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NOTES OF A NATURALIST

IN SOUTH AMERICA

NOTES OF A NATURALIST

IN SOUTH AMERICA

BY

JOHN BALL, F.RS., M.R.LA., Ere.

LONDON
KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH & CO., 1, PATERNOSTER SQUARE
1887

ee ae

(The rights of translation and of reproduction are reserved.)

TO
L. M,,

WHOSE SUGGESTIONS LED TO ITS TAKING SHAPE,

I DEDICATE THIS LITTLE BOOK.

PRE AG E.

A TOUR round the South American continent, which
was completed in so short a time as five months, may
not appear to deserve any special record ; yet Jam
led to hope that this little book may serve to induce
others to visit a region so abounding in sources of
enjoyment and interest. There is no part of the
world where, in the same short space of time, a
traveller can view so many varied and impressive
aspects of nature; while he whose attention is mainly
given to the progress and development of the social
condition of mankind will find in the condition of the
numerous states of the continent, and the manners
and habits of the many different races that inhabit it,
abundant material to engage his attention and excite
his interest.

Although, as the title implies, the aim of my
journey was mainly directed to the new aspects of
nature, organic and inorganic, which South America
superabundantly presents to the stranger, I have not
thought it without interest to give in these pages the

PREFACE.

impressions as to the social and political condition of
the different regions which I visited, suggested to an
unprejudiced visitor by the daily incidents of a
traveller’s life.

Those who may be tempted to undertake a tour in
South America will find that by a judicious choice’ of
route, according to the season selected for travelling,
they may visit all the accessible parts of the continent
with perfect ease, and with no more risk of injury to
health, or of bodily discomfort, than they incur in a
summer excursion in Europe. The chief precaution
to be observed is to make the visit to Brazil fall in
the cool and dry season, extending from mid-May to
September. It may also be well to mention that,
while the cost of passage and expenses on board, for
a journey of about 18,400 miles by sea, somewhat
exceeded £4170, my expenses during about ten weeks
on land, without any attempt at economy, did not
exceed £100.

The reader may regard as superfluous the rather
frequent references to the meteorology of the various
parts of the continent which I was able to visit. But,
if he will consider the importance of the two main
elements—temperature and moisture—in regulating
the development of organic life in past epochs, and
the influence which they now exercise on the character
of the human population, he will admit that a student
of nature could not fail to make them the objects of
frequent attention, the more especially as many erro-
neous impressions as to the climate of various parts

PREFACE, ix

of South America are still current, even among men
of science.

I make no pretension to add anything of importance
to our store of positive knowledge respecting the
region described in this volume ; I shall be content if
it should be found that I have suggested trains of
thought that may lead others to valuable results. I
venture, indeed, to believe that the argument adduced
in the sixth chapter, as to the great extent and im-
portance of the ancient mountains of Brazil, approaches
near to demonstration, and that the recognition of its
validity will be found to throw fresh light on the
history of organic life in that region of the globe.

In the Appendices to this volume two subjects of a
somewhat technical character, not likely to interest
the general reader, are separately discussed. With
regard to both of them, my aim has been to show that
the opinions now current amongst men of science do
not rest upon adequate evidence, and that we need
further knowledge of the phenomena, discoverable by
observation, before we can safely arrive at positive
conclusions.

In deference to the prejudices of English readers,
which are unfortunately shared by many scientific
writers, the ordinary British standards of measure and
weight have been followed throughout the text, as
well as the antiquated custom of denoting temperature
by the scale of Fahrenheit’s thermometer. With
regard to the metrical system of measures and weights,
I am fully aware of its imperfections, and if the

x PREFACE.

question were now raised for the first time I should
advocate the adoption of some considerable modifica-
tions. But seeing that no other uniform system is in
existence, and that the metrical system has been
adopted by nearly all civilized nations, I cannot but
regret that my countrymen should retain what is
practically a barrier to the free interchange of thought
with the rest of the world. The defects of the metrical
system are mainly those of our decimal system of
numeration, which owes its existence to the fact that
the human hand possesses five fingers. If in some
future stage of development our race should acquire a
sixth finger to each hand, it may then also acquire
a more convenient system of numeration, to which
the scale of measures would naturally be adapted.
In the mean time the advantages of a uniform system
far outweigh its attendant defects.

The adherence to the Fahrenheit scale for the
thermometer is even less defensible. It belongs to
a. primitive epoch of science, when a knowledge of the
facts of physics was in a rudimentary stage, and its
survival at the present day is a matter of marvel to
the student of progress.

I should not conclude these prefatory words without
expressing my obligations to many scientific friends
whom I have from time to time consulted with
advantage ; and I must especially record my obliga-
tion to Mr. Robert Scott, F.R.S., who has on many
occasions been my guide to the valuable materials
available in the library of the Meteorological Office.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.

PAGE
Voyage across the Atlantic—Barbadoes—Jamaica—Isthmus of

Panama—Buenaventura, tropical forest—Guayaquil and the
river Guayas—Payta—The rainless zone of Peru—Voyage to
Callao sn aie os ie sat a |

CHAPTER II.

Arrival at Callao—Quarantine—The war between Chili and Peru—
Aspect of Lima—General Lynch—Andean railway to Chicla—
Valley of the Rimac—Puente Infernillo—Chicla—Mountain-
sickness—Flora of the Temperate zone of the Andes—Excursion
to the higher region—Climate of the Cordillera—Remarks on
the Andean flora—Return to Lima—Visit to a sugar-plantation
—Condition of Peru—Prospect of anarchy ... ee «im 56

CHAPTER III.

Voyage from Callao to Valparaiso—Arica—Tocopilla—Scenery of
the moon—Caldera—Aspect of North Chili—British Pacific
squadron—Coquimbo—Arrival at Valparaiso—Climate and
vegetation of Central Chili—Railway journey to Santiago—
‘Aspect of the city—Grand position of Santiago—Dr. Philippi—
Excursion to Cerro St. Cristobal—Don B. Vicufia Mackenna
—Remarkable trees—Excursion to the baths of Cauquenes—
The first rains—Captive condors—Return to Santiago—Glorious
sunset iss ae = 3 as . 118

xii CONTENTS.

CHAPTER IV.

PAGE
Baths of Apoquinto—Slopes of the Cordillera—Excursion to Santa

Rosa de los Andes and the valley of Aconcagua—Return to
Valparaiso—Voyage in the German steamer Rhamses—Visit to
Lota—Parque of Lota—Coast of Southern Chili—Gulf of Pefias
—Hale Cove—Messier’s Channel—Beautiful scenery—The
English narrows—Eden harbour— Winter vegetation—Eyre '
Sound—Floating ice—Sarmiento Channel—Puerto Bueno—
Smyth’s Channel—Entrance to the Straits of Magellan—
Glorious morning—Borya Bay—Mount Sarmiento ... ... 188

CHAPTER V.

Arrival at Sandy Point—Difficulties as to lodging—Story of the
mutiny—Patagonian ladies—Agreeable society in the Straits
of Magellan—Winter aspect of the flora—Patagonians and
Fuegians—Habits of the South American ostrich—Waiting for
the steamer—Departure—Climate of the Straits and of the
southern hemisphere—Voyage to Monte Video—Saturnalia of
children—City of Monte Video—Signor Bartolomeo Bossi; his
explorations—Neighbourhood of the city—Uruguayan politics
—River steamer—Excursion to Paisandu—Voyage on the Uru-
guay—Use of the telephone—Excursion to the camp—Aspect
of the flora—Arrival at Buenos Ayres—Industrial Exhibition—
Argentine forests—The cathedral of Buenos Ayres—Excursion
to La Boca—Argentaria as a field for emigration... s+ 248

CHAPTER VI.

Voyage from Buenos Ayres to Santos—Tropical vegetation in
Brazil—Visit to San Paulo—Journey from San Paulo to Rio
Janeiro—Valley of the Parahyba do Sul—Ancient mountains
of Brazil—Rio Janeiro—Visit to Petropolis—Falls of Itamariti
—Struggle for existence in a tropical forest—The hermit of
Petropolis—Morning view over the Bay of Rio—A gorgeous

CONTENTS. ' xiii

PAGE
flowering shrub—Visit to Tijuca—Yellow fever in Brazil—A

giant of the forest—Voyage to Bahia and Pernambuco—Equa-
torial rains—Fernando Noronha—St. Vincent in the Cape
Verde Islands—Trade winds of the North Atlantic—Lisbon—
Return to England sis oa sree ii ves 303

APPENDIX A.—On the fall of temperature in ascending to heights
above the sea-level “ts ee sh vite ws 369

APPENDIX B.—Remarks on Mr. Croll’s theory of secular changes
of the earth’s climate... i Sie ao wee 393

NOTES OF A NATURALIST
IN SOUTH AMERICA.

CHAPTER I.

Voyage across the Atlantic—Barbadoes—Jamaica—lIsthmus of
Panama—Buenaventura, tropical forest—Guayaquil and
the river Guayas—Payta—The rainless zone of Peru—
Voyage to Callao.

A VOYAGE across the Atlantic in a large ocean
steamer is now as familiar and as little troublesome
as the journey from London to Paris. It rarely offers
any incident worth recounting, and yet, especially as
a first experience, it supplies an abundant variety of
sources of curiosity and interest. It is easy for a man
to sit down at home and within the walls of his own
study to find the requisite materials for investigating
the still unsolved problems presented by the physics
and meteorology of the ocean, or the evidence favour-
able or hostile to the important modern doctrine of the
permanence of the great ocean valleys ; but in point
of fact very few men who stay at home do occupy

themselves with these questions, and it is no slight
B

2 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

privilege to feel drawn towards them by the hourly
suggestions received during a sea-voyage. Nor is it
possible to make light of the simpler pleasures caused
by the satisfaction of mere curiosity, when that is
linked by association with the pictures on which the
fancy has worked from one’s earliest childhood on-
ward. The starting of a covey of flying-fish, the
fringe of cocos palms rising against the horizon, the
Southern Cross and the Magellanic clouds, the reversed
apparent motion of the sun from right to left—none
of them very marvellous as mere observed facts—are
so many keys that unlock the closed-up recesses, the
blue chambers of the memory, which the youthful
imagination had peopled with shapes of beauty and
wonder and mystery.

Some thrill of delightful anticipation was, I pre-
sume, felt by many of the passengers who went on
board the royal mail steamer Dox in Southampton
Water on the 17th of March, 1882. Amid the usual
waving of handkerchiefs from the friends who re-
mained behind on board the tender, we glided sea-
ward, and by four pm. were going at half speed
abreast of the Isle of Wight. The good ship had
suffered severely during the preceding winter on her
homeward passage from the West Indies, when the
heavy seas which swept her upper deck had carried
away the covering of her engine-room, stove in the
chief officer's cabin, and severely injured her com-
mander, Captain Woolward. On this occasion our
voyage was easy and prosperous, and nothing occurred
to test severely the careful seamanship of Captain
Gillies, who had taken the temporary command.

ATLANTIC CYCLONES 3

On the 19th the barometer, which, in spite of a
gentle breeze from south-west, had stood as high as
30°40, fell about a quarter of an inch between sunrise
and sunset; and in the night, on the only occasion
during the entire voyage, remained for some hours
below 30°00. A moderate breeze from the north brought
with it a disproportionately heavy sea, and although
there was no sensible pitching, the ship rolled so
heavily as to send many of the passengers to solitary
confinement in their berths. This continued through-
out the 2oth, afterwards styled Black Monday by the
sufferers from sea-sickness, and we escaped into
smoother water only on the evening of the following
day. The discomfort which I felt from fancying that
I had “lost my sea legs ” was entirely relieved by
fortunately coming across a distinguished naval officer,
on his way to take a command on the West Indian
station, who like myself was forced to hold on with
both hands during the rolling of the ship.

It was clear that we had passed at no great
distance from a cyclone in the North Atlantic—one
of those disturbances whose visits are so often pre-
dicted from the western continent, but which so often
fortunately lose their way or get dissipated before
they approach our shores. It would seem that little
progress has been made in forecasting the direction
in which these great aérial eddies traverse the ocean,
or the conditions under which they expend their
force. It seems allowable to suppose that the most
important of the causes influencing their direction
depend upon the general movements of the great
currents of the atmosphere; and that, as these are

4 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

constantly modified by the changing position of the
earth in her orbit, the element of season is primarily
to be considered. It being admitted that the origin
of these disturbances is to be sought in the abnormal
heating or cooling of some considerable portion of
the earth’s surface, it would seem that, in the case
of the Atlantic, local causes can have little effect,
unless we suppose that the heating of the surface
of the Azores in summer, or the annual descent of
icebergs from the polar seas, are adequate to influence
the march of a travelling cyclone.

On the evening of the 20th the barometer
had risen again to its former position, rather over
39°40 inches ; the mean of the four following days was
30°55, and that of the entire run from Southampton
to Barbadoes was 30°36. This fact of the continuance
of high or low pressures at the sea-level at certain
seasons in some parts of the world has scarcely been
sufficiently noted in connection with the ordinary
rules for the measurement of heights by means of
the barometer. The tables supplied to travellers are
all calculated on the assumption that the pressure at
the sea-level is constant—the English tables fixing
the amount at 30°00 inches of mercury, those calcu-
lated on the continent starting from a pressure of
760 millimetres, or about 29921 inches. It is ad-
mitted that this mode of determining heights, when
comparative observations at a known station are not
available, is subject to serious unavoidable error. With
regard, however, to mountains not remote from the
sea-coast, it may be possible to lessen this incon-
venience in many parts of the world by substituting

ATLANTIC SPRING TEMPERATURE. Sol

for the assumed uniform pressure that higher or lower
amount which is known to prevail at given seasons.
Such a correction could not, of course, be made avail-
able in very variable climates, such as that of the
British Islands, but might be applied in many parts
of the broad zone lying within 40° of the equator.
Soon after ten p.m. on the 21st we were abreast of
the bright light which marks the harbour of St.
Michael’s, but, the night being dark, we saw very little
of that or.any other of the Azores group. The spring
temperature of these islands is about the same as that of
places in the same latitude in Portugal ; but it appears
that the cooling effect of the east and north-east
winds prevailing at that season must in the mid-
Atlantic extend even much farther south. With
generally fair settled weather, the thermometer rose
very slowly as we advanced towards the tropics.
Between the 18th and 24th of March, in passing from
50° to 29° north latitude, the mean daily temperature
rose only from about 55° to about 65° Fahr.—the
thermometer never rising to 70°, nor falling below
52°. Notwithstanding the relatively low temperature,
a few flying-fish were seen on the 24th—rare, it is
said, outside the tropics so early in the year, though
sometimes seen in summer as far north as the Azores.
On March 25th we, for the first time, became con-
scious of a decided though moderate change of
climate. The thermometer at noon stood at 71°, and
was not seen to fall below 70° until, some three weeks
later, off the Peruvian coast, we met the cold antarctic
current which plays so great a part in the meteorology
of that region. We were now in the regular track of

"6 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

the north-east trade wind, and my mind was some-
what exercised to account for the circumstance, said
to be of usual occurrence, that the breeze increases in
strength from sunrise during the day, and falls off,
though it does not die away, towards nightfall. It is
easy to understand the cause of this intermittence in
breezes on shore, whether near the sea-coast or in the
neighbourhood of mountain ranges, inasmuch as their
direction and strength are determined by the unequal
heating of the surface ; but the trade winds form a
main part of the general system of aérial circulation
over the surface of our planet, and, supposing the
phenomenon to be of a normal character, the explana-
tion is not quite simple. Regarding the trade wind
as a great current set up in the atmosphere, it is con-
ceivable that the heating and consequent expansion
which must occur as the sun acts upon it, tends to
increase the rate of flow at the bottom of the aérial
stream, while the cooling which ensues as the sun’s
heat is withdrawn, has the contrary effect.

On this and the next day or two my attention was
called to the frequent recurrence of masses of yellow
seaweed, sometimes in irregular patches, but more
frequently arranged in regular bands, two or three
yards in width, and extending in a straight line as far
as the eye could reach. We were here at no great
distance from the great sargassum fields of the
Northern Atlantic, but I was unable to satisfy myself
that the species seen from the steamer was that which
mainly forms the sargassum beds; and, whatever it
might be, this arrangement in long straight strips
seemed deserving of further inquiry. More flying-fish

ENTERING THE TROPICS. 7

were now seen, and two or three small whales of the
species called by seamen “black-fish” were sighted
during this part of the voyage.

On the afternoon of the 26th we entered the tropics,
and this and the following day were thoroughly
enjoyable, but did not offer much of novelty. The
colour of the sea was here of a much deeper and
purer blue (rivalling that of the Mediterranean) than
we had hitherto found it, while that of the sky was
much paler. The light cum with ill-defined edges
were such as we are used to in British summer
weather; and, excepting that the interval of twilight
was sensibly shorter, the sunsets were devoid of
special interest. At this season the Southern Cross
was above the horizon about nightfall, and was made
out by the practised eyes of some of the officers ; but,
in truth, it remains a somewhat insignificant object
when seen from the northern side of the equator, and
to enjoy the full splendour of that stellar hemisphere
one must reach high southern latitudes.

Although the thermometer never quite reached
80° Fahr. in the shade until we touched land, the
weather on the 28th and 29th was hot and close, and
few passengers kept up the wholesome practice of a
constitutional walk on the long deck of the Don. Of
the rain which constantly seemed impending very
little fell.

-At daybreak on the morning of the 30th, in twelve
days and seventeen hours, we completed the run of
about 3340 nautical miles which separates South-
ampton from Barbadoes, and found ourselves in the
roads of Bridgetown, about a mile from the shore.

8 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

Being somewhat prepared, I was not altogether sur-
prised to find that this first view of a tropical island
forcibly reminded me of the last land I had beheld
at home—the northern shores of the Isle of Wight.
Long swelling hills, on which well-grown trees inter-
vene between tracts of tillage, present much the same
general outline, and at this distance the only marked
difference was the intense dark-green colour of the
large trees that embower the town and nearly conceal
all but a few of the chief buildings. The appearance
of things as the morning advanced quite confirmed
the reputation of this small island as the most pros-
perous, and, in proportion to its extent, the most
productive of the West Indian Islands. With an
area not greater than that of the Isle of Wight, and
a population of about sixty thousand whites and
rather more than a hundred thousand negroes, the
value of the exports and imports surpasses a million
sterling under each head ; and, besides this, it is the
centre of a considerable transit trade with the other
islands. Under local representative institutions, which
have subsisted since the island was first occupied by
the English early in the seventeenth century, the
finances are flourishing, and the colonial government
is free from debt. The average annual produce of
sugar is reckoned at forty-four thousand hogsheads,
but varies with the amount of rainfall. This averages
from fifty-eight to fifty-nine inches annually, but any
considerable deficiency, such as occurred in the year
1873, leads to a proportionate diminution in the sugar
crop.

Among other tokens of civilization, the harbour

ARRIVAL AT BARBADOES. 9

police at Bridgetown appeared to be thoroughly
efficient. As, about nine o’clock, we prepared to go
ashore, we found on deck two privates—black men
in plain uniform—who seemed to have no difficulty
in keeping perfect order amid the crowd of boatmen
that swarmed round the big ship. We had already
learned the event of the hour—the fall of three inches
of rain during the day and night preceding our arrival.
This is more than usually falls during the entire
month of March, and seemed to be welcomed by the
entire population. On landing we encountered a
good deal of greasy grey mud in the streets, but all
was nearly dry when, after a short excursion, we
returned in the afternoon. After a short stay in the
town, where there was a little shopping to be done,
and where some of my companions indulged in a
second breakfast of fried flying-fish, I started with a
pleasant party of fellow-travellers to see something
of the island. It was arranged that, after a drive of
six or seven miles, we should go to luncheon at the
house of Mr. C——, the owner of a sugar-plantation,
whose brother, Colonel C , was one of our fellow-
passengers. We enjoyed the benefit of the recent
heavy rain in the comparative coolness of the air—
the thermometer scarcely rose above 80° Fahr. in the
shade—and in freedom from dust.

A small, low island, nearly every acre of which has
been reduced to cultivation, cannot offer very much
of picturesque beauty ; nevertheless the first peep of
the tropics did not fail to present abundant matter of
interest. In this part of the world the dry season,
now coming to an end, is the winter of vegetation,

fe) NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

and, of course, there was not very much to be seen of
the herbaceous flora ; but the beauty of the trees and
the rich hues of their foliage quite surpassed my
anticipations. The majority of these are plants intro-
duced either from the larger islands or from more
distant tropical countries, that have been planted in
the neighbourhood of houses.

