Familiar looking shanties, of the tumble-down sort, built of pine wood and shingles, crowded the ground by the water side, and indeed the low land seemed better suited to their staggering aspect than the steep acclivities. Painted signs with English names and English words, stared familiarly from every building. The universal "John Smith" there conspicuously posted his name and his "Bakery." Mine host of the "Hole in the Wall" invited the thirsty in good round Saxon to drink of his "Best Beer on Tap," or his "Bottled Porter," as "you pays your money and take your choice."
The steamer was enlivened from the earliest hour by the native fishermen, who, with their fleet of canoes, had sought the shades of our dark hull, to protect them from the hot sun, which seemed to be fairly simmering the waters of the bay. They were making most miraculous draughts of fishes. I watched one little fellow. He was hardly a dozen years of age, but he plied his trade with such skill and enterprise, that he nearly filled his canoe during the half hour I was watching him. It was terrible to see with what intense energy and cruelty the little yellow devil, with bared arms blooded to the shoulders, pounced upon his prey. With a quick jerk he pulled his fish in, then clutching it with one hand and thrusting the fingers of the other with the prompt ferocity of a young tiger into the panting gills, he tore off with a single wrench the head, and threw the body, yet quivering with life, among the lifeless heap of his victims lying at the bottom of his boat. The sea gulls, hovering about shrieking shrilly and pouncing upon the heads and entrails as they were thrown into the water, fighting over them and gulping them down with hungry voracity, seemed to heighten this picture of the "Gentle art of angling."
The return of the steward and chaplain with a boat load of "marketing" was a welcome surprise. The parson, whose unquestionable taste in the aesthetics of eating had been wisely secured by the steward, dilated with great gusto upon the juicy beefsteaks, the freshness of the fish, and the richness of the fruit. When, at breakfast, we enjoyed as salt-sea voyagers only could, the stores of fresh meat, fresh eggs, fresh b.u.t.ter, fresh milk, juicy grapes, white and purple, with the morning"s bloom still upon them, the peaches, the apples, the pears, the tumas (p.r.i.c.kly pear fruit), the melons, musk and water, we acknowledged his reverence"s judgment, and gratefully thanked him for his services.
On landing to take a look at the town, I made my way through a throng of boatmen, of picturesque native fruitsellers and loitering sailors, to the chief business street, which ran along the sh.o.r.e. The stores, which were mainly under the proprietorship of the foreign merchants, had a rich, thriving look, being crammed full of miscellaneous goods, while the sidewalks were heaped with bales and boxes. Odd-looking carts moved slowly along with their drivers in picturesque costume lying in full length upon their loads, smoking their cigarettes, and looking wondrously lazy and happy. Stately Chilians from the interior, dressed in genuine Fra Diavolo style, rode by on their prancing horses, all glistening and jingling with silver. There were abundant loungers about, in the cool shade of every corner and projecting roof. The listless men with the universal poncho--an oblong mantle of variegated cotton or woollen, through a hole in the centre of which the head is thrust, allowing the garment to hang in folds about the person--looked as if they had been roused suddenly from their beds, and not finding their coats at hand, had walked out with their coverlets over their shoulders. The women, too, in their loose dresses and with shawls thrown carelessly over their heads, had a very bed-chamber look. They were mostly pretty brunettes, with large, slumbering black eyes, which, however, were sufficiently awake to ogle effectively.
Having a letter of introduction to present, I entered the counting-house of the merchant whose acquaintance I sought. I found him boxed off at the further end of his long, heaped-up warehouse. He had closed his ledger, lighted his cigar, and had just filled his gla.s.s from a bottle of wine which stood on the window-sill, when I entered. I was not surprised, under such provocation to good fellowship, to receive a warm welcome. My mercantile friend was in the best possible humor, for times, he said, were very good. Every one at Valparaiso was making his fortune. It was the epoch of the gold excitement. Large fortunes had already been made. The contents of the shops and warehouses had, as soon as the gold discovery became known, been emptied into every vessel in the harbor, and sent to San Francisco. The lucky speculators had gained five or six hundred per cent. profit for their ventures of preserved and dried fruits, champagne, other wines and liquors, Madeira nuts and the most paltry stuff imaginable. In five months some of the Valparaiso merchants had cleared five hundred thousand dollars. The excitement was still unabated. Shippers were still loading and dispatching their goods daily for San Francisco.
Many were going there themselves, and hardly a clerk could be kept at Valparaiso at any salary, however large.
