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CHAPTER XII

CENTRAL CHILE

Valparaiso -- Excursion to the Foot of the Andes  --  Structure
of the Land -- Ascend the Bell of Quillota -- Shattered
Masses of Greenstone -- Immense Valleys -- Mines -- State of
Miners -- Santiago --  Hot-baths of Cauquenes  -- Gold-mines --
Grinding-mills -- Perforated Stones -- Habits of the Puma -- El
Turco and Tapacolo -- Hummingbirds.


JULY 23rd. -- The Beagle anchored late at night in the
bay of Valparaiso, the chief seaport of Chile.  When
morning came, everything appeared delightful.  After
Tierra del Fuego, the climate felt quite delicious -- the
atmosphere so dry, and the heavens so clear and blue with the
sun shining brightly, that all nature seemed sparkling with
life.  The view from the anchorage is very pretty.  The town is
built at the very foot of a range of hills, about 1600 feet
high, and rather steep.  From its position, it consists of one
long, straggling street, which runs parallel to the beach,
and wherever a ravine comes down, the houses are piled up on
each side of it.  The rounded hills, being only partially
protected by a very scanty vegetation, are worn into numberless
little gullies, which expose a singularly bright red soil.  From
this cause, and from the low whitewashed houses with tile roofs,
the view reminded me of St. Cruz in Teneriffe.  In a north-
westerly direction there are some fine glimpses of the Andes:
but these mountains appear much grander when viewed from
the neighbouring hills: the great distance at which they are
situated can then more readily be perceived.  The volcano of
Aconcagua is particularly magnificent.  This huge and irregularly
conical mass has an elevation greater than that of
Chimborazo; for, from measurements made by the officers in
the Beagle, its height is no less than 23,000 feet.  The
Cordillera, however, viewed from this point, owe the greater
part of their beauty to the atmosphere through which they are
seen.  When the sun was setting in the Pacific, it was
admirable to watch how clearly their rugged outlines could
be distinguished, yet how varied and how delicate were the
shades of their colour.

I had the good fortune to find living here Mr. Richard
Corfield, an old schoolfellow and friend, to whose hospitality
and kindness I was greatly indebted, in having afforded me
a most pleasant residence during the Beagle's stay in Chile.
The immediate neighbourhood of Valparaiso is not very productive
to the naturalist.  During the long summer the wind
blows steadily from the southward, and a little off shore, so
that rain never falls; during the three winter months, however,
it is sufficiently abundant.  The vegetation in consequence
is very scanty: except in some deep valleys, there are
no trees, and only a little grass and a few low bushes are
scattered over the less steep parts of the hills.  When we
reflect, that at the distance of 350 miles to the south, this
side of the Andes is completely hidden by one impenetrable
forest, the contrast is very remarkable.  I took several long
walks while collecting objects of natural history.  The country
is pleasant for exercise.  There are many very beautiful flowers;
and, as in most other dry climates, the plants and shrubs
possess strong and peculiar odours -- even one's clothes by
brushing through them became scented.  I did not cease from
wonder at finding each succeeding day as fine as the foregoing.
What a difference does climate make in the enjoyment
of life!  How opposite are the sensations when viewing
black mountains half enveloped in clouds, and seeing
another range through the light blue haze of a fine day!  The
one for a time may be very sublime; the other is all gaiety
and happy life.

August 14th. -- I  set out on a riding excursion, for the
purpose of geologizing the basal parts of the Andes, which
alone at this time of the year are not shut up by the winter
snow.  Our first day's ride was northward along the seacoast.
After dark we reached the Hacienda of Quintero,
the estate which formerly belonged to Lord Cochrane.  My
object in coming here was to see the great beds of shells,
which stand some yards above the level of the sea, and are
burnt for lime.  The proofs of the elevation of this whole
line of coast are unequivocal: at the height of a few hundred
feet old-looking shells are numerous, and I found some
at 1300 feet.  These shells either lie loose on the surface, or
are embedded in a reddish-black vegetable mould.  I was
much surprised to find under the microscope that this vegetable
mould is really marine mud, full of minute particles of
organic bodies.

15th. -- We returned towards the valley of Quillota.  The
country was exceedingly pleasant; just such as poets would
call pastoral: green open lawns, separated by small valleys
with rivulets, and the cottages, we may suppose of the shepherds
scattered on the hill-sides.  We were obliged to cross
the ridge of the Chilicauquen.  At its base there were many
fine evergreen forest-trees, but these flourished only in the
ravines, where there was running water.  Any person who
had seen only the country near Valparaiso, would never have
imagined that there had been such picturesque spots in Chile.
As soon as we reached the brow of the Sierra, the valley of
Quillota was immediately under our feet.  The prospect was
one of remarkable artificial luxuriance.  The valley is very
broad and quite flat, and is thus easily irrigated in all parts.
The little square gardens are crowded with orange and olive
trees, and every sort of vegetable.  On each side huge bare
mountains rise, and this from the contrast renders the patchwork
valley the more pleasing.  Whoever called "Valparaiso"
the "Valley of Paradise," must have been thinking
of Quillota.  We crossed over to the Hacienda de San Isidro,
situated at the very foot of the Bell Mountain.

Chile, as may be seen in the maps, is a narrow strip of
land between the Cordillera and the Pacific; and this strip
is itself traversed by several mountain-lines, which in this
part run parallel to the great range.  Between these outer
lines and the main Cordillera, a succession of level basins,
generally opening into each other by narrow passages, extend
far to the southward: in these, the principal towns are
situated, as San Felipe, Santiago, San Fernando.  These basins
or plains, together with the transverse flat valleys (like that
of Quillota) which connect them with the coast, I have no
doubt are the bottoms of ancient inlets and deep bays, such
as at the present day intersect every part of Tierra del Fuego
and the western coast.  Chile must formerly have resembled
the latter country in the configuration of its land and water.
The resemblance was occasionally shown strikingly when a
level fog-bank covered, as with a mantle, all the lower parts
of the country: the white vapour curling into the ravines,
beautifully represented little coves and bays; and here and
there a solitary hillock peeping up, showed that it had formerly
stood there as an islet.  The contrast of these flat
valleys and basins with the irregular mountains, gave the
scenery a character which to me was new and very interesting.

From the natural slope to seaward of these plains, they
are very easily irrigated, and in consequence singularly
fertile.  Without this process the land would produce scarcely
anything, for during the whole summer the sky is cloudless.
The mountains and hills are dotted over with bushes and
low trees, and excepting these the vegetation is very scanty.
Each landowner in the valley possesses a certain portion of
hill-country, where his half-wild cattle, in considerable
numbers, manage to find sufficient pasture.  Once every year
there is a grand "rodeo," when all the cattle are driven down,
counted, and marked, and a certain number separated to be
fattened in the irrigated fields.  Wheat is extensively
cultivated, and a good deal of Indian corn: a kind of bean is,
however, the staple article of food for the common labourers.
The orchards produce an overflowing abundance of peaches
figs, and grapes.  With all these advantages, the inhabitants
of the country ought to be much more prosperous than they
are.

16th. -- The mayor-domo of the Hacienda was good enough
to give me a guide and fresh horses; and in the morning we
set out to ascend the Campana, or Bell Mountain, which is
6400 feet high.  The paths were very bad, but both the
geology and scenery amply repaid the trouble.  We reached
by the evening, a spring called the Agua del Guanaco, which
is situated at a great height.  This must be an old name,
for it is very many years since a guanaco drank its waters.
During the ascent I noticed that nothing but bushes grew
on the northern slope, whilst on the southern slope there was
a bamboo about fifteen feet high.  In a few places there were
palms, and I was surprised to see one at an elevation of at
least 4500 feet.  These palms are, for their family, ugly trees.
Their stem is very large, and of a curious form, being thicker
in the middle than at the base or top.  They are excessively
numerous in some parts of Chile, and valuable on account of
a sort of treacle made from the sap.  On one estate near
Petorca they tried to count them, but failed, after having
numbered several hundred thousand.  Every year in the early
spring, in August, very many are cut down, and when the
trunk is lying on the ground, the crown of leaves is lopped
off.  The sap then immediately begins to flow from the upper
end, and continues so doing for some months: it is, however,
necessary that a thin slice should be shaved off from
that end every morning, so as to expose a fresh surface.  A
good tree will give ninety gallons, and all this must have
been contained in the vessels of the apparently dry trunk.
It is said that the sap flows much more quickly on those
days when the sun is powerful; and likewise, that it is
absolutely necessary to take care, in cutting down the tree,
that it should fall with its head upwards on the side of the
hill; for if it falls down the slope, scarcely any sap will
flow; although in that case one would have thought that the
action would have been aided, instead of checked, by the force
of gravity.  The sap is concentrated by boiling, and is then
called treacle, which it very much resembles in taste.

We unsaddled our horses near the spring, and prepared to
pass the night.  The evening was fine, and the atmosphere so
clear, that the masts of the vessels at anchor in the bay of
Valparaiso, although no less than twenty-six geographical
miles distant, could be distinguished clearly as little black
streaks.  A ship doubling the point under sail, appeared as
a bright white speck.  Anson expresses much surprise, in his
voyage, at the distance at which his vessels were discovered
from the coast; but he did not sufficiently allow for the height
of the land, and the great transparency of the air.

The setting of the sun was glorious; the valleys being
black whilst the snowy peaks of the Andes yet retained a
ruby tint.  When it was dark, we made a fire beneath a little
arbour of bamboos, fried our charqui (or dried slips of beef),
took our mate, and were quite comfortable.  There is an
inexpressible charm in thus living in the open air.  The evening
was calm and still; -- the shrill noise of the mountain
bizcacha, and the faint cry of a goatsucker, were occasionally
to be heard.  Besides these, few birds, or even
insects, frequent these dry, parched mountains.

August 17th. -- In the morning we climbed up the rough
mass of greenstone which crowns the summit.  This rock, as
frequently happens, was much shattered and broken into
huge angular fragments.  I observed, however, one remarkable
circumstance, namely, that many of the surfaces presented
every degree of freshness some appearing as if
broken the day before, whilst on others lichens had either
just become, or had long grown, attached.  I so fully believed
that this was owing to the frequent earthquakes, that I felt
inclined to hurry from below each loose pile.  As one might
very easily be deceived in a fact of this kind, I doubted its
accuracy, until ascending Mount Wellington, in Van Diemen's
Land, where earthquakes do not occur; and there I saw
the summit of the mountain similarly composed and similarly
shattered, but all the blocks appeared as if they had been
hurled into their present position thousands of years ago.

We spent the day on the summit, and I never enjoyed one
more thoroughly.  Chile, bounded by the Andes and the
Pacific, was seen as in a map.  The pleasure from the scenery,
in itself beautiful, was heightened by the many reflections
which arose from the mere view of the Campana range with
its lesser parallel ones, and of the broad valley of Quillota
directly intersecting them.  Who can avoid wondering at the
force which has upheaved these mountains, and even more
so at the countless ages which it must have required to have
broken through, removed, and levelled whole masses of them?
It is well in this case to call to mind the vast shingle and
sedimentary beds of Patagonia, which, if heaped on the
Cordillera, would increase its height by so many thousand feet.
When in that country, I wondered how any mountain-chain
could have supplied such masses, and not have been utterly
obliterated.  We must not now reverse the wonder, and doubt
whether all-powerful time can grind down mountains -- even
the gigantic Cordillera -- into-gravel and mud.

The appearance of the Andes was different from that
which I had expected.  The lower line of the snow was of
course horizontal, and to this line the even summits of the
range seemed quite parallel.  Only at long intervals, a group
of points or a single cone showed where a volcano had
existed, or does now exist.  Hence the range resembled a
great solid wall, surmounted here and there by a tower, and
making a most perfect barrier to the country.

Almost every part of the hill had been drilled by attempts
to open gold-mines: the rage for mining has left scarcely
a spot in Chile unexamined.  I spent the evening as before,
talking round the fire with my two companions.  The Guasos
of Chile, who correspond to the Gauchos of the Pampas, are,
however, a very different set of beings.  Chile is the more
civilized of the two countries, and the inhabitants, in
consequence, have lost much individual character.  Gradations
in rank are much more strongly marked: the Guaso does not
by any means consider every man his equal; and I was quite
surprised to find that my companions did not like to eat at
the same time with myself.  This feeling of inequality is a
necessary consequence of the existence of an aristocracy of
wealth.  It is said that some few of the greater landowners
possess from five to ten thousand pounds sterling per annum:
an inequality of riches which I believe is not met with in
any of the cattle-breeding countries eastward of the Andes.
A traveller does not here meet that unbounded hospitality
which refuses all payment, but yet is so kindly offered that
no scruples can be raised in accepting it.  Almost every house
in Chile will receive you for the night, but a trifle is
expected to be given in the morning; even a rich man will
accept two or three shillings.  The Gaucho, although he may be
a cutthroat, is a gentleman; the Guaso is in few respects
better, but at the same time a vulgar, ordinary fellow.  The
two men, although employed much in the same manner, are
different in their habits and attire; and the peculiarities
of each are universal in their respective countries.  The Gaucho
seems part of his horse, and scorns to exert himself except when
on his back: the Guaso may be hired to work as a labourer in
the fields.  The former lives entirely on animal food; the latter
almost wholly on vegetable.  We do not here see the white
boots, the broad drawers and scarlet chilipa; the picturesque
costume of the Pampas.  Here, common trousers are protected
by black and green worsted leggings.  The poncho,
however, is common to both.  The chief pride of the Guaso
lies in his spurs, which are absurdly large.  I measured one
which was six inches in the _diameter_  of the rowel, and the
rowel itself contained upwards of thirty points.  The stirrups
are on the same scale, each consisting of a square, carved
block of wood, hollowed out, yet weighing three or four
pounds.  The Guaso is perhaps more expert with the lazo
than the Gaucho; but, from the nature of the country, he
does not know the use of the bolas.

August 18th. -- We descended the mountain, and passed
some beautiful little spots, with rivulets and fine trees.
Having slept at the same hacienda as before, we rode during the
two succeeding days up the valley, and passed through Quillota,
which is more like a collection of nursery-gardens than
a town.  The orchards were beautiful, presenting one mass
of peach-blossoms.  I saw, also, in one or two places the
date-palm; it is a most stately tree; and I should think a
group of them in their native Asiatic or African deserts must
be superb.  We passed likewise San Felipe, a pretty straggling
town like Quillota.  The valley in this part expands into
one of those great bays or plains, reaching to the foot of the
Cordillera, which have been mentioned as forming so curious
a part of the scenery of Chile.  In the evening we reached
the mines of Jajuel, situated in a ravine at the flank of the
great chain.  I stayed here five days.  My host the superintendent
of the mine, was a shrewd but rather ignorant Cornish
miner.  He had married a Spanish woman, and did not
mean to return home; but his admiration for the mines of
Cornwall remained unbounded.  Amongst many other questions,
he asked me, "Now that George Rex is dead, how
many more of the family of Rexes are yet alive?" This Rex
certainly must be a relation of the great author Finis, who
wrote all books!

These mines are of copper, and the ore is all shipped to
Swansea, to be smelted.  Hence the mines have an aspect
singularly quiet, as compared to those in England: here no
smoke, furnaces, or great steam-engines, disturb the solitude
of the surrounding mountains.

The Chilian government, or rather the old Spanish law,
encourages by every method the searching for mines.  The
discoverer may work a mine on any ground, by paying five
shillings; and before paying this he may try, even in the
garden of another man, for twenty days.

It is now well known that the Chilian method of mining
is the cheapest.  My host says that the two principal
improvements introduced by foreigners have been, first,
reducing by previous roasting the copper pyrites -- which,
being the common ore in Cornwall, the English miners were
astounded on their arrival to find thrown away as useless:
secondly, stamping and washing the scoriae from the old
furnaces -- by which process particles of metal are recovered
in abundance.  I have actually seen mules carrying to the
coast, for transportation to England, a cargo of such cinders.
But the first case is much the most curious.  The Chilian
miners were so convinced that copper pyrites contained not
a particle of copper, that they laughed at the Englishmen
for their ignorance, who laughed in turn, and bought their
richest veins for a few dollars.  It is very odd that, in a
country where mining had been extensively carried on for many
years, so simple a process as gently roasting the ore to expel
the sulphur previous to smelting it, had never been discovered.
A few improvements have likewise been introduced in some of the
simple machinery; but even to the present day, water is
removed from some mines by men carrying it up the shaft in
leathern bags!

The labouring men work very hard.  They have little time
allowed for their meals, and during summer and winter they
begin when it is light, and leave off at dark.  They are paid
one pound sterling a month, and their food is given them:
this for breakfast consists of sixteen figs and two small loaves
of bread; for dinner, boiled beans; for supper, broken roasted
wheat grain.  They scarcely ever taste meat; as, with the
twelve pounds per annum, they have to clothe themselves, and
support their families.  The miners who work in the mine
itself have twenty-five shillings per month, and are allowed
a little charqui.  But these men come down from their bleak
habitations only once in every fortnight or three weeks.

During my stay here I thoroughly enjoyed scrambling
about these huge mountains.  The geology, as might have
been expected, was very interesting.  The shattered and
baked rocks, traversed by innumerable dykes of greenstone,
showed what commotions had formerly taken place.  The
scenery was much the same as that near the Bell of Quillota
-- dry barren mountains, dotted at intervals by bushes
with a scanty foliage.  The cactuses, or rather opuntias
were here very numerous.  I measured one of a spherical
figure, which, including the spines, was six feet and four
inches in circumference.  The height of the common cylindrical,
branching kind, is from twelve to fifteen feet, and
the girth (with spines) of the branches between three and
four feet.

A heavy fall of snow on the mountains prevented me
during the last two days, from making some interesting
excursions.  I attempted to reach a lake which the inhabitants,
from some unaccountable reason, believe to be an arm
of the sea.  During a very dry season, it was proposed to
attempt cutting a channel from it for the sake of the water,
but the padre, after a consultation, declared it was too
dangerous, as all Chile would be inundated, if, as generally
supposed, the lake was connected with the Pacific.  We
ascended to a great height, but becoming involved in the
snow-drifts failed in reaching this wonderful lake, and had
some difficulty in returning.  I thought we should have lost
our horses; for there was no means of guessing how deep
the drifts were, and the animals, when led, could only move
by jumping.  The black sky showed that a fresh snowstorm
was gathering, and we therefore were not a little glad
when we escaped.  By the time we reached the base the
storm commenced, and it was lucky for us that this did not
happen three hours earlier in the day.

August 26th. -- We left Jajuel and again crossed the basin
of San Felipe.  The day was truly Chilian: glaringly bright,
and the atmosphere quite clear.  The thick and uniform
covering of newly fallen snow rendered the view of the volcano
of Aconcagua and the main chain quite glorious.  We
were now on the road to Santiago, the capital of Chile.  We
crossed the Cerro del Talguen, and slept at a little rancho.
The host, talking about the state of Chile as compared to
other countries, was very humble: "Some see with two eyes,
and some with one, but for my part I do not think that Chile
sees with any."

August 27th. -- After crossing many low hills we descended
into the small land-locked plain of Guitron.  In the basins,
such as this one, which are elevated from one thousand to
two thousand feet above the sea, two species of acacia, which
are stunted in their forms, and stand wide apart from each
other, grow in large numbers.  These trees are never found
near the sea-coast; and this gives another characteristic
feature to the scenery of these basins.  We crossed a low
ridge which separates Guitron from the great plain on which
Santiago stands.  The view was here pre-eminently striking:
the dead level surface, covered in parts by woods of acacia,
and with the city in the distance, abutting horizontally
against the base of the Andes, whose snowy peaks were
bright with the evening sun.  At the first glance of this
view, it was quite evident that the plain represented the
extent of a former inland sea.  As soon as we gained the
level road we pushed our horses into a gallop, and reached
the city before it was dark.

I stayed a week in Santiago, and enjoyed myself very
much.  In the morning I rode to various places on the plain,
and in the evening dined with several of the English merchants,
whose hospitality at this place is well known.  A
never-failing source of pleasure was to ascend the little
hillock of rock (St. Lucia) which projects in the middle of
the city.  The scenery certainly is most striking, and, as I
have said, very peculiar.  I am informed that this same
character is common to the cities on the great Mexican
platform.  Of the town I have nothing to say in detail: it is
not so fine or so large as Buenos Ayres, but is built after the
same model.  I arrived here by a circuit to the north; so I
resolved to return to Valparaiso by a rather longer excursion
to the south of the direct road.

September 5th. -- By the middle of the day we arrived at
one of the suspension bridges, made of hide, which cross the
Maypu, a large turbulent river a few leagues southward of
Santiago.  These bridges are very poor affairs.  The road,
following the curvature of the suspending ropes, is made of
bundles of sticks placed close together.  It was full of holes,
and oscillated rather fearfully, even with the weight of a
man leading his horse.  In the evening we reached a comfortable
farm-house, where there were several very pretty
senoritas.  They were much horrified at my having entered
one of their churches out of mere curiosity.  They asked
me, "Why do you not become a Christian -- for our religion
is certain?" I assured them I was a sort of Christian; but
they would not hear of it -- appealing to my own words, "Do
not your padres, your very bishops, marry?" The absurdity
of a bishop having a wife particularly struck them: they
scarcely knew whether to be most amused or horror-struck
at such an enormity.

6th. -- We proceeded due south, and slept at Rancagua.
The road passed over the level but narrow plain, bounded on
one side by lofty hills, and on the other by the Cordillera.
The next day we turned up the valley of the Rio Cachapual,
in which the hot-baths of Cauquenes, long celebrated for
their medicinal properties, are situated.  The suspension
bridges, in the less frequented parts, are generally taken down
during the winter when the rivers are low.  Such was the
case in this valley, and we were therefore obliged to cross
the stream on horseback.  This is rather disagreeable, for
the foaming water, though not deep, rushes so quickly over
the bed of large rounded stones, that one's head becomes
quite confused, and it is difficult even to perceive whether
the horse is moving onward or standing still.  In summer,
when the snow melts, the torrents are quite impassable; their
strength and fury are then extremely great, as might be
plainly seen by the marks which they had left.  We reached
the baths in the evening, and stayed there five days, being
confined the two last by heavy rain.  The buildings consist
of a square of miserable little hovels, each with a single table
and bench.  They are situated in a narrow deep valley just
without the central Cordillera.  It is a quiet, solitary spot,
with a good deal of wild beauty.

The mineral springs of Cauquenes burst forth on a line of
dislocation, crossing a mass of stratified rock, the whole
of which betrays the action of heat.  A considerable quantity
of gas is continually escaping from the same orifices with
the water.  Though the springs are only a few yards apart,
they have very different temperature; and this appears to be
the result of an unequal mixture of cold water: for those
with the lowest temperature have scarcely any mineral taste.
After the great earthquake of 1822 the springs ceased, and
the water did not return for nearly a year.  They were also
much affected by the earthquake of 1835; the temperature
being suddenly changed from 118 to 92 degs. [1] It seems probable
that mineral waters rising deep from the bowels of the earth,
would always be more deranged by subterranean disturbances
than those nearer the surface.  The man who had charge of
the baths assured me that in summer the water is hotter and
more plentiful than in winter.  The former circumstance I
should have expected, from the less mixture, during the dry
season, of cold water; but the latter statement appears very
strange and contradictory.  The periodical increase during
the summer, when rain never falls, can, I think, only be
accounted for by the melting of the snow: yet the mountains
which are covered by snow during that season, are three or
four leagues distant from the springs.  I have no reason to
doubt the accuracy of my informer, who, having lived on
the spot for several years, ought to be well acquainted with
the circumstance, -- which, if true, certainly is very curious:
for we must suppose that the snow-water, being conducted
through porous strata to the regions of heat, is again thrown
up to the surface by the line of dislocated and injected rocks
at Cauquenes; and the regularity of the phenomenon would
seem to indicate that in this district heated rock occurred at
a depth not very great.

One day I rode up the valley to the farthest inhabited
spot.  Shortly above that point, the Cachapual divides into
two deep tremendous ravines, which penetrate directly into
the great range.  I scrambled up a peaked mountain, probably
more than six thousand feet high.  Here, as indeed
everywhere else, scenes of the highest interest presented
themselves.  It was by one of these ravines, that Pincheira
entered Chile and ravaged the neighbouring country.  This
is the same man whose attack on an estancia at the Rio Negro
I have described.  He was a renegade half-caste Spaniard,
who collected a great body of Indians together and established
himself by a stream in the Pampas, which place none
of the forces sent after him could ever discover.  From this
point he used to sally forth, and crossing the Cordillera by
passes hitherto unattempted, he ravaged the farm-houses
and drove the cattle to his secret rendezvous.  Pincheira was
a capital horseman, and he made all around him equally
good, for he invariably shot any one who hesitated to follow
him.  It was against this man, and other wandering Indian
tribes, that Rosas waged the war of extermination.

September 13th. -- We left the baths of Cauquenes, and,
rejoining the main road, slept at the Rio Clara.  From this
place we rode to the town of San Fernando.  Before arriving
there, the last land-locked basin had expanded into a great
plain, which extended so far to the south, that the snowy
summits of the more distant Andes were seen as if above the
horizon of the sea.  San Fernando is forty leagues from Santiago;
and it was my farthest point southward; for we here
turned at right angles towards the coast.  We slept at the
gold-mines of Yaquil, which are worked by Mr. Nixon, an
American gentleman, to whose kindness I was much indebted
during the four days I stayed at his house.  The next
morning we rode to the mines, which are situated at the
distance of some leagues, near the summit of a lofty hill.  On
the way we had a glimpse of the lake Tagua-tagua, celebrated
for its floating islands, which have been described by
M. Gay. [2] They are composed of the stalks of various dead
plants intertwined together, and on the surface of which
other living ones take root.  Their form is generally circular,
and their thickness from four to six feet, of which the
greater part is immersed in the water.  As the wind blows,
they pass from one side of the lake to the other, and often
carry cattle and horses as passengers.

When we arrived at the mine, I was struck by the pale
appearance of many of the men, and inquired from Mr.
Nixon respecting their condition.  The mine is 450 feet deep,
and each man brings up about 200 pounds weight of stone.
With this load they have to climb up the alternate notches cut
in the trunks of trees, placed in a zigzag line up the shaft.
Even beardless young men, eighteen and twenty years old,
with little muscular development of their bodies (they are
quite naked excepting drawers) ascend with this great load
from nearly the same depth.  A strong man, who is not
accustomed to this labour, perspires most profusely, with
merely carrying up his own body.  With this very severe
labour, they live entirely on boiled beans and bread.  They
would prefer having bread alone; but their masters, finding
that they cannot work so hard upon this, treat them like
horses, and make them eat the beans.  Their pay is here
rather more than at the mines of Jajuel, being from 24 to 28
shillings per month.  They leave the mine only once in three
weeks; when they stay with their families for two days.  One
of the rules of this mine sounds very harsh, but answers
pretty well for the master.  The only method of stealing gold
is to secrete pieces of the ore, and take them out as occasion
may offer.  Whenever the major-domo finds a lump thus
hidden, its full value is stopped out of the wages of all the
men; who thus, without they all combine, are obliged to keep
watch over each other.

When the ore is brought to the mill, it is ground into an
impalpable powder; the process of washing removes all the
lighter particles, and amalgamation finally secures the
gold-dust.  The washing, when described, sounds a very simple
process; but it is beautiful to see how the exact adaptation of
the current of water to the specific gravity of the gold, so
easily separates the powdered matrix from the metal.  The
mud which passes from the mills is collected into pools, where
it subsides, and every now and then is cleared out, and thrown
into a common heap.  A great deal of chemical action then
commences, salts of various kinds effloresce on the surface,
and the mass becomes hard.  After having been left for a year
or two, and then rewashed, it yields gold; and this process
may be repeated even six or seven times; but the gold each
time becomes less in quantity, and the intervals required (as
the inhabitants say, to generate the metal) are longer.  There
can be no doubt that the chemical action, already mentioned,
each time liberates fresh gold from some combination.  The
discovery of a method to effect this before the first grinding
would without doubt raise the value of gold-ores many fold.

It is curious to find how the minute particles of gold, being
scattered about and not corroding, at last accumulate in
some quantity.  A short time since a few miners, being out of
work, obtained permission to scrape the ground round the
house and mills; they washed the earth thus got together, and
so procured thirty dollars' worth of gold.  This is an exact
counterpart of what takes place in nature.  Mountains suffer
degradation and wear away, and with them the metallic veins
which they contain.  The hardest rock is worn into impalpable
mud, the ordinary metals oxidate, and both are removed;
but gold, platina, and a few others are nearly indestructible,
and from their weight, sinking to the bottom, are left behind.
After whole mountains have passed through this grinding
mill, and have been washed by the hand of nature, the residue
becomes metalliferous, and man finds it worth his while to
complete the task of separation.

Bad as the above treatment of the miners appears, it is
gladly accepted of by them; for the condition of the labouring
agriculturists is much worse.  Their wages are lower, and
they live almost exclusively on beans.  This poverty must be
chiefly owing to the feudal-like system on which the land is
tilled: the landowner gives a small plot of ground to the
labourer for building on and cultivating, and in return has
his services (or those of a proxy) for every day of his life,
without any wages.  Until a father has a grown-up son, who
can by his labour pay the rent, there is no one, except on
occasional days, to take care of his own patch of ground.
Hence extreme poverty is very common among the labouring
classes in this country.