One of the first that strikes a new-comer in the
tropics is the mango tree, which, though introduced
by man from its original home in tropical Asia, is
now common throughout the hotter parts of America.
Its widespreading branches, bearing dense tufts of
large leathery leaves, make it as welcome for the sake
of protection from the sun as for its fruit, which is a
luxury that some persons never learn to appreciate.
The cinnamon tree (Canella alba), common in most of
the West Indian Islands, is another of the plants that
serve for ornament and shade while ministering pro-
ducts useful to man. Of the smaller shade-trees, the
pimento (probably Pzmenta acris) was also con-
spicuous, and very many others which I failed to
recognize, might be added to the new impressions of
the first day in the tropics. One of the most curious
is that known to the English residents as the sand-
box tree, the Hura crepitans of botanists. It belongs
to the Euphorbiacee, or Spurge family, but is strangely
unlike any of the Old-World forms of that order.
Here the fruit is in form rather like a small melon,
of hard woody texture, divided into numerous—ten
to twenty—cells. If, when taken from the tree, the
top is sawn off and the seeds scooped out, no farther
change occurs, and it may be, and often is, as the

POPULATION OF BARBADOES. II

name implies, used as a sand-box. But if left until
the seeds are mature, the whole capsule bursts open
with a loud report, scattering the seeds to a distance.
Thinking that a small young fruit, if dried very
gradually, might escape this result, I carried one
away, which, after my return to Europe, I placed in
a small wooden box in my herbarium. Some nine
months after it had been collected it must have
exploded in my absence, for, unlocking the room one
day, I found the box broken to pieces, and the valves
of the fruit and the seeds scattered in all directions
about the room.

Next to the vegetable inhabitants, I was interested
in the black population of the island. The first
impression on finding one’s self amid fellow-creatures
so markedly different in physical characters is one of
strangeness, and one is tempted to ask whether, after
all, there can be any pith in the arguments once con-
fidently urged to establish a specific difference between
the negro and the white man. But this very quickly
wears away, and a contrary impression arises. The
second thought is that, considering what we know of
the conditions under which the native races of Equa-
torial Africa have been developed during an unre-
corded series of ages, and of the subsequent conditions
during several generations of slavery, the surprising
thing is that the differences should not be far greater
than they are.

It would be very rash to draw positive conclusions
from what could be seen in a visit of a few hours, but,
undoubtedly, the general effect was pleasing, and
tended to confirm the assertion that the difficult

12 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

problem of converting a population of black slaves
into useful members of a free community has been
better solved in Barbadoes than in any other European
colony. So far as the elementary wants are concerned,
there was a complete absence of the painful suspicion
so commonly felt as regards the poor in Europe and
the East, that their food is either insufficient or un-
wholesome. With very few exceptions they all
seemed sleek and well fed, and their clothing showed
no symptoms of poverty. In the town their dress
was generally neat, and most of the women made a
display of bright colour in handkerchiefs and parasols.
What struck me most was a general air of good
humour and enjoyment. One may be misled in this
respect by the facial characteristics of the black race,
which, in the absence of disturbing causes, readily
turn toa smile or a grin. But, whether in the streets
of Bridgetown or botanizing among the fields in the
country, and using the few opportunities of speaking
to the people, the same impression was retained.
Their manner in speaking to whites seemed to
imply neither servility nor yet the independence
which characterizes the Arab or the Moor. A latent
sense of inferiority seemed to be combined with a
complete absence of shyness or apprehension, as in
children used to kind treatment, and not too carefully
drilled. We happened to halt near a spot where there
was a cluster of labourers’ cabins, and a school well
filled with small children. There had been a wedding
in Bridgetown that morning, and as we halted two
carriages passed, carrying the bridal party to some
house in the country. All the inhabitants rushed out

CAUSES OF PROSPERITY. 13

at once, and contended, young and old, in the most
boisterous cheering. Perhaps this meant little more
than the mere love of noise, as when boys cheer a
passing railway train, but it argued, at least, the
absence of any feeling of race animosity.

The houses of the labouring population, whether in
town or country, are mere sheds, seemingly of the
frailest materials, the walls of thin upright boards, and
roofed with small imbricated wooden shingles, such as
one sometimes sees in Tyrol ; but there must bea very
substantial framework, or they would be annually
carried away by the August hurricanes. The interiors
appeared to be fairly clean, and in a country where
cold is unknown good houses are luxuries, not neces-
saries of life.

One need not go far to seek the explanation
of the superior condition of Barbadoes as compared
with the other West Indian Islands. Unlike these,
there was here no waste land ; every acre was occupied,
and the emancipated negro could not follow the very
natural but unfortunate instinct which elsewhere led
him to squat in idleness, supporting life on a few
bananas and other produce that cost but a few days’
labour in the year. Apart from this, it is said that
the Barbadoes, unlike the Jamaica, planters showed
practical intelligence in at once recognizing the new
conditions created by the Act of Emancipation, and,
by offering fair wages and giving their personal in-
fluence and supervision, helping to convert the slave
into an industrious freeman. Whatever poets may
have fancied of the delights of lotus-eating, it seems
to be true in the tropics, as well as in temperate

14 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

climates, that there is more contentment and real en-
joyment of life among people who are held to regular
daily work—not excessive or exhausting—than among
those who have little or nothing to do.

The house at which we were hospitably entertained,
with no architectural pretensions, struck us as ad-
mirably suited to the climate. On the ground floor,
several spacious and airy sitting-rooms opened ona
broad verandah that ran round the building, and a
number of fine trees close at hand, with the dense
impervious foliage characteristic of the tropics, offered
the alternative of sitting in the open air. One of the
natural advantages of Barbadoes is the almost com-
plete absence of noxious and venomous insects and
reptiles. The frequency of poisonous snakes in some
of the islands, especially Martinique and Sta. Lucia,
must seriously interfere with the pleasures of a country
life.

The voyage from Barbadoes to Jacmel, which occu-
pied the greater part of three nights and two days,
was highly enjoyable, but uneventful. With a tem-
perature of about 80° in the shade, and a pleasant
breeze from the north-east, life on deck was much
more attractive than any occupation in the cabins,
and nothing more laborious than reading an interesting
book, such as Tschudi’s “ Travels in Peru,” or at the
utmost some brushing up of nearly forgotten Spanish,
could be undertaken. In the early morning, the rising
of the coveys of flying-fish as the steamer disturbed
them from their rest on the surface, with their great
silvery fins glancing in the level rays of the sun, was
always an attractive sight. They certainly often

FACMEL IN HAYT]T, I5

change the direction of their flight as they momen-
tarily touch the surface, but I could not satisfy myself
whether this depended on a muscular effort of the
animal, or merely on the angle at which it happened
to strike the irregular surface of the little dancing
waves that surrounded us.

About sunrise on the 2nd of April the anchor was
let go, and we found ourselves in the harbour of
Jacmel, the only port on the south side of the great
island of Hayti. The Royal Mail steamers call here
periodically to deliver letters and to receive a bag
which, after due fumigation and such other incanta-
tions as are deemed proper, is delivered at the end of
along pole. The entire island being supposed to be
constantly subject to zymotic diseases, especially
small-pox which is the great scourge of the negro
race, no further communication with the shore is per-
mitted, and within less than two hours we were again
under way. The hills surrounding the harbour are
apparently covered with forest, the trees being of no
great size, but of the most brilliant green; but I could
detect no dwellings of a superior class such as
Europeans would be sure to construct in picturesque
and healthy spots near a seaport. As we ran for
more than twenty miles very near the coast, I could
at first detect here and there small patches of cleared
ground with sheds or huts ; but beyond the distance of
a few miles these ceased, and no token of the presence
of man was discernible.

Making large allowance for exaggeration, and having
had the opportunity of correcting some loose reports
by the more careful and accurate information after-

16 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

wards received from a gentleman who resided for
some time at Port au Prince as the representative of
a European power, it is impossible for me to avoid
the conclusion that, in the hands of its black possessors,
this noble island has retrograded to a condition of
savagery little, if at all, superior to that of the regions
of tropical Africa whence they originally came.

There may be but slight foundation for the reports
as to the revival of cannibal customs in the interior of
the island; but it would seem that the sanguinary
encounters so frequently recurring between the people
of the rival republics between whom the-island is
divided, differ little in point of ferocity from those of
Ashantee or Dahomey. The political institutions,
caricatures of those of the United States, have pro-
duced in astonishing luxuriance all the abuses
characteristic of different types of misgovernment, and
the few men distinguished by superior intelligence
and a desire for rational progress have sought in vain
for support in efforts for reform. The condition of
the two republics, Hayti and San Domingo, seems to
be the reductio ad absurdum of the theories which
ascribe to free institutions an inherent power of
promoting human progress.

April 3 was a day to be long remembered. Bar-
badoes to Jamaica is as Champagne or Mecklen-
burg compared to Switzerland or Tyrol, and now for
the first time the dream of tropical nature became
a reality. At six p.m. we passed Port Royal, and
about seven had cast anchor at Kingston. The
first impression on landing here is unfavourable. The
buildings are mean, the thoroughfares and side-paths

EXCURSION IN FAMAICA. 17

out of repair, the people in the streets seem to have
nothing to do and to be doing it, the general air that of
listlessness and neglect. Altogether the place con-
trasts disadvantageously with the ports of Spanish
America, to say nothing of our own colonies. But
Kingston was not to detain us, and the overpowering
attraction was towards the range of the Blue Moun-
tains, on which my eyes had been fixed all the morn-
ing as we approached the shore. We were told that
we must return to the ship at five o’clock, so that it
was hopeless to attempt to reach even the middle
zone of the mountains, and all that could be done
with advantage was to engage a carriage to a place
called Gordontown, in a valley which is the ordinary
route to Newcastle and other places in the mountains.
After a delay which to our impatience seemed un-
reasonable, I started in a tolerable carriage with
W. , an old friend who was proceeding to Lima as
commissioner from the Court of Chancery to receive
evidence in an important pending lawsuit, and who,
although not a naturalist, gave effective and valuable
help on this and other subsequent occasions in the
work of plant-collecting.

For a distance of four or five miles the land slopes
very gently from the coast towards the roots of the
hills. This tract is partly occupied by sugar-planta-
tions; but our road lay for some time among small
country houses, each surrounded by pleasure-ground
or garden. As the dry season was not yet over, the
country here looked parched ; but I saw many trees
and shrubs new to me, many of them laden with

flowers, and found it hard to keep my resolution not
¢

18 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

to stop the carriage until we should reach Gordon-
town. The excitement increased as we entered the
valley, and the road began to wind up the slopes
above the right bank of the torrent, where at every
yard some new object came into view. It was near
eleven a.m. when we reached the little inn, which, with
four or five houses, make the station of Gordontown,
where the carriage road ends, and horses are hired by
those bound for Newcastle or other places in the hills.
No time was to be lost, and we were speedily on our
way to ramble up the valley, keeping as near as might
‘be to the banks of the torrent.

The first effect upon one accustomed only to the
vegetation of the temperate zone is simply bewilder-
ing. As I expressed it at the time, it seemed as if
the inmates of the plant-houses at Kew had broken
loose and run scrambling up the rocky hills that
enclose the valley. These are of a red arenaceous
rock, rough and broken, but affording ample hold
for trees as well as smaller plants. The torrent at this
season was shrunk to slender dimensions, but is never
wholly dry; and I was somewhat surprised to find
that on the steep slopes exposed to the full sunshine
the vegetation was much less parched than one com-
monly finds it in summer in the Mediterranean region,
and even to gather a good many ferns on exposed
banks. It would appear that, even in the dry season,
the air must here be nearly saturated with aqueous
vapour, and that abundant dews must supply the
needs of delicate plants. Not many species were in
flower, but yet there was more than sufficient to
occupy the short time available. Malvacee@ and Con-

VEGETATION OF GORDONTOWN. 19

volvulacee were the most prominent forms; but to a
new-comer the most lively interest attaches to groups
never before seen in a wild state, such as Passzflora—
of which two species were found in flower—a first
solitary representative of the great tropical American
family of Melastomacee, or the gorgeous Amaryllid,
fippeastrum equestre, hiding in shady places by the
stream.

Although Gordontown can scarcely be so much as
a thousand feet above the sea-level, the climate is very
sensibly cooler than that of Kingston. When we
left the town the thermometer stood at 83° in the
shade, while here at midday the sea-breeze felt posi-
tively cold, and I was glad to have with me an extra
garment. A light luncheon of ham and eggs, with
guava sweetmeat for dessert, was soon despatched ;
and, as I wished to halt at several spots on the way,
we started about half-past two, laden with the spoils
of the excursion, and reached the steamer before five
o'clock. Great was my disgust to find that there was
no intention of starting until nine am. the next
morning, and this was changed to indignation when
it came to be known that we had been deprived of
the priceless pleasure of a trip to the mountains by
the deliberate misstatement of the company’s super-
intendent, who had arranged to embark on the follow-
ing morning three hundred negroes going to work on
the Panama Ship Canal.

A stranger can scarcely fail to observe a marked
difference between the negro population of Jamaica
and that of Barbadoes. In the larger island, while
no way deficient in physical qualities, they appear

20 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

decidedly inferior in intelligence, activity, and courtesy
towards their white neighbours. It is said that the
independent class, who live by cultivating small
patches of land on which they have squatted, has of
late years much improved, and that the increasing
desire for purchasable’ comforts and luxuries has
begun to develop habits of steady industry; but as
regards the mass of the people who live by wages,
there are many indications of a sullen dislike towards
the descendants of their former masters which some
trifling provocation may at any time inflame to a
pitch of wild ferocity. Some who have lived in the
island maintain that a general rising with a view to
the massacre of the white population is not an im-
possible occurrence, and, however improbable it may
appear, there is ample reason for constant vigilance
on the part of those responsible for the government
of the island. Such vigilance, it must be remembered,
is quite as much requisite to prevent acts of real or
apparent injustice towards the inferior race, as to
repress the first beginnings of violence if some spark
should fire the mine of suppressed hatred.

After a too short visit to this beautiful island, we
were under way before ten am. on April 4th, and
before midday the outline of the Blue Mountains of
Jamaica was fast fading in the northern horizon.
Throughout the greater part of the run from Kingston
we encountered a moderately brisk breeze, which
gradually veered from south-east to south-west, and
this, according to our experienced captain, commonly
occurs at this season. It may be conjectured that the
great mountain barrier extending on the south side of

ISTHMUS OF PANAMA. 21

the Caribbean Sea through Venezuela and Colombia
deflects the current of the north-east trade wind until
it finally flows in an exactly contrary direction. What-
ever its origin may be, it might be supposed that the
interference of a current from the south-west with the
course of the regular trade wind would give rise to
storms of dangerous violence. These, however, rarely
if ever occur during the spring months. It may be
that, on the meeting of contrary currents of unequal
temperature, the ordinary result is that the warmer
current rises and flows over the cooler one without
actual interference.

Before sunrise on the morning of the 6th we
reached Colon, and, after a little inevitable delay, took
leave of our excellent commander, and set foot on
the American continent at a spot which seems destined
to become familiar to the civilized world as the eastern
termination of the Panama Ship Canal. People who
love to paint in dark colours had done their best to
make us uncomfortable as to the part of the journey
between the arrival at Colon and the departure from
Panama. The regular train crossing the isthmus
starts very early from Colon, and we should be forced
to remain during the greater part of the day breathing
the deadly exhalations of that ill-famed port. In
point of unhealthiness Panama is but little better than
Colon, and as the weekly steamer of the Pacific
Navigation Company bound southward would have
departed one or two days before our arrival, we were
sure to be detained for five or six days, equally trying
to the health and temper. Fully believing these
vaticinations to be much exaggerated, we had no

22 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

opportunity of testing them. A free use of the
telegraph on the morning of our arrival at Jamaica,
and the courtesy of the officials of the various com-
panies concerned, relieved us from all anxiety, and
reduced our stay within the shortest possible limits.
It was true that the regular train had been despatched
before we could land, but a special engine was in
readiness to convey us across the isthmus, and the
agent for the Pacific mail steamer at Panama had
detained the ship bound for Lima until the same
evening in order to enable us to continue our voyage.

Since the commencement of the works connected
with the canal, Colon must have undergone much
improvement. The bronze statue of Columbus pre-
sented by the Empress Eugénie, which for many
years had lain prostrate in the mud of the sea-beach,
has been cleansed and placed upon a stone pedestal.
A number of stores, frail structures of wooden planks,
were arranged in an irregular street, and displayed a
great variety of European goods. It was rather sur-
prising to find the prices of sundry small articles
purchased here extremely moderate. One might
suppose that the only inducement that could lead
people to trade in a spot of such evil repute would be
the hope of exorbitant profits enabling them soon to
retire from business.

Of the works connected with the Ship Canal little
was to be seen from the railway cars. For its eastern
termination the mouth of the Chagres river, which
reaches the sea close to Colon, has been selected. I
am not aware whether it is proposed to divert the
course of that stream from the channel of the canal,

PANAMA SHIP CANAL. 23

but, to judge from the appearance of its banks and
the extensive mangrove swamps on either side, it
appears to bear down a great amount of fine alluvial.
mud, which, if discharged into the canal, must be a
source of future difficulty. What chiefly struck the
eye of the passing traveller was the broad band which
had been cleared across the isthmus to mark the line
of the future canal. It is fully a hundred metres in
width, and seemingly carried in a nearly straight line
through the forest and over the hills that lie on the
western side near to Panama. This clearing does
not appear a very serious undertaking, but in a region
where the energy of vegetation is so marvellous,
must have cost an immense amount of labour, and to
keep the line open, if that be found expedient, will
demand no small yearly expenditure. There is here,
properly speaking, no dry season. The rains recur at
frequent intervals throughout the year, and to keep
back the ever-encroaching sea of vegetation the axe
is in constant requisition.

In the interest of the human race, it is impossible
not to desire the success of the Ship Canal, but it
must not be forgotten that the project is of a character
so gigantic that all previous experience, such as that
of the Suez Canal, fails to give a measure of the
difficulties to be encountered, or of the outlay required
to overcome them. Engineers may doubtless calculate
with sufficient accuracy the number of millions of
cubic yards of rock or earth that must be removed,
and may estimate approximately the cost of labour
and materials ; but the obstacles due to the climate and
physical conditions of this region are a formidable

24 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

addition whose amount experience alone can fully
determine. The only race combining physical strength
with any moderate adaptation to the climate is ap-
parently the African negro, and even with these the
amount of sickness and mortality is said to be alarm-
ingly great. The field from which negro labour can
be recruited, though large, is by no means unlimited,
and it is to be expected that the rate of wages must
be considerably increased as time advances. The
conditions of the problem have no doubt been care-
fully studied by the remarkable man to whom its
existence is due, and by the able assistants whom he
has consulted ; but it may not be too rash to hazard
the prediction that, apart from any international
difficulties, its success may depend upon the more or
less complete realization of two desiderata—first, the
extensive application of labour-saving machinery, for
which perhaps the heavy rainfall may supply the
motive power ; secondly, the possibility, by completely
clearing the summits of some of the higher hills near
the line, of establishing healthy sites whence workmen
could be conveyed to the required points during the
day and brought back before nightfall.

Nothing in our brief experience suggested the idea
of an especially unhealthy region, and the feelings of
a botanist at being whirled so rapidly through a land
teeming with objects of curiosity and interest are
better imagined than expressed. For more than half
the distance the line is simply a trench cut through
the forest, which is restrained from invading and
burying the rails only by constant clearing on either
side. The trees were not very large, but seemed to

EQUATORIAL VEGETATION. 25

include a vast variety of forms. More striking were
the masses of climbers, parasites, and epiphytes, to
say nothing of the rich and strange herbaceous plants
that fringed the edge of the forest. Our train, being
express, gave but a single chance of distinguishing
anything amid the crowd of passing objects—during
a brief halt at a station about half-way across the
isthmus, round which was a cluster of small houses
or huts, inhabited by Indians. Their features were
much less remote from the European type than I had
expected—less remote, I thought, than those of many
Asiatics of Mongol stock. Ten minutes on the verge
of the surging mass of vegetation that surrounded us
gave a tantalizing first peep at the flora of Equatorial
America. Many forms hitherto seen only in herbaria
or hot-houses—several Welastomacee, Heliconia, Costus,
and the like—were hastily gathered ; but the summons
to return to the train speedily calmed the momentarily
increasing excitement. Although the sky was almost
completely free from clouds, and the sun very near
the zenith, the heat was no way excessive. My
thermometers had been stowed away in the hurry of
leaving the steamer, but I do not believe that the
shade temperature was higher than 84° Fahr. On the
western side of the isthmus the land rises into hills
some five or six hundred feet in height, and between
these the railway winds to the summit level, thence
descending rather rapidly towards Panama. What a
crowd of associations are evoked by the first view of
the Pacific! What trains of mental pictures have
gathered round the records of the early voyagers, the
adventurers, the scientific explorers! Strangely enough,

26 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

the most vividly impressed on my memory was a
rough illustration in a child’s book, given to me on
my seventh birthday, representing Vasco Nufiez, as,
from the summit of the ridge of Darien, he, first of
all western men, cast his wondering eyes over the
boundless, till then unsuspected, ocean. He has
climbed the steep shattered rocks, and, as he gains
the crest of the ridge, has grasped a projecting frag-
ment to steady himself on the edge of the dizzy
declivity. Even now, after looking on the gently
swelling hills, so completely forest-covered that with-
out extensive clearing a distant view would be impos-
sible, I find it hard to believe that that picture does
not represent some portion of my actual past
experience.

