I have said nothing of the character and appearance of the inhabitants of this town. There are about three thousand of them. On our first landing, I saw standing round the shops, groups of ragged, dirty, copper colored fellows, with a "poncho" over their shoulders, and a conical hat without a brim on their heads. Some were employed in rolling large square bundles of wool from a warehouse to the landing. A few were driving loaded mules and asses, and others were variously employed; but the greater part of them were leaning against the buildings, or walking idly about, as worthless looking a set of vagabonds as could very well be imagined. A very small number of well dressed men were to be seen; but these were mostly foreigners, and the majority of them from the United States. Several women and girls were seated in front of the shops selling apples and cakes. As I passed into the cross streets I saw a great many women seated or standing at their doors, or walking in the streets. Many of them were very filthy, though some were neatly dressed, and were rather pretty. They had dark complexions, fresh, florid cheeks, bright, black eyes, and black, glossy hair hanging down their backs in two braids. They wore nothing on their heads, and I did not see a bonnet in Talcahuana. They had a smile and a word for all strangers, but their smiles were those of the siren. They were all sunk in the lowest depths of moral degradation and pollution. Such is the general character of the people of this town. There are exceptions, and it is said that the married women are remarkably faithful to their marriage vows.
I took a walk up a hill in the rear of the village in company with several of my fellow-passengers. Saw several men employed in plowing their fields and harrowing in wheat, this being their season for sowing grain, though I saw several fields in which the seed had sprouted and grown up three or four inches. The extreme rudeness of their farming implements surprised me. Their plow was of the most primitive description, being formed of two pieces of wood, the beam being long enough to reach to the yoke to which it was attached, and the other piece forming the handle and point. A pair of small oxen drew it. Their yoke was a straight stick laid across their necks, and fastened to their horns. The man held the single handle of the plow in his right hand and a whip in his left. He broke up the surface of the ground not more than two or three inches deep, and harrowed the seed in with the same plow instead of a harrow. The soil is exceedingly rich, or such cultivation would never produce a crop. The English and Americans have brought their best plows and other agricultural implements here, but they cannot persuade the Chilians to use them.
On going up a steep hill, we saw a Chilian on horseback accompanied by half a dozen dogs in full pursuit of an ox. They passed near us. I saw the rider take his lasso, twirl it several times over his head, and throw it. I witnessed the performance with great interest; but the result disappointed me, and I regretted that in the first instance I had seen of the throwing of the lasso, it missed its aim. The Chilian gathered up his lasso, threw it a second time, and caught the ox by the horns. The Chilians are fine horsemen, and they seldom ride without a lasso, which they are very expert in using.
I have spoken of the poncho. This is a very important article of dress with the Chilians, and I believe with all the Spanish population of America. It consists simply of a shawl either square or oblong, with a slit in the center, through which the head is thrust, and the poncho hangs loosely over the shoulders. They are made of a great variety of materials and patterns, some plain, and others richly striped, checked, or figured.
On our return to the village we saw a large covered wagon drawn by one horse. This would not have attracted our attention had we not observed that the driver, instead of taking his seat in the carriage, rode another horse, and guided the wagon horse by means of a long bridle. This wagon was run daily to the city of Concepcion and back, and was the only carriage I saw here. It must depend on foreigners for patronage, for I doubt if a Chilian could be persuaded to take a seat in it while he had a horse to ride.
At the door of the Tremont House I saw a man with several strings of a pretty species of little wild doves, about the size of the little ground dove described by Audubon. Our landlord bought them.
No man can visit Chili without encountering an earthquake. At least I never heard of one who did. We had one of them in the night, but unfortunately I was asleep in my berth in the bark, and neither felt nor heard it. In the town the inhabitants left their houses in great haste, and fled to the square. The shock was not very heavy, and no damage was done. This town, and indeed the whole western coast of South America, and North America as far as California, are subject to frequent earthquakes, some of which have caused immense destruction of lives and property. Talcahuana was destroyed by one of these convulsions in 1835, every building but two having been thrown down. The city of Concepcion, nine miles distant, was also greatly injured.
July 9. I had intended to take a ride to Concepcion, of which Talcahuana is the port, but being told that the roads were very muddy, the country flat and uninteresting, and the city dull and but little superior to Talcahuana in point of elegance, I gave up the visit; and therefore having little to do to-day, I obtained permission of the captain of the port to go gunning. He cautioned me not to discharge my gun in the town, or even to load it here. On leaving the town I passed up a gorge between two steep hills, at the foot of which were a dozen huts filled with Chilians and dogs. A little brook ran through the valley, and several women and girls were employed in washing clothes in it. There was no room for a road, nor any need of one, and the little foot path was all they required in their communication with the village. I climbed the hill, and looked down the gorge. The scene was very pretty, and if I could have fancied a dozen neat cottages in place of these thatched mud huts, it would have been beautifully picturesque.
I passed over several steep hills, and down their sides through thickets of bushes and vines, all new to me; but without procuring any birds but a hawk. I saw several small birds that were strangers to me; but none that pleased me so much as the sight of one of our American robins. It gave a fresh impulse to my thoughts, and sent them at once to my far distant home. I was half disposed to think that I had seen this identical robin in some of my rambles in the fields and woods at home, and that it had flown this long distance, bearing a message of love from my dear child.
After crossing several hills, I came at last to one, whose almost perpendicular sides overlooked an extensive marsh, which was bounded on one side by a bay, whose waters rolled up a broad beach of dark brown sand. Immense numbers of sea birds were hovering over this beach, but I could not approach them within gunshot. I passed a considerable number of huts at the foot of the hill. There were seldom less than two or three dogs around them, and sometimes more, besides women and children enough to fill them. The dogs seemed rather vicious, and often attacked me; but I easily drove them off except in one instance, when I was surrounded by three or four larger, and particularly ferocious ones, and had to swing my gun round pretty smartly, and was on the point of discharging it at them, when the women of the house came out and called them off.