There are some old Indian ruins in this neighbourhood,
and I was shown one of the perforated stones, which Molina
mentions as being found in many places in considerable
numbers.  They are of a circular flattened form, from five to
six inches in diameter, with a hole passing quite through the
centre.  It has generally been supposed that they were used
as heads to clubs, although their form does not appear at all
well adapted for that purpose.  Burchell [3] states that some
of the tribes in Southern Africa dig up roots by the aid of a
stick pointed at one end, the force and weight of which are
increased by a round stone with a hole in it, into which the
other end is firmly wedged.  It appears probable that the
Indians of Chile formerly used some such rude agricultural
instrument.

One day, a German collector in natural history, of the
name of Renous, called, and nearly at the same time an old
Spanish lawyer.  I was amused at being told the conversation
which took place between them.  Renous speaks Spanish so
well, that the old lawyer mistook him for a Chilian.  Renous
alluding to me, asked him what he thought of the King of
England sending out a collector to their country, to pick up
lizards and beetles, and to break stones?  The old gentleman
thought seriously for some time, and then said, "It is not
well, -- _hay un gato encerrado aqui_ (there is a cat shut up
here).  No man is so rich as to send out people to pick up
such rubbish.  I do not like it: if one of us were to go and
do such things in England, do not you think the King of
England would very soon send us out of his country?" And
this old gentleman, from his profession, belongs to the better
informed and more intelligent classes!  Renous himself, two
or three years before, left in a house at San Fernando some
caterpillars, under charge of a girl to feed, that they might
turn into butterflies.  This was rumoured through the town,
and at last the padres and governor consulted together, and
agreed it must be some heresy.  Accordingly, when Renous
returned, he was arrested.

September 19th. -- We left Yaquil, and followed the flat
valley, formed like that of Quillota, in which the Rio
Tinderidica flows.  Even at these few miles south of Santiago
the climate is much damper; in consequence there are fine
tracts of pasturage, which are not irrigated. (20th.) We l
followed this valley till it expanded into a great plain, which
reaches from the sea to the mountains west of Rancagua.
We shortly lost all trees and even bushes; so that the
inhabitants are nearly as badly off for firewood as those in
the Pampas.  Never having heard of these plains, I was much
surprised at meeting with such scenery in Chile.  The plains
belong to more than one series of different elevations, and
they are traversed by broad flat-bottomed valleys; both of
which circumstances, as in Patagonia, bespeak the action of
the sea on gently rising land.  In the steep cliffs bordering
these valleys, there are some large caves, which no doubt
were originally formed by the waves: one of these is celebrated
under the name of Cueva del Obispo; having formerly
been consecrated.  During the day I felt very unwell, and
from that time till the end of October did not recover.

September 22nd. -- We continued to pass over green plains
without a tree.  The next day we arrived at a house near
Navedad, on the sea-coast, where a rich Haciendero gave us
lodgings.  I stayed here the two ensuing days, and although
very unwell, managed to collect from the tertiary formation
some marine shells.

24th. -- Our course was now directed towards Valparaiso,
which with great difficulty I reached on the 27th, and was there
confined to my bed till the end of October.  During this time
I was an inmate in Mr. Corfield's house, whose kindness to
me I do not know how to express.


I will here add a few observations on some of the animals
and birds of Chile.  The Puma, or South American Lion, is
not uncommon.  This animal has a wide geographical range;
being found from the equatorial forests, throughout the
deserts of Patagonia as far south as the damp and cold
latitudes (53 to 54 degs.) of Tierra del Fuego.  I have seen its
footsteps in the Cordillera of central Chile, at an elevation of
at least 10,000 feet.  In La Plata the puma preys chiefly on
deer, ostriches, bizcacha, and other small quadrupeds; it there
seldom attacks cattle or horses, and most rarely man.  In
Chile, however, it destroys many young horses and cattle,
owing probably to the scarcity of other quadrupeds: I heard,
likewise, of two men and a woman who had been thus killed.
It is asserted that the puma always kills its prey by springing
on the shoulders, and then drawing back the head with one
of its paws, until the vertebrae break: I have seen in Patagonia
the skeletons of guanacos, with their necks thus
dislocated.

The puma, after eating its fill, covers the carcass with
many large bushes, and lies down to watch it.  This habit is
often the cause of its being discovered; for the condors
wheeling in the air every now and then descend to partake
of the feast, and being angrily driven away, rise all together
on the wing.  The Chileno Guaso then knows there is a lion
watching his prey -- the word is given -- and men and dogs
hurry to the chase.  Sir F. Head says that a Gaucho in the
pampas, upon merely seeing some condors wheeling in the
air, cried "A lion!" I could never myself meet with any one
who pretended to such powers of discrimination.  It is asserted
that, if a puma has once been betrayed by thus watching
the carcass, and has then been hunted, it never resumes
this habit; but that, having gorged itself, it wanders far away.
The puma is easily killed.  In an open country, it is first
entangled with the bolas, then lazoed, and dragged along the
ground till rendered insensible.  At Tandeel (south of the
plata), I was told that within three months one hundred
were thus destroyed.  In Chile they are generally driven up
bushes or trees, and are then either shot, or baited to death
by dogs.  The dogs employed in this chase belong to a particular
breed, called Leoneros: they are weak, slight animals,
like long-legged terriers, but are born with a particular
instinct for this sport.  The puma is described as being very
crafty: when pursued, it often returns on its former track,
and then suddenly making a spring on one side, waits there
till the dogs have passed by.  It is a very silent animal,
uttering no cry even when wounded, and only rarely during
the breeding season.

Of birds, two species of the genus Pteroptochos (megapodius
and albicollis of Kittlitz) are perhaps the most conspicuous.
The former, called by the Chilenos "el Turco,"
is as large as a fieldfare, to which bird it has some alliance;
but its legs are much longer, tail shorter, and beak stronger:
its colour is a reddish brown.  The Turco is not uncommon.
It lives on the ground, sheltered among the thickets which are
scattered over the dry and sterile hills.  With its tail erect,
and stilt-like legs, it may be seen every now and then popping
from one bush to another with uncommon quickness.
It really requires little imagination to believe that the bird
is ashamed of itself, and is aware of its most ridiculous
figure.  On first seeing it, one is tempted to exclaim, "A
vilely stuffed specimen has escaped from some museum, and has
come to life again!" It cannot be made to take flight without
the greatest trouble, nor does it run, but only hops.  The
various loud cries which it utters when concealed amongst the
bushes, are as strange as its appearance.  It is said to build
its nest in a deep hole beneath the ground.  I dissected several
specimens: the gizzard, which was very muscular, contained
beetles, vegetable fibres, and pebbles.  From this character,
from the length of its legs, scratching feet, membranous
covering to the nostrils, short and arched wings, this bird
seems in a certain degree to connect the thrushes with the
gallinaceous order.

The second species (or P. albicollis) is allied to the first
in its general form.  It is called Tapacolo, or "cover your
posterior;" and well does the shameless little bird deserve its
name; for it carries its tail more than erect, that is, inclined
backwards towards its head.  It is very common, and frequents
the bottoms of hedge-rows, and the bushes scattered
over the barren hills, where scarcely another bird can exist.
In its general manner of feeding, of quickly hopping out of
the thickets and back again, in its desire of concealment,
unwillingness to take flight, and nidification, it bears a close
resemblance to the Turco; but its appearance is not quite so
ridiculous.  The Tapacolo is very crafty: when frightened by
any person, it will remain motionless at the bottom of a bush,
and will then, after a little while, try with much address to
crawl away on the opposite side.  It is also an active bird, and
continually making a noise: these noises are various and
strangely odd; some are like the cooing of doves, others like
the bubbling of water, and many defy all similes.  The country
people say it changes its cry five times in the year --
according to some change of season, I suppose. [4]

Two species of humming-birds are common; Trochilus
forficatus is found over a space of 2500 miles on the west
coast, from the hot dry country of Lima, to the forests of
Tierra del Fuego -- where it may be seen flitting about in
snow-storms.  In the wooded island of Chiloe, which has an
extremely humid climate, this little bird, skipping from side
to side amidst the dripping foliage, is perhaps more abundant
than almost any other kind.  I opened the stomachs of several
specimens, shot in different parts of the continent, and in all,
remains of insects were as numerous as in the stomach of a
creeper.  When this species migrates in the summer southward,
it is replaced by the arrival of another species coming
from the north.  This second kind (Trochilus gigas) is a
very large bird for the delicate family to which it belongs:
when on the wing its appearance is singular.  Like others
of the genus, it moves from place to place with a rapidity
which may be compared to that of Syrphus amongst flies,
and Sphinx among moths; but whilst hovering over a flower,
it flaps its wings with a very slow and powerful movement,
totally different from that vibratory one common to most of
the species, which produces the humming noise.  I never saw
any other bird where the force of its wings appeared (as in a
butterfly) so powerful in proportion to the weight of its body.
When hovering by a flower, its tail is constantly expanded
and shut like a fan, the body being kept in a nearly vertical
position.  This action appears to steady and support the bird,
between the slow movements of its wings.  Although flying
from flower to flower in search of food, its stomach generally
contained abundant remains of insects, which I suspect are
much more the object of its search than honey.  The note of
this species, like that of nearly the whole family, is
extremely shrill.

[1] Caldeleugh, in Philosoph. Transact. for 1836.

[2] Annales des Sciences Naturelles, March, 1833. M. Gay, a
zealous and able naturalist, was then occupied in studying
every branch of natural history throughout the kingdom of
Chile.

[3] Burchess's Travels, vol. ii. p. 45.

[4] It is a remarkable fact, that Molina, though describing
in detail all the birds and animals of Chile, never once
mentions this genus, the species of which are so common, and
so remarkable in their habits.  Was he at a loss how to
classify them, and did he consequently think that silence
was the more prudent course?  It is one more instance of the
frequency of omissions by authors, on those very subjects
where it might have been least expected.



CHAPTER XIII

CHILOE AND CHONOS ISLANDS

Chiloe -- General Aspect -- Boat Excursion -- Native
Indians -- Castro -- Tame Fox -- Ascend San Pedro -- Chonos
Archipelago -- Peninsula of Tres Montes -- Granitic
Range -- Boat-wrecked Sailors -- Low's Harbour -- Wild
Potato -- Formation of Peat -- Myopotamus, Otter and Mice --
Cheucau and Barking-bird -- Opetiorhynchus -- Singular
Character of Ornithology -- Petrels.


NOVEMBER 10th. -- The Beagle sailed from Valparaiso
to the south, for the purpose of surveying the southern
part of Chile, the island of Chiloe, and the broken
land called the Chonos Archipelago, as far south as the
Peninsula of Tres Montes.  On the 21st we anchored in the
bay of S. Carlos, the capital of Chiloe.

This island is about ninety miles long, with a breadth of
rather less than thirty.  The land is hilly, but not mountainous,
and is covered by one great forest, except where a few
green patches have been cleared round the thatched cottages.
From a distance the view somewhat resembles that of Tierra
del Fuego; but the woods, when seen nearer, are incomparably
more beautiful.  Many kinds of fine evergreen trees, and
plants with a tropical character, here take the place of the
gloomy beech of the southern shores.  In winter the climate
is detestable, and in summer it is only a little better.  I
should think there are few parts of the world, within the
temperate regions, where so much rain falls.  The winds are
very boisterous, and the sky almost always clouded: to have a
week of fine weather is something wonderful.  It is even
difficult to get a single glimpse of the Cordillera: during
our first visit, once only the volcano of Osorno stood out in
bold relief, and that was before sunrise; it was curious to
watch, as the sun rose, the outline gradually fading away in
the glare of the eastern sky.

The inhabitants, from their complexion and low stature;
appear to have three-fourths of Indian blood in their veins.
They are an humble, quiet, industrious set of men.  Although
the fertile soil, resulting from the decomposition of the
volcanic rocks, supports a rank vegetation, yet the climate is
not favourable to any production which requires much sunshine
to ripen it.  There is very little pasture for the larger
quadrupeds; and in consequence, the staple articles of food are
pigs, potatoes, and fish.  The people all dress in strong
woollen garments, which each family makes for itself, and
dyes with indigo of a dark blue colour.  The arts, however,
are in the rudest state; -- as may be seen in their strange
fashion of ploughing, their method of spinning, grinding
corn, and in the construction of their boats.  The forests are
so impenetrable, that the land is nowhere cultivated except
near the coast and on the adjoining islets.  Even where paths
exist, they are scarcely passable from the soft and swampy
state of the soil.  The inhabitants, like those of Tierra del
Fuego, move about chiefly on the beach or in boats.  Although
with plenty to eat, the people are very poor: there is no
demand for labour, and consequently the lower orders cannot
scrape together money sufficient to purchase even the smallest
luxuries.  There is also a great deficiency of a circulating
medium.  I have seen a man bringing on his back a bag of
charcoal, with which to buy some trifle, and another carrying
a plank to exchange for a bottle of wine.  Hence every tradesman
must also be a merchant, and again sell the goods which
he takes in exchange.

November  24th. -- The yawl and whale-boat were sent under
the command of Mr. (now Captain) Sulivan, to survey the
eastern or inland coast of Chiloe; and with orders to meet
the Beagle at the southern extremity of the island; to which
point she would proceed by the outside, so as thus to
circumnavigate the whole.  I accompanied this expedition, but
instead of going in the boats the first day, I hired horses to
take me to Chacao, at the northern extremity of the island.
The road followed the coast; every now and then crossing
promontories covered by fine forests.  In these shaded paths
it is absolutely necessary that the whole road should be made
of logs of wood, which are squared and placed by the side of
each other.  From the rays of the sun never penetrating the
evergreen foliage, the ground is so damp and soft, that except
by this means neither man nor horse would be able to pass
along.  I arrived at the village of Chacao shortly after the
tents belonging to the boats were pitched for the night.

The land in this neighbourhood has been extensively
cleared, and there were many quiet and most picturesque
nooks in the forest.  Chacao was formerly the principal port
in the island; but many vessels having been lost, owing to the
dangerous currents and rocks in the straits, the Spanish
government burnt the church, and thus arbitrarily compelled the
greater number of inhabitants to migrate to S. Carlos.  We
had not long bivouacked, before the barefooted son of the
governor came down to reconnoitre us.  Seeing the English
flag hoisted at the yawl's mast-head, he asked with the utmost
indifference, whether it was always to fly at Chacao.  In several
places the inhabitants were much astonished at the
appearance of men-of-war's boats, and hoped and believed
it was the forerunner of a Spanish fleet, coming to recover
the island from the patriot government of Chile.  All the
men in power, however, had been informed of our intended
visit, and were exceedingly civil.  While we were eating our
supper, the governor paid us a visit.  He had been a lieutenant-
colonel in the Spanish service, but now was miserably
poor.  He gave us two sheep, and accepted in return two cotton
handkerchiefs, some brass trinkets, and a little tobacco.

25th. -- Torrents of rain: we managed, however, to run
down the coast as far as Huapi-lenou.  The whole of this
eastern side of Chiloe has one aspect; it is a plain, broken by
valleys and divided into little islands, and the whole thickly
covered with one impervious blackish-green forest.  On the
margins there are some cleared spaces, surrounding the high-
roofed cottages.

26th -- The day rose splendidly clear.  The volcano of
Orsono was spouting out volumes of smoke.  This most
beautiful mountain, formed like a perfect cone, and white
with snow, stands out in front of the Cordillera.  Another
great volcano, with a saddle-shaped summit, also emitted
from its immense crater little jets of steam.  Subsequently
we saw the lofty-peaked Corcovado -- well deserving the name
of "el famoso Corcovado." Thus we beheld, from one point
of view, three great active volcanoes, each about seven thousand
feet high.  In addition to this, far to the south, there
were other lofty cones covered with snow, which, although
not known to be active, must be in their origin volcanic.
The line of the Andes is not, in this neighbourhood, nearly
so elevated as in Chile; neither does it appear to form so
perfect a barrier between the regions of the earth.  This
great range, although running in a straight north and south
line, owing to an optical deception, always appeared more or
less curved; for the lines drawn from each peak to the
beholder's eye, necessarily converged like the radii of a
semicircle, and as it was not possible (owing to the clearness
of the atmosphere and the absence of all intermediate objects)
to judge how far distant the farthest peaks were off,
they appeared to stand in a flattish semicircle.

Landing at midday, we saw a family of pure Indian extraction.
The father was singularly like York Minster; and some
of the younger boys, with their ruddy complexions, might
have been mistaken for Pampas Indians.  Everything I have
seen, convinces me of the close connexion of the different
American tribes, who nevertheless speak distinct languages.
This party could muster but little Spanish, and talked to each
other in their own tongue.  It is a pleasant thing to see the
aborigines advanced to the same degree of civilization, however
low that may be, which their white conquerors have
attained.  More to the south we saw many pure Indians:
indeed, all the inhabitants of some of the islets retain their
Indian surnames.  In the census of 1832, there were in Chiloe
and its dependencies forty-two thousand souls; the greater
number of these appear to be of mixed blood.  Eleven thousand
retain their Indian surnames, but it is probable that not
nearly all of these are of a pure breed.  Their manner of life
is the same with that of the other poor inhabitants, and they
are all Christians; but it is said that they yet retain some
strange superstitious ceremonies, and that they pretend to
hold communication with the devil in certain caves.  Formerly,
every one convicted of this offence was sent to the
Inquisition at Lima.  Many of the inhabitants who are not
included in the eleven thousand with Indian surnames, cannot
be distinguished by their appearance from Indians.
Gomez, the governor of Lemuy, is descended from noblemen
of Spain on both sides; but by constant intermarriages with
the natives the present man is an Indian.  On the other hand
the governor of Quinchao boasts much of his purely kept
Spanish blood.

We reached at night a beautiful little cove, north of the
island of Caucahue.  The people here complained of want of
land.  This is partly owing to their own negligence in not
clearing the woods, and partly to restrictions by the government,
which makes it necessary, before buying ever so small
a piece, to pay two shillings to the surveyor for measuring
each quadra (150 yards square), together with whatever
price he fixes for the value of the land.  After his valuation
the land must be put up three times to auction, and if no one
bids more, the purchaser can have it at that rate.  All these
exactions must be a serious check to clearing the ground,
where the inhabitants are so extremely poor.  In most countries,
forests are removed without much difficulty by the aid
of fire; but in Chiloe, from the damp nature of the climate,
and the sort of trees, it is necessary first to cut them down.
This is a heavy drawback to the prosperity of Chiloe.  In the
time of the Spaniards the Indians could not hold land; and a
family, after having cleared a piece of ground, might be
driven away, and the property seized by the government.
The Chilian authorities are now performing an act of justice
by making retribution to these poor Indians, giving to each
man, according to his grade of life, a certain portion of land.
The value of uncleared ground is very little.  The government
gave Mr. Douglas (the present surveyor, who informed
me of these circumstances) eight and a half square miles of
forest near S. Carlos, in lieu of a debt; and this he sold for
350 dollars, or about 70 pounds sterling.

The two succeeding days were fine, and at night we reached
the island of Quinchao.  This neighbourhood is the most cultivated
part of the Archipelago; for a broad strip of land on
the coast of the main island, as well as on many of the smaller
adjoining ones, is almost completely cleared.  Some of the
farmhouses seemed very comfortable.  I was curious to
ascertain how rich any of these people might be, but Mr.
Douglas says that no one can be considered as possessing a
regular income.  One of the richest land-owners might possibly
accumulate, in a long industrious life, as much as 1000 pounds
sterling; but should this happen, it would all be stowed away
in some secret corner, for it is the custom of almost every
family to have a jar or treasure-chest buried in the ground.

November 30th. -- 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.  They
had no shelter during the rain.  In the morning I asked a
young Indian, who was wet to the skin, how he had passed
the night.  He seemed perfectly content, and answered, "Muy
bien, senor."

December 1st. - We steered for the island of Lemuy.  I
was anxious to examine a reported coal-mine which turned
out to be lignite of little value, in the sandstone (probably
of an ancient tertiary epoch) of which these islands are
composed.  When we reached Lemuy we had much difficulty in
finding any place to pitch our tents, for it was spring-tide,
and the land was wooded down to the water's edge.  In a
short time we were surrounded by a large group of the nearly
pure Indian inhabitants.  They were much surprised at our
arrival, and said one to the other, "This is the reason we
have seen so many parrots lately; the cheucau (an odd red-
breasted little bird, which inhabits the thick forest, and utters
very peculiar noises) has not cried 'beware' for nothing."
They were soon anxious for barter.  Money was scarcely
worth anything, but their eagerness for tobacco was something
quite extraordinary.  After tobacco, indigo came next
in value; then capsicum, old clothes, and gunpowder.  The
latter article was required for a very innocent purpose: each
parish has a public musket, and the gunpowder was wanted
for making a noise on their saint or feast days

The people here live chiefly on shell-fish and potatoes.  At
certain seasons they catch also, in "corrales," or hedges
under water, many fish which are left on the mud-banks as
the tide falls.  They occasionally possess fowls, sheep, goats,
pigs, horses, and cattle; the order in which they are here
mentioned, expressing their respective numbers.  I never
saw anything more obliging and humble than the manners
of these people.  They generally began with stating that
they were poor natives of the place, and not Spaniards
and that they were in sad want of tobacco and other comforts.
At Caylen, the most southern island, the sailors
bought with a stick of tobacco, of the value of three-halfpence,
two fowls, one of which, the Indian stated, had skin
between its toes, and turned out to be a fine duck; and with
some cotton handkerchiefs, worth three shillings, three sheep
and a large bunch of onions were procured.  The yawl at
this place was anchored some way from the shore, and we
had fears for her safety from robbers during the night.  Our
pilot, Mr. Douglas, accordingly told the constable of the
district that we always placed sentinels with loaded arms
and not understanding Spanish, if we saw any person in the
dark, we should assuredly shoot him.  The constable, with
much humility, agreed to the perfect propriety of this
arrangement, and promised us that no one should stir out
of his house during that night.

During the four succeeding days we continued sailing
southward.  The general features of the country remained
the same, but it was much less thickly inhabited.  On the
large island of Tanqui there was scarcely one cleared spot,
the trees on every side extending their branches over the
sea-beach.  I one day noticed, growing on the sandstone
cliffs, some very fine plants of the panke (Gunnera scabra),
which somewhat resembles the rhubarb on a gigantic scale.
The inhabitants eat the stalks, which are subacid, and tan
leather with the roots, and prepare a black dye from them.
The leaf is nearly circular, but deeply indented on its margin.
I measured one which was nearly eight feet in diameter,
and therefore no less than twenty-four in circumference!
The stalk is rather more than a yard high, and each
plant sends out four or five of these enormous leaves,
presenting together a very noble appearance.

December 6th. -- We reached Caylen, called "el fin del
Cristiandad." In the morning we stopped for a few minutes
at a house on the northern end of Laylec, which was the
extreme point of South American Christendom, and a miserable
hovel it was.  The latitude is 43 degs. 10', which is two
degrees farther south than the Rio Negro on the Atlantic
coast.  These extreme Christians were very poor, and, under
the plea of their situation, begged for some tobacco.  As a
proof of the poverty of these Indians, I may mention that
shortly before this, we had met a man, who had travelled
three days and a half on foot, and had as many to return,
for the sake of recovering the value of a small axe and a few
fish.  How very difficult it must be to buy the smallest article,
when such trouble is taken to recover so small a debt.

In the evening we reached the island of San Pedro, where
we found the Beagle at anchor.  In doubling the point, two
of the officers landed to take a round of angles with the
theodolite.  A fox (Canis fulvipes), of a kind said to be
peculiar to the island, and very rare in it, and which is a new
species, was sitting on the rocks.  He was so intently absorbed
in watching the work of the officers, that I was able,
by quietly walking up behind, to knock him on the head
with my geological hammer.  This fox, more curious or
more scientific, but less wise, than the generality of his
brethren, is now mounted in the museum of the Zoological
Society.

We stayed three days in this harbour, on one of  which
Captain Fitz Roy, with a party, attempted to ascend to the
summit of San Pedro.  The woods here had rather a different
appearance from those on the northern part of the island.
The rock, also, being micaceous slate, there was no beach,
but the steep sides dipped directly beneath the water.  The
general aspect in consequence was more like that of Tierra
del Fuego than of Chiloe.  In vain we tried to gain the
summit: the forest was so impenetrable, that no one who
has not beheld it can imagine so entangled a mass of dying
and dead trunks.  I am sure that often, for more than ten
minutes together, our feet never touched the ground, and
we were frequently ten or fifteen feet above it, so that the
seamen as a joke called out the soundings.  At other times
we crept one after another on our hands and knees, under
the rotten trunks.  In the lower part of the mountain, noble
trees of the Winter's Bark, and a laurel like the sassafras
with fragrant leaves, and others, the names of which I do
not know, were matted together by a trailing bamboo or cane.
Here we were more like fishes struggling in a net than any
other animal.  On the higher parts, brushwood takes the
place of larger trees, with here and there a red cedar or an
alerce pine.  I was also pleased to see, at an elevation of a
little less than 1000 feet, our old friend the southern beech.
They were, however, poor stunted trees, and I should think
that this must be nearly their northern limit.  We ultimately
gave up the attempt in despair.

December 10th. -- The yawl and whale-boat, with Mr.
Sulivan, proceeded on their survey, but I remained on board
the Beagle, which the next day left San Pedro for the southward.
On the 13th we ran into an opening in the southern
part of Guayatecas, or the Chonos Archipelago; and it was
fortunate we did so, for on the following day a storm, worthy
of Tierra del Fuego, raged with great fury.  White massive
clouds were piled up against a dark blue sky, and across them
black ragged sheets of vapour were rapidly driven.  The
successive mountain ranges appeared like dim shadows, and
the setting sun cast on the woodland a yellow gleam, much
like that produced by the flame of spirits of wine.  The water
was white with the flying spray, and the wind lulled and
roared again through the rigging: it was an ominous, sublime
scene.  During a few minutes there was a bright rainbow,
and it was curious to observe the effect of the spray,
which being carried along the surface of the water, changed
the ordinary semicircle into a circle -- a band of prismatic
colours being continued, from both feet of the common arch
across the bay, close to the vessel's side: thus forming a
distorted, but very nearly entire ring.

We stayed here three days.  The weather continued bad:
but this did not much signify, for the surface of the land
in all these islands is all but impassable.  The coast is so
very rugged that to attempt to walk in that direction requires
continued scrambling up and down over the sharp
rocks of mica-slate; and as for the woods, our faces, hands,
and shin-bones all bore witness to the maltreatment we
received, in merely attempting to penetrate their forbidden
recesses.

December 18th. -- We stood out to sea.  On the 20th we
bade farewell to the south, and with a fair wind turned the
ship's head northward.  From Cape Tres Montes we sailed
pleasantly along the lofty weather-beaten coast, which is
remarkable for the bold outline of its hills, and the thick
covering of forest even on the almost precipitous flanks.  The
next day a harbour was discovered, which on this dangerous
coast might be of great service to a distressed vessel.  It
can easily be recognized by a hill 1600 feet high, which is
even more perfectly conical than the famous sugar-loaf at
Rio de Janeiro.  The next day, after anchoring, I succeeded
in reaching the summit of this hill.  It was a laborious
undertaking, for the sides were so steep that in some parts it
was necessary to use the trees as ladders.  There were also
several extensive brakes of the Fuchsia, covered with its
beautiful drooping flowers, but very difficult to crawl through.
In these wild countries it gives much delight to gain the summit
of any mountain.  There is an indefinite expectation of seeing
something very strange, which, however often it may be
balked, never failed with me to recur on each successive
attempt.  Every one must know the feeling of triumph and
pride which a grand view from a height communicates to the
mind.  In these little frequented countries there is also joined
to it some vanity, that you perhaps are the first man who ever
stood on this pinnacle or admired this view.

A strong desire is always felt to ascertain whether any
human being has previously visited an unfrequented spot.
A bit of wood with a nail in it, is picked up and studied as
if it were covered with hieroglyphics.  Possessed with this
feeling, I was much interested by finding, on a wild part of
the coast, a bed made of grass beneath a ledge of rock.  Close
by it there had been a fire, and the man had used an axe.
The fire, bed, and situation showed the dexterity of an Indian;
but he could scarcely have been an Indian, for the race is
in this part extinct, owing to the Catholic desire of making
at one blow Christians and Slaves.  I had at the time some
misgivings that the solitary man who had made his bed on
this wild spot, must have been some poor shipwrecked sailor,
who, in trying to travel up the coast, had here laid himself
down for his dreary night

December 28th. -- The weather continued very bad, but it
at last permitted us to proceed with the survey.  The time
hung heavy on our hands, as it always did when we were
delayed from day to day by successive gales of wind.  In
the evening another harbour was discovered, where we
anchored.  Directly afterwards a man was seen waving a
shirt, and a boat was sent which brought back two seamen.
A party of six had run away from an American whaling
vessel, and had landed a little to the southward in a boat,
which was shortly afterwards knocked to pieces by the surf.
They had now been wandering up and down the coast for
fifteen months, without knowing which way to go, or where
they were.  What a singular piece of good fortune it was
that this harbour was now discovered!  Had it not been for
this one chance, they might have wandered till they had
grown old men, and at last have perished on this wild coast.
Their sufferings had been very great, and one of their party
had lost his life by falling from the cliffs.  They were
sometimes obliged to separate in search of food, and this
explained the bed of the solitary man.  Considering what they
had undergone, I think they had kept a very good reckoning of
time, for they had lost only four days.