I do not know whether, in connection with the
vivid recollection either of actual scenes or illustra-
tions dating from early life, attention has been
sufficiently called to the curious tricks which the
brain not seldom performs in discharging its function
of keeper of the records. In my experience it is
common to find, on revisiting after many years a spot
of which one believes one’s self to have a vivid and
accurate recollection, that the mental picture has
undergone some curious changes. The materials of
the scene are, so to say, all present, but their atrange-
ment has been unaccountably altered. The torrent,
the bridge, the house, the tree, the peak in the back-
ground, are all there, but they are not in their right
places. The house has somehow got to the wrong
side of the torrent, or the peak rises on the right of
the tree instead of the left. A picture vividly retained

GRAND HOTEL OF PANAMA. 27

in the mind is one that has been frequently recalled
to memory. If at any time, when it has been long
dormant, the actual recollection has become somewhat
imperfect, the imagination fills up by an effort the
incomplete portion. When next summoned by some
train of association, the image present to the mind is
no longer the original picture, but the altered version
of it in the state in which it was left after being last
retouched.

In about four hours from Colon we reached the
Panama terminus, and found a large waggonette, or
roofless omnibus, waiting to convey us to the Grand
Hotel. A pair of small ragged horses, rushing at a
canter down the steep slopes and scrambling up on
the other side over the rough blocks that form the
pavement, made our vehicle roll and jolt in a fashion
that would have disquieted nervous passengers. It
would be difficult to find elsewhere in the world a
stranger assemblage than that to be found at the
Grand Hotel of Panama. The ground floor, with
several large rooms, is occupied day and night for
eating, drinking, smoking, and loud discussion by the
floating foreign population of the town. At the
present time the engineers and other officials con-
nected with the Ship Canal formed the predominant
element ; but, along with a sprinkling of many other
nationalities, the most characteristic groups consisted
of refugees from all the republics of Central and South
America, who find substantial reasons for quitting their
homes, and who resort to Panama as a sanctuary whence
some new turn in the wheel of revolution may recall
them to some position of distinction and profit.

28 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

We were fortunate in having in our company
Mr. W——, a gentleman of Polish descent, to whose
lively conversation we had owed much information
and amusement during the voyage from Southampton.
Now the owner of a large estate in Ecuador, he had
long known this region, and appeared to be on terms
of familiar acquaintance with all the strange visitors
gathered in the saloons at Panama, from the ex-
President of Peru to the negro head-waiter. The
latter, as we learned, was not the least important
member of the assemblage. In one of the numerous
revolutions at Panama he had played a leading part,
and had attained the rank of colonel. His party
being then out of office, he had for the time returned
to private life, but may possibly at the present day
be again an important person in the state.

For the first time since leaving England the heat
at Panama during the midday hours was felt to be
oppressive, and we were content with a short stroll,
which, to any one familiar with old Spain, offered
little novelty. Unlike such mushroom spots as Colon,
Panama has all the appearance of an old Spanish
provincial town. It has suffered less from earth-
quakes than most of the places on the west coast,
and a large proportion of the buildings, including a
rather large cathedral, remain as they were built two
or three centuries ago.

As the anchorage for large steamers is about three
miles from the town, we had an early summons to go
on board a small tender that lay alongside of a half-
ruined wharf, but were then detained more than an
hour, for no apparent reason other than as a tribute

BIRDS IN PANAMA BAY. 29

to the habits of the population of this region. The
time was not wholly wasted, as even the least ob-
servant passengers were struck with admiration at
the performances of a swarm of small birds, many
hundreds in number, that seemed to have selected the
space over the shallow water opposite the town for
their evolutions. For more than half an hour they
continued to whirl in long loops or nearly circular
sweeps, with no other apparent motive than the
pleasure of the exercise. Seen from a distance, the
appearance was that of a wreath; nearer at hand,
the arrangement was seen to be constantly varying.
Sometimes the birds were so close together that it
seemed as if their wings must jostle; sometimes they
were drawn out into long curves, looking silvery white
when the sun fell upon their breasts, and of a darker
tint at other incidences. Mr. W—— asserted that
the bird is a kind of snipe, but I have no doubt that
it is a tern.

At last the little tender glided from the wharf, and
for the first time we gained a general view of the
town, which has a full share of that element of
picturesqueness which is so strangely associated with
decay. The old ramparts fast crumbling away, here
and there rent by earthquakes, and backed by time-
stained buildings, would offer many a study to the
painter. Sunset was at hand when we reached the
steamer J/s/ay, anchored under the lee of one of
the small islands of the bay, and were fortunate in
finding among the not too numerous passengers
several whose society added to the interest of the
voyage.

30 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

One of the effects of the habitual use of maps on
a small scale is that untravelled persons, even though
conversant with the facts of geography, feel it difficult
to realize the great dimensions of the more distant
parts of the world as compared with our diminutive
European continent. Thus it came on me with some-
thing of surprise that the Bay of Panama is fully a
hundred and twenty sea miles across from headland
to headland, and that the run from Panama to Callao,
which is scarcely one-third of the length of the South
American continent, is rather longer than that from
Bergen to the Straits of Gibraltar. The case, of
course, is much worse with those accustomed to use
maps on Mercator’s projection. It profits nothing to
explain, even to the most intelligent youth, the nature
and amount of the errors involved in that mode of
representing a spherical surface on a plane. I verily
believe that all the mischief done by the stupidity,
ignorance, and perversity of the writers of bad school-
books is trifling compared to the amount of false ideas
spread through the world by the productions of that
respectable Fleming.

The steamers of the Pacific Mail Company employed
for the traffic between San Francisco and Valparaiso
are as perfectly suited to the peculiar conditions of
the navigation as they would be unfit for long sea-
voyages in any other part of the world. In the calm
waters of this region, rarely ruffled even by a stiff
breeze, the fortunate seamen engaged in this service
know no hardships from storm or cold. Their only
anxiety is from the fogs that at some seasons beset
parts of the coast. In each voyage they pass under

PACIFIC COAST STEAMERS., 3I

a vertical sun, but the air and the water are cooler
than in any other part of the equatorial zone ; and all
that is needed for their physical comfort, and that of
their passengers, is free ventilation and shade from the
sun. These desiderata are fully secured. The main-
deck is open to the air, and the steerage passengers,
who are encamped amidships and on the fore-deck,
are satisfied at night with the amount of privacy
secured by hanging somie piece of stuff to represent a
curtain round each family group. On the upper deck
are ranged the state rooms of the first-class pas-
sengers, each with a door and window opening sea-
ward. Above this, again, a spar-deck carried flush
from stem to stern affords ample opportunity for
exercise, and is itself sheltered from the sun by an
awning during the hot hours. In such conditions,
where merely to breathe is to enjoy, the only danger
is that of subsiding into mere lotus-eating. From
this I was fortunately preserved by the rather trouble-
some task of drying in satisfactory condition the
plants which I had hastily gathered in Jamaica and
in crossing the isthmus.

I had supposed that the distinctly green colour of
the water in Panama Bay, so different from the blue
tint of the open Atlantic, might be due to some local
peculiarity ; but on the following day, April 7, while
about a hundred miles from land, I observed that the
same colour was preserved, and I subsequently ex-
tended the observation along the coast to about 5°
south, where we encountered the antarctic current.
Farther south I should describe the hue of the water
as a somewhat turbid dark blue, reminding one of the

32 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

water of the North Atlantic as seen in approaching
the British Islands.

At daybreak on April 8 we found ourselves
approaching the port of Buenaventura. Long before
it was possible to land I was ready, thrilling with
interest and curiosity respecting a region so entirely
new—an interest enhanced, perhaps, by the extent of
ignorance of which I was inwardly conscious. Know-
ing this place to be the only port of an extensive
tract, including much of the coast region of New
Granada, lying only a few degrees from the equator,
and rich in all sorts of tropical produce, I had formed
a very undue idea of its importance. Although the
rise and fall of the tide are very moderate on this
coast, the ricketty wooden wharf could not be reached
at low water. There was nothing for it but to land
on the mud, and scramble up the slippery slope to
the top of the bank of half-consolidated marl, from
twenty to forty feet above the shore, on which the
little town is built. It consists of some two hundred
houses and stores, nearly all mere plank sheds, but,
as usual throughout South America, the inhabitants
rejoice in dreams of future wealth and importance to
be secured by a railway communicating with the
interior. There was no time to be lost; notice had
been given that the ship’s stay was to be very brief,
and even before landing it was apparent that the
tropical forest was close at hand. In truth, the last
houses are within a stone’s throw of the skirts of the
forest. Just at this point I was attracted by a leafless
bush, evidently one of the spinous species of Solanum,
with large, yellow, obversely pear-shaped fruits. As

FIRST VIEW OF A TROPICAL FOREST. 33

I was about cutting, off a specimen, the people, who
here seemed very friendly, rushed out of the nearest
house and vociferated in warning tones, “Mata!
mata!” I was afterwards assured that the fruit is
here considered a deadly poison. It appears to be
one of the rather numerous varieties of Solanum
mammosum, a species widely spread through the
hotter parts of America.

Being warned not to go out of hearing of the steam-
whistle that was to summon us back to the ship, I
was obliged to content myself with three short inroads
into the forest, through which numerous paths had
been cleared. The first effect was perfectly bewilder-
ing. The variety of new forms of vegetation sur-
rounding one on every side was simply distracting.
Of the larger trees I could, indeed, make out nothing,
but the smaller trees and shrubs, crowded together
wherever they could reach the daylight, were more
than enough to occupy the too short moments.

Of the general character of the climate there could
be no doubt. In spite of the blazing sun, with a
shade temperature of about 85° Fahr., the ground was
everywhere moist. Ferns and Se/aginelle met the
eye at every turn, with numerous Cyperacee ; and in
an open spot, among a crowd of less familiar forms,
I found a minute Utricularia, scarcely an inch in
height. But the predominant feature, and that which
interested me most keenly, was the abundance and
variety of Melastomacee. Within the first ten minutes
I had gathered specimens of seven species, ‘all of
them but one large shrubs. Of the climbers and
parasites that give its most distinctive features to the

D

34 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

tropical forest, I could in so hurried a peep make out
very little. I owe one beautiful species, hitherto un-
described, to my friend W , who, having wandered
in another direction, spied the scarlet flowers of the
epiphyte, which I have named Axthopterus Wardit,
on the trunk of a tree, which was promptly climbed
by the active negro who had accompanied him.*

Too soon came the summons of the steam-whistle.
As we called on our way at the office of the Pacific
Company’s agent, we were shown a number of the
_finer sort of so-called Panama hats, which are chiefly
made on this part of the coast. Even on the spot
they are expensive articles, a hundred dollars not
being considered an unreasonable price for one of the
better sort.

Some writers of high authority on geographical
botany have held that the most marked division of
the flora of tropical South America is that between
the regions lying east and west of the Andes. It
would be the extreme of rashness for one who has
seen so little as I have done of the vegetation of
a few scattered points in so vast a region to attempt
to draw conclusions from his own observations ; but,
on the other hand, writers in Europe, even though so
learned and so careful as Grisebach and Engler, are
under the great disadvantage that the materials avail-
able, whether in botanical works or in herbaria, are
generally incomplete as regards localities. How is it
possible to form any clear picture of the flora of a
special district when so large a proportion of the

* For a list of the plants collected here, see a paper in the Journa/
of the Linnean Society, vol. xxii.

FLORA OF TROPICAL SOUTH AMERICA. 35

plants recorded are merely said to come from
“ Columbia” or “ Ecuador,” the one larger than Spain,
France, and the Low Countries put together, the other
equal in extent to the Austrian Empire, and both
traversed by mountain ranges varying from fifteen
thousand to over eighteen thousand feet in height?
I shall have later to make some remarks on the-
climatal conditions of the coast region extending
from Panama to the Bay of Guayaquil, but I may here
mention that when I afterwards acquired some slight
acquaintance with the flora of Brazil, I was struck
with the fact that, although separated by an interval
of nearly three thousand miles, and by the great
barrier of the Andes, the plants seen in and around
the forest at Buenaventura were almost all nearly
allied to Brazilian forms.

Further reflection, and such incomplete knowledge
as I have been able to acquire as to the flora of inter-
tropical South America, lead me to the conclusion
that the present vegetable population of this vast
region is, when we exclude from view a certain
number of immigrants from other regions, mainly
derived from two sources. There is, in the first
place, the ancient flora of Guiana and tropical Brazil,
which has gradually extended itself through Venezuela
and Columbia, and along the Pacific coast as far as
Ecuador, and, in an opposite direction, through
Southern Brazil, to the upper basins of the Uruguay,
the Parana, and the Paraguay. The long period of
time occupied by the gradual diffusion of this flora is
shown by the large number of peculiar species, and
not a few endemic genera that have been developed

36 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

throughout different parts of this vast region, whose
nearest allies, however, are to be found in the original
home, Guiana or Brazil. Along with this stock, which
mainly occupies the lower country, we find, especially
in Venezuela, Columbia, and Ecuador, the modified
descendants of vegetable types characteristic of the
“Andes. Of the Andean flora I shall have something
to say in a future page; but I may express the belief
that if we go back to the remote period when most
of the characteristic types of the vegetation of South
America came into existence, we must seek the
ancestors of the Brazilian flora, and to a large extent
also those of the Andean flora, in the ancient high
mountain ranges of Brazil, where we now see, in the
vast extent of arenaceous rocks, and in the surviving
pinnacles of granite, the ruins of one of the greatest
mountain regions of the earth.

Early on Easter Sunday morning, April 9, we
were off Tumaco, a small place on one of a group of
flat islands lying at the northern extremity of the
coast of Ecuador.* These islands are of good repute
as having the healthiest climate on this coast.
Although close to the equator, cattle are said to thrive,
and, if one could forget the presence of a fringe of
cocos palms along the shore, the island opposite to
us, in great part cleared of forest, with spreading
lawns of green pasture, might have been taken for a.
gentleman’s park on some flat part of the English
coast. We here parted with General Prado, ex-

* Much cinchona bark, coming from the interior, was formerly
shipped at Tumaco ; but between horrible roads and the reckless waste

of the forests through mismanagement, but little is now conveyed by
this way.

AN EX-PRESIDENT OF PERU. 37 .

president of Peru, who has purchased one of the
islands, and hopes to end his days peacefully as a
cattle-breeder. Nothing in his manner or conversa-
tion announced either energy or intelligence, but it is
impossible not to recognize some kind of ability in
a man who, having held such a post at such a time,
not only succeeded in escaping the ordinary fate of
a Peruvian president—his two immediate predecessors
having been assassinated—but also in snatching from
the ruin of his country the means of securing an
ample provision for himself at a safe distance from
home.

In the almost cloudless weather that has prevailed
for some days, the apparent path of the sun could not
fail to attract attention. Being still so near the
vernal equinox, this could not be distinguished from
a straight line. Rising out of the horizon at six
o'clock, the sun passed exactly through the zenith,
and went down perpendicularly in the west into the
boundless ocean. Who can wonder that this daily
disappearance of the sun has had so large a share in
the poetry and the religion of our race? In every
land, under every climate, it is the one spectacle which
is ever new and ever fascinating. Use cannot stale
it; and knowledge, which is said to be driving the
imagination out of the field of our modern life, has
done nothing to weaken the spell.

We awoke next day to find ourselves in the
southern hemisphere, having crossed the line about
three a.m. As the morning wore on we passed abreast
of the Cabo San Lorenzo, and towards evening, keep-
ing nearer to the coast, were within a few miles of

.38 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

Cabo Santa Elena. This forms the north-western
headland of the Gulf of Guayaquil, a wide bay that
extends fully a hundred miles eastward from the coast-
line.

At daybreak, April 11, we were inside the large
island of Puna, and soon after entered the mouth of
the river Guayas. Although it drains but a small
district, this has a deep channel, as wide as the
Thames at Gravesend, making the town of Guayaquil,
which is about thirty miles from its mouth, the natural
port for Western Equatorial America. As we steamed
northward up the stream, every eye was turned east-
ward with the hope of descrying some part of the
chain of the Andes. It was, indeed, obvious that a
great mountain barrier lay in that direction, and
beneath the eastern sun dark masses from time to
time stood out to view; but along the crest of the
tange heavy banks of cloud constantly rested, and
the summits remained concealed. We knew that the
peak of Chimborazo is scarcely more than seventy
miles distant from Guayaquil, and is easily seen from
the town in clear weather ; but we did not know that
clear weather is a phenomenon that recurs only on
about half a dozen days in the course of the year, and
it is needless to say that we did not draw one of these
-prizes in the lottery. I had been conscious of a dis-
tinct change of climate duting the preceding night,
and this was still more marked after we entered the
river. The increase of temperature was but trifling.
The thermometer at sea during the two preceding
days had ranged from 77° to 79°, and here at nine a.m.
it marked only 80°; nor did it ever rise above 84°

PHYSIOLOGICAL EFFECTS OF HOT CLIMATES. 39

while we lay opposite Guayaquil. But the sense of
oppressive closeness was more or less felt by every
one, and, whatever may be the cause, it seems safe to
conclude that the notoriety of this city as one of the
most unhealthy in South America is intimately con-
nected with it.

There is, no doubt, much yet to be learned as to
the effects of climate on the human constitution, but
a few points seem to be sufficiently ascertained. To
those whose constitution has been hereditarily adapted
to a temperate or cold climate, the enfeebling effect
of hot countries depends much more on the constant
continuance of a high temperature than on its amount.
A place with a mean temperature of 80° Fahr., which
-varies little above or below that point, is far more
injurious to a European than one where intervals of
great heat alternate with periods of cooler weather.
Still more important, perhaps, is the effect of a hot
climate in places where the air is habitually nearly
saturated with aqueous vapour. When the tempera-
ture of the skin is not much greater than that of the
surrounding air, if this be near the point of saturation
but little evaporation can take place from the surface.
The action of the absorbent vessels is thus checked,
and the activity of all the functions is consequently
lowered. As it usually happens that the two agencies
here discussed act together in tropical countries, the
places having a uniform temperature being also for
the most part those having an atmosphere heavily
charged with vapour, it is easy to understand that
Europeans whose vitality is already depressed are
especially exposed to suffer from whatever causes

40 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

induce endemic or epidemic disease. The difficulty
in connection with this subject is to explain certain
exceptions to the general rule. In several places in
the tropics, usually insular stations, where a steady
high temperature is combined with the presence of
much vapour, the climate is said to have no injurious
effects. But the most marked exception seems to be
that of seamen. Excluding that large majority whose
calling involves frequent changes of climate, there
must be now a considerable body of experience re-
specting those who for a series of years have
navigated tropical seas exposed to nearly uniform
temperature. I am not aware that there are any facts
to sustain the supposition, which might @ priori seem
plausible, that such a life tends to enfeeble the Euro-
pean constitution.

Between a broad fringe of mangrove swamp,
backed by a narrow border of forest on either bank,
with little to break the monotony of the way, we
reached Guayaquil before ten am. Seen from the
river, with many large buildings and stores covering
more than a mile of frontage on the western bank,
and a straggling suburb stretching to the base of a
low hill to the northward, the city presents an un-
expectedly imposing appearance. The present amount
of trade is inconsiderable, but if ever these regions
can attain to the elementary conditions of good
government the development of their natural resources
must entail a vast increase of business. The territory
of Ecuador includes every variety of climate, and is
in great part thoroughly suited to Europeans. All
tropical products are obtainable, and, with | good

ALLIGATORS OF THE RIVER GUAYAS. 41

management and kindly treatment, the supply of
efficient negro labour at moderate wages is consider-
able. Among other products of the soil, the tobacco
of the country about Guayaquil deserves to be better
known. Of the many varieties of the coarser kind
which are grown throughout Central and South
America, this appears to me the best, as it certainly
is the cheapest. The hawkers who came on board
sold at less than seven shillings a hundred cigars of
very fair quality, making, as I was told, a profit of
fifty per cent.

It might be not unworthy of the notice of the great
steamboat companies to recommend to their agents
some little consideration for passengers who travel to
see the world. It commonly happens that on the
arrival of a steamer, after the first conference between
the agent and the captain, a time is fixed for departure
which has no relation to the hour really intended.
We were told this morning that the steamer was to
start at one pm. The time was clearly too short for
an excursion to the neighbouring country, and the
inducement to spend a couple of hours in the streets
of such an unhealthy town was very trifling. Two
young Englishmen went up the river in a boat with
the hope of shooting alligators. These creatures
abound along the banks of the Guayas, basking in
the mud, and looking from a distance like the logs
that are floated down by the stream. Our sportsmen
had the usual measure of success, and no more. For
a bullet to pierce the dense covering that shields this
animal is a happy accident, but it suffices to disturb
the creature from his rest, and to induce him to crawl

42 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

or roll into the river, and to accomplish this is at least
a new experience. Through the courtesy of a native
gentleman, the travellers were induced to land at a
hacienda on the river, where horses were provided, and
they galloped back to the town before one o’clock.
Meanwhile the Jamaica story was repeated. It was
announced that the agent had decided to keep the
steamer till three p.m.; and finally we learned that
we should remain at our moorings till early next
morning.