The day was brilliantly bright, and the air so pure and bracing that it did the lungs good to breathe. So I made my way out of counting-house and street for a walk. I ascended the dry, crumbling hills which with long, deep gullies and breaks in them, and friable soil, looked as if they were ready to tumble into pieces at the first shake of one of those earthquakes so frequent in the country. On the road, chained gangs of surly convicts were at work, and some smart-looking soldiers, in blue and white, came marching along! Caravans of mules, laden with goods, produce and water casks, trotted on, and here and there rode a dashing Chilian cavalier on his prancing steed, or a dapper citizen on his steady cob. In a ravine between the dry hills there trickled the smallest possible stream. Above, some water carriers were slowly filling their casks, while the mules patiently waited for their burdens; below, was a throng of washerwomen, beating their clothes upon the stones, just moistened by the scant water which flowed over them, and interchanging Spanish Billingsgate with each other and a gang of man-of-war sailors.
Frightened away by the stony stare of the English occupant from an imposing-looking residence on the top of the hill, I crossed the road and entered the private hospital. Around a quadrangle, laid out in gardens beds there was a range of low two story buildings. Some bleached sailors, in duck trowsers and blue jackets, were about; one was reading a song-book, another his Bible, and a third was busily making a marine swab out of ropes" ends. Among the convalescents, out on the balconies to catch a breath of the pure air, was a naval officer in a gilt cap, reading a novel; and all looked snug and encouraging. On entering, I asked the attendant, a gaunt-looking Englishman, who in his musty black suit, was not unlike a carrion crow or a turkey buzzard, whether there was any serious case of illness in the hospital. "There are two consumptives,"
said he, "who"ve been a deceiving us for the last two weeks." He seemed to think it a very base fraud that these two consumptives had not died when he and the doctor thought it was their duty to do so, some fortnight before.
Coming from the one hill to another, I reached a miserable quarter of the town, called by the sailors the "foretop." It was composed of rude mud hovels, stuffed with a population of half-breeds, a half-naked gipsy-looking people, grovelling in the dirt, and breathing an atmosphere reeking with the stench of filth, garlic and frying fat. I was glad to escape, and get to the "Star Hotel," where, refreshing myself with a chop and brown stout, I could fancy myself, with hardly an effort of the imagination, taking my dinner at an ordinary in the Strand.
TRANSLATIONS.
BY THE REV. THEODORE PARKER.
I.
TWO LOVERS.
(FROM THE GERMAN OF MOHRIKE.)
A light skiff swam on Danube"s tide, Where sat a bridegroom and his bride, He this side and she that side.
Quoth she, "Heart"s dearest, tell to me, What wedding-gift shall I give thee?"
Upward her little sleeve she strips, And in the water briskly dips.
The young man did the same straightway, And played with her and laughed so gay.
"Ah, give to me, Dame Danube fair, Some pretty toy for my love to wear!"
She drew therefrom a shining blade, For which the youth so long had prayed.
The bridegroom, what holds he in hand?
Of milk-white pearls a precious band.
He twines it round her raven hair; She looked how like a princess there!
"Oh, give to me, Dame Danube fair, Some pretty toy for my love to wear!"
A second time her arm dips in, A glittering helm of steel to win.
The youth, o"erjoyed the prize to view, Brings her a golden comb thereto.
A third time she in the water dips.
Ah woe! from out the skiff she slips.
He leaps for her and grasps straightway-- Dame Danube tears them both away.
The dame began her gifts to rue-- The youth must die, the maiden too!
The little skiff floats down alone, Behind the hills soon sinks the sun.
And when the moon was overhead, To land the lovers floated dead, He this side and she that side!
II.
THE FISHER-MAIDEN.
(FROM THE GERMAN OF HEINE.)
Thou handsome fisher-maiden, Push thy canoe to land; Come and sit down beside me-- We"ll talk, love, hand in hand.
Thy head lay on my bosom, Be not afraid of me, For careless thou confidest Each day in the wild sea.
My heart is like the ocean, Has storm, and ebb, and flow; And many pearls so handsome Rest in its deeps below.
III.
MY CHILD WHEN WE WERE CHILDREN.
(FROM THE GERMAN OF HEINE.)
My child when we were children, Two children small and gay, We crept into the hen-house And hid us under the hay.
We crowed, as do the c.o.c.kerels, When people pa.s.sed the road, "_Kikeriki!_" and they fancied It was the c.o.c.k that crowed.
The chests which lay in the court-yard, We papered them so fair, Making a house right famous, And dwelt together there.
The old cat of our neighbor, Came oft to make a call; We made her bows and courtesies, And compliments and all.
We asked with friendly question, How her health was getting on: To many an ancient p.u.s.s.y The same we since have done.
In sensible discoursing We sat like aged men, And told how in our young days All things had better been.