December 30th. -- We anchored in a snug little cove at the
foot of some high hills, near the northern extremity of Tres
Montes.  After breakfast the next morning, a party ascended
one of these mountains, which was 2400 feet high.  The
scenery was remarkable The chief part of the range was
composed of grand, solid, abrupt masses of granite, which
appeared as if they had been coeval with the beginning of
the world.  The granite was capped with mica-slate, and this
in the lapse of ages had been worn into strange finger-
shaped points.  These two formations, thus differing in their
outlines, agree in being almost destitute of vegetation.  This
barrenness had to our eyes a strange appearance, from having
been so long accustomed to the sight of an almost universal
forest of dark-green trees.  I took much delight in examining
the structure of these mountains.  The complicated and lofty
ranges bore a noble aspect of durability -- equally profitless,
however, to man and to all other animals.  Granite to the
geologist is classic ground: from its widespread limits, and its
beautiful and compact texture, few rocks have been more
anciently recognised.  Granite has given rise, perhaps, to
more discussion concerning its origin than any other formation.
We generally see it constituting the fundamental rock,
and, however formed, we know it is the deepest layer in the
crust of this globe to which man has penetrated.  The limit
of man's knowledge in any subject possesses a high interest,
which is perhaps increased by its close neighbourhood to the
realms of imagination.

January 1st 1835. -- The new year is ushered in with the
ceremonies proper to it in these regions.  She lays out no
false hopes: a heavy north-western gale, with steady rain,
bespeaks the rising year.  Thank God, we are not destined
here to see the end of it, but hope then to be in the Pacific
Ocean, where a blue sky tells one there is a heaven, -- a
something beyond the clouds above our heads.

The north-west winds prevailing for the next four days,
we only managed to cross a great bay, and then anchored in
another secure harbour.  I accompanied the Captain in a
boat to the head of a deep creek.  On the way the number of
seals which we saw was quite astonishing: every bit of flat
rock, and parts of the beach, were covered with them.  There
appeared to be of a loving disposition, and lay huddled
together, fast asleep, like so many pigs; but even pigs would
have been ashamed of their dirt, and of the foul smell which
came from them.  Each herd was watched by the patient but
inauspicious eyes of the turkey-buzzard.  This disgusting bird,
with its bald scarlet head, formed to wallow in putridity, is
very common on the west coast, and their attendance on the
seals shows on what they rely for their food.  We found the
water (probably only that of the surface) nearly fresh: this
was caused by the number of torrents which, in the form
of cascades, came tumbling over the bold granite mountains
into the sea.  The fresh water attracts the fish, and these
bring many terns, gulls, and two kinds of cormorant.  We
saw also a pair of the beautiful black-necked swans, and
several small sea-otters, the fur of which is held in such
high estimation.  In returning, we were again amused by the
impetuous manner in which the heap of seals, old and young,
tumbled into the water as the boat passed.  They did not
remain long under water, but rising, followed us with
outstretched necks, expressing great wonder and curiosity.

7th. -- Having run up the coast, we anchored near the
northern end of the Chonos Archipelago, in Low's Harbour,
where we remained a week.  The islands were here, as in
Chiloe, composed of a stratified, soft, littoral deposit; and
the vegetation in consequence was beautifully luxuriant.  The
woods came down to the sea-beach, just in the manner of
an evergreen shrubbery over a gravel walk.  We also enjoyed
from the anchorage a splendid view of four great snowy
cones of the Cordillera, including "el famoso Corcovado;"
the range itself had in this latitude so little height, that few
parts of it appeared above the tops of the neighbouring
islets.  We found here a party of five men from Caylen, "el
fin del Cristiandad," who had most adventurously crossed in
their miserable boat-canoe, for the purpose of fishing, the
open space of sea which separates Chonos from Chiloe.  These
islands will, in all probability, in a short time become peopled
like those adjoining the coast of Chiloe.


The wild potato grows on these islands in great abundance,
on the sandy, shelly soil near the sea-beach.  The tallest
plant was four feet in height.  The tubers were generally
small, but I found one, of an oval shape, two inches in
diameter: they resembled in every respect, and had the same
smell as English potatoes; but when boiled they shrunk much,
and were watery and insipid, without any bitter taste.  They
are undoubtedly here indigenous: they grow as far south,
according to Mr. Low, as lat. 50 degs., and are called Aquinas by
the wild Indians of that part: the Chilotan Indians have a
different name for them.  Professor Henslow, who has examined
the dried specimens which I brought home, says that
they are the same with those described by Mr. Sabine [1] from
Valparaiso, but that they form a variety which by some
botanists has been considered as specifically distinct.  It is
remarkable that the same plant should be found on the sterile
mountains of central Chile, where a drop of rain does not
fall for more than six months, and within the damp forests
of these southern islands.

In the central parts of the Chonos Archipelago (lat. 45 degs.),
the forest has very much the same character with that along
the whole west coast, for 600 miles southward to Cape Horn.
The arborescent grass of Chiloe is not found here; while the
beech of Tierra del Fuego grows to a good size, and forms a
considerable proportion of the wood; not, however, in the
same exclusive manner as it does farther southward.  Cryptogamic
plants here find a most congenial climate.  In the Strait
of Magellan, as I have before remarked, the country appears
too cold and wet to allow of their arriving at perfection; but
in these islands, within the forest, the number of species and
great abundance of mosses, lichens, and small ferns, is quite
extraordinary. [2] In Tierra del Fuego trees grow only on the
hillsides; every level piece of land being invariably covered
by a thick bed of peat; but in Chiloe flat land supports the
most luxuriant forests.  Here, within the Chonos Archipelago,
the nature of the climate more closely approaches that
of Tierra del Fuego than that of northern Chiloe; for every
patch of level ground is covered by two species of plants
(Astelia pumila and Donatia magellanica), which by their
joint decay compose a thick bed of elastic peat

In Tierra del Fuego, above the region of woodland, the
former of these eminently sociable plants is the chief agent
in the production of peat.  Fresh leaves are always succeeding
one to the other round the central tap-root, the lower
ones soon decay, and in tracing a root downwards in the peat,
the leaves, yet holding their place, can be observed passing
through every stage of decomposition, till the whole becomes
blended in one confused mass.  The Astelia is assisted by a
few other plants, -- here and there a small creeping Myrtus
(M. nummularia), with a woody stem like our cranberry and
with a sweet berry, -- an Empetrum (E. rubrum), like our
heath, -- a rush (Juncus grandiflorus), are nearly the only
ones that grow on the swampy surface.  These plants, though
possessing a very close general resemblance to the English
species of the same genera, are different.  In the more level
parts of the country, the surface of the peat is broken up into
little pools of water, which stand at different heights, and
appear as if artificially excavated.  Small streams of water,
flowing underground, complete the disorganization of the
vegetable matter, and consolidate the whole.

The climate of the southern part of America appears particularly
favourable to the production of peat.  In the Falkland
Islands almost every kind of plant, even the coarse grass
which covers the whole surface of the land, becomes converted
into this substance: scarcely any situation checks its
growth; some of the beds are as much as twelve feet thick,
and the lower part becomes so solid when dry, that it will
hardly burn.  Although every plant lends its aid, yet in most
parts the Astelia is the most efficient.  It is rather a singular
circumstance, as being so very different from what occurs
in Europe, that I nowhere saw moss forming by its decay
any portion of the peat in South America.  With respect to
the northern limit, at which the climate allows of that peculiar
kind of slow decomposition which is necessary for its
production, I believe that in Chiloe (lat. 41 to 42 degs.),
although there is much swampy ground, no well-characterized peat
occurs: but in the Chonos Islands, three degrees farther
southward, we have seen that it is abundant.  On the eastern
coast in La Plata (lat. 35 degs.) I was told by a Spanish
resident who had visited Ireland, that he had often sought for
this substance, but had never been able to find any.  He showed
me, as the nearest approach to it which he had discovered, a
black peaty soil, so penetrated with roots as to allow of an
extremely slow and imperfect combustion.


The zoology of these broken islets of the Chonos Archipelago
is, as might have been expected, very poor.  Of quadrupeds
two aquatic kinds are common.  The Myopotamus
Coypus (like a beaver, but with a round tail) is well known
from its fine fur, which is an object of trade throughout the
tributaries of La Plata.  It here, however, exclusively frequents
salt water; which same circumstance has been mentioned
as sometimes occurring with the great rodent, the
Capybara.  A small sea-otter is very numerous; this animal
does not feed exclusively on fish, but, like the seals, draws a
large supply from a small red crab, which swims in shoals
near the surface of the water.  Mr. Bynoe saw one in Tierra
del Fuego eating a cuttle-fish; and at Low's Harbour, another
was killed in the act of carrying to its hole a large volute
shell.  At one place I caught in a trap a singular little mouse
(M. brachiotis); it appeared common on several of the islets,
but the Chilotans at Low's Harbour said that it was not found
in all.  What a succession of chances, [3] or what changes of
level must have been brought into play, thus to spread these
small animals throughout this broken archipelago!

In all parts of Chiloe and Chonos, two very strange birds
occur, which are allied to, and replace, the Turco and Tapacolo
of central Chile.  One is called by the inhabitants
"Cheucau" (Pteroptochos rubecula): it frequents the most
gloomy and retired spots within the damp forests.  Sometimes,
although its cry may be heard close at hand, let a person
watch ever so attentively he will not see the cheucau; at
other times, let him stand motionless and the red-breasted
little bird will approach within a few feet in the most familiar
manner.  It then busily hops about the entangled mass of
rotting cones and branches, with its little tail cocked upwards.
The cheucau is held in superstitious fear by the Chilotans, on
account of its strange and varied cries.  There are three
very distinct cries: One is called "chiduco," and is an omen
of good; another, "huitreu," which is extremely unfavourable;
and a third, which I have forgotten.  These words are
given in imitation of the noises; and the natives are in some
things absolutely governed by them.  The Chilotans assuredly
have chosen a most comical little creature for their prophet.
An allied species, but rather larger, is called by the natives
"Guid-guid" (Pteroptochos Tarnii), and by the English the
barking-bird.  This latter name is well given; for I defy any
one at first to feel certain that a small dog is not yelping
somewhere in the forest.  Just as with the cheucau, a person
will sometimes hear the bark close by, but in vain many
endeavour by watching, and with still less chance by beating
the bushes, to see the bird; yet at other times the guid-guid
fearlessly comes near.  Its manner of feeding and its general
habits are very similar to those of the cheucau.

On the coast, [4] a small dusky-coloured bird (Opetiorhynchus
Patagonicus) is very common.  It is remarkable from
its quiet habits; it lives entirely on the sea-beach, like a
sandpiper.  Besides these birds only few others inhabit this
broken land.  In my rough notes I describe the strange
noises, which, although frequently heard within these gloomy
forests, yet scarcely disturb the general silence.  The yelping
of the guid-guid, and the sudden whew-whew of the
cheucau, sometimes come from afar off, and sometimes from
close at hand; the little black wren of Tierra del Fuego
occasionally adds its cry; the creeper (Oxyurus) follows the
intruder screaming and twittering; the humming-bird may
be seen every now and then darting from side to side, and
emitting, like an insect, its shrill chirp; lastly, from the top
of some lofty tree the indistinct but plaintive note of the
white-tufted tyrant-flycatcher (Myiobius) may be noticed.
From the great preponderance in most countries of certain
common genera of birds, such as the finches, one feels at
first surprised at meeting with the peculiar forms above
enumerated, as the commonest birds in any district.  In central
Chile two of them, namely, the Oxyurus and Scytalopus, occur,
although most rarely.  When finding, as in this case,
animals which seem to play so insignificant a part in the great
scheme of nature, one is apt to wonder why they were
created.

But it should always be recollected, that in some other
country perhaps they are essential members of society, or
at some former period may have been so.  If America
south of 37 degs. were sunk beneath the waters of the ocean,
these two birds might continue to exist in central Chile for
a long period, but it is very improbable that their numbers
would increase.  We should then see a case which must inevitably
have happened with very many animals.

These southern seas are frequented by several species of
Petrels: the largest kind, Procellaria gigantea, or nelly
(quebrantahuesos, or break-bones, of the Spaniards), is a common
bird, both in the inland channels and on the open sea.
In its habits and manner of flight, there is a very close
resemblance with the albatross; and as with the albatross, a
person may watch it for hours together without seeing on
what it feeds.  The "break-bones" is, however, a rapacious
bird, for it was observed by some of the officers at Port St.
Antonio chasing a diver, which tried to escape by diving
and flying, but was continually struck down, and at last
killed by a blow on its head.  At Port St. Julian these great
petrels were seen killing and devouring young gulls.  A second
species (Puffinus cinereus), which is common to Europe,
Cape Horn, and the coast of Peru, is of much smaller size
than the P. gigantea, but, like it, of a dirty black colour.  It
generally frequents the inland sounds in very large flocks:
I do not think I ever saw so many birds of any other sort
together, as I once saw of these behind the island of Chiloe.
Hundreds of thousands flew in an irregular line for several
hours in one direction.  When part of the flock settled on the
water the surface was blackened, and a noise proceeded from
them as of human beings talking in the distance.

There are several other species of petrels, but I will only
mention one other kind, the Pelacanoides Berardi which
offers an example of those extraordinary cases, of a bird
evidently belonging to one well-marked family, yet both in
its habits and structure allied to a very distinct tribe.  This
bird never leaves the quiet inland sounds.  When disturbed
it dives to a distance, and on coming to the surface, with the
same movement takes flight.  After flying by a rapid movement
of its short wings for a space in a straight line, it drops,
as if struck dead, and dives again.  The form of its beak and
nostrils, length of foot, and even the colouring of its plumage,
show that this bird is a petrel: on the other hand, its
short wings and consequent little power of flight, its form
of body and shape of tail, the absence of a hind toe to its
foot, its habit of diving, and its choice of situation, make it
at first doubtful whether its relationship is not equally close
with the auks.  It would undoubtedly be mistaken for an auk,
when seen from a distance, either on the wing, or when diving
and quietly swimming about the retired channels of
Tierra del Fuego.

[1] Horticultural Transact., vol. v. p. 249. Mr. Caldeleugh
sent home two tubers, which, being well manured, even the
first season produced numerous potatoes and an abundance of
leaves.  See Humboldt's interesting discussion on this plant,
which it appears was unknown in Mexico,  --  in Polit. Essay
on New Spain, book iv. chap. ix.

[2] By sweeping with my insect-net, I procured from these
situations a considerable number of minute insects, of the
family of Staphylinidae, and others allied to Pselaphus,
and minute Hymenoptera.  But the most characteristic family
in number, both of individuals and species, throughout the
more open parts of Chiloe and Chonos is that of Telephoridae.

[3] It is said that some rapacious birds bring their prey
alive to their nests.  If so, in the course of centuries,
every now and then, one might escape from the young birds.
Some such agency is necessary, to account for the distribution
of the smaller gnawing animals on islands not very near each other.

[4] I may mention, as a proof of how great a difference there
is between the seasons of the wooded and the open parts of
this coast, that on September 20th, in lat. 34 degs., these
birds had young ones in the nest, while among the Chonos
Islands, three months later in the summer, they were only
laying, the difference in latitude between these two places
being about 700 miles.



CHAPTER XIV

CHILOE AND CONCEPCION: GREAT EARTHQUAKE

San Carlos, Chiloe -- Osorno in eruption, contemporaneously
with Aconcagua and Coseguina -- Ride to Cucao -- Impenetrable
Forests -- Valdivia Indians -- Earthquake -- Concepcion --
Great Earthquake  -- Rocks fissured -- Appearance of the
former Towns -- The Sea Black and Boiling -- Direction of
the Vibrations -- Stones twisted round --  Great Wave --
Permanent Elevation of the Land -- Area of Volcanic
Phenomena -- The connection between the Elevatory and
Eruptive Forces -- Cause of Earthquakes -- Slow Elevation of
Mountain-chains


ON JANUARY the 15th we sailed from Low's Harbour,
and three days afterwards anchored a second time in
the bay of S. Carlos in Chiloe.  On the night of the
19th the volcano of Osorno was in action.  At midnight the
sentry observed something like a large star, which gradually
increased in size till about three o'clock, when it presented
a very magnificent spectacle.  By the aid of a glass, dark
objects, in constant succession, were seen, in the midst of a
great glare of red light, to be thrown up and to fall down.
The light was sufficient to cast on the water a long bright
reflection.  Large masses of molten matter seem very commonly
to be cast out of the craters in this part of the Cordillera.
I was assured that when the Corcovado is in eruption,
great masses are projected upwards and are seen to burst in
the air, assuming many fantastical forms, such as trees:
their size must be immense, for they can be distinguished
from the high land behind S. Carlos, which is no less than
ninety-three miles from the Corcovado.  In the morning the
volcano became tranquil.

I was surprised at hearing afterwards that Aconcagua in
Chile, 480 miles northwards, was in action on the same night;
and still more surprised to hear that the great eruption of
Coseguina (2700 miles north of Aconcagua), accompanied by
an earthquake felt over a 1000 miles, also occurred within
six  hours of this same time.  This coincidence is the more
remarkable, as Coseguina had been dormant for twenty-six
years; and Aconcagua most rarely shows any signs of action.
It is difficult even to conjecture whether this coincidence was
accidental, or shows some subterranean connection.  If Vesuvius,
Etna, and Hecla in Iceland (all three relatively nearer
each other than the corresponding points in South America),
suddenly burst forth in eruption on the same night, the
coincidence would be thought remarkable; but it is far more
remarkable in this case, where the three vents fall on the same
great mountain-chain, and where the vast plains along the
entire eastern coast, and the upraised recent shells along
more than 2000 miles on the western coast, show in how
equable and connected a manner the elevatory forces have acted.

Captain Fitz Roy being anxious that some bearings should
be taken on the outer coast of Chiloe, it was planned that
Mr. King and myself should ride to Castro, and thence across
the island to the Capella de Cucao, situated on the west
coast.  Having hired horses and a guide, we set out on
the morning of the 22nd.  We had not proceeded far, before
we were joined by a woman and two boys, who were bent on
the same journey.  Every one on this road acts on a "hail
fellow well met" fashion; and one may here enjoy the privilege,
so rare in South America, of travelling without firearms.
At first, the country consisted of a succession of hills
and valleys: nearer to Castro it became very level.  The road
itself is a curious affair; it consists in its whole length,
with the exception of very few parts, of great logs of wood,
which are either broad and laid longitudinally, or narrow and
placed transversely.  In summer the road is not very bad; but in
winter, when the wood is rendered slippery from rain, travelling
is exceedingly difficult.  At that time of the year, the
ground on each side becomes a morass, and is often overflowed:
hence it is necessary that the longitudinal logs
should be fastened down by transverse poles, which are
pegged on each side into the earth.  These pegs render a fall
from a horse dangerous, as the chance of alighting on one of
them is not small.  It is remarkable, however, how active
custom has made the Chilotan horses.  In crossing bad parts,
where the logs had been displaced, they skipped from one
to the other, almost with the quickness and certainty of a
dog.  On both hands the road is bordered by the lofty forest-
trees, with their bases matted together by canes.  When
occasionally a long reach of this avenue could be beheld, it
presented a curious scene of uniformity: the white line of logs,
narrowing in perspective, became hidden by the gloomy forest,
or terminated in a zigzag which ascended some steep hill.

Although the distance from S. Carlos to Castro is only
twelve leagues in a straight line, the formation of the road
must have been a great labour.  I was told that several people
had formerly lost their lives in attempting to cross the
forest.  The first who succeeded was an Indian, who cut his
way through the canes in eight days, and reached S. Carlos:
he was rewarded by the Spanish government with a grant of
land.  During the summer, many of the Indians wander
about the forests (but chiefly in the higher parts, where the
woods are not quite so thick) in search of the half-wild cattle
which live on the leaves of the cane and certain trees.  It
was one of these huntsmen who by chance discovered, a few
years since, an English vessel, which had been wrecked on the
outer coast.  The crew were beginning to fail in provisions,
and it is not probable that, without the aid of this man, they
would ever have extricated themselves from these scarcely
penetrable woods.  As it was, one seaman died on the march,
from fatigue.  The Indians in these excursions steer by the
sun; so that if there is a continuance of cloudy weather, they
can not travel.

The day was beautiful, and the number of trees which
were in full flower perfumed the air; yet even this could
hardly dissipate the effects of the gloomy dampness of the
forest.  Moreover, the many dead trunks that stand like
skeletons, never fail to give to these primeval woods a
character of solemnity, absent in those of countries long
civilized.  Shortly after sunset we bivouacked for the night.  Our
female companion, who was rather good-looking, belonged to
one of the most respectable families in Castro: she rode,
however, astride, and without shoes or stockings.  I was
surprised at the total want of pride shown by her and her
brother.  They  brought food with them, but at all our meals sat
watching Mr. King and myself whilst eating, till we were
fairly shamed into feeding the whole party.  The night was
cloudless; and while lying in our beds, we enjoyed the sight
(and it is a high enjoyment) of the multitude of stars which
illumined the darkness of the forest.

January 23rd. -- We rose early in the morning, and reached
the pretty quiet town of Castro by two o'clock.  The old governor
had died since our last visit, and a Chileno was acting
in his place.  We had a letter of introduction to Don Pedro,
whom we found exceedingly hospitable and kind, and more
disinterested than is usual on this side of the continent.  The
next day Don Pedro procured us fresh horses, and offered
to accompany us himself.  We proceeded to the south -- generally
following the coast, and passing through several hamlets,
each with its large barn-like chapel built of wood.  At
Vilipilli, Don Pedro asked the commandant to give us a guide
to Cucao.  The old gentleman offered to come himself; but
for a long time nothing would persuade him that two Englishmen
really wished to go to such an out-of-the-way place
as Cucao.  We were thus accompanied by the two greatest
aristocrats in the country, as was plainly to be seen in the
manner of all the poorer Indians towards them.  At Chonchi
we struck across the island, following intricate winding
paths, sometimes passing through magnificent forests, and
sometimes through pretty cleared spots, abounding with corn
and potato crops.  This undulating woody country, partially
cultivated, reminded me of the wilder parts of England, and
therefore had to my eye a most fascinating aspect.  At Vilinco,
which is situated on the borders of the lake of Cucao,
only a few fields were cleared; and all the inhabitants appeared
to be Indians.  This lake is twelve miles long, and
runs in an east and west direction.  From local circumstances,
the sea-breeze blows very regularly during the day,
and during the night it falls calm: this has given rise to
strange exaggerations, for the phenomenon, as described to
us at S. Carlos, was quite a prodigy.

The road to Cucao was so very bad that we determined to
embark in a _periagua_.  The commandant, in the most authoritative
manner, ordered six Indians to get ready to pull
us over, without deigning to tell them whether they would
be paid.  The periagua is a strange rough boat, but the crew
were still stranger: I doubt if six uglier little men ever got
into a boat together.  They pulled, however, very well and
cheerfully.  The stroke-oarsman gabbled Indian, and uttered
strange cries, much after the fashion of a pig-driver driving
his pigs.  We started with a light breeze against us, but yet
reached the Capella de Cucao before it was late.  The country
on each side of the lake was one unbroken forest.  In the
same periagua with us, a cow was embarked.  To get so
large an animal into a small boat appears at first a difficulty,
but the Indians managed it in a minute.  They brought the
cow alongside the boat, which was heeled towards her; then
placing two oars under her belly, with their ends resting on
the gunwale, by the aid of these levers they fairly tumbled
the poor beast heels over head into the bottom of the boat,
and then lashed her down with ropes.  At Cucao we found
an uninhabited hovel (which is the residence of the padre
when he pays this Capella a visit), where, lighting a fire, we
cooked our supper, and were very comfortable.

The district of Cucao is the only inhabited part on the
whole west coast of Chiloe.  It contains about thirty or forty
Indian families, who are scattered along four or five miles
of the shore.  They are very much secluded from the rest of
Chiloe, and have scarcely any sort of commerce, except
sometimes in a little oil, which they get from seal-blubber.
They are tolerably dressed in clothes of their own manufacture,
and they have plenty to eat.  They seemed, however,
discontented, yet humble to a degree which it was quite painful
to witness.  These feelings are, I think, chiefly to be
attributed to the harsh and authoritative manner in which
they are treated by their rulers.  Our companions, although
so very civil to us, behaved to the poor Indians as if they
had been slaves, rather than free men.  They ordered provisions
and the use of their horses, without ever condescending
to say how much, or indeed whether the owners should
be paid at all.  In the morning, being left alone with these
poor people, we soon ingratiated ourselves by presents of
cigars and mate.  A lump of white sugar was divided between
all present, and tasted with the greatest curiosity.  The
Indians ended all their complaints by saying, "And it is only
because we are poor Indians, and know nothing; but it was
not so when we had a King."

The next day after breakfast, we rode a few miles northward
to Punta Huantamo.  The road lay along a very broad
beach, on which, even after so many fine days, a terrible surf
was breaking.  I was assured that after a heavy gale, the
roar can be heard at night even at Castro, a distance of no
less than twenty-one sea-miles across a hilly and wooded
country.  We had some difficulty in reaching the point, owing
to the intolerably bad paths; for everywhere in the shade
the ground soon becomes a perfect quagmire.  The point
itself is a bold rocky hill.  It is covered by a plant allied, I
believe, to Bromelia, and called by the inhabitants Chepones.
In scrambling through the beds, our hands were very much
scratched.  I was amused by observing the precaution our
Indian guide took, in turning up his trousers, thinking that
they were more delicate than his own hard skin.  This plant
bears a fruit, in shape like an artichoke, in which a number
of seed-vessels are packed: these contain a pleasant sweet
pulp, here much esteemed.  I saw at Low's Harbour the
Chilotans making chichi, or cider, with this fruit: so true is
it, as Humboldt remarks, that almost everywhere man finds
means of preparing some kind of beverage from the vegetable
kingdom.  The savages, however, of Tierra del Fuego,
and I believe of Australia, have not advanced thus far in
the arts.

The coast to the north of Punta Huantamo is exceedingly
rugged and broken, and is fronted by many breakers, on
which the sea is eternally roaring.  Mr. King and myself
were anxious to return, if it had been possible, on foot along
this coast; but even the Indians said it was quite
impracticable.  We were told that men have crossed by striking
directly through the woods from Cucao to S. Carlos, but
never by the coast.  On these expeditions, the Indians carry
with them only roasted corn, and of this they eat sparingly
twice a day.

26th. -- Re-embarking in the periagua, we returned across
the lake, and then mounted our horses.  The whole of Chiloe
took advantage of this week of unusually fine weather, to
clear the ground by burning.  In every direction volumes of
smoke were curling upwards.  Although the inhabitants were
so assiduous in setting fire to every part of the wood, yet
I did not see a single fire which they had succeeded in making
extensive.  We dined with our friend the commandant,
and did not reach Castro till after dark.  The next morning
we started very early.  After having ridden for some time,
we obtained from the brow of a steep hill an extensive view
(and it is a rare thing on this road) of the great forest.
Over the horizon of trees, the volcano of Corcovado, and
the great flat-topped one to the north, stood out in proud
pre-eminence: scarcely another peak in the long range
showed its snowy summit.  I hope it will be long before I
forget this farewell view of the magnificent Cordillera fronting
Chiloe.  At night we bivouacked under a cloudless sky,
and the next morning reached S. Carlos.  We arrived on the
right day, for before evening heavy rain commenced.

February 4th. -- Sailed from Chiloe.  During the last week
I made several short excursions.  One was to examine a
great bed of now-existing shells, elevated 350 feet above
the level of the sea: from among these shells, large forest-
trees were growing.  Another ride was to P. Huechucucuy.
I had with me a guide who knew the country far too well;
for he would pertinaciously tell me endless Indian names for
every little point, rivulet, and creek.  In the same manner as
in Tierra del Fuego, the Indian language appears singularly
well adapted for attaching names to the most trivial features
of the land.  I believe every one was glad to say farewell
to Chiloe; yet if we could forget the gloom and ceaseless
rain of winter, Chiloe might pass for a charming island.
There is also something very attractive in the simplicity and
humble politeness of the poor inhabitants.