On her last voyage the Js/ay had started too late ;
night fell before she cleared the mouth of the river,
and, in the dark, she had run down a chatta—one
of the cumbrous native barges that ply along the
stream. Of fifteen natives in the barge thirteen were
saved, three of them by the courage and activity of
the chief officer, who jumped into the river to their
‘rescue. Our captain very properly objected to the
risk of another similar accident, and decided to wait
for daylight. The cause of the delay remained a
mystery, for all that was shipped of passengers and
cargo was of a kind that did not seem likely to be
very remunerative. At first sight it appeared merely
as a characteristic of a rude state of society that the
country people around Guayaquil are used to embark
on the southward-bound steamers with tropical fruit
raised by themselves, which they carry to Lima, and
even as far as Valparaiso, dispose of at a handsome
profit, and then return home. As most of the profit
must go into the coffers of the Pacific Steam Company,
the motive is not very obvious; but after a little
further experience I fully understood it. Even if

GULF OF GUAYAQUIL. 43

they clear little more than the price of their passage,
these people find their advantage in undertaking an
annual expedition of this kind. Apart from the very
positive benefit to health, they gain what they like
most in the world—a season of absolute idleness, with
the amusement of seeing new objects and talking to
new people. For the remainder of the voyage the
main-deck was crowded and somewhat encumbered
by picturesque groups of rough men, some accom-
panied by womankind, alternating with huge heaps of
tropical fruit—pineapples and bananas, a_ single
bunch of the latter sometimes weighing more than a
hundred pounds.

The thermometer scarcely varied by a small fraction
from 80° throughout the night and the following day,
until we had cleared the Gulf of Guayaquil ; and even
at this moderate temperature the feeling of lassitude
continued as on the previous day. Of the famous
mosquitos of the river Guayas we had little ex-
perience. They are said sometimes to attack in
swarms so numerous and ferocious that, even by day,
it becomes difficult for officers and men to manage a
ship on the river.

The sun had set on the following evening, April 12,
before we were well abreast of Cabo Blanco, the
southern headland of the Gulf of Guayaquil, and we
saw nothing of its southern shore. About one-half
of this belongs to Peru, and close to the frontier-line
is the little port of Tumbez, sometimes visited by
passing steamers. I was assured by two of the ship’s
officers that the climate and vegetation of this place
are much the same as at Guayaquil, but there are few

44 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

parts of the American coast that better deserve careful
examination by a scientific naturalist.

During the night of the 12th we passed Cape
Parinas, the westernmost headland of South America,
and before sunrise were in the roads of Payta. Being
aware that the so-called rainless zone of Peru extends
northward to this place, I was especially anxious to
see as much of it as possible. During the night the
temperature had fallen, especially after rounding Cape
Parinas, and at sunrise stood at 74°. In the cooler
air, and under the excitement of pleasant anticipa-
tion, the lassitude of the two preceding days utterly
disappeared ; and as day dawned I stood on deck,
with my tin box slung to my back, ready to go ashore
long before there was any possibility of doing so.
The officers told me, indeed, that there was no use in
taking a botanical box, as the country about Payta was
absolutely without vegetation. JI have many times
had the same assurance given me, but the time had not
yet come when I was to find it correct, and I felt that
Payta was not one of such rare spots on the earth.

The appearance of the place and of its surround-
ings is unquestionably very strange, and the contrast
between it and the shores of the neighbouring Gulf of
Guayaquil is simply marvellous. Saving the presence
of a mean little modern church, with two shabby
wooden towers coated with plaster, the aspect of the
little town reminded me of Suez, with the difference
that the surrounding desert is here raised about a
hundred feet above the sea-level. The place, I pre-
sume, is improved since it was visited and described
by Squiers, and I found that on the slope between

FLORA OF PAYTA. 45

the base of the plateau and the beach there is ample
space for some mean streets.

With several companions who were kind enough to
interest themselves in plant-hunting, I at once turned
towards the sea-beach at the south-western side of the
town, keeping along the base of the low cliffs that here
descend to the water's edge. The seaward face of the
cliffs is furrowed by numerous gullies, and in one of the
broadest of these I was delighted to observe numerous
stunted bushes well laden with crimson flowers. This
turned out to be Galvesia limensis, a plant found only
at a few spots in Peru, whose nearest but yet distant
European ally is the common snapdragon. In the
upper part of the same gully were the withered
remains of several other species, most of which have
been since identified. Emerging on the plateau, we
found ourselves on a wide plain, apparently unbroken,
leading up to a range of hills some fifteen or twenty
miles distant. Though we were here only five degrees
from the equator, and before we returned to the ship
the sun had risen as high as on a summer’s noon in
England, the southerly breeze felt delightfully cool
and fresh, and at midday, under the vertical sun, the
temperature on board ship was not quite 75°.

Vegetation, as I anticipated, was not entirely absent
from the plateau, but it was more scarce than I had
anywhere seen it, except in the tracts west of the
Nile above Cairo, where the drifting sands covers up
and bury everything on the surface. In the northern
Sahara, about Biskra, where rain is much less infrequent
than here, vegetation, though scanty, is nearly con-
tinuous, and it is not easy to find spaces of several

46 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

square yards absolutely without a single plant. About
Suez, and on parts of the isthmus where a slight
infiltration from the sweet water canal has not
developed a more varied vegetation, the number of
species in a given tract is often very limited; but
tufts of vigorous growth, especially of the salt-loving
species, are seen at frequent intervals. On the plateau
of Payta, where, as we rambled about, several pairs of
eyes were on the alert, but a single tuft of verdure
visible at a distance could be made out. This was
formed by several bushes of Prosopis limensis growing
together. Elsewhere the few plants seen were con-
fined to the occasional shallow depressions where rain
rests longest. All, of course, had perennial roots, and
scarcely one of them rose as much as three inches
from the ground.*

I found it difficult to account for the origin of the
sands which are sparingly scattered over the plateau,
but accumulated to a considerable depth on the
slopes behind the town. The underlying rock seen
in ascending to the plateau is a tolerably compact
shale; but the hard crust forming the superficial stratum
appears to consist of different materials, and not to
bé made up from the disintegrated materials of the
shale. At several places, both below the cliffs and
on the plateau, I found large scattered fragments of
what appeared to be a very recent calcareous forma-
tion, largely composed of shells of living species ; but
this was nowhere seen 7” sztu, and I was unable to
conjecture the origin of these fragments.

* Fora list of the species collected, see the Journal of Linnean Society,
vol. xxii.

CLIMATE OF NORTHERN PERU. 47

Before returning to the Js/ay, I had the advantage
of a short conversation with the very intelligent
gentleman who acts as British consular agent at
Payta, and whose ability would perhaps be seen to
advantage in a more conspicuous post. The infor-
mation received from him fully confirmed the im-
pressions formed during my short excursion. The
appearance of the gullies that furrow the seaward
face of the plateau sufficiently showed that, however
infrequent they may be, heavy rains must some-
times visit this part of the coast. I now learned
that, in point of fact, abundant rain lasting for
several days recurs at intervals of three or four
years, the last having been seen in the year 1879.
As happens everywhere else in the arid coast zone,
extending nearly two thousand miles from Payta to
Coquimbo in North Chili, abundant rainfall is speedily
followed by an outburst of herbaceous vegetation
covering the surfaces that have so long been bare.
During the long dry intervals slight showers occur
occasionally a few times in each year. These are
quite insufficient to cause any general appearance of
fresh vegetation, but suffice, it would seem, to main-
tain the vitality of the few species that hold their
ground persistently. The ordinary supply of water
in Payta, obtained from a stream descending from
the Andes seventeen miles distant, is carried by
donkeys that are despatched every morning for the
purpose. There was something quite strange in the
appearance of a few bundles of fresh grass which we
saw in the plaza. They had come that morning by
the same conveyance for the support of the very few

48 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

domestic animals that it is possible to keep in such a
place.

The problems suggested by the singular climatal
conditions of this region of South America have not,
I think, been as fully discussed as they deserve to be,
and I here venture on some remarks as a contribution
to the subject.

The existence of the so-called rainless zone on the
west coast of South America is usually accounted for
by two agencies whose union is necessary to produce
the result. The great range of the Andes, it is said,
acts as a condenser on the moisture that is constantly
carried from the Atlantic coasts by the general west-
ward drift of the atmosphere in low latitudes. The
copious rainfall thus produced on the eastern slopes
of the great range leaves the air of the highlands of
Peru and Bolivia relatively dry and cool, so that any
portion that may descend to the coast on the western
declivity tends to prevent rather than to cause fresh
aqueous precipitations. Meanwhile the branch of
the Antarctic Ocean current known as the Humboldt
current, which sets northward along the sea-board
from Western Patagonia, is accompanied by an aérial
current, or prevailing breeze, which keeps the same
direction. The cold air flowing towards the equator,
being gradually warmed, has its capacity for holding
vapour in suspension constantly increased, and is thus
enabled to absorb a large portion of the vapour con-
tained in the currents that occasionally flow inland
from the Pacific, so that the production of rain is a
rare event, recurring only at long intervals. Admit-
ting the plausibility of this explanation, a first diffi-

CAUSES OF THE ARID COAST CLIMATE. 49

culty presents itself. If the Andes act as a barrier
against the vapour-laden atmosphere of eastern tropical
America throughout Peru, Bolivia, and Northern Chili
why, it may be asked, do they fail to perform the
same function in Ecuador and Colombia? Whence
the absolute contrast in point of climate that exists
between these regions? Why is the littoral zone
between the Gulf of Guayaquil and that of Panama,
a distance of some eight hundred miles, not merely
less dry than that of Peru, but actually more moist
that most parts of the coast of Brazil or Guiana?
Some answer may, I think, be given to these ques-
tions. In the first place, comparing the orography
of Peru and Bolivia with that of Ecuador, some im-
portant differences must be noted. In Eastern Peru,
as is at once shown by the direction of the principal
rivers, we find no less than four parallel mountain
ranges, increasing in mean elevation as we travel from
east to west. The westernmost range, to which in Peru
the name Cordillera is exclusively applied, does not
everywhere include the highest peaks, but has the
highest mean elevation. The second range, exclu-
sively called Andes in Peru, rivals the first in height
and importance. I know of no collective names by
which to distinguish the third range, dividing the
valley of the Huallaga from that of the Ucayali, nor
the fourth range, forming the eastern boundary of the
latter stream. In South Peru and Bolivia the mountain
ranges are less regularly disposed, but cover a still
wider area; and throughout the whole region it is
obvious that the warm and moist currents drifting
slowly westward have to traverse a zone of lofty
E

50 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

mountains varying from four to six hundred miles
in width, and can carry no moisture available to pro-
duce rain on the western seaboard. In Ecuador the
two principal ranges—the Cordillera and the Andes—
are much nearer together than they usually are in
Peru, and no parallel ranges flank them on the east.
The numerous tributaries of the Maranon flow ina
tolerably direct course east or south-east, many of
them rising within a hundred and fifty miles of the
Pacific coast. It follows that the atmospheric currents
meeting less preliminary obstruction reach the eastern
slopes of the main range still very heavily charged
with vapour. In crossing the barrier a large portion
of the burthen must be deposited ; but it is probable
that a large amount is nevertheless carried to the
western side of the range.

It may be said that this explanation, whatever it
may be worth, cannot apply to the territory of
Colombia, where the Andes are broken up into at
least three lofty ranges, and the mountains cover as
wide a space as they do in Peru. My impression is
that the abundant supply of moisture on the west
coast of Colombia arises from a different source. The
effects of the Isthmus of Panama as a barrier against
atmospheric currents must be absolutely insignificant,
and I have no doubt that those which flow eastward
along the coast of the Caribbean Sea are in part
diverted south-east and south along the west coast of
Colombia.

There can, however, be little doubt that in deter-
mining the climate of the west coast the influence
of the Humboldt current, and of the cool southerly

INFLUENCE OF THE HUMBOLDT CURRENT. 51

breezes that accompany it, is far greater than that of
the disposition of the mountain ranges. A glance at
the map shows that about the fifth and sixth degrees
of south latitude the direction of the coast undergoes
a considerable change. On the voyage from Panama,
we had hitherto steered somewhat west of south;
henceforward our course lay between south-south-east
and south-east. All the currents of the ocean and
atmosphere, whose existence arises from the unequal
distribution of heat on the earth’s surface, vary some-
what in their course throughout the year with the
changes of season, and this doubtless holds good on
the American coast. I believe, however, that both
the sea and air currents from the south are normally
deflected away from the coast at the promontory of
Ajulla (sometimes written “ Ahuja”), a short distance
south of Payta. A further portion is again deflected
westward at Cape Parinas, north of which headland
they seem not to be ordinarily met. I infer, however,
from the testimony of seamen, that at some seasons
they are felt near the coast as far north as the equator,
and even beyond it. This inference was confirmed
by observing the parched appearance of the seaward
slope of Cabo Sta. Elena, north of the Gulf of Guaya-
quil, which apparently does not fully share in the
frequent rains that elsewhere visit the coast of
Ecuador.

Whatever force there may be in the above sugges-
tions, I confess that they do not seem to me adequate
to account for the extraordinary difference of climate
between places so near as Payta and Tumbez—not
quite a hundred miles apart—and I trust that further

52 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

light may be thrown upon the matter by a scientific
traveller able to spare the necessary time. So far as
I know, no such abrupt and complete a change is
known elsewhere in the world. I was unable to
obtain any information as to a range of hills or moun-
tains, marked in Arrowsmith’s map “Sa. Amatapi,”
which appears to extend east or east-north-east from
Cape Parinas. Its height can scarcely be considerable,
as it does not appear to have attracted the attention
of the seamen who are familiar with this coast; but,
on the other hand, there is some reason to think that
the southerly breezes prevailing on the coast do not
extend to any great height above the sea-level. It
would be interesting if we should find on the opposite
sides of a range of unimportant hills the same con-
trasts of climate and vegetation that are known to
prevail between the eastern and western slopes of the
Peruvian Andes.*

Along the coast of Northern Peru are numerous
small islets, evidently at some period detached from

* The abrupt change in the vegetation on this part of the American
coast has been noticed by Humboldt, Weddell, and other scientific
travellers. Ina note to the French edition of Grisebach (‘ Vegetation
du Globe,” traduit par P. de Tchihatcheff, ii. p. 615), M. André expresses
the opinion that this, as well as some other cases of abrupt change
in the vegetation observed by him in Colombia, are to be explained by
the nature of the soil, which in the arid tracts is sandy or stony, and
fails to retain moisture. Admitting that in certain cases this may
afford a partial explanation of the facts, it is scarcely conceivable that
the limit of the zone wherein little or no rain falls should exactly
coincide with a change in the constitution of the soil, and I should be
more disposed to admit a reversed order of causation, the porous and
mobile superficial crust remaining in those tracts where, owing to
deficient rainfall, there is no formation of vegetable mould, and no
accumulation of the finer sediment forming a retentive clay.

GUANO ISLANDS. 53

the continent either by subsidence or by marine
erosion. Here, in the almost complete absence of
rain, were formed those secular accumulations de-
posited by sea-birds, which, when known in Europe
under the name of guano, suddenly rivalled the mines
of the precious metals as sources of easily acquired
wealth. The two most considerable groups are
respectively named Lobos de tierra and Lobos de
afuera; a smaller group near to Payta is also called
Lobos. At the western end of the largest of the
latter group the waves have excavated a natural arch,
which, after a sufficient period of further excavation,
will fall and give rise to a new detached islet. A
brisk southerly breeze made the air feel cooler than it
had done since we entered the tropics, as we ran about
due south until sunset, when, after passing abreast of
the promontory of Ajulla, our course was altered to
nearly due south-east. I was assured by a native
passenger that the promontory of Ajulla, for a distance
of thirty or forty miles, is an absolute desert, without
a drop of water or the slightest trace of vegetation.
Experience has made me somewhat sceptical as to
statements of this nature made by non-scientific
observers. During the day we frequently observed a
fish which appears distinct from the flying-fish of the
Atlantic. The pectoral fins appear to be less developed,
and in consequence the flight is shorter, and the
animal seems to have less command over its move-
ments.

Our course on April 14 lay rather far from land.
It was known that yellow fever had broken out at
Truxillo, and it was decided that we should run direct

54 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

to Callao, without touching at that or any of the
smaller places on the coast sometimes visited by the
steamers. Although the air appeared to be somewhat
hazy, the range of the Cordillera, more than a hun-
dred miles distant, was distinctly seen in the after-
noon. Very soon after we ran into a dense bank of
fog, in which we were immersed for several hours, our
cautious captain remaining meanwhile on the bridge,
and the frequent cry of the steam-whistle ceased only
when we steamed out of the fog into a brilliant star-lit
night.

These fogs, which are frequent along the Peruvian
coast, are the chief, if not the only, difficulty with
which the navigator has to contend. When they rest
over the land it becomes extremely difficult to make
the ports, and at sea they involve the possible risk of
collision. If this risk is at present but slight, it must
become more serious when intercourse increases, as it
must inevitably do if the Ship Canal should ever be
completed; and for the general safety it may be
expedient to prescribe special rules as to the course
to be taken by vessels proceeding north or south
along the coast. The origin of the fogs must be
obvious to any one who considers the physical con-
ditions of this region, to which I have already referred.
The air must be very frequently near the point of
saturation, and a slight fall of temperature, or the
local intermixture of a body of moister air, must
suffice to produce fog. The remarkable thing is that
this should so very rarely undergo the further change
requisite to cause rain. To some young Englishmen
on board, the remarkable coolness of the air along

LOW TEMPERATURE OF THE'COAST. 55

this coast was a continual subject of jesting comment ;
and on more than one occasion the “ Tropics” were
emphatically declared to be “humbugs.” It is certain
that for thirty-six hours before reaching Callao the
shaded thermometer never reached 70°, and stood at
noon, with a clear sky and a brisk southerly breeze,
no higher than 68°.

56 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

CHAPTER II.

Arrival at Callao—Quarantine—The war between Chili and
Peru—Aspect of Lima—General Lynch—Andean railway
to Chicla—Valley of the Rimac—Puente Infernillo—Chicla
—Mountain-sickness—Flora of the Temperate zone of the
Andes—Excursion to the higher region—Climate of the
Cordillera—Remarks on the Andean flora—Return to
Lima—Visit to a sugar-plantation—Condition of Peru—
Prospect of anarchy.

THE steam-whistle, sounding about daybreak on
April 15, announced that we were again wrapped in
fog. As the /s/ay advanced at half speed the fog
lightened without clearing, until about nine a.m. we
made the island of San Lorenzo, and, as the haze
finally melted away into bright sunshine, found our-
selves half an hour later in the harbour of Callao.
The moment was exciting for those who, like myself,
approached as strangers the shore which had in our
childhood seemed so strange, so adventure-fraught, so
distant. Already some one had pointed out the
towers of the Cathedral of Lima, with the Cordillera
apparently so near that the mountains must begin
outside the gates. All stood on deck prepared to
land—some already looking forward to luncheon in
the city of Pizarro—and waiting only for the usual

IN QUARANTINE AT CALLAO. 57

formalities of the visit of the sanidad. At length the
officials came, and, after the usual parley over the
ship’s side, it became apparent that the visit was no
mere formality. At last the ominous word quarantine
was heard, received at first with mere incredulity, as
something too absurd, but at last taking the consist-
ence of a stern fact. Since the outbreak of yellow
fever among the troops at Truxillo, the Chilian
authorities have naturally become nervously anxious
to protect the occupying army from this danger, and
every precaution is put in force. Under these circum-
stances, a ship coming from Guayaquil was naturally
an object of suspicion. There certainly was not at the
time any epidemic fever at that place; but, if reports
be true, sporadic cases are not unfrequent, and that
city is rarely, if ever, quite free from malignant zymotic
disease. At last the discussion was closed, by a
definite order that we should repair to the quarantine
ground under the lee of the island of San Lorenzo.
Up to this time we had scarcely given attention to
the scene immediately surrounding us; yet the
harbour of Callao is at any time an interesting sight,
and at this moment its aspect was peculiarly expres-
sive. Although the Chilian forces had before this
time become absolute masters of the entire seaboard
of Peru, and there was no reason to apprehend any
renewal of the struggle by sea, the memorials of the
desperate encounters which marked the earlier phase
of the war were here still fresh. Near the shore in
several different directions were the wrecks of ships
which had sunk while the captors were endeavouring
to bring them into harbour, the masts sticking up idly

58 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

above water and doing the duty of buoys. Still
afloat, though looking terribly battered and scarcely
seaworthy, was that remarkable little ship, the
Huascar, \ooking a mere pigmy beside the warships
in the harbour from which the Chilian, American,
French, and Italian flags were flying, England being
for the moment unrepresented.

