appetizing savour. A rude
wooden frame- work, with a long broad plank on it, occupies the
middle of the room, and is covered with a cloth, the original colour of
which it is impossible to determine. This is the guest-table. The dinner
is served up in the most primitive fashion imaginable, all the viands
being heaped up in one dish; beans and rice, potatoes and roast beef,
onions and paradise apples, forming a curious medley. The appetites of
the guests are keen, and no time is wasted in talking. At the end of the
repast, a goblet of wine or water passes from hand to hand; after which
every tongue is loosened. In the evening a guitar strikes up, and
dancing becomes general.
A singular custom prevails among the Chilians on the death of a little
child. This incident, in most European families, is attended by much
sorrow: the Chilian parents make it the occasion of a great festival. The
deceased angelito, or little angel, is adorned in various ways. Its eyes,
instead of being closed, are opened as wide as possible; its