We steered northward along shore, but owing to thick
weather did not reach Valdivia till the night of the 8th.  The
next morning the boat proceeded to the town, which is distant
about ten miles.  We followed the course of the river,
occasionally passing a few hovels, and patches of ground
cleared out of the otherwise unbroken forest; and sometimes
meeting a canoe with an Indian family.  The town is situated
on the low banks of the stream, and is so completely
buried in a wood of apple-trees that the streets are merely
paths in an orchard I have never seen any country, where
apple-trees appeared to thrive so well as in this damp part of
South America: on the borders of the roads there were
many young trees evidently self-grown.  In Chiloe the inhabitants
possess a marvellously short method of making an
orchard.  At the lower part of almost every branch, small,
conical, brown, wrinkled points project: these are always
ready to change into roots, as may sometimes be seen, where
any mud has been accidentally splashed against the tree.  A
branch as thick as a man's thigh is chosen in the early spring,
and is cut off just beneath a group of these points, all the
smaller branches are lopped off, and it is then placed about
two feet deep in the ground.  During the ensuing summer
the stump throws out long shoots, and sometimes even bears
fruit: I was shown one which had produced as many as
twenty-three apples, but this was thought very unusual.  In
the third season the stump is changed (as I have myself
seen) into a well-wooded tree, loaded with fruit.  An old
man near Valdivia illustrated his motto, "Necesidad es la
madre del invencion," by giving an account of the several
useful things he manufactured from his apples.  After making
cider, and likewise wine, he extracted from the refuse a
white and finely flavoured spirit; by another process he
procured a sweet treacle, or, as he called it, honey.  His
children and pigs seemed almost to live, during this season of
the year, in his orchard.

February 11th. -- I set out with a guide on a short ride, in
which, however, I managed to see singularly little, either
of the geology of the country or of its inhabitants.  There
is not much cleared land near Valdivia: after crossing a
river at the distance of a few miles, we entered the forest, and
then passed only one miserable hovel, before reaching our
sleeping-place for the night.  The short difference in latitude,
of 150 miles, has given a new aspect to the forest compared
with that of Chiloe.  This is owing to a slightly
different proportion in the kinds of trees.  The evergreens
do not appear to be quite so numerous, and the forest in
consequence has a brighter tint.  As in Chiloe, the lower
parts are matted together by canes: here also another kind
(resembling the bamboo of Brazil and about twenty feet in
height) grows in clusters, and ornaments the banks of some
of the streams in a very pretty manner.  It is with this plant
that the Indians make their chuzos, or long tapering spears.
Our resting-house was so dirty that I preferred sleeping
outside: on these journeys the first night is generally very
uncomfortable, because one is not accustomed to the tickling
and biting of the fleas.  I am sure, in the morning, there
was not a space on my legs the size of a shilling which had
not its little red mark where the flea had feasted.

12th. -- We continued to ride through the uncleared forest;
only occasionally meeting an Indian on horseback, or a troop
of fine mules bringing alerce-planks and corn from the southern
plains.  In the afternoon one of the horses knocked up:
we were then on a brow of a hill, which commanded a fine
view of the Llanos.  The view of these open plains was very
refreshing, after being hemmed in and buried in the wilderness
of trees.  The uniformity of a forest soon becomes very
wearisome.  This west coast makes me remember with pleasure
the free, unbounded plains of Patagonia; yet, with the
true spirit of contradiction, I cannot forget how sublime is
the silence of the forest.  The Llanos are the most fertile
and thickly peopled parts of the country, as they possess the
immense advantage of being nearly free from trees.  Before
leaving the forest we crossed some flat little lawns, around
which single trees stood, as in an English park: I have often
noticed with surprise, in wooded undulatory districts, that
the quite level parts have been destitute of trees.  On account
of the tired horse, I determined to stop at the Mission
of Cudico, to the friar of which I had a letter of introduction.
Cudico is an intermediate district between the forest
and the Llanos.  There are a good many cottages, with
patches of corn and potatoes, nearly all belonging to Indians.
The tribes dependent on Valdivia are "reducidos y cristianos."
The Indians farther northward, about Arauco and
Imperial, are still very wild, and not converted; but they
have all much intercourse with the Spaniards.  The padre
said that the Christian Indians did not much like coming
to mass, but that otherwise they showed respect for religion.
The greatest difficulty is in making them observe the ceremonies
of marriage.  The wild Indians take as many wives
as they can support, and a cacique will sometimes have more
than ten: on entering his house, the number may be told by
that of the separate fires.  Each wife lives a week in turn
with the cacique; but all are employed in weaving ponchos,
etc., for his profit.  To be the wife of a cacique, is an honour
much sought after by the Indian women.

The men of all these tribes wear a coarse woolen poncho:
those south of Valdivia wear short trousers, and those north
of it a petticoat, like the chilipa of the Gauchos.  All have
their long hair bound by a scarlet fillet, but with no other
covering on their heads.  These Indians are good-sized men;
their cheek-bones are prominent, and in general appearance
they resemble the great American family to which they belong;
but their physiognomy seemed to me to be slightly
different from that of any other tribe which I had before
seen.  Their expression is generally grave, and even austere,
and possesses much character: this may pass either for honest
bluntness or fierce determination.  The long black hair,
the grave and much-lined features, and the dark complexion,
called to my mind old portraits of James I.  On the road we
met with none of that humble politeness so universal in
Chiloe.  Some gave their "mari-mari" (good morning) with
promptness, but the greater number did not seem inclined to
offer any salute.  This independence of manners is probably
a consequence of their long wars, and the repeated victories
which they alone, of all the tribes in America, have gained
over the Spaniards.

I spent the evening very pleasantly, talking with the
padre.  He was exceedingly kind and hospitable; and coming
from Santiago, had contrived to surround himself with some
few comforts.  Being a man of some little education, he bitterly
complained of the total want of society.  With no particular
zeal for religion, no business or pursuit, how completely
must this man's life be wasted!  The next day, on
our return, we met seven very wild-looking Indians, of whom
some were caciques that had just received from the Chilian
government their yearly small stipend for having long remained
faithful.  They were fine-looking men, and they rode
one after the other, with most gloomy faces.  An old cacique,
who headed them, had been, I suppose, more excessively
drunk than the rest, for he seemed extremely grave and
very crabbed.  Shortly before this, two Indians joined us,
who were travelling from a distant mission to Valdivia
concerning some lawsuit.  One was a good-humoured old man,
but from his wrinkled beardless face looked more like an
old woman than a man.  I frequently presented both of them
with cigars; and though ready to receive them, and I dare
say grateful, they would hardly condescend to thank me.  A
Chilotan Indian would have taken off his hat, and given his
"Dios le page!" The travelling was very tedious, both
from the badness of the roads, and from the number of great
fallen trees, which it was necessary either to leap over or to
avoid by making long circuits.  We slept on the road, and
next morning reached Valdivia, whence I proceeded on
board.

A few days afterwards I crossed the bay with a party of
officers, and landed near the fort called Niebla.  The buildings
were in a most ruinous state, and the gun-carriages
quite rotten.  Mr. Wickham remarked to the commanding
officer, that with one discharge they would certainly all fall
to pieces.  The poor man, trying to put a good face upon it,
gravely replied, "No, I am sure, sir, they would stand
two!" The Spaniards must have intended to have made this
place impregnable.  There is now lying in the middle of the
court-yard a little mountain of mortar, which rivals in hardness
the rock on which it is placed.  It was brought from
Chile, and cost 7000 dollars.  The revolution having broken
out, prevented its being applied to any purpose, and now it
remains a monument of the fallen greatness of Spain.

I wanted to go to a house about a mile and a half distant,
but my guide said it was quite impossible to penetrate the
wood in a straight line.  He offered, however, to lead me, by
following obscure cattle-tracks, the shortest way: the walk,
nevertheless, took no less than three hours!  This man is
employed in hunting strayed cattle; yet, well as he must
know the woods, he was not long since lost for two whole
days, and had nothing to eat.  These facts convey a good
idea of the impracticability of the forests of these countries.
A question often occurred to me -- how long does any vestige
of a fallen tree remain?  This man showed me one which
a party of fugitive royalists had cut down fourteen years
ago; and taking this as a criterion, I should think a bole a
foot and a half in diameter would in thirty years be changed
into a heap of mould.

February 20th. -- This day has been memorable in the
annals of Valdivia, for the most severe earthquake experienced
by the oldest inhabitant.  I happened to be on shore,
and was lying down in the wood to rest myself.  It came on
suddenly, and lasted two minutes, but the time appeared
much longer.  The rocking of the ground was very sensible.
The undulations appeared to my companion and myself to
come from due east, whilst others thought they proceeded
from south-west: this shows how difficult it sometimes is to
perceive the directions of the vibrations.  There was no
difficulty in standing upright, but the motion made me almost
giddy: it was something like the movement of a vessel in a
little cross-ripple, or still more like that felt by a person
skating over thin ice, which bends under the weight of his body.
A bad earthquake at once destroys our oldest associations:
the earth, the very emblem of solidity, has moved beneath
our feet like a thin crust over a fluid; -- one second of time
has created in the mind a strange idea of insecurity, which
hours of reflection would not have produced.  In the forest,
as a breeze moved the trees, I felt only the earth tremble, but
saw no other effect.  Captain Fitz Roy and some officers
were at the town during the shock, and there the scene was
more striking; for although the houses, from being built of
wood, did not fall, they were violently shaken, and the boards
creaked and rattled together.  The people rushed out of
doors in the greatest alarm.  It is these accompaniments that
create that perfect horror of earthquakes, experienced by all
who have thus seen, as well as felt, their effects.  Within the
forest it was a deeply interesting, but by no means an awe-
exciting phenomenon.  The tides were very curiously affected.
The great shock took place at the time of low water;
and an old woman who was on the beach told me that the
water flowed very quickly, but not in great waves, to high-
water mark, and then as quickly returned to its proper level;
this was also evident by the line of wet sand.  The same kind
of quick but quiet movement in the tide happened a few
years since at Chiloe, during a slight earthquake, and created
much causeless alarm.  In the course of the evening there
were many weaker shocks, which seemed to produce in the
harbour the most complicated currents, and some of great
strength.


March 4th. -- We entered the harbour of Concepcion.  While
the ship was beating up to the anchorage, I landed on the
island of Quiriquina.  The mayor-domo of the estate quickly
rode down to tell me the terrible news of the great earthquake
of the 20th: -- "That not a house in Concepcion or
Talcahuano (the port) was standing; that seventy villages
were destroyed; and that a great wave had almost washed
away the ruins of Talcahuano." Of this latter statement I
soon saw abundant proofs -- the whole coast being strewed
over with timber and furniture as if a thousand ships had
been wrecked.  Besides chairs, tables, book-shelves, etc., in
great numbers, there were several roofs of cottages, which
had been transported almost whole.  The storehouses at Talcahuano
had been burst open, and great bags of cotton, yerba,
and other valuable merchandise were scattered on the shore.
During my walk round the island, I observed that numerous
fragments of rock, which, from the marine productions adhering
to them, must recently have been lying in deep water,
had been cast up high on the beach; one of these was six feet
long, three broad, and two thick.

The island itself as plainly showed the overwhelming
power of the earthquake, as the beach did that of the consequent
great wave.  The ground in many parts was fissured
in north and south lines, perhaps caused by the yielding of
the parallel and steep sides of this narrow island.  Some of
the fissures near the cliffs were a yard wide.  Many enormous
masses had already fallen on the beach; and the inhabitants
thought that when the rains commenced far greater slips would
happen.  The effect of the vibration on the hard primary slate,
which composes the foundation of the island, was still more
curious: the superficial parts of some narrow ridges were as
completely shivered as if they had been blasted by gunpowder.
This effect, which was rendered conspicuous by the
fresh fractures and displaced soil, must be confined to near
the surface, for otherwise there would not exist a block of
solid rock throughout Chile; nor is this improbable, as it is
known that the surface of a vibrating body is affected
differently from the central part.  It is, perhaps, owing to this
same reason, that earthquakes do not cause quite such terrific
havoc within deep mines as would be expected.  I believe this
convulsion has been more effectual in lessening the size of
the island of Quiriquina, than the ordinary wear-and-tear
of the sea and weather during the course of a whole century.

The next day I landed at Talcahuano, and afterwards rode
to Concepcion.  Both towns presented the most awful yet
interesting spectacle I ever beheld.  To a person who had
formerly know them, it possibly might have been still more
impressive; for the ruins were so mingled together, and the
whole scene possessed so little the air of a habitable place,
that it was scarcely possible to imagine its former condition.
The earthquake commenced at half-past eleven o'clock in the
forenoon.  If it had happened in the middle of the night, the
greater number of the inhabitants (which in this one province
must amount to many thousands) must have perished,
instead of less than a hundred: as it was, the invariable
practice of running out of doors at the first trembling of the
ground, alone saved them.  In Concepcion each house, or
row of houses, stood by itself, a heap or line of ruins; but in
Talcahuano, owing to the great wave, little more than one
layer of bricks, tiles, and timber with here and there part of
a wall left standing, could be distinguished.  From this
circumstance Concepcion, although not so completely desolated,
was a more terrible, and if I may so call it, picturesque sight.
The first shock was very sudden.  The mayor-domo at Quiriquina
told me, that the first notice he received of it, was
finding both the horse he rode and himself, rolling together
on the ground.  Rising up, he was again thrown down.  He
also told me that some cows which were standing on the steep
side of the island were rolled into the sea.  The great wave
caused the destruction of many cattle; on one low island
near the head of the bay, seventy animals were washed off
and drowned.  It is generally thought that this has been the
worst earthquake ever recorded in Chile; but as the very
severe ones occur only after long intervals, this cannot easily
be known; nor indeed would a much worse shock have made
any difference, for the ruin was now complete.  Innumerable
small tremblings followed the great earthquake, and within
the first twelve days no less than three hundred were counted.

After viewing Concepcion, I cannot understand how the
greater number of inhabitants escaped unhurt.  The houses
in many parts fell outwards; thus forming in the middle of
the streets little hillocks of brickwork and rubbish.  Mr.
Rouse, the English consul, told us that he was at breakfast
when the first movement warned him to run out.  He had
scarcely reached the middle of the court-yard, when one side
of his house came thundering down.  He retained presence
of mind to remember, that if he once got on the top of that
part which had already fallen, he would be safe.  Not being
able from the motion of the ground to stand, he crawled up
on his hands and knees; and no sooner had he ascended this
little eminence, than the other side of the house fell in, the
great beams sweeping close in front of his head.  With his
eyes blinded, and his mouth choked with the cloud of dust
which darkened the sky, at last he gained the street.  As
shock succeeded shock, at the interval of a few minutes, no
one dared approach the shattered ruins, and no one knew
whether his dearest friends and relations were not perishing
from the want of help.  Those who had saved any property
were obliged to keep a constant watch, for thieves
prowled about, and at each little trembling of the ground,
with one hand they beat their breasts and cried "Misericordia!"
and then with the other filched what they could
from the ruins.  The thatched roofs fell over the fires, and
flames burst forth in all parts.  Hundreds knew themselves
ruined, and few had the means of providing food for the day.

Earthquakes alone are sufficient to destroy the prosperity
of any country.  If beneath England the now inert subterranean
forces should exert those powers, which most assuredly
in former geological ages they have exerted, how completely
would the entire condition of the country be changed!
What would become of the lofty houses, thickly packed cities,
great manufactories, the beautiful public and private edifices?
If the new period of disturbance were first to commence
by some great earthquake in the dead of the night,
how terrific would be the carnage!  England would at once
be bankrupt; all papers, records, and accounts would from
that moment be lost.  Government being unable to collect
the taxes, and failing to maintain its authority, the hand of
violence and rapine would remain uncontrolled.  In every
large town famine would go forth, pestilence and death following
in its train.

Shortly after the shock, a great wave was seen from the
distance of three or four miles, approaching in the middle
of the bay with a smooth outline; but along the shore it tore
up cottages and trees, as it swept onwards with irresistible
force.  At the head of the bay it broke in a fearful line of
white breakers, which rushed up to a height of 23 vertical
feet above the highest spring-tides.  Their force must have
been prodigious; for at the Fort a cannon with its carriage,
estimated at four tons in weight, was moved 15 feet inwards.
A schooner was left in the midst of the ruins, 200 yards
from the beach.  The first wave was followed by two others,
which in their retreat carried away a vast wreck of floating
objects.  In one part of the bay, a ship was pitched high
and dry on shore, was carried off, again driven on shore, and
again carried off.  In another part, two large vessels anchored
near together were whirled about, and their cables were thrice
wound round each other; though anchored at a depth of 36
feet, they were for some minutes aground.  The great wave
must have travelled slowly, for the inhabitants of Talcahuano
had time to run up the hills behind the town; and
some sailors pulled out seaward, trusting successfully to their
boat riding securely over the swell, if they could reach it
before it broke.  One old woman with a little boy, four or
five years old, ran into a boat, but there was nobody to row
it out: the boat was consequently dashed against an anchor
and cut in twain; the old woman was drowned, but the child
was picked up some hours afterwards clinging to the wreck.
Pools of salt-water were still standing amidst the ruins of
the houses, and children, making boats with old tables and
chairs, appeared as happy as their parents were miserable.
It was, however, exceedingly interesting to observe, how
much more active and cheerful all appeared than could have
been expected.  It was remarked with much truth, that from
the destruction being universal, no one individual was humbled
more than another, or could suspect his friends of coldness
-- that most grievous result of the loss of wealth.  Mr. Rouse,
and a large party whom he kindly took under his protection,
lived for the first week in a garden beneath some apple-trees.
At first they were as merry as if it had been a picnic; but
soon afterwards heavy rain caused much discomfort, for they
were absolutely without shelter.

In Captain Fitz Roy's excellent account of the earthquake,
it is said that two explosions, one like a column of smoke and
another like the blowing of a great whale, were seen in the
bay.  The water also appeared everywhere to be boiling; and
it "became black, and exhaled a most disagreeable sulphureous
smell." These latter circumstances were observed in the
Bay of Valparaiso during the earthquake of 1822; they may,
I think, be accounted for, by the disturbance of the mud at
the bottom of the sea containing organic matter in decay.  In
the Bay of Callao, during a calm day, I noticed, that as the
ship dragged her cable over the bottom, its course was marked
by a line of bubbles.  The lower orders in Talcahuano thought
that the earthquake was caused by some old Indian women,
who two years ago, being offended, stopped the volcano of
Antuco.  This silly belief is curious, because it shows that
experience has taught them to observe, that there exists a
relation between the suppressed action of the volcanos, and
the trembling of the ground.  It was necessary to apply the
witchcraft to the point where their perception of cause and
effect failed; and this was the closing of the volcanic vent.
This belief is the more singular in this particular instance,
because, according to Captain Fitz Roy, there is reason to
believe that Antuco was noways affected.

The town of Concepcion was built in the usual Spanish
fashion, with all the streets running at right angles to each
other; one set ranging S.W. by W., and the other set N.W.
by N.  The walls in the former direction certainly stood
better than those in the latter; the greater number of the
masses of brickwork were thrown down towards the N.E.
Both these circumstances perfectly agree with the general
idea, of the undulations having come from the S.W., in which
quarter subterranean noises were also heard; for it is evident
that the walls running S.W. and N.E. which presented their
ends to the point whence the undulations came, would be
much less likely to fall than those walls which, running N.W.
and S.E., must in their whole lengths have been at the same
instant thrown out of the perpendicular; for the undulations,
coming from the S.W., must have extended in N.W. and
S.E. waves, as they passed under the foundations.  This may
be illustrated by placing books edgeways on a carpet, and
then, after the manner suggested by Michell, imitating the
undulations of an earthquake: it will be found that they fall
with more or less readiness, according as their direction more
or less nearly coincides with the line of the waves.  The
fissures in the ground generally, though not uniformly, extended
in a S.E. and N.W. direction, and therefore corresponded
to the lines of undulation or of principal flexure.  Bearing in
mind all these circumstances, which so clearly point to the
S.W. as the chief focus of disturbance, it is a very interesting
fact that the island of S. Maria, situated in that quarter, was,
during the general uplifting of the land, raised to nearly
three times the height of any other part of the coast.

The different resistance offered by the walls, according to
their direction, was well exemplified in the case of the
Cathedral.  The side which fronted the N.E. presented a grand
pile of ruins, in the midst of which door-cases and masses
of timber stood up, as if floating in a stream.  Some of the
angular blocks of brickwork were of great dimensions; and
they were rolled to a distance on the level plaza, like
fragments of rock at the base of some high mountain.  The side
walls (running S.W. and N.E.), though exceedingly fractured,
yet remained standing; but the vast buttresses (at
right angles to them, and therefore parallel to the walls that
fell) were in many cases cut clean off, as if by a chisel, and
hurled to the ground.  Some square ornaments on the coping
of these same walls, were moved by the earthquake into
a diagonal position.  A similar circumstance was observed
after an earthquake at Valparaiso, Calabria, and other places,
including some of the ancient Greek temples. [1] This twisting
displacement, at first appears to indicate a vorticose
movement beneath each point thus affected; but this is highly
improbable.  May it not be caused by a tendency in each stone
to arrange itself in some particular position, with respect
to the lines of vibration, -- in a manner somewhat similar to
pins on a sheet of paper when shaken?  Generally speaking,
arched doorways or windows stood much better than any
other part of the buildings.  Nevertheless, a poor lame old
man, who had been in the habit, during trifling shocks, of
crawling to a certain doorway, was this time crushed to
pieces.

I have not attempted to give any detailed description of
the appearance of Concepcion, for I feel that it is quite
impossible to convey the mingled feelings which I experienced.
Several of the officers visited it before me, but their
strongest language failed to give a just idea of the scene of
desolation.  It is a bitter and humiliating thing to see works,
which have cost man so much time and labour, overthrown in one
minute; yet compassion for the inhabitants was almost instantly
banished, by the surprise in seeing a state of things produced
in a moment of time, which one was accustomed to attribute
to a succession of ages.  In my opinion, we have scarcely beheld,
since leaving England, any sight so deeply interesting.

In almost every severe earthquake, the neighbouring waters
of the sea are said to have been greatly agitated.  The
disturbance seems generally, as in the case of Concepcion, to
have been of two kinds: first, at the instant of the shock,
the water swells high up on the beach with a gentle motion,
and then as quietly retreats; secondly, some time afterwards,
the whole body of the sea retires from the coast, and then
returns in waves of overwhelming force.  The first movement
seems to be an immediate consequence of the earthquake
affecting differently a fluid and a solid, so that their
respective levels are slightly deranged: but the second case
is a far more important phenomenon.  During most earthquakes,
and especially during those on the west coast of
America, it is certain that the first great movement of the
waters has been a retirement.  Some authors have attempted
to explain this, by supposing that the water retains its level,
whilst the land oscillates upwards; but surely the water close
to the land, even on a rather steep coast, would partake of the
motion of the bottom: moreover, as urged by Mr. Lyell,
similar movements of the sea have occurred at islands far
distant from the chief line of disturbance, as was the case
with Juan Fernandez during this earthquake, and with
Madeira during the famous Lisbon shock.  I suspect (but the
subject is a very obscure one) that a wave, however produced,
first draws the water from the shore, on which it is advancing
to break: I have observed that this happens with the little
waves from the paddles of a steam-boat.  It is remarkable
that whilst Talcahuano and Callao (near Lima), both situated
at the head of large shallow bays, have suffered during
every severe earthquake from great waves, Valparaiso,
seated close to the edge of profoundly deep water, has never
been overwhelmed, though so often shaken by the severest
shocks.  From the great wave not immediately following the
earthquake, but sometimes after the interval of even half an
hour, and from distant islands being affected similarly with
the coasts near the focus of the disturbance, it appears that
the wave first rises in the offing; and as this is of general
occurrence, the cause must be general: I suspect we must
look to the line, where the less disturbed waters of the deep
ocean join the water nearer the coast, which has partaken
of the movements of the land, as the place where the great
wave is first generated; it would also appear that the wave
is larger or smaller, according to the extent of shoal water
which has been agitated together with the bottom on which it
rested.


The most remarkable effect of this earthquake was the permanent
elevation of the land, it would probably be far more
correct to speak of it as the cause.  There can be no doubt
that the land round the Bay of Concepcion was upraised
two or three feet; but it deserves notice, that owing to the
wave having obliterated the old lines of tidal action on the
sloping sandy shores, I could discover no evidence of this
fact, except in the united testimony of the inhabitants, that
one little rocky shoal, now exposed, was formerly covered
with water.  At the island of S. Maria (about thirty miles
distant) the elevation was greater; on one part, Captain Fitz
Roy founds beds of putrid mussel-shells _still adhering to the
rocks_, ten feet above high-water mark: the inhabitants had
formerly dived at lower-water spring-tides for these shells.
The elevation of this province is particularly interesting,
from its having been the theatre of several other violent
earthquakes, and from the vast numbers of sea-shells scattered
over the land, up to a height of certainly 600, and I
believe, of 1000 feet.  At Valparaiso, as I have remarked,
similar shells are found at the height of 1300 feet: it is
hardly possible to doubt that this great elevation has been
effected by successive small uprisings, such as that which
accompanied or caused the earthquake of this year, and likewise
by an insensibly slow rise, which is certainly in progress on
some parts of this coast.

The island of Juan Fernandez, 360 miles to the N.E., was,
at the time of the great shock of the 20th, violently shaken,
so that the trees beat against each other, and a volcano burst
forth under water close to the shore: these facts are remarkable
because this island, during the earthquake of 1751, was
then also affected more violently than other places at an equal
distance from Concepcion, and this seems to show some
subterranean connection between these two points.  Chiloe, about
340 miles southward of Concepcion, appears to have been
shaken more strongly than the intermediate district of Valdivia,
where the volcano of Villarica was noways affected,
whilst in the Cordillera in front of Chiloe, two of the volcanos
burst-forth at the same instant in violent action.  These
two volcanos, and some neighbouring ones, continued for a
long time in eruption, and ten months afterwards were
again influenced by an earthquake at Concepcion.  Some
men, cutting wood near the base of one of these volcanos,
did not perceive the shock of the 20th, although the whole
surrounding Province was then trembling; here we have an
eruption relieving and taking the place of an earthquake,
as would have happened at Concepcion, according to the
belief of the lower orders, if the volcano at Antuco had not
been closed by witchcraft.  Two years and three-quarters
afterwards, Valdivia and Chiloe were again shaken, more
violently than on the 20th, and an island in the Chonos
Archipelago was permanently elevated more than eight feet.
It will give a better idea of the scale of these phenomena, if
(as in the case of the glaciers) we suppose them to have
taken place at corresponding distances in Europe: -- then
would the land from the North Sea to the Mediterranean
have been violently shaken, and at the same instant of time a
large tract of the eastern coast of England would have been
permanently elevated, together with some outlying islands, -- a
train of volcanos on the coast of Holland would have burst
forth in action, and an eruption taken place at the bottom of
the sea, near the northern extremity of Ireland -- and lastly,
the ancient vents of Auvergne, Cantal, and Mont d'Or would
each have sent up to the sky a dark column of smoke, and
have long remained in fierce action.  Two years and three-
quarters afterwards, France, from its centre to the English
Channel, would have been again desolated by an earthquake
and an island permanently upraised in the Mediterranean.

The space, from under which volcanic matter on the 20th
was actually erupted, is 720 miles in one line, and 400 miles
in another line at right angles to the first: hence, in all
probability, a subterranean lake of lava is here stretched out,
of nearly double the area of the Black Sea.  From the intimate
and complicated manner in which the elevatory and eruptive
forces were shown to be connected during this train of
phenomena, we may confidently come to the conclusion, that the
forces which slowly and by little starts uplift continents, and
those which at successive periods pour forth volcanic matter
from open orifices, are identical.  From many reasons, I
believe that the frequent quakings of the earth on this line
of coast are caused by the rending of the strata, necessarily
consequent on the tension of the land when upraised, and
their injection by fluidified rock.  This rending and injection
would, if repeated often enough (and we know that earthquakes
repeatedly affect the same areas in the same manner),
form a chain of hills; -- and the linear island of S. Mary,
which was upraised thrice the height of the neighbouring
country, seems to be undergoing this process.  I believe that
the solid axis of a mountain, differs in its manner of formation
from a volcanic hill, only in the molten stone having
been repeatedly injected, instead of having been repeatedly
ejected.  Moreover, I believe that it is impossible to explain
the structure of great mountain-chains, such as that of the
Cordillera, were the strata, capping the injected axis of
plutonic rock, have been thrown on their edges along several
parallel and neighbouring lines of elevation, except on this
view of the rock of the axis having been repeatedly injected,
after intervals sufficiently long to allow the upper parts or
wedges to cool and become solid; -- for if the strata had been
thrown into their present highly inclined, vertical, and even
inverted positions, by a single blow, the very bowels of the
earth would have gushed out; and instead of beholding abrupt
mountain-axes of rock solidified under great pressure, deluges
of lava would have flowed out at innumerable points on every
line of elevation. [2]

[1] M. Arago in L'Institut, 1839, p. 337. See also Miers's
Chile, vol. i. p. 392; also Lyell's Principles of Geology,
chap. xv., book ii.

[2] For a full account of the volcanic phenomena which
accompanied the earthquake of the 20th, and for the conclusions
deducible from them, I must refer to Volume V. of the Geological
Transactions.