The naval war between Chili and Peru was con-
ducted at such a distance from Europe, and its causes
were so little understood, that it excited but feeble
interest. Even the circumstance that, in an encounter
brought about by the incompetence and rashness of
a British commander, the pigmy Peruvian force was
able with impunity to inflict an affront on the national
flag, scarcely excited in England more than momentary
surprise. Nevertheless the story of the war, which yet
awaits an impartial chronicler,* abounds with dramatic
incident. The record is ennobled by acts of heroic
bravery on both sides, while at the same time it suggests
matter for serious consideration to the professional
seaman. The important part which small fast ships,
carrying one or two heavy guns only, may play in the
altered conditions of naval warfare has been often
pointed out, but has been practically illustrated only in
the war between Chiliand Peru. It does not seem as if
the importance of the lesson had been yet fully appre-
ciated by those responsible for the naval administra-
tion of the great European powers.

For the remainder of the day, and during the whole

* The only detailed account of the operations that I have seen is in a
work entitled, “‘ Histoire de la Guerre du Pacifique,” by Don Diego
Barros Arana. Paris: 1881. It appears to be fairly accurate as to
facts, but coloured by very decided Chilian sympathies.

BLACK PELICANS. 59

of the 16th, we lay at anchor about half a mile from
the shore of the island of San Lorenzo, a bare rough
hill, mainly formed, it would seem, of volcanic rock
overlaid in places by beds of very modern formation,
All naturalists are familiar with the evidence adduced
by Darwin, proving the considerable elevation of the
island and the adjacent mainland since the period of
the Incas, as well as Tschudi’s arguments going to
show that in more recent times there has been a
period of subsidence.

Of the objects near at hand the most interesting
were the large black pelicans which in great numbers
frequent the bay or harbour of Callao, attracted, no
doubt, by the offal abundantly supplied from the town
and the shipping. Seemingly indefatigable and in-
satiable, these birds continued for hours to circle in
long sweeping curves over the water, swooping down
on any object that attracted their appetite. The body
appears to be somewhat slighter than that of the
white pelican of the East, but the breadth of wing
and length of the neck are about the same. When
on the wing the plumage appears to be black, but in
truth it is of a dark bluish slate colour.

Our detention in quarantine might have been pro-
longed but for the fortunate circumstance that the
contents of the mail-bags carried by the /s/ay were at
this moment the object of anxious curiosity to the
Chilian authorities, and to the representatives of foreign
powers. The position of affairs was already sufficiently
critical, and the attitude recently assumed by the
Government of the United States had added a new
element of uncertainty to the existing difficulties.

60 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

Mr. Hurlbut, the last American representative, had
died, and Mr. Trescott, who supplied his place, was
ostensibly charged with the attempt to bring about a
peace between Chili and Peru, but was supposed to
be chiefly intent on extricating his Government from
a position into which it had been led by a series of
proceedings which had neither raised the national
reputation nor secured the good-will of either Chili
or Peru.

While we lay off the harbour, watched day and
night by the crew of a launch stationed beside us
to prevent communication with the land, we received
three successive visits from the officers of the American
man-of-war lying in the harbour, who approached
near enough to hold conversation with our captain.
The message was a request, finally conveyed in some-
what imperious terms, that the despatches addressed’
to the American envoy should at once be delivered.
The American foreign office is not, I believe, accus-
tomed to forward diplomatic despatches in a separate
bag, but merely uses the ordinary post. Our captain
properly declined to take the responsibility of opening
the mail-bags, which he was bound to deliver intact to
the postal authorities as soon as we were admitted to
pratique. The result was that on Monday, just as we
were beginning to be seriously uneasy at the prospect
of a long detention, a steam launch was seen to
approach, having a number of officials on board. A
seemingly interminable conversation between these
and the captain and medical officer of our ship finally
resulted in a Chilian medical man coming on board
to make a careful examination of the ship, the crew,

LANDING AT CALLAO. 61

and the passengers. After we had been duly mar-
shalled and inspected—the first-class passengers on
the spar-deck, the others on the main-deck—the
welcome announcement, “ Admitted to pratique,” ran
through the ship. Not much time was lost in moving
up to the proper moorings in the harbour, some two
miles distant, and about noon we were set on land
close to the custom-house.

The boatmen, the porters, and the nondescript
hangers-on about the quays of a port, formed a
strange and motley assemblage, in whose countenances
three very distinct types of humanity—the European,
the negro, and the South American Indian—were
mingled in the most varied proportions, scarcely one
denoting an unmixed origin. The arrangements at
Callao are convenient for strangers. The custom-
house officers, though unbribed, gave no trouble, and
the rather voluminous luggage of six English pas-
sengers was entrusted to a man who undertook for
ten soles (about thirty-three shillings) to convey the
whole to the chief hotel in Lima. No time was left
to see anything of Callao. A train was about to start ;
and in half an hour we were carried over the level
space—about seven and a half miles—that separates
Lima from the port of Callao.

Occupied by the forces of her victorious rival, and
shorn of most of the almost fabulous wealth that once
enriched her inhabitants, Peru can, even in her present
ruined state, show a capital city that impresses the
stranger. It is true that the buildings have no archi-
tectural merit, that most of the streets are horribly ill-
paved, and that at present there is little outward

62 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

appearance of wealth in the thoroughfares ; in spite of
all this the general aspect is novel and pleasing.
Although violent earthquakes have rarely occurred in
this region, slight shocks are very frequent, and remind
the inhabitants that formidable telluric forces are
slumbering close at hand. Hence, as a rule, the
houses have only a single floor above the ground, and
cover a proportionately large space. As in Southern
Spain, all those of the better class enclose a fatzo, or
courtyard, partly occupied by tropical trees or flower-
ing shrubs. Fronting the street, or the p/aza, a long
projecting balcony, enclosed with glass, enables the
inmates to enjoy that refuge from absolute vacancy
which is afforded by gazing at the passers-by, and
which seems to supply the place of occupation to
much of the population even in Southern Europe.
With scarcely an exception, the numerous churches
are vile examples of debased renaissance architecture,
fronted with stucco ornamentation in great part fallen
to decay. Not long before our arrival, I believe under
the Chilian administration, they had been all freshly
covered with whitewash, cut into rectangular spaces
by broad bands of bright blue. In the streets near
the great plaza there was much apparent animation
during the day; but the shops were closed an hour
before nightfall, and after dark the city was hushed
into unnatural silence. The fair Limefias,as to whose
charms travellers have been eloquent, and who used
to throng the public drives and walks towards sunset,
were no longer to be seen. To exhibit themselves
would be to display indifference to the misfortunes
of their country. Some might be observed, indeed,

CHOICE OF A ROUTE TO THE ANDES. 63

during the morning hours, plainly dressed in black,
going either to church or on some business errand ;
but they were so closely wrapped up in a manta as to
be completely disguised.

On landing in Peru, the one question which com-
pletely engrossed my mind was whether or not it
would be possible for me, in the present state of the
country, to reach the upper region of the Andes.

To a naturalist this great chain must ever be the
dominant feature of the South American continent.
To its structure and its flora and fauna are attached
questions of overwhelming importance to the past
history of our planet, and, however little a man may
hope to effect during a flying visit, the desire to gain
that degree of acquaintance which actual observation
alone can give becomes painfully intense. I was
aware that what had formerly been a long and rather
laborious journey had of late years been reduced to
a mere excursion by the construction of two lines of
railway, leading from the sea-coast to the upper
region. That which, if free to choose, I should have
preferred starts from the coast at Mollendo, and,
passing the important town of Arequipa, traverses
the crest of the Cordillera, and has its terminus at
Puno, on the Lake of Titicaca, in the centre of the
plateau which lies between the two main ridges of
the Andes. The region surrounding this great lake,
which here divides Peru from Bolivia, must offer
objects of interest only too numerous and too en-
grossing for a traveller whose time is counted by
days. Although the level of the lake is some 12,800
feet above the sea, the peaks of Sorata rise above its

64 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

eastern shores to a further height of nearly 10,000
feet; and lake steamers give access to most of the
inhabited places on its shores—no slight matter when
it is remembered that the lake measures more than
a hundred miles in length.

The second line, which, starting from the city of
Lima, is carried nearly due east along the valley of
the Rimac, was designed to open communication by
the most direct route between the capital and the
fertile region on the eastern slopes of the Andes—
called in Peru the Montafa—as well as with the rich
silver region of Cerro de Pasco. The crest of the
Cordillera, or western ridge of the Andes, is scarcely
eighty miles from Lima in a direct line, but the most
practicable pass is somewhat higher than the summit
of Mont Blanc. The road was to pierce the pass by
a tunnel 15,645 feet above the sea-level, and thence
to descend to the town of Oroya on the high plateau
that divides the two main ridges. As the line was
laid out, the distance from Lima to the summit-level
was only 97 miles, and that to Oroya 129 miles.

Considered merely as engineering works, these lines,
which owe their existence to the enterprise of an
American contractor and the skill of the engineers
who carried out the undertaking, may fairly be counted
among the wonders of the world. The Oroya line,
the more difficult of the two, unfortunately remained
unfinished, Although the loans contracted in Europe
by the Peruvian Government more than sufficed to
defray the cost of all the industrial undertakings that
they were professedly intended to supply, it is scarcely
necessary to say that a large portion disappeared

UNFINISHED ANDEAN RAILWAY. 65

through underground channels, leaving legitimate
demands unprovided for. The stipulated instalments
due to Mr. Meiggs, the great contractor, remained
unpaid, and, in the midst of the difficulties in which
he was thus involved, his death put a final stoppage
to the works. The line had been completed and
opened for a distance of about eighty miles from
Lima, as far as the village of Chicla, 12,220 feet above
the sea. From that time forward Mr. Meiggs devoted
his energies to the boring of the tunnel at the summit,
probably under the impression that if that were once
finished the Peruvian Government could scarcely fail
to provide the funds necessary to complete the line
on either side.

I had found it impossible to ascertain before leaving
England what had been the fate of these magnificent
works since the ravages of war had devastated the
region through which they are carried. Various quite
inconsistent stories had reached me through the pas-
sengers from Panama, Guayaquil,and Payta. Traffic,
said some, continued on both lines just as before the
war; traffic, said others, had been completely stopped
by order of the Chilian authorities ; others, finally,
asserted that the Oroya line had been so damaged
by either belligerent as to be rendered permanently
useless,

Before I had been many hours on shore, I was able
to get authentic information which relieved my mind
from further anxiety. The southern line, from Mollendo
to Puno, was open; but Arequipa, the chief place on
the way, was still in possession of the Peruvians,
who occupied it in some force. With permits, to be

F

66 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

obtained from the commanding officers on both sides,
it might be possible to go and return, supposing no
fresh outbreak of hostile movements of the troops on
either side. The news as to the Oroya line was even
more satisfactory. The whole line was occupied by
the Chilian forces, there being a detachment at Chicla,
with outposts on the farther side of the pass. The
line had been for some time closed to traffic, but had
been re-opened a few days before our arrival. With
a permit, to be obtained from the chief of the staff in
Lima, there would be no difficulty in proceeding to
‘Chicla.

My decision was speedily taken. Under the most
favourable circumstances, the time necessary to reach
Puno and return to the coast, with the not improbable
risk of detention, was more than I could afford.
Further than this, as Puno lies on the plateau remote
from the mountains, I should see but little of the

. characteristic flora of the Andes, unless I could reach
some place on the eastern shore of the Lake of
Titicaca, whence access could be had to the flanks of
the Sorata Andes.

Some description of the Lake of Titicaca which I
had read as a boy still dwelt in my mind, and the
memoirs and conversation of the late Mr. Pentland
had long made the peaks of Sorata objects of especial
interest to me. There could, however, be no doubt
that the faint hope of beholding them which had
lingered till then must be renounced, and I was too
happy at the prospect of achieving a short visit to the
more accessible part of the chain to have leisure for
any keen regret,

DON PATRICIO LYNCH. 67

Having ascertained that the trains to Chicla departed
only every second day, returning thence on the alter-
nate days, I arranged to start on the 20th. During
the two intermediate days, I had the opportunity of
making several agreeable acquaintances. Sir Spencer
St. John, the English minister, had lately returned to
Europe, and the legation was temporarily under the
charge of Mr. J. R. Graham, who had recently acted
as chargé d'affaires in Guatemala. Among other
kind attentions which I have to acknowledge, Mr.
Graham was good enough to introduce me to Don
Patricio Lynch, commander-in-chief of the Chilian
forces in Peru.

The object of boundless admiration from his own
followers, and of still more unmeasured denunciation
from his enemies, General Lynch is undoubtedly the
most remarkable man who has come to the front
during the late unhappy war in South America. Like
most of the men who have acquired military renown
in that part of the world, he is of Irish extraction, his
grandfather having settled in Chili early in the present
century. Having served as a young man for a time
in the English navy, he was promoted by the Chilian
Government, some time after the outbreak of the war,
to a naval command. The operations at sea had, up
to that time, been on the whole unfavourable to Chili,
and the successes which finally changed the aspect of
the war by sea were largely ascribed to the energy
and ability of Admiral Lynch. Passing from the sea
to the land, he so much distinguished himself in
various daring encounters with the enemy that he was
finally promoted to the chief command of the Chilian

68 : NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

forces in Peru, and at this time was virtually dictator,
with absolute rule over the whole coast region occupied
by the Chilian army.

However open to discussion might be the policy
adopted by the Chilians towards the conquered
country, there was a general agreement as to one
matter of no slight importance. The population of
Lima and the surrounding districts is composed of the
most varied constituents—native Indian, negro, and
the mongrel offspring of the intermixture of these
with European blood, to all which of late years has
been added a large contingent of Chinese immigrants.
It is not surprising that, under inefficient administra-
tion, there should have arisen from the dregs of such
a population a large class either actually living by
crime or ready to resort to outrage as favourable
opportunities might arise. On the other hand, the
Chilian army, for which there was but a small nucleus
of regular troops, had to be largely recruited from
among the loose fish of the floating population of
South America, and naturally included no small
number of bad subjects, ready to make the utmost
use of the license of war. For many years past the
police of Lima was notoriously inefficient ; robberies
were frequent, and there were many spots in the
neighbourhood of the city where it was considered
unsafe to go unarmed even in broad daylight. It
was not unreasonably feared that in such conditions
the occupation of the city by the Chilians would have
results disastrous for the safety of the numerous
foreign residents and the peaceful citizens. It was
through the energy and capacity of General Lynch

ORDER ESTABLISHED IN LIMA. 69

that the apprehended reign of disorder was averted.
An efficient police was at once established, speedy
capital punishment was awarded in every case of
serious outrage, and with stern impartiality a short
shrift was allotted alike to the Peruvian marauder and
the looter wearing Chilian uniform. It was admitted
on all hands that the city had never before been so
safe, while, at the same time, the ordinary municipal
work of cleansing, watering, and lighting the streets
and public places had been visibly improved under the
stimulus of vigorous administration.

My reception by the Chilian general was all that I
could desire. He at once expressed his readiness to
assist my objects in every way, and carried out his
promise by giving me a letter to the officer command-
ing the detachment at Chicla, with instructions to
provide horses and guides and all needful protection
for myself and my companion. I failed to detect ‘in
General Lynch any of the characteristics, usually so
persistent, of men of Irish descent. The stately
courtesy and serious expression, reminding one of the
bearing of a Castilian gentleman, were not enlivened
by the irrepressible touches of liveliness that involun-
tarily relieve even a careworn Irishman from the
pressure of his environment. One particularity in the
arrangements at head-quarters struck me as singular ;
but I afterwards understood that it was merely the
transference to Peru of the ordinary habits of Chili.
The head-quarters of the general were fixed in the
former palace of the Spanish viceroys. A sentry in
the street paid no attention as, in company with Mr.
Graham, I entered the first court, and it appeared

79 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

that every one, or, at least, every decently dressed.
stranger, was free to pass. Through an open door
we entered the first of a suite of large rooms, and
advanced from one to another without encountering
a human being, whether guard or attendant, until in
the last room but one, seemingly by accident, a
secretary presented himself, who at once ushered us
into the cabinet of the general. In the case of any
public man in Europe, to say nothing of the chief of
an army of occupation constantly assailed by the
fiercest denunciations, and left thus easy of access,
some fanatic or madman would speedily translate the
popular hatred into grim deed.

Among the acquaintances made in Lima, I must
mention the name of Mr. William Nation, a gentleman
who, amidst many difficulties, has acquired an ex-
tensive knowledge of the fauna and flora of Peru, and
has observed with attention many facts of interest con-
nected with the natural history of the country. After
my return from Chicla, Mr. Nation was kind enough
to accompany me in two short excursions in the neigh-
bourhood of the city, and I am further indebted to
him for much valuable assistance and information.

Soon after eight am. on the morning of April 20,
I started from the railway station at Lima, in com-
pany with my friend W. , who was fortunately
able to absent himself for some days. The country
lying between the coast and the foot of the Cordillera
appears to the eye a horizontal plain, but is, in fact,
a slope inclining towards the sea, and rising very
uniformly about seventy feet per mile.* This ancient

* The heights given in the text are those of the railway stations.

WINTER VEGETATION NEAR LIMA. 71

sea-bottom extends for a distance of fully fifteen
miles from Lima into the valley of the Rimac, which,
in approaching the coast, gradually spreads out from
a narrow gorge to a wide valley with a flat floor. At
the same time the river gradually dwindles from a
copious rushing torrent to a meagre stream, running
in many shallow channels over a broad stony bed,
until it is finally almost lost in the marshes near
Callao. Its waters are consumed by the numerous
irrigation channels ; for it must be remembered that
along the western side of the continent, for a distance
of nearly thirty degrees of latitude, cultivation is con-
fined to those tracts which can be irrigated by streams
from the Andes. Keeping pretty near to the left
bank of the Rimac, the railway runs between two
detached hills, formerly islands when the sea stood a
few hundred feet above its present level. That on
the north side is called the Amancais, and another
less extensive mass rises south of the river.
Throughout the greater part of the year these hills,
as well as the lower slopes of the Cordillera, appear,
as they did to me, absolutely bare of vegetation ; but
in winter, from June to September, slight showers of
rain are not unfrequent, and the fogs, denser than in
other seasons, rest more constantly on the hills, and
doubtless deposit abundant night-dews on the surface.
The seeds and bulbs and rhizomes awake from their
long sleep, and in a few days the slopes are covered
with a brilliant carpet, in which bright flowers of
various species follow each other in rapid succession.
Alongside of the railway runs a broad road covered
to a depth of a couple of feet with volcanic sand, with

72 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

occasional loose blocks of stone. The struggles of
the few laden animals that we saw in passing, as they
toiled along this weary track under a scorching sun,
suggested a thought of the wonderful changes which
modern inventions have already effected, and are
destined to effect in the future, throughout every part
of the world. The track before our eyes was, until
the other day, the sole line of direct communication
between Lima and the interior of Peru. The passage
of men and animals had in the course of centuries
reduced the original stony surface to a river of fine
sand, and by no better mode of transport had the
treasures of Cerro de Pasco, and the other rich silver
deposits of the same region, been carried to the coast
to sap the manhood and energy of the Spanish settlers
in Peru, and help to achieve the same result in the
mother country.

The American railway car, which is not without its
drawbacks for ordinary travellers, is admirably suited
to a naturalist in a new country. No time is lost in
opening and shutting doors. Standing ready on the
platform, one jumps off at every stoppage of the train,
and jumps up again without delay or hindrance. I
was able to appreciate these advantages during this
day, and to add considerably to my collections by
turning every moment to account. At first the vege-
tation was, of course, extremely scanty; but I was
interested by finding here some representatives of
genera that extend to the hotter and drier parts of
the Mediterranean region, such as Boerhavia and
Lippia.

Not far beyond the station of Santa Clara, near to

VEGETATION OF THE RIMAC VALLEY. 73

which is a large sugar-plantation, the slopes on either
side of the valley become more continuous, and
gradually approach nearer together. The first trace
of vegetation visible from a distance was shown by
one of the cactus tribe, probably a Cereus, and as we
ascended I was able to distinguish two other species
of the same family.

At many points in the valley, always on slightly
rising ground, shapeless inequalities of the surface
marked with their rough outline all that now remains
of the numerous villages that in the days of the Incas
were scattered at short intervals.

As we advanced, the slopes on either side became
higher and steeper, but were still apparently nearly
bare of vegetation until we reached Chosica, about
twenty-six miles from Lima, 2800 feet above the sea.
At this place it was formerly the custom to halt for
breakfast, but since the line has been re-opened, the
only eatables to be found are the fruits, chiefly
bananas and granadillas, which Indian women offer
to the passengers.

