Amongst
These Central Tribes The Men Generally Have An Otter-Skin, Or
Some Small Scrap About As Large As A Pocket-Handkerchief,
Which Is Barely Sufficient To Cover Their Backs As Low Down
As Their Loins.
It is laced across the breast by strings, and
according as the wind blows, it is shifted from side to side.
But these Fuegians in the canoe were quite naked, and even
one full-grown woman was absolutely so.
It was raining
heavily, and the fresh water, together with the spray, trickled
down her body. In another harbour not far distant, a
woman, who was suckling a recently-born child, came one
day alongside the vessel, and remained there out of mere
curiosity, whilst the sleet fell and thawed on her naked
bosom, and on the skin of her naked baby! These poor
wretches were stunted in their growth, their hideous faces
bedaubed with white paint, their skins filthy and greasy,
their hair entangled, their voices discordant, and their
gestures violent. Viewing such men, one can hardly make one's
self believe that they are fellow-creatures, and inhabitants
of the same world. It is a common subject of conjecture
what pleasure in life some of the lower animals can enjoy:
how much more reasonably the same question may be asked
with respect to these barbarians! At night, five or six
human beings, naked and scarcely protected from the wind
and rain of this tempestuous climate, sleep on the wet
ground coiled up like animals.
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