CHAPTER XV

PASSAGE OF THE CORDILLERA

Valparaiso -- Portillo Pass -- Sagacity of Mules -- Mountain-
torrents -- Mines, how discovered -- Proofs of the gradual
Elevation of the Cordillera -- Effect of Snow on Rocks --
Geological Structure of the two main Ranges, their distinct
Origin and Upheaval -- Great Subsidence -- Red Snow --
Winds -- Pinnacles of Snow -- Dry and clear Atmosphere --
Electricity -- Pampas -- Zoology of the opposite Side of
the Andes -- Locusts -- Great Bugs -- Mendoza -- Uspallata
Pass -- Silicified Trees buried as they grew -- Incas Bridge --
Badness of the Passes exaggerated -- Cumbre -- Casuchas --
Valparaiso.


MARCH 7th, 1835. -- We stayed three days at Concepcion,
and then sailed for Valparaiso.  The wind
being northerly, we only reached the mouth of the
harbour of Concepcion before it was dark.  Being very near
the land, and a fog coming on, the anchor was dropped.
Presently a large American whaler appeared alongside of us;
and we heard the Yankee swearing at his men to keep quiet,
whilst he listened for the breakers.  Captain Fitz Roy hailed
him, in a loud clear voice, to anchor where he then was.  The
poor man must have thought the voice came from the shore:
such a Babel of cries issued at once from the ship -- every
one hallooing out, "Let go the anchor! veer cable! shorten
sail!" It was the most laughable thing I ever heard.  If
the ship's crew had been all captains, and no men, there could
not have been a greater uproar of orders.  We afterwards
found that the mate stuttered: I suppose all hands were
assisting him in giving his orders.

On the 11th we anchored at Valparaiso, and two days
afterwards I set out to cross the Cordillera.  I proceeded to
Santiago, where Mr. Caldcleugh most kindly assisted me in
every possible way in making the little preparations which
were necessary.  In this part of Chile there are two passes
across the Andes to Mendoza: the one most commonly used,
namely, that of Aconcagua or Uspallata -- is situated some
way to the north; the other, called the Portillo, is to the
south, and nearer, but more lofty and dangerous.

March 18th. -- We set out for the Portillo pass.  Leaving
Santiago we crossed the wide burnt-up plain on which that
city stands, and in the afternoon arrived at the Maypu, one
of the principal rivers in Chile.  The valley, at the point
where it enters the first Cordillera, is bounded on each side
by lofty barren mountains; and although not broad, it is very
fertile.  Numerous cottages were surrounded by vines, and by
orchards of apple, nectarine, and peach-trees -- their boughs
breaking with the weight of the beautiful ripe fruit.  In the
evening we passed the custom-house, where our luggage was
examined.  The frontier of Chile is better guarded by the
Cordillera, than by the waters of the sea.  There are very
few valleys which lead to the central ranges, and the
mountains are quite impassable in other parts by beasts of
burden.  The custom-house officers were very civil, which
was perhaps partly owing to the passport which the President
of the Republic had given me; but I must express my admiration
at the natural politeness of almost every Chileno.  In
this instance, the contrast with the same class of men in
most other countries was strongly marked.  I may mention
an anecdote with which I was at the time much pleased: we
met near Mendoza a little and very fat negress, riding astride
on a mule.  She had a _goitre_ so enormous that it was scarcely
possible to avoid gazing at her for a moment; but my two
companions almost instantly, by way of apology, made the
common salute of the country by taking off their hats.  Where
would one of the lower or higher classes in Europe, have
shown such feeling politeness to a poor and miserable object
of a degraded race?

At night we slept at a cottage.  Our manner of travelling
was delightfully independent.  In the inhabited parts we
bought a little firewood, hired pasture for the animals, and
bivouacked in the corner of the same field with them.  Carrying
an iron pot, we cooked and ate our supper under a
cloudless sky, and knew no trouble.  My companions were
Mariano Gonzales, who had formerly accompanied me in
Chile, and an "arriero," with his ten mules and a "madrina."
The madrina (or godmother) is a most important personage:

she is an old steady mare, with a little bell round her neck;
and wherever she goes, the mules, like good children, follow
her.  The affection of these animals for their madrinas saves
infinite trouble.  If several large troops are turned into one
field to graze, in the morning the muleteers have only to lead
the madrinas a little apart, and tinkle their bells; although
there may be two or three hundred together, each mule
immediately knows the bell of its own madrina, and comes to
her.  It is nearly impossible to lose an old mule; for if
detained for several hours by force, she will, by the power
of smell, like a dog, track out her companions, or rather the
madrina, for, according to the muleteer, she is the chief
object of affection.  The feeling, however, is not of an
individual nature; for I believe I am right in saying that any
animal with a bell will serve as a madrina.  In a troop each
animal carries on a level road, a cargo weighing 416 pounds
(more than 29 stone), but in a mountainous country 100
pounds less; yet with what delicate slim limbs, without any
proportional bulk of muscle, these animals support so great
a burden!  The mule always appears to me a most surprising
animal.  That a hybrid should possess more reason, memory,
obstinacy, social affection, powers of muscular endurance,
and length of life, than either of its parents, seems to
indicate that art has here outdone nature.  Of our ten animals,
six were intended for riding, and four for carrying cargoes,
each taking turn about.  We carried a good deal of food in
case we should be snowed up, as the season was rather late
for passing the Portillo.

March 19th. -- We rode during this day to the last, and
therefore most elevated, house in the valley.  The number of
inhabitants became scanty; but wherever water could be
brought on the land, it was very fertile.  All the main valleys
in the Cordillera are characterized by having, on both sides, a
fringe or terrace of shingle and sand, rudely stratified, and
generally of considerable thickness.  These fringes evidently
once extended across the valleys and were united; and the
bottoms of the valleys in northern Chile, where there are no
streams, are thus smoothly filled up.  On these fringes the
roads are generally carried, for their surfaces are even, and
they rise, with a very gentle slope up the valleys: hence, also,
they are easily cultivated by irrigation.  They may be traced
up to a height of between 7000 and 9000 feet, where they
become hidden by the irregular piles of debris.  At the lower
end or mouths of the valleys, they are continuously united to
those land-locked plains (also formed of shingle) at the foot
of the main Cordillera, which I have described in a former
chapter as characteristic of the scenery of Chile, and which
were undoubtedly deposited when the sea penetrated Chile, as
it now does the more southern coasts.  No one fact in the
geology of South America, interested me more than these
terraces of rudely-stratified shingle.  They precisely resemble
in composition the matter which the torrents in each valley
would deposit, if they were checked in their course by any
cause, such as entering a lake or arm of the sea; but the
torrents, instead of depositing matter, are now steadily at
work wearing away both the solid rock and these alluvial
deposits, along the whole line of every main valley and side
valley.  It is impossible here to give the reasons, but I am
convinced that the shingle terraces were accumulated, during
the gradual elevation of the Cordillera, by the torrents
delivering, at successive levels, their detritus on the
beachheads of long narrow arms of the sea, first high up the
valleys, then lower and lower down as the land slowly rose.  If
this be so, and I cannot doubt it, the grand and broken chain
of the Cordillera, instead of having been suddenly thrown up,
as was till lately the universal, and still is the common
opinion of geologists, has been slowly upheaved in mass, in the
same gradual manner as the coasts of the Atlantic and Pacific
have risen within the recent period.  A multitude of facts in the
structure of the Cordillera, on this view receive a simple
explanation.

The rivers which flow in these valleys ought rather to be
called mountain-torrents.  Their inclination is very great,
and their water the colour of mud.  The roar which the
Maypu made, as it rushed over the great rounded fragments,
was like that of the sea.  Amidst the din of rushing waters,
the noise from the stones, as they rattled one over another,
was most distinctly audible even from a distance.  This rattling
noise, night and day, may be heard along the whole
course of the torrent.  The sound spoke eloquently to the
geologist; the thousands and thousands of stones, which,
striking against each other, made the one dull uniform sound,
were all hurrying in one direction.  It was like thinking on
time, where the minute that now glides past is irrevocable.
So was it with these stones; the ocean is their eternity, and
each note of that wild music told of one more step towards
their destiny.

It is not possible for the mind to comprehend, except by
a slow process, any effect which is produced by a cause repeated
so often, that the multiplier itself conveys an idea,
not more definite than the savage implies when he points to
the hairs of his head.  As often as I have seen beds of mud,
sand, and shingle, accumulated to the thickness of many
thousand feet, I have felt inclined to exclaim that causes,
such as the present rivers and the present beaches, could
never have ground down and produced such masses.  But, on
the other hand, when listening to the rattling noise of these
torrents, and calling to mind that whole races of animals have
passed away from the face of the earth, and that during this
whole period, night and day, these stones have gone rattling
onwards in their course, I have thought to myself, can any
mountains, any continent, withstand such waste?

In this part of the valley, the mountains on each side were
from 3000 to 6000 or 8000 feet high, with rounded outlines
and steep bare flanks.  The general colour of the rock was
dullish purple, and the stratification very distinct.  If the
scenery was not beautiful, it was remarkable and grand.  We
met during the day several herds of cattle, which men were
driving down from the higher valleys in the Cordillera.  This
sign of the approaching winter hurried our steps, more than
was convenient for geologizing.  The house where we slept
was situated at the foot of a mountain, on the summit of
which are the mines of S. Pedro de Nolasko.  Sir F. Head
marvels how mines have been discovered in such extraordinary
situations, as the bleak summit of the mountain of S.
Pedro de Nolasko.  In the first place, metallic veins in this
country are generally harder than the surrounding strata:
hence, during the gradual wear of the hills, they project
above the surface of the ground.  Secondly, almost every
labourer, especially in the northern parts of Chile, understands
something about the appearance of ores.  In the great
mining provinces of Coquimbo and Copiapo, firewood is very
scarce, and men search for it over every hill and dale; and
by this means nearly all the richest mines have there been
discovered.  Chanuncillo, from which silver to the value of
many hundred thousand pounds has been raised in the course
of a few years, was discovered by a man who threw a stone
at his loaded donkey, and thinking that it was very heavy, he
picked it up, and found it full of pure silver: the vein
occurred at no great distance, standing up like a wedge of
metal.  The miners, also, taking a crowbar with them, often
wander on Sundays over the mountains.  In this south part
of Chile, the men who drive cattle into the Cordillera, and
who frequent every ravine where there is a little pasture, are
the usual discoverers.

20th. -- As we ascended the valley, the vegetation, with
the exception of a few pretty alpine flowers, became exceedingly
scanty, and of quadrupeds, birds, or insects, scarcely
one could be seen.  The lofty mountains, their summits
marked with a few patches of snow, stood well separated
from each other, the valleys being filled up with an immense
thickness of stratified alluvium.  The features in the scenery
of the Andes which struck me most, as contrasted with the
other mountain chains with which I am acquainted, were, --
the flat fringes sometimes expanding into narrow plains on
each side of the valleys, -- the bright colours, chiefly red and
purple, of the utterly bare and precipitous hills of porphyry,
the grand and continuous wall-like dykes, -- the plainly-
divided strata which, where nearly vertical, formed the
picturesque and wild central pinnacles, but where less inclined,
composed the great massive mountains on the outskirts of the
range, -- and lastly, the smooth conical piles of fine and
brightly coloured detritus, which sloped up at a high angle
from the base of the mountains, sometimes to a height of
more than 2000 feet.

I frequently observed, both in Tierra del Fuego and within
the Andes, that where the rock was covered during the greater
part of the year with snow, it was shivered in a very
extraordinary manner into small angular fragments.  Scoresby [1]
has observed the same fact in Spitzbergen.  The case
appears to me rather obscure: for that part of the mountain
which is protected by a mantle of snow, must be less subject
to repeated and great changes of temperature than any other
part.  I have sometimes thought, that the earth and fragments
of stone on the surface, were perhaps less effectually
removed by slowly percolating snow-water [2] than by rain, and
therefore that the appearance of a quicker disintegration of
the solid rock under the snow, was deceptive.  Whatever the
cause may be, the quantity of crumbling stone on the Cordillera
is very great.  Occasionally in the spring, great masses
of this detritus slide down the mountains, and cover the
snow-drifts in the valleys, thus forming natural ice-houses.
We rode over one, the height of which was far below the
limit of perpetual snow.

As the evening drew to a close, we reached a singular
basin-like plain, called the Valle del Yeso.  It was covered
by a little dry pasture, and we had the pleasant sight of a
herd of cattle amidst the surrounding rocky deserts.  The
valley takes its name of Yeso from a great bed, I should think
at least 2000 feet thick, of white, and in some parts quite
pure, gypsum.  We slept with a party of men, who were
employed in loading mules with this substance, which is used
in the manufacture of wine.  We set out early in the morning
(21st), and continued to follow the course of the river, which
had become very small, till we arrived at the foot of the ridge,
that separates the waters flowing into the Pacific and Atlantic
Oceans.  The road, which as yet had been good with a steady
but very gradual ascent, now changed into a steep zigzag
track up the great range, dividing the republics of Chile
and Mendoza.

I will here give a very brief sketch of the geology of the
several parallel lines forming the Cordillera.  Of these lines,
there are two considerably higher than the others; namely,
on the Chilian side, the Peuquenes ridge, which, where the
road crosses it, is 13,210 feet above the sea; and the Portillo
ridge, on the Mendoza side, which is 14,305 feet.  The lower
beds of the Peuquenes ridge, and of the several great lines
to the westward of it, are composed of a vast pile, many
thousand feet in thickness, of porphyries which have flowed as
submarine lavas, alternating with angular and rounded fragments
of the same rocks, thrown out of the submarine craters.
These alternating masses are covered in the central parts,
by a great thickness of red sandstone, conglomerate, and
calcareous clay-slate, associated with, and passing into,
prodigious beds of gypsum.  In these upper beds shells are
tolerably frequent; and they belong to about the period of the
lower chalk of Europe.  It is an old story, but not the less
wonderful, to hear of shells which were once crawling on the
bottom of the sea, now standing nearly 14,000 feet above its
level.  The lower beds in this great pile of strata, have been
dislocated, baked, crystallized and almost blended together,
through the agency of mountain masses of a peculiar white
soda-granitic rock.

The other main line, namely, that of the Portillo, is of a
totally different formation: it consists chiefly of grand bare
pinnacles of a red potash-granite, which low down on the
western flank are covered by a sandstone, converted by the
former heat into a quartz-rock.  On the quartz, there rest
beds of a conglomerate several thousand feet in thickness,
which have been upheaved by the red granite, and dip at an
angle of 45 degs. towards the Peuquenes line.  I was astonished
to find that this conglomerate was partly composed of pebbles,
derived from the rocks, with their fossil shells, of the
Peuquenes range; and partly of red potash-granite, like that
of the Portillo.  Hence we must conclude, that both the Peuquenes
and Portillo ranges were partially upheaved and exposed
to wear and tear, when the conglomerate was forming;
but as the beds of the conglomerate have been thrown off at
an angle of 45 degs. by the red Portillo granite (with the
underlying sandstone baked by it), we may feel sure, that the
greater part of the injection and upheaval of the already
partially formed Portillo line, took place after the
accumulation of the conglomerate, and long after the elevation
of the Peuquenes ridge.  So that the Portillo, the loftiest line
in this part of the Cordillera, is not so old as the less lofty
line of the Peuquenes.  Evidence derived from an inclined stream
of lava at the eastern base of the Portillo, might be adduced
to show, that it owes part of its great height to elevations of
a still later date.  Looking to its earliest origin, the red
granite seems to have been injected on an ancient pre-existing
line of white granite and mica-slate.  In most parts, perhaps in
all parts, of the Cordillera, it may be concluded that each line
has been formed by repeated upheavals and injections; and
that the several parallel lines are of different ages.  Only
thus can we gain time, at all sufficient to explain the truly
astonishing amount of denudation, which these great, though
comparatively with most other ranges recent, mountains have
suffered.

Finally, the shells in the Peuquenes or oldest ridge, prove,
as before remarked, that it has been upraised 14,000 feet
since a Secondary period, which in Europe we are accustomed
to consider as far from ancient; but since these shells
lived in a moderately deep sea, it can be shown that the area
now occupied by the Cordillera, must have subsided several
thousand feet -- in northern Chile as much as 6000 feet -- so
as to have allowed that amount of submarine strata to have
been heaped on the bed on which the shells lived.  The proof
is the same with that by which it was shown, that at a much
later period, since the tertiary shells of Patagonia lived,
there must have been there a subsidence of several hundred
feet, as well as an ensuing elevation.  Daily it is forced home
on the mind of the geologist, that nothing, not even the wind
that blows, is so unstable as the level of the crust of this
earth.

I will make only one other geological remark: although
the Portillo chain is here higher than the Peuquenes, the
waters draining the intermediate valleys, have burst through
it.  The same fact, on a grander scale, has been remarked in
the eastern and loftiest line of the Bolivian Cordillera,
through which the rivers pass: analogous facts have also
been observed in other quarters of the world.  On the supposition
of the subsequent and gradual elevation of the Portillo
line, this can be understood; for a chain of islets would
at first appear, and, as these were lifted up, the tides would
be always wearing deeper and broader channels between them.
At the present day, even in the most retired Sounds on the
coast of Tierra del Fuego, the currents in the transverse
breaks which connect the longitudinal channels, are very
strong, so that in one transverse channel even a small vessel
under sail was whirled round and round.


About noon we began the tedious ascent of the Peuquenes
ridge, and then for the first time experienced some little
difficulty in our respiration.  The mules would halt every fifty
yards, and after resting for a few seconds the poor willing
animals started of their own accord again.  The short breathing
from the rarefied atmosphere is called by the Chilenos
"puna;" and they have most ridiculous notions concerning
its origin.  Some say "all the waters here have puna;" others
that "where there is snow there is puna;" -- and this no
doubt is true.  The only sensation I experienced was a slight
tightness across the head and chest, like that felt on leaving
a warm room and running quickly in frosty weather.  There
was some imagination even in this; for upon finding fossil
shells on the highest ridge, I entirely forgot the puna in my
delight.  Certainly the exertion of walking was extremely
great, and the respiration became deep and laborious: I am
told that in Potosi (about 13,000 feet above the sea) strangers
do not become thoroughly accustomed to the atmosphere for
an entire year.  The inhabitants all recommend onions for
the puna; as this vegetable has sometimes been given in
Europe for pectoral complaints, it may possibly be of real
service: -- for my part I found nothing so good as the fossil
shells!

When about half-way up we met a large party with seventy
loaded mules.  It was interesting to hear the wild cries
of the muleteers, and to watch the long descending string
of the animals; they appeared so diminutive, there being
nothing but the black mountains with which they could be
compared.  When near the summit, the wind, as generally
happens, was impetuous and extremely cold.  On each side of
the ridge, we had to pass over broad bands of perpetual
snow, which were now soon to be covered by a fresh layer.
When we reached the crest and looked backwards, a glorious
view was presented.  The atmosphere resplendently clear;
the sky an intense blue; the profound valleys; the wild
broken forms: the heaps of ruins, piled up during the lapse
of ages; the bright-coloured rocks, contrasted with the quiet
mountains of snow, all these together produced a scene no
one could have imagined.  Neither plant nor bird, excepting
a few condors wheeling around the higher pinnacles, distracted
my attention from the inanimate mass.  I felt glad
that I was alone: it was like watching a thunderstorm, or
hearing in full orchestra a chorus of the Messiah.

On several patches of the snow I found the Protococcus
nivalis, or red snow, so well known from the accounts of
Arctic navigators.  My attention was called to it, by observing
the footsteps of the mules stained a pale red, as if their
hoofs had been slightly bloody.  I at first thought that it was
owing to dust blown from the surrounding mountains of red
porphyry; for from the magnifying power of the crystals
of snow, the groups of these microscopical plants appeared
like coarse particles.  The snow was coloured only where it
had thawed very rapidly, or had been accidentally crushed.
A little rubbed on paper gave it a faint rose tinge mingled
with a little brick-red.  I afterwards scraped some off the
paper, and found that it consisted of groups of little spheres
in colourless cases, each of the thousandth part of an inch in
diameter.

The wind on the crest of the Peuquenes, as just remarked,
is generally impetuous and very cold: it is said [3] to blow
steadily from the westward or Pacific side.  As the observations
have been chiefly made in summer, this wind must be
an upper and return current.  The Peak of Teneriffe, with
a less elevation, and situated in lat. 28 degs., in like manner
falls within an upper return stream.  At first it appears rather
surprising, that the trade-wind along the northern parts of
Chile and on the coast of Peru, should blow in so very southerly
a direction as it does; but when we reflect that the Cordillera,
running in a north and south line, intercepts, like a
great wall, the entire depth of the lower atmospheric current,
we can easily see that the trade-wind must be drawn northward,
following the line of mountains, towards the equatorial
regions, and thus lose part of that easterly movement which
it otherwise would have gained from the earth's rotation.  At
Mendoza, on the eastern foot of the Andes, the climate is
said to be subject to long calms, and to frequent though false
appearances of gathering rain-storms: we may imagine that
the wind, which coming from the eastward is thus banked up
by the line of mountains, would become stagnant and irregular
in its movements.

Having crossed the Peuquenes, we descended into a mountainous
country, intermediate between the two main ranges,
and then took up our quarters for the night.  We were now
in the republic of Mendoza.  The elevation was probably not
under 11,000 feet, and the vegetation in consequence exceedingly
scanty.  The root of a small scrubby plant served as
fuel, but it made a miserable fire, and the wind was
piercingly cold.  Being quite tired with my days work, I
made up my bed as quickly as I could, and went to sleep.
About midnight I observed the sky became suddenly clouded:
I awakened the arriero to know if there was any danger of
bad weather; but he said that without thunder and lightning
there was no risk of a heavy snow-storm.  The peril is
imminent, and the difficulty of subsequent escape great, to
any one overtaken by bad weather between the two ranges.
A certain cave offers the only place of refuge: Mr. Caldcleugh,
who crossed on this same day of the month, was
detained there for some time by a heavy fall of snow.  Casuchas,
or houses of refuge, have not been built in this pass
as in that of Uspallata, and, therefore, during the autumn,
the Portillo is little frequented.  I may here remark that
within the main Cordillera rain never falls, for during the
summer the sky is cloudless, and in winter snow-storms alone
occur.

At the place where we slept water necessarily boiled, from
the diminished pressure of the atmosphere, at a lower
temperature than it does in a less lofty country; the case being
the converse of that of a Papin's digester.  Hence the potatoes,
after remaining for some hours in the boiling water,
were nearly as hard as ever.  The pot was left on the fire
all night, and next morning it was boiled again, but yet the
potatoes were not cooked.  I found out this, by overhearing
my two companions discussing the cause, they had come
to the simple conclusion, "that the cursed pot [which was a
new one] did not choose to boil potatoes."

March  22nd. -- After eating our potatoless breakfast, we
travelled across the intermediate tract to the foot of the
Portillo range.  In the middle of summer cattle are brought
up here to graze; but they had now all been removed: even
the greater number of the Guanacos had decamped, knowing
well that if overtaken here by a snow-storm, they would be
caught in a trap.  We had a fine view of a mass of mountains
called Tupungato, the whole clothed with unbroken
snow, in the midst of which there was a blue patch, no
doubt a glacier; -- a circumstance of rare occurrence in these
mountains.  Now commenced a heavy and long climb, similar
to that of the Peuquenes.  Bold conical hills of red
granite rose on each hand; in the valleys there were several
broad fields of perpetual snow.  These frozen masses, during
the process of thawing, had in some parts been converted
into pinnacles or columns, [4] which, as they were high and
close together, made it difficult for the cargo mules to pass.
On one of these columns of ice, a frozen horse was sticking
as on a pedestal, but with its hind legs straight up in
the air.  The animal, I suppose, must have fallen with its
head downward into a hole, when the snow was continuous,
and afterwards the surrounding parts must have been
removed by the thaw.

When nearly on the crest of the Portillo, we were enveloped
in a falling cloud of minute frozen spicula.  This was
very unfortunate, as it continued the whole day, and quite
intercepted our view.  The pass takes its name of Portillo,
from a narrow cleft or doorway on the highest ridge,
through which the road passes.  From this point, on a clear
day, those vast plains which uninterruptedly extend to the
Atlantic Ocean can be seen.  We descended to the upper
limit of vegetation, and found good quarters for the night
under the shelter of some large fragments of rock.  We met
here some passengers, who made anxious inquiries about the
state of the road.  Shortly after it was dark the clouds suddenly
cleared away, and the effect was quite magical.  The
great mountains, bright with the full moon, seemed impending
over us on all sides, as over a deep crevice: one morning,
very early, I witnessed the same striking effect.  As
soon as the clouds were dispersed it froze severely; but as
there was no wind, we slept very comfortably.

The increased brilliancy of the moon and stars at this
elevation, owing to the perfect transparency of the atmosphere,
was very remarkable.  Travelers having observed
the difficulty of judging heights and distances amidst lofty
mountains, have generally attributed it to the absence of
objects of comparison.  It appears to me, that it is fully as
much owing to the transparency of the air confounding
objects at different distances, and likewise partly to the
novelty of an unusual degree of fatigue arising from a little
exertion, -- habit being thus opposed to the evidence of the
senses.  I am sure that this extreme clearness of the air
gives a peculiar character to the landscape, all objects
appearing to be brought nearly into one plane, as in a drawing
or panorama.  The transparency is, I presume, owing to
the equable and high state of atmospheric dryness.  This
dryness was shown by the manner in which woodwork
shrank (as I soon found by the trouble my geological hammer
gave me); by articles of food, such as bread and sugar,
becoming extremely hard; and by the preservation of the
skin and parts of the flesh of the beasts, which had perished
on the road.  To the same cause we must attribute the singular
facility with which electricity is excited.  My flannel
waistcoat, when rubbed in the dark, appeared as if it had
been washed with phosphorus, -- every hair on a dog's back
crackled; -- even the linen sheets, and leathern straps of the
saddle, when handled, emitted sparks.

March 23rd. -- The descent on the eastern side of the Cordillera
is much shorter or steeper than on the Pacific side;
in other words, the mountains rise more abruptly from the
plains than from the alpine country of Chile.  A level and
brilliantly white sea of clouds was stretched out beneath our
feet, shutting out the view of the equally level Pampas.  We
soon entered the band of clouds, and did not again emerge
from it that day.  About noon, finding pasture for the animals
and bushes for firewood at Los Arenales, we stopped
for the night.  This was near the uppermost limit of bushes,
and the elevation, I suppose, was between seven and eight
thousand feet.

I was much struck with the marked difference between
the vegetation of these eastern valleys and those on the
Chilian side: yet the climate, as well as the kind of soil, is
nearly the same, and the difference of longitude very trifling.
The same remark holds good with the quadrupeds, and in
a lesser degree with the birds and insects.  I may instance the
mice, of which I obtained thirteen species on the shores of
the Atlantic, and five on the Pacific, and not one of them
is identical.  We must except all those species, which habitually
or occasionally frequent elevated mountains; and certain
birds, which range as far south as the Strait of Magellan.
This fact is in perfect accordance with the geological
history of the Andes; for these mountains have existed as
a great barrier since the present races of animals have
appeared; and therefore, unless we suppose the same species
to have been created in two different places, we ought not to
expect any closer similarity between the organic beings on
the opposite sides of the Andes than on the opposite shores
of the ocean.  In both cases, we must leave out of the question
those kinds which have been able to cross the barrier,
whether of solid rock or salt-water. [5]

A great number of the plants and animals were absolutely
the same as, or most closely allied to, those of Patagonia.
We here have the agouti, bizcacha, three species of armadillo,
the ostrich, certain kinds of partridges and other birds,
none of which are ever seen in Chile, but are the characteristic
animals of the desert plains of Patagonia.  We have
likewise many of the same (to the eyes of a person who is
not a botanist) thorny stunted bushes, withered grass, and
dwarf plants.  Even the black slowly crawling beetles are
closely similar, and some, I believe, on rigorous examination,
absolutely identical.  It had always been to me a subject of
regret, that we were unavoidably compelled to give up the
ascent of the S. Cruz river before reaching the mountains:
I always had a latent hope of meeting with some great
change in the features of the country; but I now feel sure,
that it would only have been following the plains of Patagonia
up a mountainous ascent.

March  24th. -- Early in the morning I climbed up a mountain
on one side of the valley, and enjoyed a far extended
view over the Pampas.  This was a spectacle to which I had
always looked forward with interest, but I was disappointed:
at the first glance it much resembled a distant view of the
ocean, but in the northern parts many irregularities were
soon distinguishable.  The most striking feature consisted
in the rivers, which, facing the rising sun, glittered like
silver threads, till lost in the immensity of the distance.  At
midday we descended the valley, and reached a hovel, where
an officer and three soldiers were posted to examine passports.
One of these men was a thoroughbred Pampas
Indian: he was kept much for the same purpose as a bloodhound,
to track out any person who might pass by secretly,
either on foot or horseback.  Some years ago, a passenger
endeavoured to escape detection, by making a long circuit
over a neighbouring mountain; but this Indian, having by
chance crossed his track, followed it for the whole day over
dry and very stony hills, till at last he came on his prey
hidden in a gully.  We here heard that the silvery clouds,
which we had admired from the bright region above, had
poured down torrents of rain.  The valley from this point
gradually opened, and the hills became mere water-worn
hillocks compared to the giants behind: it then expanded
into a gently sloping plain of shingle, covered with low trees
and bushes.  This talus, although appearing narrow, must be
nearly ten miles wide before it blends into the apparently
dead level Pampas.  We passed the only house in this
neighbourhood, the Estancia of Chaquaio: and at sunset we pulled
up in the first snug corner, and there bivouacked.