Henceforward the line is fairly enclosed between
the slopes on either hand, everywhere rough and
steep, but, as is the nature of volcanic rocks, nowhere
cut into precipices. The gradient becomes perceptibly
steeper, being about one in thirty-three in the space
between Chosica and San Bartolomé—about thirteen
miles. Here the change of climate begins to be dis-
tinctly marked. It is evident that during a great part
of the year the declivities are covered with vegetation,
though now brown from drought, and they show the
occasional action of running water in deep furrows

74 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

and ravines. Here the engineers engaged on the
railway first confronted the serious difficulties of the
undertaking. Following the line from San Bartolomé
to Chicla, the distance is only thirty-four miles, but the
difference of level is 7317 feet, and the fifty-one miles
between this and the summit-tunnel involve an ascent
of 10,740 feet. The gradient is very uniform, never,
I believe, exceeding one in twenty-six, the average
being about one in twenty-eight. Some of the ex-
pedients adopted appear simple enough, though quite
effectual for the intended purpose. Very steep uniform
slopes have been ascended by zigzags, in which the
train is alternately dragged by the locomotive in front,
and then (the motion being reversed), shoved up the
next incline with the engine in the rear. In one
place I observed that we passed five times, always at
a different level, above the same point in the valley
below.

Among the more remarkable works on the line are
the viaducts by which deep and broad ravines cut in
the friable volcanic rocks have been spanned. The
iron beams and girders that sustain these structures
appear much slighter than I have seen used in Europe.
In crossing one darranca, on what is said to be the
loftiest viaduct in the world, I stood on the platform
at the end of the car: there being no continuous road-
way, the eye plunged directly down into the chasm
below, over which we seemed to be travelling on a
spider’s web.

For a distance of about eight miles from San
Bartolomé the railway keeps near to the bottom of
the valley, between slopes whereon a distinct green hue

ANCIENT INDIAN TERRACES. 75

is now visible, and some trickling rivulets are perceived
in the channels of the ravines. On the opposite, or
northern, slope are still distinctly seen the terraces by
which in ancient days the industrious Indian popula-
tion carried cultivation up the precipitous slopes to
a height of more than fifteen hundred feet above the
bed of the valley. For in this land, before the
Spaniard destroyed its simple civilization and reduced
the larger part to a wilderness, the pressure of popula-
tion was felt as it now is in the southern valleys of
the Alps. The fact that terrace cultivation com-
menced precisely in the part of the valley where we
now find streamlets from the flanks of the high
mountains above, which might be used for partial
irrigation, tends to show that no considerable change
of climate has occurred.

Before reaching the Surco station (forty-eight
miles from Lima, and 6655 feet above the sea) the
road finally abandons the Rimac, and commences
the seemingly formidable ascent of the declivity
above the left bank. For some distance a projecting
buttress with a moderate slope enabled the engineers
to accomplish the ascent by long winding curves ; but
before long we reached the first zigzags, which are
frequently repeated during the remainder of the
ascent. The tunnels are frequent, but fortunately
for the most part short, as the rate of travelling is
necessarily slow, and the artificial fuel used gives
out black fumes of a stifling character. A further
change of climate, welcome to the botanist, was now
very obvious. Although the soil appears to be
parched, it is clear that some slight rain must recur

76 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

at moderate intervals. Vegetation, if not luxuriant,
finds the needful conditions, and in the gardens of
Surco tropical fruits, such as bananas, cherimolias,
oranges, and granadillas, are cultivated with tolerable
success. Of the indigenous plants in flower at this
season the large majority were Composite, chiefly be-
longing to the sun-flower tribe (Helianthoidee), a
group characteristic of the New World.* It was
tantalizing to see so many new forms of vegetation
pass before one’s eyes untouched. Most of them were
indeed finally captured, but several yet remain as
fleeting images in my memory, never fixed by closer
observation.

About one p.m. we reached the chief village of the
valley, San Juan de Matucana, fifty-five miles from
Lima, and about 7800 feet above the sea. The train
halted here for twenty minutes, and we discovered
that very tolerable food is- to be had at a little inn
kept by an Italian. Hunger having been already
stilled, the time was available for botanizing in the
neighbourhood of the station, and, along with several
cosmopolite weeds which we are used to call European,
I found a good many types not before seen. Owing
to the accident of having left my gloves in the carriage,
I unwisely postponed to collect one plant not seen by
me again during my stay in Peru. This was a small
species of 7uga,a génus now united to Lobelia, with
flowers of a lurid purple colour, which is said to have

* Of 138 genera of Helianthoidee 107 are exclusively confined to
the American continent, 18 more are common to America and distant
regions of the earth, one only is limited to tropical Asia, and two to

tropical Africa, the remainder being scattered among remote islands—
the Sandwich group, the Galapagos, Madagascar, and St. Helena,

t

ASCENT FROM MATUCANA. 7

the singular effect of producing temporary blindness
in those who handle the foliage, and I had been
assured by Mr. Nation that he had verified the state-
ment by experiment.* We were here in the inter-
mediate zone, wherein many species of the subtropical
region are mingled with those characteristic of the
Andean flora. Hitherto the most prevalent families,
after the Composite, had been the Solanacee and
Malvacee. These have many representatives in the
Andean flora, but henceforward were associated with
an increasing proportion of types of many different
orders.

As we continued the ascent in the afternoon our
locomotive began to show itself unequal to the heavy
work of the long-continued ascent, whether owing to
defects in construction or, as seemed more probable,
to the bad quality of the fuel supplied. Two stop-
pages occurred, required, as we learned, to clear out
tubes. A considerable ascent was then achieved by a
detour into a lateral valley above Matucana, returning
to the Rimac at a much higher level, as is done on
the Brenner line between Gossensass and Schelleberg.

Up to this time the scenery had fallen much below
my anticipations. Owing to the nature of the rocks,
there was an utter deficiency in that variety of colour
and form that are essential elements in the beauty of
mountain scenery. A still greater defect is the entire
absence of forest. Along the course of the Rimac
bushes or small trees, such as Schinus molle, two
Acacias, Salix Humboldtiana, and others, are tolerably
frequent ; but on the rugged surface of the mountain

* See note to page 184.

78 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

slopes nothing met the eye more conspicuous than
the columnar stem of a cactus, or dense rigid tufts of
what I took to be a Bromeliaceous plant, most pro-
bably a species of Puya. The sun had set, and dark-
ness was fast closing round us when the train came
suddenly to a standstill, and the intelligent American
guard informed us that a delay of at least twenty
minutes was required to set the locomotive in working
order.

The accident was in every way fortunate. We
had just reached the Puente Infernillo, by far the
most striking scene on the whole route, rendered
doubly impressive when seen by the rapidly fading
light. The railway had here returned to the Rimac,
and is carried for a short distance along the right
bank. In front the river rushes out of a narrow cleft,
while on either hand the mountains rise to a pro-
digious height, with a steeper declivity than we had
as yet anywhere seen. With a lively recollection of
the Via Mala, the gorge of Pfeffers, and other scenes
of a similar character, I could bring to mind none to
rival this for stern sublimity. The impassable chasm
that seemed to defy further advance, the roar of the
river in the deeply cut channel below, the impending
masses that towered up above us, leaving but a strip
of sky in view, combined to form such a representa- ,
tion of the jaws of hell as would have satisfied the
imagination of the Tuscan poet. To a botanist the
scene awoke very different associations. Before it
became quite dark I had captured several outposts of
the Andean flora, not hitherto seen. The beautiful
Tropa@olum tuberosum, with masses of flowers smaller,

ASCENT FROM PUENTE INFERNILLO. 79

but even more brilliant, than those of the common
garden species, climbed over the bushes. A fleshy-
leaved Ovxalis, the first seen of a numerous group,
came out of the crevices of the adjoining rocks, and
Alonsoa acutifolia, which I had never seen but in an
English greenhouse, was an additional prize.

Night had completely fallen as we resumed our
journey, and although my curiosity was much excited
in the attempt to follow the course of the line, I utterly
failed to do so. Watching the stars as guides to our
direction, where these were not cut off by the frequent
tunnels, I could only infer that we were constantly
winding round sharp curves, at times near the bottom
of a deep ravine, with the roar of a torrent close at
hand, and soon after working at a dizzy height along
the verge of a precipice, with the muffled bass of a
waterfall heard from out of the depths. Even after
I had travelled the reverse way in broad daylight, I
remained in some doubt as to the real structure of
this part of the line. So far as I know, the first
application of a spiral tunnel in railway construction
was on the line across the Apennine between Bologna
and Florence, but the spiral is there but a semicircle ;_
you enter it facing north, and emerge in the opposite
direction at a higher level. A similar device has been
more freely resorted to in the construction of the
St. Gothard line; but on this part of the Oroya line,
completed before that of the St. Gothard was com-
menced, the spiral, if I mistake not, includes two
complete circles, at the end of which the train stands
nearly vertically above the point from which it started.
It is by no means altogether a tunnel, as the form of

80 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

a great projecting buttress has allowed the line to be
carried in great part along a spiral line traced upon
its flanks,

Nearly two hours after sunset we at length reached
the terminus at Chicla, very uncertain as to the
resources of that place in point of shelter and food.
We had had the pleasure of meeting in the train
Mr. H——, a distinguished German statesman, who
had travelled with us in the /s/ay on his way from
California to make the tour of South America. He
was accompanied by Baron von Zoden, the German
minister at Lima. As their object was merely to see
the railway line, they intended to return on the
following morning; but meanwhile we resolved to
confront together any difficulties that might arise.

The architecture of Chicla is remarkably uniform,
the only differences being in the size of the edifices.
Stone, brick, tiles, slate, and mortar are alike un-
known. Planks are nailed together around a frame-
work, the requisite number of pieces of corrugated
iron are nailed to some rafters on the top, and the
house is complete. After stepping from the railway
car and scrambling up a steep bank, we found our-
selves before the chief building of the place, a so-called
hotel, kept by a worthy German whose ill fortune
had placed him on the borderland, where for some
time the place was alternately occupied by small
parties of Chilian or Peruvian troops. Besides some
rooms on an upper floor occupied by the people of
the house, the hotel consisted of two large rooms on
the ground floor, where food and drink were supplied
to all comers, with an adjoining kitchen. For such

1

MOUNTAIN-SICKNESS. 81

fastidious travellers as might require further sleeping
accommodation than a cloak in which to roll them-
selves, and a floor on which to stretch their limbs, a
long adjoining shed was provided. This was divided
by thin partitions into four or five small chambers,
each capable of holding two beds. Supper was before
long provided ; and when we afterwards learned the
difficulties of our host’s position, our surprise was
excited more by the merits than by the defects of the
entertainment.

We had been assured at Lima that, on going up to
Chicla, we should be sure to suffer from the soroche,
by which name the people of South America denote
mountain-sickness, familiar to those who ascend from
the coast to the plateau of the Andes. Knowing
the height of Chicla to be no more than 12,220 feet
above the sea, and never having experienced any of
the usual symptoms at greater heights in Europe, I
had treated the warning with derision so far as I was
personally concerned, though not sure what effect the
diminished pressure might have on my companion.
I have described elsewhere* my experience at Chicla,
which undoubtedly resulted from a mitigated form of
mountain-sickness, the symptoms being felt only at
night, and passing away by day and in exercise.
They were confined to the first two nights, and after
the third day, during which we ascended to a height
of more than two thousand feet above Chicla, they
completely disappeared.

With regard to mountain-sickness, the only matter
for surprise, as it seems to me, is that it is not more

* In Mature for September 14, 1882.
G

82 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

frequently felt at lower elevations, and that the human
economy is able so readily to adapt itself to the
altered conditions when transferred to an atmosphere
of say two-thirds of the ordinary density, where the
diminished supply to the lungs is aggravated by the
increased mechanical effort requisite to move the limbs,
and raise the weight of the body in an attenuated
medium. Observation shows that the effects actually
produced at great heights vary much with different
individuals, and that in healthy subjects the functions
after a short time adapt themselves to the new con-
ditions, It is obvious that this process must have a
limit, which has probably been very nearly attained
in some cases.

In spite of some statements lately published, I am
inclined to believe that the utmost limit of height
compatible with active exertion will be found to lie,
according to individual constitution, between twenty
and twenty-five thousand feet. As regards our ex-
periences at Chicla, the difficulty is to account for the
fact that the effects produced while the body is at
rest should disappear during active exercise; and
whatever the nature of the disturbance of the func-
tions, this was not accompanied by any discernible
derangement of the respiration or the circulation. It
appeared to me that the seat of disturbance, such as
it was, was limited to the nervous system.

On the evening of our arrival we met at the hotel
the commandant of the Chilian detachment, and on
presenting my letter from the commander-in-chief, he
was profuse in offers of assistance. It was speedily
arranged that we should start on the following morn-

FIRST DAY IN THE ANDES. 83

ing, to ride as far as the tunnel at the summit of the
pass to Oroya, where I promised myself an ample
harvest among the plants of the higher region of the
Andes. When morning broke, after a sleepless night
with a splitting headache, I found or fancied myself
unfit for a hard day’s work; and, my companion being
in much the same plight, we sent at an early hour to
request that the excursion should be postponed till
the following day. By the time, however, that we
had dressed and breakfasted, the troubles of the night
were all forgotten. A new vegetable world was out-
side awaiting us, and we were soon on the slopes
above the station, where, in the person of my friend
W: , | had the advantage of a kind and zealous
assistant in the work of plant-collecting.

Deferring to a later page some remarks on the
vegetation of the Cordillera, I need merely say that
of this first delightful day the morning hours were
devoted to the steep declivity of the mountain over-
hanging the left bank of the stream, while the after-
noon was given to the less precipitous but more broken
and irregular slopes on the opposite, or right, bank.

Having soon made the discovery that the supplies
at Chicla were very limited, we had taken measures
to procure a few creature comforts through the
obliging conductor of the train, which left Chicla,
in the morning, and was to return from Lima on the
following evening. A far more serious deficiency
was at the same time apparent. I had quite under-
rated the quantity of paper required to dry the
harvest of specimens that I was sure to collect here,
and no one but a botanist can measure the intensity

84 ‘NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

of distress with which I viewed the prospect of losing
precious specimens, and seeing shapes of beauty con-
verted into repulsive masses of corruption, for want
of the material necessary for their preservation. I
addressed an urgent note to Mr. Nation, on whase
sympathy as a brother naturalist I could safely count,
telling him that unless I could find two reams of
suitable drying-paper on my return, I should infallibly
require accommodation in a lunatic asylum at Lima.

The scenery at Chicla is wild, but neither very
beautiful nor very imposing. As in the lower valley
of the Rimac, the slopes of the mountains are steep,
but the summits are deficient in boldness and variety
of form. Those lying on the watershed of the Cor-
dillera, at a distance of fifteen or twenty miles, ap-
parently range from seventeen to eighteen thousand
feet in height, and on the first day of our visit showed
but occasional streaks and patches of snow, while the
sombre tints of the rocks exhibited little variety of
hue even in the brightest sunshine.

Although the stream at Chicla is the main branch
of the Rimac, its volume is here much reduced, not
having yet received the numerous tributaries that fall
into it between this place and Matucana. It is here
no more than a brawling torrent, swelling rapidly
after even a very moderate fall of rain, but prevented
from ever dwindling very low by the snows, of which
some patches at least remain at all seasons on the
upper summits of the Cordillera. In a country without
wood, and where the art of building in stone had
made little progress, one of the most serious obstacles
to any advance in civilization must have arisen from

ANDEAN SUSPENSION BRIDGES. 85

the difficulty of crossing the streams by which the
upper ranges of the Andes are everywhere intersected.

The art of constructing suspension bridges must
have originated in the subtropical zone of Eastern
Peru, where the abundance of climbing plants with
long, flexible, tough stems supplied the requisite
materials. These, being light and easily transported,
were everywhere used in the valleys of the Andes to
sustain hanging bridges, of which the roadway was
formed of rough basket-work. The only change that
has resulted from the introduction of European arts is
that of late years iron wire is used instead of flexible
lanes to sustain the bridges ; but the roadway is still
made of basket-work, which is rapidly worn by the
feet of passing men and animals, and the natives have
a disagreeable habit of stopping up the holes, not by
mending the basket-work where this has begun to
give way, but by laying a flat stone over the weak
place. Being very slight and not nicely adjusted,
these bridges swing to and fro under the feet of a
passenger to an extent that is at first rather startling,
but, as in everything else, habit soon makes one in-
different. Our first experience this afternoon was
very easy, as the bridge connecting the station with
the pueblo, or village of Chicla, was new and more
solid than usual.

The little village, altogether composed of frail
sheds, was occupied by the Chilian detachment of
about two hundred men, posted here to guard the
railway line. Four houses, larger than the rest,
wherein the officers had established themselves, were
adorned with conspicuous painted inscriptions worthy

86 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

of the hotels of a great city. The Fonda del Universo
informed the public that it contained “apartamentos
para familias,” and the rival establishments were no
way inferior in the stateliness of their titles and the
inducements offered. It must be recollected that
Chicla is the first halting-place on the main, almost
the only, line of communication between the coast
and a magnificent region, as large as England, and
teeming with natural resources—the montafa of Central
Peru. Before the war the hostelries of Chicla were
often crowded, and the accommodation doubtless
appeared sumptuous to the wearied travellers who
had been contending with the hardships of the journey
from the interior, and the passage of the double range
of the Andes.

I have already said that the supplies at our hotel
were somewhat scanty. Inquiries for eggs were met
by the reply that the Chilian soldiers had killed
all the poultry, and milk was not to be thought of,
because the cows had all been driven to a distance
to save them from the Chilians. But these were
only trifling inconveniences. The experience of our
German landlord was full of graver matter. A
foreigner in the interior, of Peru during this abomin-
able war is placed between the devil and the deep sea.
Having no one to protect him, his property is at the
mercy of lawless soldiery ; he is an object of suspicion
to both parties, and his life is in constant peril. Our
host owed to a fortunate accident that he had not
been shot by a Peruvian party under the suspicion of
having given information to the enemy. He was
certainly no lover of the invader; but, like every

THE CONDOR AS OFFICER OF HEALTH. 87

foreigner in Peru, he looked forward with undisguised
dread to the day when the Chilians should depart.

If one had not recollected how very slowly and
imperfectly the elementary rules of health have made
way in Europe, it would have been hard to understand
how men of education and intelligence, such as the
great majority of the Chilian officers, should neglect
the simplest precautions for preserving the health of
themselves and their men. We had heard that the
troops at Chicla had lost many men owing to a severe
outbreak of typhoid fever, though the disease had
recently almost disappeared. The cause was not far
to seek. The ground all around the village was
thickly strewn with the remains of the numerous
baggage animals that had fallen from overwork, and
the beasts that had been slaughtered by the soldiers.
In South America the only sanitary officials are the
carrion-eating birds. Near the coast the removal of
offal is chiefly accomplished by the galinazo, a large
black vulture ; in the Andes the condor takes charge
of all carrion, and travels far in quest of it. It is likely
that in the noisy neighbourhood of a detachment of
soldiers the birds were shy of approach. If the
remains had been dragged a short distance away from
the village, they would have been quickly disposed
of. As it was, the carcases were allowed to accumulate
close to the sheds in which the men were lodged until
they bred a pestilence. Things were mended, they
said, at the time of our visit, yet, warned by vile
emanations, I found the carcase of a horse lying close
beside the darvaque in which we slept ; and it was only
after energetic remonstrances that I succeeded in

88 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

having it removed to some distance, where, doubtless,
the condors made a savoury meal.

We were not curious to inquire too particularly
what animal had supplied the material for our evening
repast. It was enough that the skill of the Chinese boy
who acted as cook had converted it into a very eatable
dish. The work of the establishment seemed to be
conducted altogether by two boys—the Chinese cook
and a young German who acted as waiter. It was
curious to notice that the intercourse between the two
was carried on in English, or what passed as such.
On many another occasion during my journey I
observed the same thing. Throughout America, and
I believe that the same is true in most countries out
of Europe, English has become the Lingua franca, the
general medium of communication between people of
different nationalities.

Having felt perfectly well all day, and inclined to
believe that the discomforts of the previous night had
arisen from some accidental cause, we had no hesita-
tion in renewing the arrangement for an excursion to
the Tunnel en la cima, and the Chilian commandant
readily promised to send two horses, with a soldier
who was to act as guide and escort, at seven o’clock on
the following morning. Rather late, after some hours’
work in laying out the plants collected during the
day, I lay down to sleep, but in a short time awoke

-with a severe headache, accompanied by ineffectual
nausea, the light supper being already digested. It
was an undoubted case of mountain-sickness, which
had to be borne through the sleepless dark hours until
daylight summoned us to rise. As on the previous

NATIVE INDOLENCE. 89

day, the operations of washing and dressing chased
away the symptoms, and before seven o’clock we were
ready to start. At half-past seven we began to lose
patience, and despatched a messenger to ascertain the
cause of delay. No answer coming, we resolved to
go in quest of the promised steeds, and, shouldering
the zpedimenta, proceeded across the stream to the
pueblo, ‘Ne soon discovered that no order had been
given the night before, and that the commandant had
not yet made his appearance. The messenger had
not ventured to awake him, and thought it safest to
await events. Having discovered the high-sounding
name of the “hotel” where he lodged, I lost no time
in proceeding to the double-bedded room shared by
our commander with a brother officer, and rousing
them both from sleep. Profuse excuses in excellent
Spanish, with a promise that not a moment should be
lost, were but a poor salve for my growing impatience,
though policy required some faint effort at politeness,
which had to be maintained through what seemed
intolerable and interminable delays, until we at last
got under way at ten o'clock.

