o the south of Chili, by storm, with his single
ship's company; but I must not now repeat the story.

We engaged two caleches, rattle-trap vehicles, like gigs with hoods, to
carry us to Santiago, the capital of Chili. One horse was in the
shafts; another on the left side was ridden by a postilion on a
high-peaked saddle, with a long knife at the saddle-bow; he being
dressed with a straw hat over a silk handkerchief tied round his head
and the ends hanging down behind, a short jacket, coarse pantaloons,
high boots, huge spurs, and a poncho hanging over one shoulder. Jerry
and Mr McRitchie went together, Fleming accompanied me, and we had old
Surley, who sat up between our legs, looking sagaciously out before him.
Away we rattled. The road was much better than we had expected to find
it in a place so far away from England as this seemed. My idea was,
that once round Cape Horn, we should not see anything but painted
savages or long-tailed Chinese; and I was quite surprised to find good
roads and carriages in Chili. We slept two nights on the road; admired
Santiago, which is full of laughing gas, the air is so fine; it stands
1700 feet above the level of the sea. Then we started off on horseback
towards the Cordilleras, to a spot called the Snow Bank, whence Santiago
is regularly supplied with snow all the year round. At the capital we
fell in with an English sailor, Tom Carver by name, who had served with
Fleming under Lord Cochrane, and having married a Chilian wife, had
settled in the country. He came as our interpreter, for without him a
guide we procured would have been of very little service. Leaving our
horses at a small rancho, or farm-house, we set off with our guns,
Fleming and the guide carrying most of the provisions, though we each of
us had a share. The scenery was wild and grand in the extreme,
consisting of the snow-capped peaks of the Andes, of rugged heights, and
of dark glens and gorges, with precipices which went sheer down many
hundred feet below us. We had not gone far before we came to a
suspension bridge made of hides, cut into strips and twisted together,
thrown across a fearful gorge. Bundles of sticks placed on the ropes
form the road. It was full of holes, and as I looked through, far down
into the torrent foaming below, I could not help feeling how very
disagreeable it would be to slip through. Surley followed at my heels,
and even he did not like it. We now reached a wide valley,