March 25th. -- I  was reminded of the Pampas of Buenos
Ayres, by seeing the disk of the rising sun, intersected by an
horizon level as that of the ocean.  During the night a heavy
dew fell, a circumstance which we did not experience within
the Cordillera.  The road proceeded for some distance due
east across a low swamp; then meeting the dry plain, it
turned to the north towards Mendoza.  The distance is two
very long days' journey.  Our first day's journey was called
fourteen leagues to Estacado, and the second seventeen to
Luxan, near Mendoza.  The whole distance is over a level
desert plain, with not more than two or three houses.  The
sun was exceedingly powerful, and the ride devoid of all
interest.  There is very little water in this "traversia," and
in our second day's journey we found only one little pool.
Little water flows from the mountains, and it soon becomes
absorbed by the dry and porous soil; so that, although we
travelled at the distance of only ten or fifteen miles from
the outer range of the Cordillera, we did not cross a single
stream.  In many parts the ground was incrusted with a
saline efflorescence; hence we had the same salt-loving
plants which are common near Bahia Blanca.  The landscape
has a uniform character from the Strait of Magellan,
along the whole eastern coast of Patagonia, to the Rio Colorado;
and it appears that the same kind of country extends
inland from this river, in a sweeping line as far as San Luis
and perhaps even further north.  To the eastward of this
curved line lies the basin of the comparatively damp and
green plains of Buenos Ayres.  The sterile plains of Mendoza
and Patagonia consist of a bed of shingle, worn smooth
and accumulated by the waves of the sea while the Pampas,
covered by thistles, clover, and grass, have been formed by
the ancient estuary mud of the Plata.

After our two days' tedious journey, it was refreshing to
see in the distance the rows of poplars and willows growing
round the village and river of Luxan.  Shortly before we
arrived at this place, we observed to the south a ragged cloud
of dark reddish-brown colour.  At first we thought that it
was smoke from some great fire on the plains; but we soon
found that it was a swarm of locusts.  They were flying
northward; and with the aid of a light breeze, they overtook
us at a rate of ten or fifteen miles an hour.  The main body
filled the air from a height of twenty feet, to that, as it
appeared, of two or three thousand above the ground; "and the
sound of their wings was as the sound of chariots of many
horses running to battle:" or rather, I should say, like a
strong breeze passing through the rigging of a ship.  The
sky, seen through the advanced guard, appeared like a mezzotinto
engraving, but the main body was impervious to sight;
they were not, however, so thick together, but that they
could escape a stick waved backwards and forwards.  When
they alighted, they were more numerous than the leaves in
the field, and the surface became reddish instead of being
green: the swarm having once alighted, the individuals flew
from side to side in all directions.  Locusts are not an uncommon
pest in this country: already during the season, several
smaller swarms had come up from the south, where, as
apparently in all other parts of the world, they are bred in
the deserts.  The poor cottagers in vain attempted by lighting
fires, by shouts, and by waving branches to avert the
attack.  This species of locust closely resembles, and perhaps
is identical with, the famous Gryllus migratorius of the East.

We crossed the Luxan, which is a river of considerable
size, though its course towards the sea-coast is very
imperfectly known: it is even doubtful whether, in passing over
the plains, it is not evaporated and lost.  We slept in the
village of Luxan, which is a small place surrounded by gardens,
and forms the most southern cultivated district in the
Province of Mendoza; it is five leagues south of the capital.
At night I experienced an attack (for it deserves no less a
name) of the _Benchuca_, a species of Reduvius, the great
black bug of the Pampas.  It is most disgusting to feel soft
wingless insects, about an inch long, crawling over one's
body.  Before sucking they are quite thin, but afterwards
they become round and bloated with blood, and in this state
are easily crushed.  One which I caught at Iquique, (for they
are found in Chile and Peru,) was very empty.  When placed
on a table, and though surrounded by people, if a finger was
presented, the bold insect would immediately protrude its
sucker, make a charge, and if allowed, draw blood.  No pain
was caused by the wound.  It was curious to watch its body
during the act of sucking, as in less than ten minutes it
changed from being as flat as a wafer to a globular form.
This one feast, for which the benchuca was indebted to one
of the officers, kept it fat during four whole months; but,
after the first fortnight, it was quite ready to have another
suck.

March 27th. -- We rode on to Mendoza.  The country was
beautifully cultivated, and resembled Chile.  This neighbourhood
is celebrated for its fruit; and certainly nothing could
appear more flourishing than the vineyards and the orchards
of figs, peaches, and olives.  We bought water-melons nearly
twice as large as a man's head, most deliciously cool and
well-flavoured, for a halfpenny apiece; and for the value of
threepence, half a wheelbarrowful of peaches.  The cultivated
and enclosed part of this province is very small; there
is little more than that which we passed through between
Luxan and the capital.  The land, as in Chile, owes its fertility
entirely to artificial irrigation; and it is really wonderful
to observe how extraordinarily productive a barren
traversia is thus rendered.

We stayed the ensuing day in Mendoza.  The prosperity
of the place has much declined of late years.  The inhabitants
say "it is good to live in, but very bad to grow rich in."
The lower orders have the lounging, reckless manners of the
Gauchos of the Pampas; and their dress, riding-gear, and
habits of life, are nearly the same.  To my mind the town
had a stupid, forlorn aspect.  Neither the boasted alameda,
nor the scenery, is at all comparable with that of Santiago;
but to those who, coming from Buenos Ayres, have just
crossed the unvaried Pampas, the gardens and orchards must
appear delightful.  Sir F. Head, speaking of the inhabitants,
says, "They eat their dinners, and it is so very hot, they go
to sleep -- and could they do better?" I quite agree with
Sir F. Head: the happy doom of the Mendozinos is to eat,
sleep and be idle.


March 29th. -- We set out on our return to Chile, by the
Uspallata pass situated north of Mendoza.  We had to cross
a long and most sterile traversia of fifteen leagues.  The
soil in parts was absolutely bare, in others covered by
numberless dwarf cacti, armed with formidable spines, and called
by the inhabitants "little lions." There were, also, a few
low bushes.  Although the plain is nearly three thousand feet
above the sea, the sun was very powerful; and the heat as
well as the clouds of impalpable dust, rendered the travelling
extremely irksome.  Our course during the day lay nearly
parallel to the Cordillera, but gradually approaching them.
Before sunset we entered one of the wide valleys, or rather
bays, which open on the plain: this soon narrowed into a
ravine, where a little higher up the house of Villa Vicencio
is situated.  As we had ridden all day without a drop of
water, both our mules and selves were very thirsty, and we
looked out anxiously for the stream which flows down this
valley.  It was curious to observe how gradually the water
made its appearance: on the plain the course was quite dry;
by degrees it became a little damper; then puddles of water
appeared; these soon became connected; and at Villa Vicencio
there was a nice little rivulet.

30th. -- The solitary hovel which bears the imposing name
of Villa Vicencio, has been mentioned by every traveller who
has crossed the Andes.  I stayed here and at some neighbouring
mines during the two succeeding days.  The geology
of the surrounding country is very curious.  The Uspallata
range is separated from the main Cordillera by a long narrow
plain or basin, like those so often mentioned in Chile,
but higher, being six thousand feet above the sea.  This
range has nearly the same geographical position with respect
to the Cordillera, which the gigantic Portillo line has, but it
is of a totally different origin: it consists of various kinds
of submarine lava, alternating with volcanic sandstones and
other remarkable sedimentary deposits; the whole having a
very close resemblance to some of the tertiary beds on the
shores of the Pacific.  From this resemblance I expected to
find silicified wood, which is generally characteristic of those
formations.  I was gratified in a very extraordinary manner.
In the central part of the range, at an elevation of about
seven thousand feet, I observed on a bare slope some snow-white
projecting columns.  These were petrified trees, eleven
being silicified, and from thirty to forty converted into
coarsely-crystallized white calcareous spar.  They were abruptly
broken off, the upright stumps projecting a few feet
above the ground.  The trunks measured from three to five
feet each in circumference.  They stood a little way apart
from each other, but the whole formed one group.  Mr. Robert
Brown has been kind enough to examine the wood: he
says it belongs to the fir tribe, partaking of the character
of the Araucarian family, but with some curious points of
affinity with the yew.  The volcanic sandstone in which the
trees were embedded, and from the lower part of which they
must have sprung, had accumulated in successive thin layers
around their trunks; and the stone yet retained the impression
of the bark.

It required little geological practice to interpret the
marvellous story which this scene at once unfolded; though I
confess I was at first so much astonished that I could
scarcely believe the plainest evidence.  I saw the spot where
a cluster of fine trees once waved their branches on the
shores of the Atlantic, when that ocean (now driven back
700 miles) came to the foot of the Andes.  I saw that they
had sprung from a volcanic soil which had been raised above
the level of the sea, and that subsequently this dry land,
with its upright trees, had been let down into the depths of
the ocean.  In these depths, the formerly dry land was
covered by sedimentary beds, and these again by enormous
streams of submarine lava -- one such mass attaining the
thickness of a thousand feet; and these deluges of molten
stone and aqueous deposits five times alternately had been
spread out.  The ocean which received such thick masses,
must have been profoundly deep; but again the subterranean
forces exerted themselves, and I now beheld the bed of
that ocean, forming a chain of mountains more than seven
thousand feet in height.  Nor had those antagonistic forces
been dormant, which are always at work wearing down the
surface of the land; the great piles of strata had been
intersected by many wide valleys, and the trees now changed
into silex, were exposed projecting from the volcanic soil,
now changed into rock, whence formerly, in a green and
budding state, they had raised their lofty heads.  Now,
all is utterly irreclaimable and desert; even the lichen cannot
adhere to the stony casts of former trees.  Vast, and
scarcely comprehensible as such changes must ever appear,
yet they have all occurred within a period, recent when
compared with the history of the Cordillera; and the Cordillera
itself is absolutely modern as compared with many
of the fossiliferous strata of Europe and America.

April 1st. -- We crossed the Upsallata range, and at night
slept at the custom-house -- the only inhabited spot on the
plain.  Shortly before leaving the mountains, there was a
very extraordinary view; red, purple, green, and quite white
sedimentary rocks, alternating with black lavas, were broken
up and thrown into all kinds of disorder by masses of porphyry
of every shade of colour, from dark brown to the
brightest lilac.  It was the first view I ever saw, which
really resembled those pretty sections which geologists make
of the inside of the earth.

The next day we crossed the plain, and followed the course
of the same great mountain stream which flows by Luxan.
Here it was a furious torrent, quite impassable, and appeared
larger than in the low country, as was the case with the rivulet
of Villa Vicencio.  On the evening of the succeeding day,
we reached the Rio de las Vacas, which is considered the
worst stream in the Cordillera to cross.  As all these rivers
have a rapid and short course, and are formed by the melting
of the snow, the hour of the day makes a considerable difference
in their volume.  In the evening the stream is muddy
and full, but about daybreak it becomes clearer, and much
less impetuous.  This we found to be the case with the Rio
Vacas, and in the morning we crossed it with little difficulty.

The scenery thus far was very uninteresting, compared
with that of the Portillo pass.  Little can be seen beyond the
bare walls of the one grand flat-bottomed valley, which the
road follows up to the highest crest.  The valley and
the huge rocky mountains are extremely barren: during the
two previous nights the poor mules had absolutely nothing
to eat, for excepting a few low resinous bushes, scarcely a
plant can be seen.  In the course of this day we crossed some
of the worst passes in the Cordillera, but their danger has
been much exaggerated.  I was told that if I attempted to
pass on foot, my head would turn giddy, and that there was
no room to dismount; but I did not see a place where any
one might not have walked over backwards, or got off his
mule on either side.  One of the bad passes, called _las
Animas_ (the souls), I had crossed, and did not find out
till a day afterwards, that it was one of the awful dangers.
No doubt there are many parts in which, if the mule should
stumble, the rider would be hurled down a great precipice;
but of this there is little chance.  I dare say, in the spring,
the "laderas," or roads, which each year are formed anew
across the piles of fallen detritus, are very bad; but from
what I saw, I suspect the real danger is nothing.  With
cargo-mules the case is rather different, for the loads project
so far, that the animals, occasionally running against
each other, or against a point of rock, lose their balance, and
are thrown down the precipices.  In crossing the rivers
I can well believe that the difficulty may be very great: at
this season there was little trouble, but in the summer they
must be very hazardous.  I can quite imagine, as Sir F.
Head describes, the different expressions of those who _have_
passed the gulf, and those who _are_ passing.  I never heard
of any man being drowned, but with loaded mules it frequently
happens.  The arriero tells you to show your mule
the best line, and then allow her to cross as she likes: the
cargo-mule takes a bad line, and is often lost.

April 4th. -- From the Rio de las Vacas to the Puente del
Incas, half a day's journey.  As there was pasture for the
mules, and geology for me, we bivouacked here for the
night.  When one hears of a natural Bridge, one pictures
to one's self some deep and narrow ravine, across which a
bold mass of rock has fallen; or a great arch hollowed out
like the vault of a cavern.  Instead of this, the Incas
Bridge consists of a crust of stratified shingle cemented
together by the deposits of the neighbouring hot springs.  It
appears, as if the stream had scooped out a channel on one
side, leaving an overhanging ledge, which was met by earth
and stones falling down from the opposite cliff.  Certainly
an oblique junction, as would happen in such a case, was
very distinct on one side.  The Bridge of the Incas is by
no means worthy of the great monarchs whose name it
bears.

5th. -- We had a long day's ride across the central ridge,
from the Incas Bridge to the Ojos del Agua, which are situated
near the lowest _casucha_ on the Chilian side.  These
casuchas are round little towers, with steps outside to reach
the floor, which is raised some feet above the ground on account
of the snow-drifts.  They are eight in number, and
under the Spanish government were kept during the winter
well stored with food and charcoal, and each courier had a
master-key.  Now they only answer the purpose of caves, or
rather dungeons.  Seated on some little eminence, they are
not, however, ill suited to the surrounding scene of desolation.
The zigzag ascent of the Cumbre, or the partition of
the waters, was very steep and tedious; its height, according
to Mr. Pentland, is 12,454 feet.  The road did not pass over
any perpetual snow, although there were patches of it on
both hands.  The wind on the summit was exceedingly cold,
but it was impossible not to stop for a few minutes to admire,
again and again, the colour of the heavens, and the
brilliant transparency of the atmosphere.  The scenery was
grand: to the westward there was a fine chaos of mountains,
divided by profound ravines.  Some snow generally falls before
this period of the season, and it has even happened that
the Cordillera have been finally closed by this time.  But
we were most fortunate.  The sky, by night and by day, was
cloudless, excepting a few round little masses of vapour, that
floated over the highest pinnacles.  I have often seen these
islets in the sky, marking the position of the Cordillera,
when the far-distant mountains have been hidden beneath
the horizon.

April 6th. -- In the morning we found some thief had
stolen one of our mules, and the bell of the madrina.  We
therefore rode only two or three miles down the valley, and
stayed there the ensuing day in hopes of recovering the mule,
which the arriero thought had been hidden in some ravine.
The scenery in this part had assumed a Chilian character:
the lower sides of the mountains, dotted over with the pale
evergreen Quillay tree, and with the great chandelier-like
cactus, are certainly more to be admired than the bare eastern
valleys; but I cannot quite agree with the admiration
expressed by some travellers.  The extreme pleasure, I suspect,
is chiefly owing to the prospect of a good fire and of a
good supper, after escaping from the cold regions above: and
I am sure I most heartily participated in these feelings.

8th. -- We left the valley of the Aconcagua, by which we
had descended, and reached in the evening a cottage near the
Villa del St. Rosa.  The fertility of the plain was delightful:
the autumn being advanced, the leaves of many of the
fruit-trees were falling; and of the labourers, -- some were
busy in drying figs and peaches on the roofs of their cottages,
while others were gathering the grapes from the vineyards.
It was a pretty scene; but I missed that pensive stillness
which makes the autumn in England indeed the evening
of the year.  On the 10th we reached Santiago, where I received
a very kind and hospitable reception from Mr. Caldcleugh.
My excursion only cost me twenty-four days, and
never did I more deeply enjoy an equal space of time.  A
few days afterwards I returned to Mr. Corfield's house at
Valparaiso.

[1] Scoresby's Arctic Regions, vol. i. p. 122.

[2] I have heard it remarked in Shropshire that the water, when
the Severn is flooded from long-continued rain, is much more
turbid than when it proceeds from the snow melting in the Welsh
mountains.  D'Orbigny (tom. i. p. 184), in explaining the cause
of the various colours of the rivers in South America, remarks
that those with blue or clear water have there source in the
Cordillera, where the snow melts.

[3] Dr. Gillies in Journ. of Nat. and Geograph. Science, Aug.,
1830.  This author gives the heights of the Passes.

[4] This structure in frozen snow was long since observed by
Scoresby in the icebergs near Spitzbergen, and, lately, with
more care, by Colonel Jackson (Journ. of Geograph. Soc., vol. v.
p. 12) on the Neva. Mr. Lyell (Principles, vol. iv. p. 360) has
compared the fissures by which the columnar structure seems to
be determined, to the joints that traverse nearly all rocks, but
which are best seen in the non-stratified masses.  I may observe,
that in the case of the frozen snow, the columnar structure must
be owing to a "metamorphic" action, and not to a process during
deposition.

[5] This is merely an illustration of the admirable laws, first
laid down by Mr. Lyell, on the geographical distribution of
animals, as influenced by geological changes.  The whole
reasoning, of course, is founded on the assumption of the
immutability of species; otherwise the difference in the species
in the two regions might be considered as superinduced during a
length of time.



CHAPTER XVI

NORTHERN CHILE AND PERU

Coast-road to Coquimbo -- Great Loads carried by the Miners --
Coquimbo -- Earthquake -- Step-formed Terrace -- Absence of
recent Deposits -- Contemporaneousness of the Tertiary
Formations -- Excursion up the Valley -- Road to Guasco --
Deserts -- Valley of Copiapo -- Rain and Earthquakes --
Hydrophobia -- The Despoblado  -- Indian Ruins -- Probable
Change of Climate -- River-bed arched by an Earthquake --
Cold Gales of Wind -- Noises from a Hill -- Iquique -- Salt
Alluvium -- Nitrate of Soda -- Lima -- Unhealthy Country --
Ruins of Callao, overthrown by an Earthquake -- Recent
Subsidence -- Elevated Shells on San Lorenzo, their
decomposition -- Plain with embedded Shells and fragments
of Pottery -- Antiquity of the Indian Race.


APRIL 27th. -- I set out on a journey to Coquimbo, and
thence through Guasco to Copiapo, where Captain
Fitz Roy kindly offered to pick me up in the Beagle.
The distance in a straight line along the shore northward is
only 420 miles; but my mode of travelling made it a very
long journey.  I bought four horses and two mules, the
latter carrying the luggage on alternate days.  The six
animals together only cost the value of twenty-five pounds
sterling, and at Copiapo I sold them again for twenty-three.
We travelled in the same independent manner as before,
cooking our own meals, and sleeping in the open air.  As
we rode towards the Vino del Mar, I took a farewell view
of Valparaiso, and admired its picturesque appearance.  For
geological purposes I made a detour from the high road
to the foot of the Bell of Quillota.  We passed through an
alluvial district rich in gold, to the neighbourhood of Limache,
where we slept.  Washing for gold supports the inhabitants
of numerous hovels, scattered along the sides of
each little rivulet; but, like all those whose gains are
uncertain, they are unthrifty in all their habits, and
consequently poor.

28th. -- In the afternoon we arrived at a cottage at the
foot of the Bell mountain.  The inhabitants were freeholders,
which is not very usual in Chile.  They supported themselves
on the produce of a garden and a little field, but were
very poor.  Capital is here so deficient, that the people are
obliged to sell their green corn while standing in the field,
in order to buy necessaries for the ensuing year.  Wheat in
consequence was dearer in the very district of its production
than at Valparaiso, where the contractors live.  The next
day we joined the main road to Coquimbo.  At night there
was a very light shower of rain: this was the first drop that
had fallen since the heavy rain of September 11th and 12th,
which detained me a prisoner at the Baths of Cauquenes.
The interval was seven and a half months; but the rain this
year in Chile was rather later than usual.  The distant Andes
were now covered by a thick mass of snow, and were a glorious
sight.

May 2nd. -- The road continued to follow the coast, at no
great distance from the sea.  The few trees and bushes which
are common in central Chile decreased rapidly in numbers,
and were replaced by a tall plant, something like a yucca in
appearance.  The surface of the country, on a small scale,
was singularly broken and irregular; abrupt little peaks of
rock rising out of small plains or basins.  The indented coast
and the bottom of the neighbouring sea, studded with breakers,
would, if converted into dry land, present similar forms;
and such a conversion without doubt has taken place in the
part over which we rode.

3rd. -- Quilimari to Conchalee.  The country became more
and more barren.  In the valleys there was scarcely sufficient
water for any irrigation; and the intermediate land was
quite bare, not supporting even goats.  In the spring, after
the winter showers, a thin pasture rapidly springs up, and
cattle are then driven down from the Cordillera to graze
for a short time.  It is curious to observe how the seeds of
the grass and other plants seem to accommodate themselves,
as if by an acquired habit, to the quantity of rain which
falls upon different parts of this coast.  One shower far
northward at Copiapo produces as great an effect on the
vegetation, as two at Guasco, and three or four in this
district.  At Valparaiso a winter so dry as greatly to injure
the pasture, would at Guasco produce the most unusual
abundance.  Proceeding northward, the quantity of rain does
not appear to decrease in strict proportion to the latitude.
At Conchalee, which is only 67 miles north of Valparaiso,
rain is not expected till the end of May; whereas at Valparaiso
some generally falls early in April: the annual quantity
is likewise small in proportion to the lateness of the
season at which it commences.

4th. -- Finding the coast-road devoid of interest of any
kind, we turned inland towards the mining district and
valley of Illapel.  This valley, like every other in Chile, is
level, broad, and very fertile: it is bordered on each side,
either by cliffs of stratified shingle, or by bare rocky
mountains.  Above the straight line of the uppermost irrigating
ditch, all is brown as on a high road; while all below is of as
bright a green as verdigris, from the beds of alfalfa, a kind
of clover.  We proceeded to Los Hornos, another mining
district, where the principal hill was drilled with holes, like
a great ants'-nest.  The Chilian miners are a peculiar race
of men in their habits.  Living for weeks together in the
most desolate spots, when they descend to the villages on
feast-days, there is no excess of extravagance into which
they do not run.  They sometimes gain a considerable sum,
and then, like sailors with prize-money, they try how soon
they can contrive to squander it.  They drink excessively,
buy quantities of clothes, and in a few days return penniless
to their miserable abodes, there to work harder than beasts
of burden.  This thoughtlessness, as with sailors, is evidently
the result of a similar manner of life.  Their daily food is
found them, and they acquire no habits of carefulness: moreover,
temptation and the means of yielding to it are placed
in their power at the same time.  On the other hand, in
Cornwall, and some other parts of England, where the system
of selling part of the vein is followed, the miners, from
being obliged to act and think for themselves, are a singularly
intelligent and well-conducted set of men.

The dress of the Chilian miner is peculiar and rather
picturesque He wears a very long shirt of some dark-coloured
baize, with a leathern apron; the whole being fastened
round his waist by a bright-coloured sash.  His trousers are
very broad, and his small cap of scarlet cloth is made to fit
the head closely.  We met a party of these miners in full
costume, carrying the body of one of their companions to be
buried.  They marched at a very quick trot, four men supporting
the corpse.  One set having run as hard as they
could for about two hundred yards, were relieved by four
others, who had previously dashed on ahead on horseback.
Thus they proceeded, encouraging each other by wild cries:
altogether the scene formed a most strange funeral.

We continued travelling northward, in a zigzag line;
sometimes stopping a day to geologize.  The country was so
thinly inhabited, and the track so obscure, that we often had
difficulty in finding our way.  On the 12th I stayed at some
mines.  The ore in this case was not considered particularly
good, but from being abundant it was supposed the mine
would sell for about thirty or forty thousand dollars (that is,
6000 or 8000 pounds sterling); yet it had been bought by
one of the English Associations for an ounce of gold (3l.
8s.).  The ore is yellow pyrites, which, as I have already
remarked, before the arrival of the English, was not supposed
to contain a particle of copper.  On a scale of profits nearly
as great as in the above instance, piles of cinders, abounding
with minute globules of metallic copper, were purchased;
yet with these advantages, the mining associations, as is well
known, contrived to lose immense sums of money.  The folly
of the greater number of the commissioners and shareholders
amounted to infatuation; -- a thousand pounds per annum
given in some cases to entertain the Chilian authorities;
libraries of well-bound geological books; miners brought out
for particular metals, as tin, which are not found in Chile;
contracts to supply the miners with milk, in parts where
there are no cows; machinery, where it could not possibly
be used; and a hundred similar arrangements, bore witness
to our absurdity, and to this day afford amusement to the
natives.  Yet there can be no doubt, that the same capital
well employed in these mines would have yielded an immense
return, a confidential man of business, a practical
miner and assayer, would have been all that was required.

Captain Head has described the wonderful load which
the "Apires," truly beasts of burden, carry up from the
deepest mines.  I confess I thought the account exaggerated:
so that I was glad to take an opportunity of weighing one
of the loads, which I picked out by hazard.  It required
considerable exertion on my part, when standing directly over
it, to lift it from the ground.  The load was considered under
weight when found to be 197 pounds.  The apire had carried
this up eighty perpendicular yards, -- part of the way by
a steep passage, but the greater part up notched poles, placed
in a zigzag line up the shaft.  According to the general
regulation, the apire is not allowed to halt for breath, except
the mine is six hundred feet deep.  The average load is
considered as rather more than 200 pounds, and I have been
assured that one of 300 pounds (twenty-two stone and a half)
by way of a trial has been brought up from the deepest mine!
At this time the apires were bringing up the usual load
twelve times in the day; that is 2400 pounds from eighty
yards deep; and they were employed in the intervals in breaking
and picking ore.

These men, excepting from accidents, are healthy, and appear
cheerful.  Their bodies are not very muscular.  They
rarely eat meat once a week, and never oftener, and then only
the hard dry charqui.  Although with a knowledge that the
labour was voluntary, it was nevertheless quite revolting to
see the state in which they reached the mouth of the mine;
their bodies bent forward, leaning with their arms on the
steps, their legs bowed, their muscles quivering, the
perspiration streaming from their faces over their breasts,
their nostrils distended, the corners of their mouth forcibly
drawn back, and the expulsion of their breath most laborious.
Each time they draw their breath, they utter an articulate
cry of "ay-ay," which ends in a sound rising from deep in
the chest, but shrill like the note of a fife.  After staggering
to the pile of ore, they emptied the "carpacho;" in two or
three seconds recovering their breath, they wiped the sweat
from their brows, and apparently quite fresh descended the
mine again at a quick pace.  This appears to me a wonderful
instance of the amount of labour which habit, for it can be
nothing else, will enable a man to endure.

In the evening, talking with the _mayor-domo_ of these
mines about the number of foreigners now scattered over
the whole country, he told me that, though quite a young
man, he remembers when he was a boy at school at
Coquimbo, a holiday being given to see the captain of an
English ship, who was brought to the city to speak to the
governor.  He believes that nothing would have induced
any boy in the school, himself included, to have gone close
to the Englishman; so deeply had they been impressed with
an idea of the heresy, contamination, and evil to be derived
from contact with such a person.  To this day they relate
the atrocious actions of the bucaniers; and especially of
one man, who took away the figure of the Virgin Mary, and
returned the year after for that of St. Joseph, saying it
was a pity the lady should not have a husband.  I heard
also of an old lady who, at a dinner at Coquimbo, remarked
how wonderfully strange it was that she should have lived
to dine in the same room with an Englishman; for she
remembered as a girl, that twice, at the mere cry of "Los
Ingleses," every soul, carrying what valuables they could,
had taken to the mountains.

14th. -- We reached Coquimbo, where we stayed a few
days.  The town is remarkable for nothing but its extreme
quietness.  It is said to contain from 6000 to 8000 inhabitants.
On the morning of the 17th it rained lightly, the first time
this year, for about five hours.  The farmers, who plant
corn near the sea-coast where the atmosphere is most humid,
taking advantage of this shower, would break up the ground;
after a second they would put the seed in; and if a third
shower should fall, they would reap a good harvest in the
spring.  It was interesting to watch the effect of this trifling
amount of moisture.  Twelve hours afterwards the ground
appeared as dry as ever; yet after an interval of ten days,
all the hills were faintly tinged with green patches; the
grass being sparingly scattered in hair-like fibres a full
inch in length.  Before this shower every part of the surface
was bare as on a high road.