It was indeed aggravating to find an excursion, to
accomplish which any naturalist would gladly traverse
an ocean, maimed and curtailed by the indolence
which is the curse of the American Spaniard. One
circumstance, indeed, helped to moderate the keen-
ness of my disappointment. Rather heavy rain had
fallen throughout the night, and the mountains about
the head of the valley, previously almost clear of snow,
were now covered pretty deep down to the level of
about fifteen thousand feet. I already judged that it

go NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

would be difficult, starting so late, to reach the summit
tunnel, if sufficient time were to be reserved for
botanizing. With snow on the ground the vegetation
would be concealed, and the chief interest of the
expedition lost, so that I readily made up my mind
that we should not attempt to reach the summit of
the pass.

We had not gone far on the track when we came
to a suspension bridge, over which our soldier-guide
rode as a matter of course. Seeing the frail structure
swing to and fro under the horse’s feet, I confess that
I felt much inclined to dismount and cross on foot;
but in such cases one remembers that whatever men
or animals are accustomed to do they are sure to do
safely, and I rode on, admiring the judgment with
which my horse avoided the weak places in the
basket-work under his feet.

The track is well beaten, and in easy places broad
and even; but here and there, where it climbs over
some projecting buttress of rock, is rather rougher and
steeper than I have ever seen elsewhere in mountain
countries on a path intended for horsemen, excepting,
perhaps, some choice spots in the Great Atlas. It
was impossible to push on rapidly, for we overtook a
succession of long trains of baggage-animals—mules,
donkeys, and Ilamas—moving towards the interior at
a rate of little over two miles an hour. As it was
only in favourable places that it was possible to pass,
our patience went through many severe trials.

At about thirteen thousand feet above the sea we
passed two farmhouses, evidently constructed by
European settlers, plain but neat in appearance, and

ALPINE REGION IN THE ANDES. gt

the fields better kept than one could have expeeted in
a spot so remote, each with a clump of well-grown
trees of the Peruvian elder. Higher up the scenery
was constantly wilder, desolate rather than grand, and
with no trace of the presence of man until we reached
Casapalta, a small group of poor sheds now occupied
by an outpost of Chilian soldiers, nearly fourteen
thousand feet above the sea.

We had now evidently reached the true Alpine
region. At the head of the valley in front fresh snow
lay on the flanks of the mountains where the dark
rugged masses of volcanic rock were not too steep to
allow it to rest, and the higher summits in the back-
ground were completely covered. The slopes near at
hand were carpeted with dwarf plants thickly set,
rising only a few inches from the surface. The only
exception was an erect spiny bush, growing about
eighteen inches high, with dark orange flowers, one
of the characteristic Andean forms — Chuguiraga
spinosa.

The guide seemed disposed to halt here, but we
had not yet reached our goal, and we pushed on
for about three miles, to a point about 14,400
feet in height, where it seemed judicious to call a
halt. For some time the horses had begun to show
symptoms of distress. The spirited animal which I
rode panted heavily in ascending the gentle slope,
and at last was forced to stop and gasp for breath
every thirty or forty yards. Near at hand a slender
stream had cut a channel through some rough rocks,
and promised a harvest of moisture-loving Alpine
plants ; and opposite to us, on the northern side of

92 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

the valley, a wild glen opened up a vista of snow-
covered summits, of which the more distant appeared
to reach a height of about eighteen thousand feet.

It was now about one o’clock, and, our light early
breakfast being long since forgotten, we hastily
swallowed our provision of sandwiches formed of the
contents of a sardine-box, which, flavoured with the
pure cold water of the stream, seemed delicious.
Although the sun which had shone upon us during
the morning was now covered with clouds, and we
were very lightly dressed, no sensation of cold was
felt at this height, and I do not believe that the
thermometer at any time during the day fell below
50°. Doubtless the feverish excitement of those
unique two hours of botanizing in a new world left
no space for sensitiveness to other influences. The
mountain-sickness of the previous night was utterly
forgotten, and no sensation of inconvenience was felt
during the day. .

Reserving some remarks on the botany of this
excursion, there is yet to be mentioned here one
plant of the upper region so singular that it must
attract the notice of every traveller. As we ascended
from Casapalta we noticed patches of white which
from a distance looked like snow. Seen nearer at
hand, they had the appearance of large, rounded,
flattened cushions, some five or six feet in diameter,
and a foot high, covered with dense masses of floss
silk that glistened with a silvery lustre. The unwary
stranger who should be tempted to use one of these
for a seat would suffer from the experiment. The
plant is of the cactus family, and the silky covering

THE CONDOR AT HOME. 93

conceals a host of long, slender, needle-like spines,
that penetrate the flesh, easily break, and are most
difficult to extract. Unfortunately, the living specimen
which I sent to Kew did not survive the journey.

At about three o’clock it was necessary to think of
returning. Several precious plants had been passed
on the way and remained to be collected, and it was
only prudent to return to our quarters before night,
which here falls so abruptly. Soon after we started
along the descending track, a whirring sound over-
head caused us to look up. Two magnificent condors
swooped down front the upper region, and, wheeling
round about forty feet above our heads, described a
half circle, and, having satisfied their curiosity,
soared again to a vast height, till they seemed mere
black specks in the sky. Meanwhile my horse, fresh
after the long halt, and apparently delighted at the
prospect of returning to pleasanter quarters, broke
into a gallop, and throughout the way it cost me
some trouble to restrain his impatience.

As we drew near Chicla, there being yet half an
hour of daylight, we dismounted and dismissed our
guide with the horses, thus being able ‘to secure
several plants not seen elsewhere. One of these was
a solitary plant of the common potato, growing in a
wild place among dwarf bushes near the stream. I
do not, however, attach any importance to the fact
as evidence on the disputed question of the true
home of a plant which in South America has been
cultivated from remote antiquity. The valley of the
Rimac has doubtless been a frequented highway since
long before the Spanish conquest, and, as we know,

94 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

the plant spreads easily in favourable conditions. As
far as I know, all the evidence as to the plant being
indigenous in Peru and Bolivia is open to suspicion,
and the only part of the continent where it can be
said to be certainly a native is Southern Chili and
the sub-Alpine region of the Chilian Andes.

The excursion to the upper region apparently com-
pleted the work of acclimatization. We slept soundly,
and no symptoms of soreche was afterwards experi-
enced. When I sallied forth on the morning of the
23rd in quest of breakfast, which was made luxurious
by a tin of Swiss milk received by the train from
Lima, I found my friend W. conversing in English
with a Chilian officer. This gentleman, introduced as
Captain B , the son of English parents, was about
proceeding in command of a small detachment to
occupy some place beyond the Cordillera. The
number of Englishmen in the Chilian service is not
small, and there is no part of South America where
the conditions of climate, the habits of life, and the
character of the people seem to be so well suited to
our countrymen.

One of the sights of Chicla was the daily despatch
of trains of laden animals towards the interior. In
the opposite direction the traftic was very limited, for
since the war the working of the silver mines about
Cerro de Pasco has been suspended, and little of the
produce of the montafia now makes its way to the
coast. But, war or no war, the wants of the inland
population, living in a region which produces nothing
but food and raw material, must in some measure
be supplied. There was nothing very new in seeing

HABITS OF THE LLAMA. 95

goods packed on the backs of mules and donkeys, but
the llamas and their ways were a continual source of
interest. If the body be somewhat ungainly, the
head with its large lustrous eyes may fairly be called
beautiful. They vary extremely in colour. The pre-
vailing hues are between light brown and buff, but
we saw many quite white, and a few nearly black,
with a good many mottled in large patches of white,
and dark brown. The legs appear weak, and the
animal can bear but a light burthen. On the mountain
tracks, the load for a mule is three hundred pounds,
that for a donkey two hundred pounds, while a llama
can carry no more than a hundred pounds; and when
any one attempts to increase the load, the animal lies
down and moans piteously. He seems, indeed, not
yet thoroughly resigned to domesticity, and there is
a note of ineffectual complaint about his bearing and
about all the sounds which he emits. One morning
I was so much struck by what appeared to be the
wailing of a child or a woman in distress, that I
followed the sound until, behind a rock, I discovered
a solitary llama that had somehow been separated
from his companions. The advantage of the llama in
the highlands of Peru, where fodder is scarce and
must often be carried from a distance, is that he is
able to shift for himself. Where the herbage is so
coarse and so scanty that a donkey would starve, the
llama picks up a living from the woody stems of the
dwarf bushes that creep along the surface.

Supposing that most of the plants growing on the
slopes around Chicla had been collected two days
before, I expected to find it expedient to go to some

96 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

distance from the village on the 23rd. But I had
formed an inadequate idea of the richness of the
Andean flora. Commencing with a ridge of rocks on
the opposite side of the valley, only a few hundred
yards from the ground before traversed, I found so
many new and interesting forms of vegetation that at
the end of three or four hours of steady work I had
ascended only four or five hundred feet above the
village, and I believe that ample occupation for a
week’s work to a collector might be found within one
mile of the Chicla station.

As already arranged, we decided to return to Lima
on the morning of the 24th of April. If other engage-
ments had not made this necessary, the condition of
my collections would have forced me to retreat. It
was certain that without a speedy supply of drying-
paper a large portion must be lost. As we were
despatching an early breakfast, we were struck by the
appearance of a tall, vigorous, resolute-looking man,
booted up to the thighs, who had arrived during the
previous night. He turned out to be a fellow-country-
man, one of that adventurous class that have supplied
the pioneers of civilization to so many regions of the
earth. This gentleman had settled in the montafia
of Eastern Peru, at a height of only about four thousand
feet above the sea. His account of the country was
altogether attractive, and it was only after entering
into some details that one began to think that a man
of a less cheerful and enterprising disposition might
have given a less favourable report. The place which
he has selected is only some twenty leagues distant
from the river Ucayali, one of the great tributaries of

THE MONTANA OF PERU. 97

the Maranon, which is destined hereafter to be the
channel for direct water-communication between
Eastern Peru and the Atlantic coast. At present the
only obstacle to communication is the fact that the
country near the river is occupied by a tribe of fierce
and hostile Indians, who allow no passage through
their country. The climate was described by our
informant as quite delightful and salubrious, the soil
as most fertile, suitable for almost all tropical produce,
and many of the plants of temperate regions, and the
supposed inconveniences as unimportant. Jaguars
are, indeed, common, but the chief objection to them
is that they make it difficult to keep poultry. Poisonous
snakes exist, but the prejudice against them is un-
reasonably strong. No case of any one dying from
snake-bite had occurred at our informant’s location.
One drawback he did, indeed, freely admit. There
was scarcely any limit to be set to the productive
capabilities of the country, but, beyond what could
serve for personal consumption, it was hard to say
what could be done with the crops. He was then
engaged in trying the possibility of transporting some
of the more valuable produce of his farming to Lima.
The journey had been one of extreme difficulty. In
some of the valleys heavy rains had washed away
tracks and carried away bridges, and he had been
driven back to seek a passage by some other route.
About one-half of his train of mules with their loads
had been carried away by torrents, or otherwise lost ;
but our buoyant countryman, now virtually arrived at
his journey’s end, seemed to think the experiment a
fairly successful one. He had received no news from
H

98 NOTES ‘OF A NATURALIST.

England since the beginning of the previous Novem-
ber, so that one or two newspapers five weeks old
were eagerly accepted.

The return journey from Chicla to Lima was easy
and agreeable, but offered little of special interest.
I noticed a curious illustration of the effects of the
sea-breeze on vegetation even at a distance of thirty
or forty miles from the coast. As we descended, I
observed that the acacias which abound in the middle
zone of the valley were densely covered with masses
of the white flowers of a climbing Mzkania, quite
masking the natural aspect of the shrub. I thought
it strange that this appearance should not have struck
me while on my way ascending the valley. On closer
attention, I saw that the J/zkania was entirely con-
fined to the eastern side of the acacia, so that the
same shrub, looked at from the western side, showed
no trace either of the leaves or flowers of the visitor.
On reaching the Lima station, I was kindly greeted
by Mr. Nation, who at once relieved my most pressing
anxiety by telling me that I should find two reams of
filtering paper awaiting me at my hotel.

Having given in the twenty-second volume of the
Journal of the Linnean Society a list of the plants
collected during my excursion in the Cordillera, it is
needless to overload these pages with technical names,
and I shall content myself with a few general remarks
on the vegetation of this region, amidst which I passed
a brief period of constantly renewed admiration and
delight. In the first place, the general character of
the flora of Chicla differed alogether from my antici-
pations, for the simple reason that the climate is

CLIMATE OF THE PERUVIAN ANDES. 99

completely different from what might, under ordinary
conditions, be expected. I had seen reason to con-
jecture that, in ascending from the Pacific coast to
the Cordillera, the rate of diminution of mean tem-
perature would be less considerable than in most other
parts of the world, but I was no way prepared to find
it so slight as it really is. During the time of my
visit, the mean temperature at Lima, 448 feet above
the sea, was very nearly 70°, while the annual mean
appears to be 66°6° Fahr.* The mean temperature
at Chicla at the same season was estimated by me
at 54°, with a maximum of 65°7°,.and a minimum of
42°, and the first figure probably approximates to the
annual mean. For a difference in height of 11,774 feet
this would give an average fall of 1° Fahr. for 935 feet
of elevation, or 1° Cent. for 512 metres; whereas, as

* The only accurate information that I have found respecting the
climate of Lima is contained in a paper by Rouand y Paz Soldan,
*‘Resumen de las Observaciones Meteorologicas hechas en Lima
durante 1869,” quoted in the French translation of Grisebach’s
‘* Vegetation du Globe.” Reduced to English measures, they give the
following results :—

Mean temperature of four years ... i ... 66°6° Fahr.
ae January, 1869... we FAS? sy
53 ss July, 1869 wis an S76" 43
Rainfall in the year 1869 bee ae ... 13°4 inches.
FF June, 1869... nid ni we «2°45 fs
73 July, 1869... ar aie wee IBID 49
- August, 1869 ... iis oe vem “DASE 35
- September, 1869 sis ae sox 12°33. a5.
53 October, 1869 inks ang ice DIO ys,
a remaining seven months... wa 2g

There is reason to think that the temperature for July, re, given
above was exceptionally low, and although the months during which
fogs prevail are abnormally cool for a place within 13° of the equator,
I believe that the thermometer rarely falls below 60° Fahr.

100 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

is well known,* the ordinary estimate found in physical
treatises, resulting chiefly from the observations of
Humboldt, would give for Equatorial America a fall
of 1° Fahr. for about 328 English feet of increased
altitude, or 1° Cent. for 180 metres. This rate of
decrease would give a fall of 366° Fahr. in ascending
from Lima to Chicla, whereas, as we have seen, the
difference is probably little more than one-third, cer-
tainly less than one-half, of that amount. It is, there-
fore, with some astonishment that the stranger, arriving
in this region of the Cordillera, finds himself amidst
a vegetation characteristic of the Temperate zone,
and that many of the most conspicuous species are
such as in mid-Europe require the protection of a
greenhouse. Amongst the more attractive and charac-
teristic of the Andean flora, I may mention five species
of Calceolaria, Alonsoa, two fine Loasacee (one with
large deep orange flowers and stiff hairs that penetrate
the gloves, the other a climber with yellow flowers),
several bushy Solanacee, and a beautiful clematis,
which may hereafter adorn European gardens.

Along with many types of vegetation peculiar to
the Andes, or more or less widely diffused throughout
the Western continent, it was very interesting to a

* See Appendix A, On the Fall of Temperature in ascending to
Heights above the Sea-level.

t It is a curious illustration of the utterly untrustworthy character of
statements made by unscientific travellers to read the following passage
in a book published by a recent traveller in South America, who visited
Chicla in November, the beginning of summer. He declares that the
fringe of green vegetation ‘‘dwindles and withers at a height of nine
or ten thousand feet ;. . . while on the upper grounds, where sometimes
rain is plentiful, the air is too keen and cold for even the most dwarfish
and stunted vegetation to thrive,”

FLORA OF THE PERUVIAN ANDES. IOI

botanist from Europe to find so large a proportion
of the indigenous plants belong to types which
characterize the mountain vegetation of our continent.
Of the genera in which the plants collected by me
are to be classed, fully one-half belong to this category,
and these genera include more than an equal pro-
portion of species. I find, indeed, that fully sixty per
cent. of the species in my collection belong to European
genera, but that, with trifling exceptions, the species
are distinct and confined to the Andean region. The
reasonable conclusion is that the types which are thus
common to distant regions must be of very great
antiquity, and that the ancestors of the existing species
must have spread widely at a very remote period of
the world’s history. Most of the plants in question
belong to genera having very numerous species, of
which it may be presumed that the parent forms
possessed a strong tendency to variation.

The only tree seen at Chicla is a species of elder—
Sambucus Peruviana of botanists—not widely differing
from the common black elder of Europe.

Along with the numerous allies of the Old-World
flora that characterize the indigenous vegetation, it
was somewhat remarkable to find, in the upper valley
of the Rimac, a number of cosmopolitan weeds, most
of them common in Europe, which appear to have
become thoroughly naturalized. Most of these, which
are also found in the coast region of Peru, were un-
doubtedly introduced by the Spaniards ; but there are
a few, such as the common chickweed, whose wide
diffusion throughout the world seems to me ‘to be
more probably due to transport by birds.

102 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

To the botanist, the most interesting features in the
Andean flora are supplied by the great family of
Composite. To this belong nearly one-fourth of all
the plants collected by me, and nearly one-third of
those found in the higher Alpine region ; and, as far
as available materials allow me to judge, I believe
these to be about the true proportions for the higher
parts of the Andean chain. It is further remarkable
that of the thirteen tribes into which the 780 genera
and 10,000 species of this family have been divided,
all but the two smallest tribes—Calendulacee and
Arctotidee—are represented in the Andes. To the
European botanist, the most interesting group is that
of the Mutistacee, which is especially characteristic of
the South American flora. Of 420 known species
belonging to this tribe, fully 350 are exclusively
American, the remainder being distributed through
Australasia, and from South Africa to Southern Asia.
They exhibit many unfamiliar forms very unlike what
we are used to find elsewhere in the world. One of
the first plants which I gathered was a tall, straggling
climber with pinnate leaves ending in a tendril. I
naturally thought of the vetch tribe, but I observed
that the leaves were without stipules, and that the
leaflets were not articulated to the midrib. Great,
however, was my surprise when, on finding a flowering
specimen, it revealed itself as a composite belonging
to the genus Mutisia.

Next to the Composite, the grasses are of all the
natural orders the most largely represented in the
Andean flora, but with the difference that nearly all
belong to genera common to the mountain regions of

FLORA OF THE ALPINE ZONE. 103

Europe. The species are indeed different, but the
general aspect does not strike the European botanist
as presenting any marked features of novelty.

One further characteristic of the flora of Chicla is
the great variety of species to be found within a small
area. In this respect it seemed to me to rival the
flora of Southern Spain and Asia Minor, which are
known to be exceptionally rich in endemic forms. I
am, of course, unable to judge whether in this part of
the Andes the species are localized to nearly the same
degree as in those parts of the Mediterranean region,
and it is at least possible that the individual species
which I saw crowded together at Chicla may have a
relatively wide geographical range. The only social
species, in some places covering large patches on the
steep slopes, is a lupen growing in dense bushy
masses.

Again guarding myself from the temptation to draw
positive inferences from very slight opportunities for
observation, I may add a few remarks on what I saw
of the flora of the upper or Alpine zone of the Cor-
dillera. This appears to be far more sharply defined
at its lower limit than that which I shall designate as
the temperate zone. In the latter, although the nights
are at all seasons cool, actual frost is rarely experi-
enced, and snow never lies on the ground. In the
upper or Alpine zone, on the contrary, night frosts
recur not unfrequently throughout the year, snow falls
from time to time, more frequent in winter—from
May to August—but does not lie long enough to
provide a season of complete rest to the vegetative
organs. To the influence of these conditions we may

104. NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

probably attribute the chief characteristics of the flora.
With scarcely an exception, the species of this zone
are stunted in growth, rising but a few inches from
the surface, but have much developed prostrate or
creeping woody stems, or underground rhizomes.
Compared with the middle, or temperate, zone, the
species generally belong to the same natural groups.
Some of the families, however, which are characteristic
of the middle zone, such as Loasacee, Verbenacea@, and
Solanacee, do not appear to reach the higher region.

Of forms characteristic of the Alpine region of
mountains in the Old World I observed several ; eg.
Geranium, Astragalus, Valeriana, Draba, a saxifrage,
and a very small gentian.

To sum up my impressions as to the flora of the
western slopes of the Cordillera, I should say that it
appears to be naturally divided into three well-marked
zones. The lower, or subtropical, extending to about
eight thousand feet above the sea, characterized by
deficient rainfall, moderate heat continued throughout
the year, and a complete absence of cold, the ther-
mometer rarely falling below 50°. The species here
mainly belong to genera characteristic of the flora of
tropical America, but, owing to the climatal conditions,
are limited in number, and do not include groups
requiring much moisture.

