- Early on Sunday morning we reached
Castro, the ancient capital of Chiloe, but now a most forlorn
and deserted place.
The usual quadrangular arrangement
of Spanish towns could be traced, but the streets and plaza
were coated with fine green turf, on which sheep were
browsing. The church, which stands in the middle, is entirely
built of plank, and has a picturesque and venerable appearance.
The poverty of the place may be conceived from the
fact, that although containing some hundreds of inhabitants,
one of our party was unable anywhere to purchase either a
pound of sugar or an ordinary knife. No individual possessed
either a watch or a clock; and an old man, who was supposed
to have a good idea of time, was employed to strike the
church bell by guess. The arrival of our boats was a rare
event in this quiet retired corner of the world; and nearly all
the inhabitants came down to the beach to see us pitch our
tents. They were very civil, and offered us a house; and one
man even sent us a cask of cider as a present. In the afternoon
we paid our respects to the governor - a quiet old man,
who, in his appearance and manner of life, was scarcely
superior to an English cottager. At night heavy rain set in,
which was hardly sufficient to drive away from our tents the
large circle of lookers-on. An Indian family, who had come
to trade in a canoe from Caylen, bivouacked near us.
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