In the evening, Captain Fitz Roy and myself were dining
with Mr. Edwards, an English resident well known for his
hospitality by all who have visited Coquimbo, when a sharp
earthquake happened.  I heard the forecoming rumble, but
from the screams of the ladies, the running of the servants,
and the rush of several of the gentlemen to the doorway, I
could not distinguish the motion.  Some of the women afterwards
were crying with terror, and one gentleman said he
should not be able to sleep all night, or if he did, it would
only be to dream of falling houses.  The father of this person
had lately lost all his property at Talcahuano, and he
himself had only just escaped a falling roof at Valparaiso,
in 1822.  He mentioned a curious coincidence which then
happened: he was playing at cards, when a German, one of
the party, got up, and said he would never sit in a room in
these countries with the door shut, as owing to his having
done so, he had nearly lost his life at Copiapo.  Accordingly
he opened the door; and no sooner had he done this, than he
cried out, "Here it comes again!" and the famous shock
commenced.  The whole party escaped.  The danger in an
earthquake is not from the time lost in opening the door, but
from the chance of its becoming jammed by the movement
of the walls.

It is impossible to be much surprised at the fear which
natives and old residents, though some of them known to
be men of great command of mind, so generally experience
during earthquakes.  I think, however, this excess of panic
may be partly attributed to a want of habit in governing
their fear, as it is not a feeling they are ashamed of.  Indeed,
the natives do not like to see a person indifferent.  I
heard of two Englishmen who, sleeping in the open air during
a smart shock, knowing that there was no danger, did not
rise.  The natives cried out indignantly, "Look at those
heretics, they do not even get out of their beds!"


I spent some days in examining the step-formed terraces
of shingle, first noticed by Captain B. Hall, and believed
by Mr. Lyell to have been formed by the sea, during the
gradual rising of the land.  This certainly is the true
explanation, for I found numerous shells of existing species
on these terraces.  Five narrow, gently sloping, fringe-like
terraces rise one behind the other, and where best developed
are formed of shingle: they front the bay, and sweep up both
sides of the valley.  At Guasco, north of Coquimbo, the
phenomenon is displayed on a much grander scale, so as to
strike with surprise even some of the inhabitants.  The terraces
are there much broader, and may be called plains, in
some parts there are six of them, but generally only five;
they run up the valley for thirty-seven miles from the coast.
These step-formed terraces or fringes closely resemble those
in the valley of S. Cruz, and, except in being on a smaller
scale, those great ones along the whole coast-line of Patagonia.
They have undoubtedly been formed by the denuding
power of the sea, during long periods of rest in the
gradual elevation of the continent.

Shells of many existing species not only lie on the surface
of the terraces at Coquimbo (to a height of 250 feet),
but are embedded in a friable calcareous rock, which in some
places is as much as between twenty and thirty feet in
thickness, but is of little extent.  These modern beds rest on an
ancient tertiary formation containing shells, apparently all
extinct.  Although I examined so many hundred miles of
coast on the Pacific, as well as Atlantic side of the continent,
I found no regular strata containing sea-shells of
recent species, excepting at this place, and at a few points
northward on the road to Guasco.  This fact appears to me
highly remarkable; for the explanation generally given by
geologists, of the absence in any district of stratified
fossiliferous deposits of a given period, namely, that the
surface then existed as dry land, is not here applicable; for we
know from the shells strewed on the surface and embedded
in loose sand or mould that the land for thousands of miles
along both coasts has lately been submerged.  The explanation,
no doubt, must be sought in the fact, that the whole
southern part of the continent has been for a long time
slowly rising; and therefore that all matter deposited along
shore in shallow water, must have been soon brought up
and slowly exposed to the wearing action of the sea-beach;
and it is only in comparatively shallow water that the greater
number of marine organic beings can flourish, and in such
water it is obviously impossible that strata of any great
thickness can accumulate.  To show the vast power of the
wearing action of sea-beaches, we need only appeal to the
great cliffs along the present coast of Patagonia, and to the
escarpments or ancient sea-cliffs at different levels, one
above another, on that same line of coast.

The old underlying tertiary formation at Coquimbo,
appears to be of about the same age with several deposits
on the coast of Chile (of which that of Navedad is the
principal one), and with the great formation of Patagonia.
Both at Navedad and in Patagonia there is evidence, that
since the shells (a list of which has been seen by Professor
E. Forbes) there entombed were living, there has been a
subsidence of several hundred feet, as well as an ensuing
elevation.  It may naturally be asked, how it comes that,
although no extensive fossiliferous deposits of the recent
period, nor of any period intermediate between it and the
ancient tertiary epoch, have been preserved on either side of
the continent, yet that at this ancient tertiary epoch,
sedimentary matter containing fossil remains, should have been
deposited and preserved at different points in north and
south lines, over a space of 1100 miles on the shores of the
Pacific, and of at least 1350 miles on the shores of the
Atlantic, and in an east and west line of 700 miles across the
widest part of the continent?  I believe the explanation is
not difficult, and that it is perhaps applicable to nearly
analogous facts observed in other quarters of the world.
Considering the enormous power of denudation which the sea
possesses, as shown by numberless facts, it is not probable
that a sedimentary deposit, when being upraised, could pass
through the ordeal of the beach, so as to be preserved in
sufficient masses to last to a distant period, without it were
originally of wide extent and of considerable thickness: now
it is impossible on a moderately shallow bottom, which
alone is favourable to most living creatures, that a thick
and widely extended covering of sediment could be spread
out, without the bottom sank down to receive the successive
layers.  This seems to have actually taken place at about
the same period in southern Patagonia and Chile, though
these places are a thousand miles apart.  Hence, if prolonged
movements of approximately contemporaneous subsidence
are generally widely extensive, as I am strongly
inclined to believe from my examination of the Coral Reefs
of the great oceans -- or if, confining our view to South
America, the subsiding movements have been coextensive
with those of elevation, by which, within the same period
of existing shells, the shores of Peru, Chile, Tierra del
Fuego, Patagonia, and La Plata have been upraised -- then
we can see that at the same time, at far distant points,
circumstances would have been favourable to the formation of
fossiliferous deposits of wide extent and of considerable
thickness; and such deposits, consequently, would have a
good chance of resisting the wear and tear of successive
beach-lines, and of lasting to a future epoch.


May 21st. -- I set out in company with Don Jose Edwards
to the silver-mine of Arqueros, and thence up the valley of
Coquimbo.  Passing through a mountainous country, we
reached by nightfall the mines belonging to Mr. Edwards.
I enjoyed my night's rest here from a reason which will not
be fully appreciated in England, namely, the absence of
fleas!  The rooms in Coquimbo swarm with them; but they
will not live here at the height of only three or four
thousand feet: it can scarcely be the trifling diminution
of temperature, but some other cause which destroys these
troublesome insects at this place.  The mines are now in a
bad state, though they formerly yielded about 2000 pounds
in weight of silver a year.  It has been said that "a person
with a copper-mine will gain; with silver he may gain; but
with gold he is sure to lose." This is not true: all the large
Chilian fortunes have been made by mines of the more
precious metals.  A short time since an English physician
returned to England from Copiapo, taking with him the
profits of one share of a silver-mine, which amounted to
about 24,000 pounds sterling.  No doubt a copper-mine with
care is a sure game, whereas the other is gambling, or rather
taking a ticket in a lottery.  The owners lose great quantities
of rich ores; for no precautions can prevent robberies.
I heard of a gentleman laying a bet with another, that one
of his men should rob him before his face.  The ore when
brought out of the mine is broken into pieces, and the useless
stone thrown on one side.  A couple of the miners who
were thus employed, pitched, as if by accident, two fragments
away at the same moment, and then cried out for a joke
"Let us see which rolls furthest." The owner, who was
standing by, bet a cigar with his friend on the race.  The
miner by this means watched the very point amongst the
rubbish where the stone lay.  In the evening he picked it
up and carried it to his master, showing him a rich mass of
silver-ore, and saying, "This was the stone on which you
won a cigar by its rolling so far."

May 23rd. -- We descended into the fertile valley of Coquimbo,
and followed it till we reached an Hacienda belonging
to a relation of Don Jose, where we stayed the next day.
I then rode one day's journey further, to see what were
declared to be some petrified shells and beans, which latter
turned out to be small quartz pebbles.  We passed through
several small villages; and the valley was beautifully
cultivated, and the whole scenery very grand.  We were here
near the main Cordillera, and the surrounding hills were
lofty.  In all parts of northern Chile, fruit trees produce
much more abundantly at a considerable height near the
Andes than in the lower country.  The figs and grapes of
this district are famous for their excellence, and are
cultivated to a great extent.  This valley is, perhaps, the most
productive one north of Quillota.  I believe it contains,
including Coquimbo, 25,000 inhabitants.  The next day I
returned to the Hacienda, and thence, together with Don
Jose, to Coquimbo.

June 2nd. -- We set out for the valley of Guasco, following
the coast-road, which was considered rather less desert than
the other.  Our first day's ride was to a solitary house, called
Yerba Buena, where there was pasture for our horses.  The
shower mentioned as having fallen, a fortnight ago, only
reached about half-way to Guasco; we had, therefore, in the
first part of our journey a most faint tinge of green, which
soon faded quite away.  Even where brightest, it was scarcely
sufficient to remind one of the fresh turf and budding
flowers of the spring of other countries.  While travelling
through these deserts one feels like a prisoner shut up in
a gloomy court, who longs to see something green and to
smell a moist atmosphere.

June 3rd. -- Yerba Buena to Carizal.  During the first part
of the day we crossed a mountainous rocky desert, and afterwards
a long deep sandy plain, strewed with broken seashells.
There was very little water, and that little saline:
the whole country, from the coast to the Cordillera, is an
uninhabited desert.  I saw traces only of one living animal in
abundance, namely, the shells of a Bulimus, which were
collected together in extraordinary numbers on the driest
spots.  In the spring one humble little plant sends out a few
leaves, and on these the snails feed.  As they are seen only
very early in the morning, when the ground is slightly damp
with dew, the Guascos believe that they are bred from it.  I
have observed in other places that extremely dry and sterile
districts, where the soil is calcareous, are extraordinarily
favourable to land-shells.  At Carizal there were a few cottages,
some brackish water, and a trace of cultivation: but it
was with difficulty that we purchased a little corn and straw
for our horses.

4th. -- Carizal to Sauce.  We continued to ride over desert
plains, tenanted by large herds of guanaco.  We crossed also
the valley of Chaneral; which, although the most fertile one
between Guasco and Coquimbo, is very narrow, and produces
so little pasture, that we could not purchase any for our
horses.  At Sauce we found a very civil old gentleman,
superintendent of a copper-smelting furnace.  As an especial
favour, he allowed me to purchase at a high price an armful
of dirty straw, which was all the poor horses had for supper
after their long day's journey.  Few smelting-furnaces are
now at work in any part of Chile; it is found more profitable,
on account of the extreme scarcity of firewood, and from
the Chilian method of reduction being so unskilful, to ship the
ore for Swansea.  The next day we crossed some mountains
to Freyrina, in the valley of Guasco.  During each day's ride
further northward, the vegetation became more and more
scanty; even the great chandelier-like cactus was here
replaced by a different and much smaller species.  During the
winter months, both in northern Chile and in Peru, a uniform
bank of clouds hangs, at no great height, over the Pacific.
From the mountains we had a very striking view of this
white and brilliant aerial-field, which sent arms up the
valleys, leaving islands and promontories in the same manner, as
the sea does in the Chonos archipelago and in Tierra del Fuego.

We stayed two days at Freyrina.  In the valley of Guasco
there are four small towns.  At the mouth there is the port, a
spot entirely desert, and without any water in the immediate
neighbourhood.  Five leagues higher up stands Freyrina, a
long straggling village, with decent whitewashed houses.
Again, ten leagues further up Ballenar is situated, and above
this Guasco Alto, a horticultural village, famous for its dried
fruit.  On a clear day the view up the valley is very fine; the
straight opening terminates in the far-distant snowy Cordillera;
on each side an infinity of crossing-lines are blended
together in a beautiful haze.  The foreground is singular
from the number of parallel and step-formed terraces; and
the included strip of green valley, with its willow-bushes, is
contrasted on both hands with the naked hills.  That the
surrounding country was most barren will be readily believed,
when it is known that a shower of rain had not fallen during
the last thirteen months.  The inhabitants heard with the
greatest envy of the rain at Coquimbo; from the appearance
of the sky they had hopes of equally good fortune, which, a
fortnight afterwards, were realized.  I was at Copiapo at the
time; and there the people, with equal envy, talked of the
abundant rain at Guasco.  After two or three very dry years,
perhaps with not more than one shower during the whole
time, a rainy year generally follows; and this does more harm
than even the drought.  The rivers swell, and cover with
gravel and sand the narrow strips of ground, which alone are
fit for cultivation.  The floods also injure the irrigating
ditches.  Great devastation had thus been caused three years
ago.

June 8th. -- We rode on to Ballenar, which takes its name
from Ballenagh in Ireland, the birthplace of the family of
O'Higgins, who, under the Spanish government, were presidents
and generals in Chile.  As the rocky mountains on each
hand were concealed by clouds, the terrace-like plains gave
to the valley an appearance like that of Santa Cruz in
Patagonia.  After spending one day at Ballenar I set out, on the
10th, for the upper part of the valley of Copiapo.  We rode
all day over an uninteresting country.  I am tired of repeating
the epithets barren and sterile.  These words, however,
as commonly used, are comparative; I have always applied
them to the plains of Patagonia, which can boast of spiny
bushes and some tufts of grass; and this is absolute fertility,
as compared with northern Chile.  Here again, there are not
many spaces of two hundred yards square, where some little
bush, cactus or lichen, may not be discovered by careful
examination; and in the soil seeds lie dormant ready to
spring up during the first rainy winter.  In Peru real deserts
occur over wide tracts of country.  In the evening we
arrived at a valley, in which the bed of the streamlet was
damp: following it up, we came to tolerably good water.
During the night, the stream, from not being evaporated
and absorbed so quickly, flows a league lower down than
during the day.  Sticks were plentiful for firewood, so that
it was a good place to bivouac for us; but for the poor animals
there was not a mouthful to eat.

June 11th. -- We rode without stopping for twelve hours
till we reached an old smelting-furnace, where there was
water and firewood; but our horses again had nothing to eat,
being shut up in an old courtyard.  The line of road was
hilly, and the distant views interesting, from the varied
colours of the bare mountains.  It was almost a pity to see
the sun shining constantly over so useless a country; such
splendid weather ought to have brightened fields and pretty
gardens.  The next day we reached the valley of Copiapo.
I was heartily glad of it; for the whole journey was a continued
source of anxiety; it was most disagreeable to hear,
whilst eating our own suppers, our horses gnawing the posts
to which they were tied, and to have no means of relieving
their hunger.  To all appearance, however, the animals
were quite fresh; and no one could have told that they had
eaten nothing for the last fifty-five hours.

I had a letter of introduction to Mr. Bingley, who received
me very kindly at the Hacienda of Potrero Seco.  This
estate is between twenty and thirty miles long, but very narrow,
being generally only two fields wide, one on each side
the river.  In some parts the estate is of no width, that is
to say, the land cannot be irrigated, and therefore is
valueless, like the surrounding rocky desert.  The small quantity
of cultivated land in the whole line of valley, does not so
much depend on inequalities of level, and consequent unfitness
for irrigation, as on the small supply of water.  The
river this year was remarkably full: here, high up the valley,
it reached to the horse's belly, and was about fifteen yards
wide, and rapid; lower down it becomes smaller and smaller,
and is generally quite lost, as happened during one period
of thirty years, so that not a drop entered the sea.  The
inhabitants watch a storm over the Cordillera with great
interest; as one good fall of snow provides them with water
for the ensuing year.  This is of infinitely more consequence
than rain in the lower country.  Rain, as often as it falls,
which is about once in every two or three years, is a great
advantage, because the cattle and mules can for some time
afterwards find a little pasture in the mountains.  But without
snow on the Andes, desolation extends throughout the
valley.  It is on record that three times nearly all the
inhabitants have been obliged to emigrate to the south.  This
year there was plenty of water, and every man irrigated his
ground as much as he chose; but it has frequently been
necessary to post soldiers at the sluices, to see that each
estate took only its proper allowance during so many hours
in the week.  The valley is said to contain 12,000 souls, but
its produce is sufficient only for three months in the year;
the rest of the supply being drawn from Valparaiso and the
south.  Before the discovery of the famous silver-mines of
Chanuncillo, Copiapo was in a rapid state of decay; but now
it is in a very thriving condition; and the town, which was
completely overthrown by an earthquake, has been rebuilt.

The valley of Copiapo, forming a mere ribbon of green
in a desert, runs in a very southerly direction; so that it is
of considerable length to its source in the Cordillera.  The
valleys of Guasco and Copiapo may both be considered as
long narrow islands, separated from the rest of Chile by
deserts of rock instead of by salt water.  Northward of
these, there is one other very miserable valley, called Paposo,
which contains about two hundred souls; and then there
extends the real desert of Atacama -- a barrier far worse
than the most turbulent ocean.  After staying a few days at
Potrero Seco, I proceeded up the valley to the house of Don
Benito Cruz, to whom I had a letter of introduction.  I found
him most hospitable; indeed it is impossible to bear too
strong testimony to the kindness with which travellers are
received in almost every part of South America.  The next
day I hired some mules to take me by the ravine of Jolquera
into the central Cordillera.  On the second night the
weather seemed to foretell a storm of snow or rain, and whilst
lying in our beds we felt a trifling shock of an earthquake.

The connection between earthquakes and the weather has
been often disputed: it appears to me to be a point of great
interest, which is little understood.  Humboldt has remarked
in one part of the Personal Narrative, [1] that it would be
difficult for any person who had long resided in New Andalusia,
or in Lower Peru, to deny that there exists some connection
between these phenomena: in another part, however
he seems to think the connection fanciful.  At Guayaquil
it is said that a heavy shower in the dry season is invariably
followed by an earthquake.  In Northern Chile, from the
extreme infrequency of rain, or even of weather foreboding
rain, the probability of accidental coincidences becomes very
small; yet the inhabitants are here most firmly convinced of
some connection between the state of the atmosphere and of
the trembling of the ground: I was much struck by this
when mentioning to some people at Copiapo that there had
been a sharp shock at Coquimbo: they immediately cried out,
"How fortunate! there will be plenty of pasture there this
year." To their minds an earthquake foretold rain as surely
as rain foretold abundant pasture.  Certainly it did so happen
that on the very day of the earthquake, that shower of
rain fell, which I have described as in ten days' time producing
a thin sprinkling of grass.  At other times rain has
followed earthquakes at a period of the year when it is a
far greater prodigy than the earthquake itself: this happened
after the shock of November, 1822, and again in 1829, at
Valparaiso; also after that of September, 1833, at Tacna.
A person must be somewhat habituated to the climate of
these countries to perceive the extreme improbability of rain
falling at such seasons, except as a consequence of some law
quite unconnected with the ordinary course of the weather.
In the cases of great volcanic eruptions, as that of Coseguina,
where torrents of rain fell at a time of the year most
unusual for it, and "almost unprecedented in Central
America," it is not difficult to understand that the volumes
of vapour and clouds of ashes might have disturbed the
atmospheric equilibrium.  Humboldt extends this view to
the case of earthquakes unaccompanied by eruptions; but I
can hardly conceive it possible, that the small quantity of
aeriform fluids which then escape from the fissured ground,
can produce such remarkable effects.  There appears much
probability in the view first proposed by Mr. P. Scrope, that
when the barometer is low, and when rain might naturally
be expected to fall, the diminished pressure of the atmosphere
over a wide extent of country, might well determine
the precise day on which the earth, already stretched to the
utmost by the subterranean forces, should yield, crack, and
consequently tremble.  It is, however, doubtful how far this
idea will explain the circumstances of torrents of rain falling
in the dry season during several days, after an earthquake
unaccompanied by an eruption; such cases seem to
bespeak some more intimate connection between the atmospheric
and subterranean regions.

Finding little of interest in this part of the ravine, we
retraced our steps to the house of Don Benito, where I stayed
two days collecting fossil shells and wood.  Great prostrate
silicified trunks of trees, embedded in a conglomerate, were
extraordinarily numerous.  I measured one, which was fifteen
feet in circumference: how surprising it is that every
atom of the woody matter in this great cylinder should have
been removed and replaced by silex so perfectly, that each
vessel and pore is preserved!  These trees flourished at about
the period of our lower chalk; they all belonged to the fir-
tribe.  It was amusing to hear the inhabitants discussing the
nature of the fossil shells which I collected, almost in the
same terms as were used a century ago in Europe, -- namely,
whether or not they had been thus "born by nature." My
geological examination of the country generally created a
good deal of surprise amongst the Chilenos: it was long
before they could be convinced that I was not hunting for
mines.  This was sometimes troublesome: I found the most
ready way of explaining my employment, was to ask them
how it was that they themselves were not curious concerning
earthquakes and volcanos? -- why some springs were hot and
others cold? -- why there were mountains in Chile, and not
a hill in La Plata?  These bare questions at once satisfied
and silenced the greater number; some, however (like a few
in England who are a century behindhand), thought that all
such inquiries were useless and impious; and that it was
quite sufficient that God had thus made the mountains.

An order had recently been issued that all stray dogs
should be killed, and we saw many lying dead on the road.  A
great number had lately gone mad, and several men had been
bitten and had died in consequence.  On several occasions
hydrophobia has prevailed in this valley.  It is remarkable
thus to find so strange and dreadful a disease, appearing
time after time in the same isolated spot.  It has been
remarked that certain villages in England are in like manner
much more subject to this visitation than others.  Dr. Unanue
states that hydrophobia was first known in South
America in 1803: this statement is corroborated by Azara
and Ulloa having never heard of it in their time.  Dr. Unanue
says that it broke out in Central America, and slowly
travelled southward.  It reached Arequipa in 1807; and it is
said that some men there, who had not been bitten, were
affected, as were some negroes, who had eaten a bullock
which had died of hydrophobia.  At Ica forty-two people thus
miserably perished.  The disease came on between twelve
and ninety days after the bite; and in those cases where it
did come on, death ensued invariably within five days.  After
1808, a long interval ensued without any cases.  On inquiry,
I did not hear of hydrophobia in Van Diemen's Land, or in
Australia; and Burchell says, that during the five years he
was at the Cape of Good Hope, he never heard of an instance
of it.  Webster asserts that at the Azores hydrophobia has
never occurred; and the same assertion has been made with
respect to Mauritius and St. Helena. [2] In so strange a disease
some information might possibly be gained by considering
the circumstances under which it originates in distant climates;
for it is improbable that a dog already bitten, should
have been brought to these distant countries.

At night, a stranger arrived at the house of Don Benito,
and asked permission to sleep there.  He said he had been
wandering about the mountains for seventeen days, having
lost his way.  He started from Guasco, and being accustomed
to travelling in the Cordillera, did not expect any difficulty
in following the track to Copiapo; but he soon became
involved in a labyrinth of mountains, whence he could not
escape.  Some of his mules had fallen over precipices, and he
had been in great distress.  His chief difficulty arose from
not knowing where to find water in the lower country, so that
he was obliged to keep bordering the central ranges.

We returned down the valley, and on the 22nd reached
the town of Copiapo.  The lower part of the valley is broad,
forming a fine plain like that of Quillota.  The town covers
a considerable space of ground, each house possessing a garden:
but it is an uncomfortable place, and the dwellings are
poorly furnished.  Every one seems bent on the one object
of making money, and then migrating as quickly as possible.
All the inhabitants are more or less directly concerned with
mines; and mines and ores are the sole subjects of conversation.
Necessaries of all sorts are extremely dear; as the
distance from the town to the port is eighteen leagues, and
the land carriage very expensive.  A fowl costs five or six
shillings; meat is nearly as dear as in England; firewood,
or rather sticks, are brought on donkeys from a distance of
two and three days' journey within the Cordillera; and pasturage
for animals is a shilling a day: all this for South
America is wonderfully exorbitant.


June 26th. -- I hired a guide and eight mules to take me
into the Cordillera by a different line from my last excursion.
As the country was utterly desert, we took a cargo
and a half of barley mixed with chopped straw.  About two
leagues above the town a broad valley called the "Despoblado,"
or uninhabited, branches off from that one by which
we had arrived.  Although a valley of the grandest dimensions,
and leading to a pass across the Cordillera, yet it is
completely dry, excepting perhaps for a few days during
some very rainy winter.  The sides of the crumbling mountains
were furrowed by scarcely any ravines; and the bottom
of the main valley, filled with shingle, was smooth and nearly
level.  No considerable torrent could ever have flowed down
this bed of shingle; for if it had, a great cliff-bounded
channel, as in all the southern valleys, would assuredly have
been formed.  I feel little doubt that this valley, as well as
those mentioned by travellers in Peru, were left in the state we
now see them by the waves of the sea, as the land slowly rose.  I
observed in one place, where the Despoblado was joined by a
ravine (which in almost any other chain would have been
called a grand valley), that its bed, though composed merely
of sand and gravel, was higher than that of its tributary.
A mere rivulet of water, in the course of an hour, would have
cut a channel for itself; but it was evident that ages had
passed away, and no such rivulet had drained this great
tributary.  It was curious to behold the machinery, if such a
term may be used, for the drainage, all, with the last trifling
exception, perfect, yet without any signs of action.  Every one
must have remarked how mud-banks, left by the retiring tide,
imitate in miniature a country with hill and dale; and here
we have the original model in rock, formed as the continent
rose during the secular retirement of the ocean, instead of
during the ebbing and flowing of the tides.  If a shower of
rain falls on the mud-bank, when left dry, it deepens the
already-formed shallow lines of excavation; and so it is with
the rain of successive centuries on the bank of rock and soil,
which we call a continent.

We rode on after it was dark, till we reached a side ravine
with a small well, called "Agua amarga." The water
deserved its name, for besides being saline it was most
offensively putrid and bitter; so that we could not force
ourselves to drink either tea or mate.  I suppose the distance
from the river of Copiapo to this spot was at least twenty-five
or thirty English miles; in the whole space there was not a
single drop of water, the country deserving the name of desert
in the strictest sense.  Yet about half way we passed some old
Indian ruins near Punta Gorda: I noticed also in front of
some of the valleys, which branch off from the Despoblado,
two piles of stones placed a little way apart, and directed so
as to point up the mouths of these small valleys.  My companions
knew nothing about them, and only answered my
queries by their imperturbable "quien sabe?"

I observed Indian ruins in several parts of the Cordillera:
the most perfect which I saw, were the Ruinas de Tambillos,
in the Uspallata Pass.  Small square rooms were there huddled
together in separate groups: some of the doorways were
yet standing; they were formed by a cross slab of stone only
about three feet high.  Ulloa has remarked on the lowness of
the doors in the ancient Peruvian dwellings.  These houses,
when perfect, must have been capable of containing a
considerable number of persons.  Tradition says, that they were
used as halting-places for the Incas, when they crossed the
mountains.  Traces of Indian habitations have been discovered
in many other parts, where it does not appear probable
that they were used as mere resting-places, but yet where
the land is as utterly unfit for any kind of cultivation, as it
is near the Tambillos or at the Incas Bridge, or in the Portillo
Pass, at all which places I saw ruins.  In the ravine of
Jajuel, near Aconcagua, where there is no pass, I heard of
remains of houses situated at a great height, where it is
extremely cold and sterile.  At first I imagined that these
buildings had been places of refuge, built by the Indians on
the first arrival of the Spaniards; but I have since been
inclined to speculate on the probability of a small change of
climate.

In this northern part of Chile, within the Cordillera, old
Indian houses are said to be especially numerous: by digging
amongst the ruins, bits of woollen articles, instruments of
precious metals, and heads of Indian corn, are not unfrequently
discovered: an arrow-head made of agate, and of
precisely the same form with those now used in Tierra del
Fuego, was given me.  I am aware that the Peruvian Indians
now frequently inhabit most lofty and bleak situations; but
at Copiapo I was assured by men who had spent their lives in
travelling through the Andes, that there were very many
(muchisimas)  buildings at heights so great as almost to border
upon the perpetual snow, and in parts where there exist
no passes, and where the land produces absolutely nothing,
and what is still more extraordinary, where there is no water.
Nevertheless it is the opinion of the people of the country
(although they are much puzzled by the circumstance), that,
from the appearance of the houses, the Indians must have
used them as places of residence.  In this valley, at Punta
Gorda, the remains consisted of seven or eight square little
rooms, which were of a similar form with those at Tambillos,
but built chiefly of mud, which the present inhabitants cannot,
either here or, according to Ulloa, in Peru, imitate in
durability.  They were situated in the most conspicuous and
defenceless position, at the bottom of the flat broad valley.
There was no water nearer than three or four leagues, and
that only in very small quantity, and bad: the soil was
absolutely sterile; I looked in vain even for a lichen adhering
to the rocks.  At the present day, with the advantage of beasts
of burden, a mine, unless it were very rich, could scarcely
be worked here with profit.  Yet the Indians formerly chose
it as a place of residence!  If at the present time two or
three showers of rain were to fall annually, instead of one,
as now is the case during as many years, a small rill of water
would probably be formed in this great valley; and then, by
irrigation (which was formerly so well understood by the
Indians), the soil would easily be rendered sufficiently
productive to support a few families.

I have convincing proofs that this part of the continent of
South America has been elevated near the coast at least from
400 to 500, and in some parts from 1000 to 1300 feet, since
the epoch of existing shells; and further inland the rise
possibly may have been greater.  As the peculiarly arid character
of the climate is evidently a consequence of the height of the
Cordillera, we may feel almost sure that before the later
elevations, the atmosphere could not have been so completely
drained of its moisture as it now is; and as the rise has been
gradual, so would have been the change in climate.  On this
notion of a change of climate since the buildings were
inhabited, the ruins must be of extreme antiquity, but I do
not think their preservation under the Chilian climate any
great difficulty.  We must also admit on this notion (and
this perhaps is a greater difficulty) that man has inhabited
South America for an immensely long period, inasmuch as
any change of climate effected by the elevation of the land
must have been extremely gradual.  At Valparaiso, within
the last 220 years, the rise has been somewhat less than 19
feet: at Lima a sea-beach has certainly been upheaved from
80 to 90 feet, within the Indo-human period: but such small
elevations could have had little power in deflecting the
moisture-bringing atmospheric currents.  Dr. Lund, however,
found human skeletons in the caves of Brazil, the appearance
of which induced him to believe that the Indian race has
existed during a vast lapse of time in South America.

When at Lima, I conversed on these subjects [3] with Mr.
Gill, a civil engineer, who had seen much of the interior
country.  He told me that a conjecture of a change of climate
had sometimes crossed his mind; but that he thought
that the greater portion of land, now incapable of cultivation,
but covered with Indian ruins, had been reduced to this state
by the water-conduits, which the Indians formerly constructed
on so wonderful a scale, having been injured by
neglect and by subterranean movements.  I may here mention,
that the Peruvians actually carried their irrigating
streams in tunnels through hills of solid rock.  Mr. Gill told
me, he had been employed professionally to examine one:
he found the passage low, narrow, crooked, and not of uniform
breadth, but of very considerable length.  Is it not
most wonderful that men should have attempted such operations,
without the use of iron or gunpowder?  Mr. Gill also
mentioned to me a most interesting, and, as far as I am
aware, quite unparalleled case, of a subterranean disturbance
having changed the drainage of a country.  Travelling from
Casma to Huaraz (not very far distant from Lima), he
found a plain covered with ruins and marks of ancient
cultivation but now quite barren.  Near it was the dry course of
a considerable river, whence the water for irrigation had
formerly been conducted.  There was nothing in the appearance
of the water-course to indicate that the river had not flowed
there a few years previously; in some parts, beds of sand and
gravel were spread out; in others, the solid rock had been
worn into a broad channel, which in one spot was about 40
yards in breadth and 8 feet deep.  It is self-evident that a
person following up the course of a stream, will always
ascend at a greater or less inclination: Mr. Gill, therefore,
was much astonished, when walking up the bed of this
ancient river, to find himself suddenly going down hill.  He
imagined that the downward slope had a fall of about 40 or
50 feet perpendicular.  We here have unequivocal evidence
that a ridge had been uplifted right across the old bed of a
stream.  From the moment the river-course was thus arched,
the water must necessarily have been thrown back, and a new
channel formed.  From that moment, also, the neighbouring
plain must have lost its fertilizing stream, and become a
desert.

June 27th. -- We set out early in the morning, and by midday
reached the ravine of Paypote, where there is a tiny rill
of water, with a little vegetation, and even a few algarroba
trees, a kind of mimosa.  From having fire-wood, a smelting-
furnace had formerly been built here: we found a solitary
man in charge of it, whose sole employment was hunting
guanacos.  At night it froze sharply; but having plenty of
wood for our fire, we kept ourselves warm.

28th. -- We continued gradually ascending, and the valley
now changed into a ravine.  During the day we saw several
guanacos, and the track of the closely-allied species, the
Vicuna: this latter animal is pre-eminently alpine in its
habits; it seldom descends much below the limit of perpetual
snow, and therefore haunts even a more lofty and sterile
situation than the guanaco.  The only other animal which we
saw in any number was a small fox: I suppose this animal
preys on the mice and other small rodents, which, as long as
there is the least vegetation, subsist in considerable numbers
in very desert places.  In Patagonia, even on the borders of
the salinas, where a drop of fresh water can never be found,
excepting dew, these little animals swarm.  Next to lizards,
mice appear to be able to support existence on the smallest
and driest portions of the earth -- even on islets in the midst
of great oceans.

The scene on all sides showed desolation, brightened and
made palpable by a clear, unclouded sky.  For a time such
scenery is sublime, but this feeling cannot last, and then it
becomes uninteresting.  We bivouacked at the foot of the
"primera linea," or the first line of the partition of waters.
The streams, however, on the east side do not flow to the
Atlantic, but into an elevated district, in the middle of which
there is a large saline, or salt lake; thus forming a little
Caspian Sea at the height, perhaps, of ten thousand feet.  Where
we slept, there were some considerable patches of snow, but
they do not remain throughout the year.  The winds in these
lofty regions obey very regular laws every day a fresh
breeze blows up the valley, and at night, an hour or two after
sunset, the air from the cold regions above descends as
through a funnel.  This night it blew a gale of wind, and the
temperature must have been considerably below the freezing-
point, for water in a vessel soon became a block of ice.  No
clothes seemed to oppose any obstacle to the air; I suffered
very much from the cold, so that I could not sleep, and in
the morning rose with my body quite dull and benumbed.

In the Cordillera further southward, people lose their lives
from snowstorms; here, it sometimes happens from another
cause.  My guide, when a boy of fourteen years old, was
passing the Cordillera with a party in the month of May;
and while in the central parts, a furious gale of wind arose,
so that the men could hardly cling on their mules, and stones
were flying along the ground.  The day was cloudless, and
not a speck of snow fell, but the temperature was low.  It is
probable that the thermometer could not have stood very
many degrees below the freezing-point, but the effect on
their bodies, ill protected by clothing, must have been in
proportion to the rapidity of the current of cold air.  The gale
lasted for more than a day; the men began to lose their
strength, and the mules would not move onwards.  My guide's
brother tried to return, but he perished, and his body was
found two years afterwards, Lying by the side of his mule
near the road, with the bridle still in his hand.  Two other
men in the party lost their fingers and toes; and out of two
hundred mules and thirty cows, only fourteen mules escaped
alive.  Many years ago the whole of a large party are supposed
to have perished from a similar cause, but their bodies
to this day have never been discovered.  The union of a
cloudless sky, low temperature, and a furious gale of wind,
must be, I should think, in all parts of the world an unusual
occurrence.

June 29th -- We gladly travelled down the valley to our
former night's lodging, and thence to near the Agua amarga.
On July 1st we reached the valley of Copiapo.  The smell of
the fresh clover was quite delightful, after the scentless air
of the dry, sterile Despoblado.  Whilst staying in the town I
heard an account from several of the inhabitants, of a hill
in the neighbourhood which they called "El Bramador," -- the
roarer or bellower.  I did not at the time pay sufficient
attention to the account; but, as far as I understood, the hill
was covered by sand, and the noise was produced only when
people, by ascending it, put the sand in motion.  The same
circumstances are described in detail on the authority of
Seetzen and Ehrenberg, [4] as the cause of the sounds which
have been heard by many travellers on Mount Sinai near the
Red Sea.  One person with whom I conversed had himself
heard the noise: he described it as very surprising; and he
distinctly stated that, although he could not understand how
it was caused, yet it was necessary to set the sand rolling
down the acclivity.  A horse walking over dry coarse sand,
causes a peculiar chirping noise from the friction of the
particles; a circumstance which I several times noticed on the
coast of Brazil.

Three days afterwards I heard of the Beagle's arrival at
the Port, distant eighteen leagues from the town.  There is
very little land cultivated down the valley; its wide expanse
supports a wretched wiry grass, which even the donkeys can
hardly eat.  This poorness of the vegetation is owing to the
quantity of saline matter with which the soil is impregnated.
The Port consists of an assemblage of miserable little hovels,
situated at the foot of a sterile plain.  At present, as the
river contains water enough to reach the sea, the inhabitants
enjoy the advantage of having fresh water within a mile and
a half.  On the beach there were large piles of merchandise,
and the little place had an air of activity.  In the evening
I gave my adios, with a hearty good-will, to my companion
Mariano Gonzales, with whom I had ridden so many leagues
in Chile.  The next morning the Beagle sailed for Iquique.

July 12th. -- We anchored in the port of Iquique, in lat.
20 degs. 12', on the coast of Peru.  The town contains about a
thousand inhabitants, and stands on a little plain of sand at
the foot of a great wall of rock, 2000 feet in height, here
forming the coast.  The whole is utterly desert.  A light
shower of rain falls only once in very many years; and the
ravines consequently are filled with detritus, and the
mountain-sides covered by piles of fine white sand, even to a
height of a thousand feet.  During this season of the year a
heavy bank of clouds, stretched over the ocean, seldom rises
above the wall of rocks on the coast.  The aspect of the place
was most gloomy; the little port, with its few vessels, and
small group of wretched houses, seemed overwhelmed and out of
all proportion with the rest of the scene.

The inhabitants live like persons on board a ship: every
necessary comes from a distance: water is brought in boats
from Pisagua, about forty miles northward, and is sold at
the rate of nine reals (4s. 6d.) an eighteen-gallon cask: I
bought a wine-bottle full for threepence.  In like manner
firewood, and of course every article of food, is imported.
Very few animals can be maintained in such a place: on the
ensuing morning I hired with difficulty, at the price of four
pounds sterling, two mules and a guide to take me to the
nitrate of soda works.  These are at present the support of
Iquique.  This salt was first exported in 1830: in one year an
amount in value of one hundred thousand pounds sterling,
was sent to France and England.  It is principally used as a
manure and in the manufacture of nitric acid: owing to its
deliquescent property it will not serve for gunpowder.  Formerly
there were two exceedingly rich silver-mines in this
neighbourhood, but their produce is now very small.

Our arrival in the offing caused some little apprehension.
Peru was in a state of anarchy; and each party having
demanded a contribution, the poor town of Iquique was in
tribulation, thinking the evil hour was come.  The people
had also their domestic troubles; a short time before, three

French carpenters had broken open, during the same night,
the two churches, and stolen all the plate: one of the robbers,
however, subsequently confessed, and the plate was recovered.
The convicts were sent to Arequipa, which though the capital
of this province, is two hundred leagues distant, the government
there thought it a pity to punish such useful workmen,
who could make all sorts of furniture; and accordingly
liberated them.  Things being in this state, the churches were
again broken open, but this time the plate was not recovered.
The inhabitants became dreadfully enraged, and declaring
that none but heretics would thus "eat God Almighty," proceeded
to torture some Englishmen, with the intention of
afterwards shooting them.  At last the authorities interfered,
and peace was established.


13th. -- In the morning I started for the saltpetre-works,
a distance of fourteen leagues.  Having ascended the steep
coast-mountains by a zigzag sandy track, we soon came in
view of the mines of Guantajaya and St. Rosa.  These two
small villages are placed at the very mouths of the mines;
and being perched up on hills, they had a still more unnatural
and desolate appearance than the town of Iquique.  We did
not reach the saltpetre-works till after sunset, having ridden
all day across an undulating country, a complete and utter
desert.  The road was strewed with the bones and dried skins
of many beasts of burden which had perished on it from
fatigue.  Excepting the Vultur aura, which preys on the
carcasses, I saw neither bird, quadruped, reptile, nor insect.
On the coast-mountains, at the height of about 2000 feet
where during this season the clouds generally hang, a very
few cacti were growing in the clefts of rock; and the loose
sand was strewed over with a lichen, which lies on the surface
quite unattached.  This plant belongs to the genus
Cladonia, and somewhat resembles the reindeer lichen.  In
some parts it was in sufficient quantity to tinge the sand,
as seen from a distance, of a pale yellowish colour.  Further
inland, during the whole ride of fourteen leagues, I saw only
one other vegetable production, and that was a most minute
yellow lichen, growing on the bones of the dead mules.  This
was the first true desert which I had seen: the effect on me
was not impressive; but I believe this was owing to my
having become gradually accustomed to such scenes, as I
rode northward from Valparaiso, through Coquimbo, to Copiapo.
The appearance of the country was remarkable, from
being covered by a thick crust of common salt, and of a
stratified saliferous alluvium, which seems to have been
deposited as the land slowly rose above the level of the sea.
The salt is white, very hard, and compact: it occurs in water
worn nodules projecting from the agglutinated sand, and is
associated with much gypsum.  The appearance of this superficial
mass very closely resembled that of a country after
snow, before the last dirty patches are thawed.  The existence
of this crust of a soluble substance over the whole face of
the country, shows how extraordinarily dry the climate must
have been for a long period.

At night I slept at the house of the owner of one of the
saltpetre mines.  The country is here as unproductive as
near the coast; but water, having rather a bitter and brackish
taste, can be procured by digging wells.  The well at this
house was thirty-six yards deep: as scarcely any rain falls,
it is evident the water is not thus derived; indeed if it were,
it could not fail to be as salt as brine, for the whole
surrounding country is incrusted with various saline substances.
We must therefore conclude that it percolates under ground
from the Cordillera, though distant many leagues.  In that
direction there are a few small villages, where the inhabitants,
having more water, are enabled to irrigate a little land,
and raise hay, on which the mules and asses, employed in
carrying the saltpetre, are fed.  The nitrate of soda was now
selling at the ship's side at fourteen shillings per hundred
pounds: the chief expense is its transport to the sea-coast.
The mine consists of a hard stratum, between two and three
feet thick, of the nitrate mingled with a little of the sulphate
of soda and a good deal of common salt.  It lies close beneath
the surface, and follows for a length of one hundred and
fifty miles the margin of a grand basin or plain; this, from
its outline, manifestly must once have been a lake, or more
probably an inland arm of the sea, as may be inferred from
the presence of iodic salts in the saline stratum.  The surface
of the plain is 3300 feet above the Pacific.


19th. -- We anchored in the Bay of Callao, the seaport of
Lima, the capital of Peru.  We stayed here six weeks but
from the troubled state of public affairs, I saw very little of
the country.  During our whole visit the climate was far
from being so delightful, as it is generally represented.  A
dull heavy bank of clouds constantly hung over the land, so
that during the first sixteen days I had only one view of the
Cordillera behind Lima.  These mountains, seen in stages,
one above the other, through openings in the clouds, had a
very grand appearance.  It is almost become a proverb, that
rain never falls in the lower part of Peru.  Yet this can
hardly be considered correct; for during almost every day of
our visit there was a thick drizzling mist, which was sufficient
to make the streets muddy and one's clothes damp: this the
people are pleased to call Peruvian dew.  That much rain
does not fall is very certain, for the houses are covered only
with flat roofs made of hardened mud; and on the mole shiploads
of wheat were piled up, being thus left for weeks together
without any shelter.

I cannot say I liked the very little I saw of Peru: in
summer, however, it is said that the climate is much pleasanter.
In all seasons, both inhabitants and foreigners suffer
from severe attacks of ague.  This disease is common on the
whole coast of Peru, but is unknown in the interior.  The
attacks of illness which arise from miasma never fail to appear
most mysterious.  So difficult is it to judge from the
aspect of a country, whether or not it is healthy, that if a
person had been told to choose within the tropics a situation
appearing favourable for health, very probably he would
have named this coast.  The plain round the outskirts of
Callao is sparingly covered with a coarse grass, and in some
parts there are a few stagnant, though very small, pools of
water.  The miasma, in all probability, arises from these:
for the town of Arica was similarly circumstanced, and its
healthiness was much improved by the drainage of some
little pools.  Miasma is not always produced by a luxuriant
vegetation with an ardent climate; for many parts of Brazil,
even where there are marshes and a rank vegetation, are
much more healthy than this sterile coast of Peru.  The
densest forests in a temperate climate, as in Chiloe, do not
seem in the slightest degree to affect the healthy condition
of the atmosphere.

The island of St. Jago, at the Cape de Verds, offers another
strongly marked instance of a country, which any one
would have expected to find most healthy, being very much
the contrary.  I have described the bare and open plains as
supporting, during a few weeks after the rainy season, a thin
vegetation, which directly withers away and dries up: at this
period the air appears to become quite poisonous; both natives
and foreigners often being affected with violent fevers.
On the other hand, the Galapagos Archipelago, in the Pacific,
with a similar soil, and periodically subject to the same
process of vegetation, is perfectly healthy.  Humboldt has
observed, that, "under the torrid zone, the smallest marshes
are the most dangerous, being surrounded, as at Vera Cruz
and Carthagena, with an arid and sandy soil, which raises
the temperature of the ambient air." [5] On the coast of Peru,
however, the temperature is not hot to any excessive degree;
and perhaps in consequence, the intermittent fevers are not
of the most malignant order.  In all unhealthy countries the
greatest risk is run by sleeping on shore.  Is this owing to
the state of the body during sleep, or to a greater abundance
of miasma at such times?  It appears certain that those
who stay on board a vessel, though anchored at only a short
distance from the coast, generally suffer less than those
actually on shore.  On the other hand, I have heard of one
remarkable case where a fever broke out among the crew of
a man-of-war some hundred miles off the coast of Africa,
and at the same time one of those fearful periods [6] of death
commenced at Sierra Leone.

No state in South America, since the declaration of
independence, has suffered more from anarchy than Peru.  At
the time of our visit, there were four chiefs in arms contending
for supremacy in the government: if one succeeded
in becoming for a time very powerful, the others coalesced
against him; but no sooner were they victorious, than they
were again hostile to each other.  The other day, at the
Anniversary of the Independence, high mass was performed, the
President partaking of the sacrament: during the _Te Deum
laudamus_, instead of each regiment displaying the Peruvian
flag, a black one with death's head was unfurled.  Imagine
a government under which such a scene could be ordered, on
such an occasion, to be typical of their determination of
fighting to death!  This state of affairs happened at a time
very unfortunately for me, as I was precluded from taking
any excursions much beyond the limits of the town.  The
barren island of St. Lorenzo, which forms the harbour, was
nearly the only place where one could walk securely.  The
upper part, which is upwards of 1000 feet in height, during
this season of the year (winter), comes within the lower
limit of the clouds; and in consequence, an abundant cryptogamic
vegetation, and a few flowers cover the summit.  On
the hills near Lima, at a height but little greater, the ground
is carpeted with moss, and beds of beautiful yellow lilies,
called Amancaes.  This indicates a very much greater degree
of humidity, than at a corresponding height at Iquique.
Proceeding northward of Lima, the climate becomes damper,
till on the banks of the Guayaquil, nearly under the equator,
we find the most luxuriant forests.  The change, however,
from the sterile coast of Peru to that fertile land is described
as taking place rather abruptly in the latitude of Cape Blanco,
two degrees south of Guayaquil.

Callao is a filthy, ill-built, small seaport.  The inhabitants,
both here and at Lima, present every imaginable shade of
mixture, between European, Negro, and Indian blood.  They
appear a depraved, drunken set of people.  The atmosphere
is loaded with foul smells, and that peculiar one, which may
be perceived in almost every town within the tropics, was
here very strong.  The fortress, which withstood Lord Cochrane's
long siege, has an imposing appearance.  But the
President, during our stay, sold the brass guns, and proceeded
to dismantle parts of it.  The reason assigned was,
that he had not an officer to whom he could trust so important
a charge.  He himself had good reason for thinking
so, as he had obtained the presidentship by rebelling while
in charge of this same fortress.  After we left South America,
he paid the penalty in the usual manner, by being conquered,
taken prisoner, and shot.

Lima stands on a plain in a valley, formed during the
gradual retreat of the sea.  It is seven miles from Callao,
and is elevated 500 feet above it; but from the slope being
very gradual, the road appears absolutely level; so that when
at Lima it is difficult to believe one has ascended even one
hundred feet: Humboldt has remarked on this singularly deceptive
case.  Steep barren hills rise like islands from the
plain, which is divided, by straight mud-walls, into large
green fields.  In these scarcely a tree grows excepting a few
willows, and an occasional clump of bananas and of oranges.
The city of Lima is now in a wretched state of decay: the
streets are nearly unpaved; and heaps of filth are piled up
in all directions, where the black gallinazos, tame as poultry,
pick up bits of carrion.  The houses have generally an upper
story, built on account of the earthquakes, of plastered
woodwork but some of the old ones, which are now used by several
families, are immensely large, and would rival in suites
of apartments the most magnificent in any place.  Lima, the
City of the Kings, must formerly have been a splendid town.
The extraordinary number of churches gives it, even at the
present day, a peculiar and striking character, especially
when viewed from a short distance.

One day I went out with some merchants to hunt in the
immediate vicinity of the city.  Our sport was very poor;
but I had an opportunity of seeing the ruins of one of the
ancient Indian villages, with its mound like a natural hill in
the centre.  The remains of houses, enclosures, irrigating
streams, and burial mounds, scattered over this plain, cannot
fail to give one a high idea of the condition and number of
the ancient population.  When their earthenware, woollen
clothes, utensils of elegant forms cut out of the hardest rocks,
tools of copper, ornaments of precious stones, palaces, and
hydraulic works, are considered, it is impossible not to respect
the considerable advance made by them in the arts of
civilization.  The burial mounds, called Huacas, are really
stupendous; although in some places they appear to be natural
hills incased and modelled.

There is also another and very different class of ruins,
which possesses some interest, namely, those of old Callao,
overwhelmed by the great earthquake of 1746, and its
accompanying wave.  The destruction must have been more
complete even than at Talcahuano.  Quantities of shingle
almost conceal the foundations of the walls, and vast masses
of brickwork appear to have been whirled about like pebbles
by the retiring waves.  It has been stated that the land subsided
during this memorable shock: I could not discover any
proof of this; yet it seems far from improbable, for the
form of the coast must certainly have undergone some change
since the foundation of the old town; as no people in their
senses would willingly have chosen for their building place,
the narrow spit of shingle on which the ruins now stand.
Since our voyage, M. Tschudi has come to the conclusion,
by the comparison of old and modern maps, that the coast
both north and south of Lima has certainly subsided.

On the island of San Lorenzo, there are very satisfactory
proofs of elevation within the recent period; this of course
is not opposed to the belief, of a small sinking of the ground
having subsequently taken place.  The side of this island
fronting the Bay of Callao, is worn into three obscure terraces,
the lower one of which is covered by a bed a mile in
length, almost wholly composed of shells of eighteen species,
now living in the adjoining sea.  The height of this bed is
eighty-five feet.  Many of the shells are deeply corroded, and
have a much older and more decayed appearance than those
at the height of 500 or 600 feet on the coast of Chile.  These
shells are associated with much common salt, a little sulphate
of lime (both probably left by the evaporation of the
spray, as the land slowly rose), together with sulphate of
soda and muriate of lime.  They rest on fragments of the
underlying sandstone, and are covered by a few inches thick
of detritus.  The shells, higher up on this terrace could be
traced scaling off in flakes, and falling into an impalpable
powder; and on an upper terrace, at the height of 170 feet,
and likewise at some considerably higher points, I found a
layer of saline powder of exactly similar appearance, and
lying in the same relative position.  I have no doubt that this
upper layer originally existed as a bed of shells, like that on
the eighty-five-feet ledge; but it does not now contain even a
trace of organic structure.  The powder has been analyzed
for me by Mr. T. Reeks; it consists of sulphates and muriates
both of lime and soda, with very little carbonate of
lime.  It is known that common salt and carbonate of lime
left in a mass for some time together, partly decompose each
other; though this does not happen with small quantities in
solution.  As the half-decomposed shells in the lower parts
are associated with much common salt, together with some
of the saline substances composing the upper saline layer,
and as these shells are corroded and decayed in a remarkable
manner, I strongly suspect that this double decomposition
has here taken place.  The resultant salts, however, ought
to be carbonate of soda and muriate of lime, the latter is
present, but not the carbonate of soda.  Hence I am led to
imagine that by some unexplained means, the carbonate of
soda becomes changed into the sulphate.  It is obvious that
the saline layer could not have been preserved in any country
in which abundant rain occasionally fell: on the other
hand, this very circumstance, which at first sight appears so
highly favourable to the long preservation of exposed shells,
has probably been the indirect means, through the common
salt not having been washed away, of their decomposition
and early decay.

I was much interested by finding on the terrace, at the
height of eighty-five feet, _embedded_  amidst the shells and
much sea-drifted rubbish, some bits of cotton thread, plaited
rush, and the head of a stalk of Indian corn: I compared
these relics with similar ones taken out of the Huacas, or old
Peruvian tombs, and found them identical in appearance.
On the mainland in front of San Lorenzo, near Bellavista,
there is an extensive and level plain about a hundred feet
high, of which the lower part is formed of alternating layers
of sand and impure clay, together with some gravel, and the
surface, to the depth of from three to six feet, of a reddish
loam, containing a few scattered sea-shells and numerous
small fragments of coarse red earthenware, more abundant
at certain spots than at others.  At first I was inclined to
believe that this superficial bed, from its wide extent and
smoothness, must have been deposited beneath the sea; but
I afterwards found in one spot, that it lay on an artificial
floor of round stones.  It seems, therefore, most probable
that at a period when the land stood at a lower level there
was a plain very similar to that now surrounding Callao,
which being protected by a shingle beach, is raised but very
little above the level of the sea.  On this plain, with its
underlying red-clay beds, I imagine that the Indians
manufactured their earthen vessels; and that, during some
violent earthquake, the sea broke over the beach, and converted
the plain into a temporary lake, as happened round Callao in
1713 and 1746.  The water would then have deposited mud,
containing fragments of pottery from the kilns, more abundant
at some spots than at others, and shells from the sea.
This bed, with fossil earthenware, stands at about the
same height with the shells on the lower terrace of San
Lorenzo, in which the cotton-thread and other relics were
embedded.

Hence we may safely conclude, that within the Indo-human
period there has been an elevation, as before alluded to, of
more than eighty-five feet; for some little elevation must
have been lost by the coast having subsided since the old
maps were engraved.  At Valparaiso, although in the 220
years before our visit, the elevation cannot have exceeded
nineteen feet, yet subsequently to 1817, there has been a rise,
partly insensible and partly by a start during the shock of
1822, of ten or eleven feet.  The antiquity of the Indo-human
race here, judging by the eighty-five feet rise of the land
since the relics were embedded, is the more remarkable, as on
the coast of Patagonia, when the land stood about the same
number of feet lower, the Macrauchenia was a living beast;
but as the Patagonian coast is some way distant from the
Cordillera, the rising there may have been slower than here.
At Bahia Blanca, the elevation has been only a few feet
since the numerous gigantic quadrupeds were there entombed;
and, according to the generally received opinion,
when these extinct animals were living, man did not exist.
But the rising of that part of the coast of Patagonia, is
perhaps no way connected with the Cordillera, but rather with
a line of old volcanic rocks in Banda Oriental, so that it
may have been infinitely slower than on the shores of Peru.
All these speculations, however, must be vague; for who will
pretend to say that there may not have been several periods
of subsidence, intercalated between the movements of elevation;
for we know that along the whole coast of Patagonia,
there have certainly been many and long pauses in
the upward action of the elevatory forces.

[1] Vol. iv. p. 11, and vol. ii. p. 217. For the remarks on
Guayaquil, see Silliman's Journ., vol. xxiv. p. 384.  For those
on Tacna by Mr. Hamilton, see Trans. of British Association,
1840.  For those on Coseguina see Mr. Caldcleugh in Phil. Trans.,
1835.  In the former edition I collected several references on
the coincidences between sudden falls in the barometer and
earthquakes; and between earthquakes and meteors.

[2] Observa. sobre el Clima de Lima, p. 67. -- Azara's Travels,
vol. i. p. 381. -- Ulloa's Voyage, vol. ii. p. 28. -- Burchell's
Travels, vol. ii. p. 524. -- Webster's Description of the
Azores, p. 124. -- Voyage a l'Isle de France par un Officer du
Roi, tom. i. p. 248. -- Description of St. Helena, p. 123.

[3] Temple, in his travels through Upper Peru, or Bolivia, in
going from Potosi to Oruro, says, "I saw many Indian villages or
dwellings in ruins, up even to the very tops of the mountains,
attesting a former population where now all is desolate." He
makes similar remarks in another place; but I cannot tell
whether this desolation has been caused by a want of population,
or by an altered condition of the land.

[4] Edinburgh, Phil. Journ., Jan., 1830, p. 74; and April, 1830,
p. 258 -- also Daubeny on Volcanoes, p. 438; and Bengal
Journ., vol. vii. p. 324.

[5] Political Essay on the Kingdom of New Spain, vol. iv.
p. 199.

[6] A similar interesting case is recorded in the Madras
Medical Quart. Journ., 1839, p. 340.  Dr. Ferguson, in his
admirable Paper (see 9th vol. of Edinburgh Royal Trans.),
shows clearly that the poison is generated in the drying
process; and hence that dry hot countries are often the most
unhealthy.