The middle, or temperate, zone, extending from
about eight thousand to about thirteen thousand feet
above the sea, possesses a very varied flora which
includes many groups characteristic of the Andes, and
entirely or mainly confined to that range, with repre-
sentatives of numerous genera that are widely diffused

DIVISIONS OF THE ANDEAN FLORA. 105

through the temperate regions of the northern hemi-
sphere, and a smaller number of representative species
of groups belonging to the tropical American flora.
The climate of this region is marked by the absence
of all extremes of temperature. Cool -nights, in which
frosts are infrequent and of short duration, alternate
with days wherein the shade temperature rarely sur-
passes 70°. The division between the temperate and
subtropical zones is marked rather by the more fre-
quent, though moderate, rainfall, which in the former
recurs at intervals throughout the year, than by any
marked change of temperature. Hence there may be
distinguished a rather broad intermediate zone in
which many of the characteristic forms of each meet
and are intermingled ; but this does not appear to be
defined by any genera, or even by more than a few
species peculiar to it, and does not deserve to be
treated apart in a general survey of the flora.

The upper, or Alpine, zone of the Cordillera, ex-
tending from about thirteen thousand feet to the
utmost limit of vegetation, is well defined by the
circumstance that night frosts here recur throughout
the year, and snow lies at least occasionally on the
surface, while a somewhat greater amount of aqueous
precipitation, in the form of rain or snow, combined
with diminished evaporation, maintains a moderate
degree of moisture in the soil. The proportion borne
by some groups of the characteristic Andean flora as
compared with the entire vegetable population is here
larger than in the temperate zone, but other types
better adapted to the climate of the latter zone are
here nearly or altogether wanting. The forms com-

106 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

mon to the north temperate zone are present in about
an equal proportion, while the representatives of the
tropical flora are but very few.

With reference to the opinion expressed by writers
of authority, and especially by Engler,* that the
Andean flora is exceptionally rich in endemic genera
and species, and to the explanation which would
account for the facts, first, by the greater facility
afforded for the extension of new varieties in dry
climates, where the soil is not continuously covered
by the existing vegetation; and, secondly, by the
isolation of the summits, favouring the development
of special local forms, I may venture on some sceptical
remarks.

When we are struck by the large number of genera
and species that are exclusively confined to the
Andean flora, we are apt to forget the vast extent
of the region which we are contemplating. Even if
we exclude the mountains of Central America, and
also those of Southern Chili, from Araucania to the
Straits of Magellan, we have in the Andes a mountain
region considerably more than three thousand miles
in length, and from two hundred to over five hundred
miles in breadth. This vast region is as yet far from
being sufficiently explored to enable us to fix the
geographical limits of its genera and species with any
precision; but it appears to me that, while a very
large number of genera are limited to the Andes as
a whole region, the range of most of them within the
limits of that region is very wide. I am further dis-
posed to form a similar opinion as to the distribution

* “Versuch einer Entwicklungsgeschichte der Pflanzenwelt.”

PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY OF THE ANDES. 107

of the species if compared to what is found in some
other mountain districts. If we were to find in South
America anything like the variety of species limited
to very small areas that is encountered in Southern
Spain, Greece, Asia Minor, and Southern Persia, where
on each mountain that we ascend we find several
well-marked .local species, differing from those in
similar stations a few miles distant, the catalogue of
the Andean flora would have to be extended to three
or four times its actual length.

Fully agreeing, as I do, with Engler in his general
conclusion that dry climates are more favourable than
moist ones to the development of new varieties, which
are the ancestors of future new species, J must remark
that in the Andes, so far as we know, the species with
very restricted area abound more in the upper zone,
where the soil is relatively moist, than in the drier
middle or lower zones. Nor does it appear that isola-
tion of the summits can be with reason invoked as an
explanation. The most marked feature in the range,
and one that geologists have perhaps not taken enough
to heart, is the extremely continuous character of the
crest of the range, especially on the western side, as
is evidenced by the fact that from Colombia to Southern
Chili there are so very few passes below the limit at
which snow frequently lies on the surface. For a
rational explanation of the facts as to the distribution
of mountain floras, we are forced to assume that the
various agencies which are in daily operation—birds
and land animals, winds, etc——are competent to effect
the transference of the great majority of species from
one mountain to another not very far removed ; and

108 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

if that be true in districts where peaks are separated
by arms of the sea or by intervals of low country
having a very different climate, the process must be
still easier in a chain so continuous as that of the
Andes.

On the evening of the 24th I had the advantage of
meeting the representatives of nearly all the European
powers then present at Lima at the table of Don
R. C , a native gentleman of large fortune and
influential position. The entertainment might properly
be described as sumptuous, and, excepting in some
royal palaces, could not easily be matched in Europe.
One feature, indeed, was unique, and appealed to the
susceptibility of a botanist. The vases heaped with
choice specimens of tropical fruits could scarcely have
been seen out of Peru. The occasion was not one on
which political questions could with propriety be dis-
cussed, but I was struck by the complete agreement
amongst men of various nationalities, whose duty it
was to know the real state of things, as to the formid-
able prospect of anarchy and disorder that must ensue
whenever the Chilian forces should be withdrawn from
Lima and the adjoining provinces—a prospect, I need
scarcely add, that has been since fully realized.

Soon after sunrise on the 25th Mr. Nation was
good enough to call for me. We had agreed to make
a short excursion along the bed of the Rimac, the
best, if not the only, ground near the city where one
can form some idea of the indigenous vegetation of
the low country. As happens elsewhere, the river has
carried down seeds or roots of many plants of the
valley, which find a home on its broad gravelly bed,

af, LOMBARDI. 109

while the continual moisture has enabled many species
of the plain, elsewhere dried up at this season, to
maintain a vigorous growth. The little expedition
was full of interest, and, with the aid of Mr. Nation’s
extensive local knowledge, I was able to make
acquaintance with many forms of vegetation not
hitherto seen. It was necessary to return early to the
town, as my Chicla collections required many hours
of diligent work until nightfall, when I had the
pleasure of joining an agreeable party at the house
of Mr. Graham, the British chargé @affaires.

Among other scientific or social engagements, I
called on the following day upon M. Lombardi, the
author of a voluminous work on Peru, of which three
large volumes have already appeared. M. Lombardi
is a man of varied and extensive acquirements, espe-
cially in natural history, and in the course of frequent
travels through the interior has accumulated a large
mass of new materials of no slight value. Unfortu-
nately, his work has been planned on a scale need-
lessly vast and costly ; and now that the funds, at one
time freely supplied by the Government, are no longer
forthcoming, the prospect of its completion seems
rather uncertain. The drawings and dissections of
many species of plants from the higher regions of the
Andes not hitherto figured, which M. Lombardi was
good enough to show me, appeared to be very care-
fully executed, and their publication, in whatever form,
would be welcomed by botanists.

I had accepted an invitation to visit on the 27tha
hacienda belonging to Don R. C and his brothers
at a place called Caudivilla, about twenty miles north

110 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

of Lima. In company with an agreeable party of the
officers of two Italian frigates then stationed at Callao,
we started by the railway which runs parallel to the
coast from Lima to Ancon and Chancay. At a station
about three miles from the hacienda, we left the main
line, and were conveyed to our destination on a private
line of railway belonging to the estate. This is.a
tract of flat country about eight miles long by four in
breadth, extending to the base of the outermost spurs
of the Cordillera, and watered by a stream from the
higher range in the background. It is almost exclu-
sively devoted to sugar-cultivation, and in the large
buildings which we inspected the whole process of
extracting sugar and rum from the cane was proceed-
ing on a large scale, and with the aid of the most
complete machinery and apparatus. Although some
fifteen hundred workmen are employed upon the
works, it appeared as if human labour played but a
small part in the processes wherein steam power was
the chief agent. Trains of small trucks, laden with
sugar-cane cut to the right length, were drawn up an
incline, the contents of each tilted in turn into a huge
vat, wherein it was speedily crushed. We followed
the torrent of juice which constantly flowed from this
reservoir through a succession of large chambers until
it reached the final stage, in which, purified and con-
densed, it is at once converted into crystals of pure
sugar when thrown off by the centrifugal action of a
rapidly revolving axis, while the colourless pellucid
product which is to furnish the rum of commerce was
conveyed into vessels whose dimensions would put to
shame the great tun of Heidelberg.

A PERUVIAN SUGAR PLANTATION. 111

I confess to having felt less interest in the industrial
results of this admirably conducted estate, than in
what I was able to learn of the human beings em-
ployed and their relations to their employers; and
I found here matter for agreeable surprise. The work-
men are partly agricultural labourers engaged in the
sugar-plantation and other outdoor work, partly those
employed in and about the factory. Among them
were representatives of various races, the Chinese
being perhaps in a majority, but with a considerable
proportion of negroes and half-caste natives of Peru.
I was struck at first with a general air of well-being
among all the working people, and I found this easily
accounted for when I saw more of the arrangements
made for their benefit.

Among other departments we were shown the
hospital, small, but perfectly clean and airy, in which
there were only three or four patients, and a school
with a cheerful-looking young mistress surrounded by
jolly-looking little children, who came forward un-
asked to display their acquirements in spelling. But
what particularly pleased me was the large eating-
house, or restaurant, where we found hundreds of
workmen at their midday meal. They were not
marshalled at long tables, but sitting in small groups
round separate tables, every man chosing his own
company, and calling for the dish which he preferred.
Seeing these men, each with his napkin, enjoying his
selected food, I could not help thinking that in the
article of diet they are better off than a traveller in
many parts of Europe, to say nothing of the popula-
tion of the British Islands. I was assured that no

112 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

profit whatever was made on this branch of the estab-
lishment. There was no pretence of philanthropy, but
simply the intelligent view that as a mere matter of
business it answered best that the working men should.
feel themselves to be well off. In point of fact, the
mere threat to discharge a man from his employment
is usually found to be sufficient to maintain order and
industry.

There was little time available for botanizing here,
and, the ground being all under cultivation, little of
any interest to be found. On the way back I secured
one of the beautiful reeds (Gynerium) which abound
in tropical America. Herbarium specimens give little
idea of a grass which, in moist situations, is from
twenty to twenty-five feet in height, and whose flower-
ing panicle is from four to five feet long.

On the following day, April 28, Mr. Nation again
acted as my guide in a short walk about the out-
skirts of the city on the south and south-west sides.
Nothing could be more uninviting than the appear-
ance of the ground, which consists of volcanic sand,
in most places completely bare of vegetation, but
strewn with the refuse of the city, skeletons of cattle,
and all sorts of vejectamenta, which make it the
favourite resort of the black gallinazo (Cathartes
atratas), the universal scavenger in this part of South
America. The bird is deservedly protected by the
population, which probably owes to its activity pro-
tection from pestilence. On the banks of some
ditches and drains, and on some patches of waste land
moistened by infiltration, we found several interesting
plants. It was not evidence of the good character of

SCPPOSED ANCIENT BEACHES, Ir3

the lower class in Lima to observe that on these
occasions Mr. Nation carried a loaded revolver in his
breast-pocket.

Amongst various items of information received from
Mr. Nation, I was especially interested in the facts
which he had observed in the neighbourhood of Lima
regarding the disintegration of the exposed volcanic
rocks. As he was kind enough to give me a written
memorandum on the subject, along with specimens of
the objects referred to, I think it better to give the
substance in his own words.

“Tn one of the earlier editions of his ‘ Principles of
Geology,’ Sir Charles Lyeil, on the authority of Mr.
Cruikshank, speaks of the evidence afforded of a
considerable rise of land in the neighbourhood of Lima
by the appearance of the surface of hard green sand-
stone rocks hollowed out into precisely the forms
which they assume between high and low water mark
on the shores of the Pacific, while immediately below
these water-worn lines are ancient beaches strewn with
rounded blocks. One of these cliffs appears on the
hill behind the Bafios del Pingro, about seven hundred
feet above the contiguous valley ; another occurs at
Amancaes, about two hundred feet above the sea; *
and others at intermediate elevations.” Mr. Nation
remarks that, having seen these appearances soon
after his arrival at Lima, continued observation during
more than twenty-five years has satisfied him not only
that the hollows spoken of in the surface of the rocks

* The heights are certainly incorrect. The base of the hill of
Amancaes is nearly seven hundred feet above sea-level, and Mr.
Nation states that the two localities mentioned by Mr. Cruikshank are
at about the same elevation.

I

114 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

are larger than they were, but that many new ones
have been formed during the interval. He is satisfied
that the appearances, which, he admits, exactly re-
semble those caused by the sea on shore rocks, are
due to subaérial action. The chief agent, in his
opinion, is a cryptogamic plant growing on the surface
of the rock. During a great part of the year, when
dense fogs prevail at this elevation, the plant is in
active vegetation. In the alternations of relative
dryness and dampness of the air the cells swell and
mechanically remove scales from the surface, which
are seen to accumulate rapidly in the course of a
single season.

Having submitted a specimen of the cryptogam in
question to the eminent lichenologist, Mr. Crombie,
I am informed that the plant belongs to the group of
lowly organized lichens, now distinguished as the
Ephebacez, but formerly referred to the Alge. In the
absence of fructification, Mr. Crombie is unable to
decide whether the specimen should be referred to
Sirosiphon or Spilonema ; but he is sceptical as to the
‘possibility of any direct chemical action upon the
rock arising from the growth of the lichen. Some
indirect action may, in his opinion, be due to reten-
tion of moisture on surfaces covered by the lichen.
This opinion is strengthened when it is remembered
that the rock is not affected by carbonic acid, which
might be derived from the air, or by vegetable acids
which might be formed by the decomposition of the
lichen. I am disposed to think that vicissitudes of
temperature play a great part in the disintegration of
rock surfaces, and such action must be increased by

DISINTEGRATION OF ROCKS. 135

alternations of moisture and dryness which must occur
where, during a great part of the year, the hills are
covered with fog in the morning and exposed to the
sun in the afternoon.

In connection with this subject I may remark that,
in countries where the rainfall is very slight or alto-
gether deficient, we are apt to be misled by the appear-
ance of the surface, and to much overrate the real
amount of disintegration. In the drier parts of the
Mediterranean region, especially in Egypt, as well as in
Peru and Chili, we constantly see rocky slopes covered
with fine aébris which represent the accumulated work
of many centuries, remaining zz sit because there
is no agency at work to remove it, while in countries
where the slopes are frequently exposed to the action
of running water fresh surfaces are subjected to the
action of the atmosphere, and the comminuted materials
are carried to a distance to form alluvial flats, to fill
up lakes, or ultimately to reach the sea-coast. A
somewhat similar remark may be made with regard
to rock surfaces habitually covered with snow and
very rarely exposed to heavy rain. I have often ob-
served in the Alps and Pyrenees that, when the snow
disappears during the short summer of the higher
regions, we generally find the surface covered with
small fragments of the underlying rock, not removed
by the slow percolation of water during the melting
of the snow. The same phenomenon long ago at-
tracted the attention of Darwin during his short
excursion across the passes of the Chilian Andes.

I'regretted much that my very short stay at Lima
left me no time to visit the places where these curious

116 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

appearances may be observed ; but I trust that they
may engage the attention of some future traveller
more competent than myself to thoroughly investigate
them.

The morning of the 29th of April, my last day in
Peru, was fully employed in needful preparations.
As is usual in South America, I was troubled by the
dilatory habits of the natives. The passport, which
was promised in the morning, and without which, as
I was told, I should not be allowed to depart, was not
forthcoming until late in the afternoon ; and at length
I went, after bidding farewell to my travelling com-
panions and to some new friends, by the four-o’clock
train to Callao, too late to have any time for visit-
ing the surroundings of that curious place. The
Ayacucho steamer of the Pacific Steam Navigation
Company had already left her moorings, and lay in
the outer harbour. Having hurried on board rather
after the hour named for departure, I found that my
haste was quite superfluous, as we were not under
way till long after dark, about nine p.m.

I quitted Lima full of the interest and enjoyment
of my brief visit, but full also of the sense of depres-
sion necessarily caused by the condition of a country
whose future prospects are sodark. The ruinous war,
and the occupation of the best part of Peru by a
foreign army, are far from being the heaviest of her
misfortunes. It may even be that they afford the
best chance for her recovery. The immediate prospect
is that of a feeble military despotism, tempered by
anarchy. It seems possible that amongst the classes
hitherto wealthy, and now reduced to comparative

DARK FUTURE OF PERU. 117

want, men of a type superior to the ordinary political
adventurer may come forward ; some strong man, with
resolute will and clear insight, may possibly arisé, and
re-establish order in the midst of a moral chaos ; but
of such a deliverance there is as yet no promise.
Conversing with men of very different opinions, I was
unable to hear of any man whose name inspired con-
fidence. Some such feeling had existed with regard
to the President Pardo, but when he was assassinated
no serious attempt was made to detect and punish
his murderers. The only opinion which appeared to
obtain general assent was that the worst of the ad-
venturers who have been the curse of Peru was the
late dictator Pierola.

One thing, at least, appears certain: if Peru is to
be rescued from anarchy and corruption, it must be
through the influence of a single will—by a virtual, if
not a formal, autotracy. To believe that in such a
condition of society as exists here progress can be
accomplished by representative institutions seems to
me as gross a superstition as the belief in the divine
right of kings.

118 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

CHAPTER III.

Voyage from Callao to Valparaiso—Arica—Tocopilla—Scenery
of the moon—Caldera—Aspect of North Chili—British
Pacific squadron—Coquimbo—Arrival at Valparaiso—
Climate and vegetation of Central Chili—Railway journey
to Santiago—Aspect of the city—Grand position of Santiago
—Dr. Philippi—Excursion to Cerro St. Cristobal—Don B.
Vicuna Mackenna—Remarkable trees—Excursion to the
baths of Cauquenes—The first rains—Captive condors—
Return to Santiago—Glorious sunset.

THE voyage from Callao to Valparaiso was accom-
plished under conditions as favourable to the comfort
and enjoyment of the passengers as that from Panama
to Callao. The Ayacucho is a larger ship than the
Islay, but built on a nearly similar plan, and except
towards the end of the voyage, when we took on
board a detachment of Chilian soldiers returning to
Valparaiso, we had no inconvenience from over-
crowding. I was very fully occupied in the endeavour
to preserve and put away in good condition the rather
large collections made during my stay in Peru. Not-
withstanding the character of the climate, I found
the usual difficulty felt at sea in getting my paper
thoroughly dry, and for several days the work was
unceasing. It had the effect of preventing my going

RAILWAY TO BOLIVIA. TTQ.

ashore at two or three places which at the time
appeared to me uninteresting, but which I afterwards
regretted not to have visited.

By daylight on the morning of April 30 we were
off Tambo de Mora, a small place near the mouth
of the river Canete, which, at some seasons, is said to
bring down a large volume of water from the Cor-
dillera. After a very short stay we went on to Pisco,
a more considerable place, but unattractive as seen
from the sea, surrounded by sandy barren flats. It is,
however, of some commercial importance, being con-
nected by railway with Yca, the chief town of this
part of Peru; and we remained in the roads about
three hours, pursuing our voyage in the evening.

Our course on May 1 lay rather far from land,
this being the only day during the voyage on which
we did not touch at one or more ports. Under
ordinary circumstances all the coast steamers call at
Mollendo, the terminus of the railway leading to
Arequipa, and thence to the highlands of southern
Peru and the frontier of Bolivia. Arequipa being at
this time occupied by a Peruvian force, and com-
munication with the interior being therefore irregular
and difficult, Mollendo was touched only on alternate
voyages of the Pacific steamers.

I was impressed by the case of a Bolivian family
on board which seemed to involve great hardship.
An elderly father, with the manners and bearing of
an educated gentleman, had taken a numerous family,
chiefly young girls, with several servants, to Europe,
to visit Spanish relations, and was now on his way
to return to La Paz. The choice lay for him between

120 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

the direct land journey from Arica, involving a ride
of some two hundred miles through a difficult
country, partly almost a desert, and partly through
the defiles of the Cordillera, or returning by another
steamer to Mollendo, and thence making his way
between the hostile Chilian and Peruvian forces to
the shores of his native lake of Titicaca. There
was, in the latter case, the additional difficulty that
Mollendo is about the worst port on the western
coast of America. It is, in fact, an open roadstead,
and, although there is little wind, the swell from the
Pacific often breaks with a heavy surf upon the shore,
and serious accidents are not infrequent. As all
seamen are agreed, the terminus of the railway should
have been fixed at Quilca, about the same distance
from Arequipa as Mollendo, and, as usual in Peru,
the selection of the latter is attributed to a corrupt
bargain.

Early on May 2 we cast anchor opposite Arica.
There is nothing deserving to be called a harbour ;
but a projecting headland on the south side of the
little town protects the roadstead from the southerly
breeze and the swell, which was here scarcely per-
ceptible. On landing, I hastened along the shore on
the north side, where a fringe of low bushes and some
patches of rusty green gave promise to the botanist,
and broke the monotony of the incessant grey which
is the uniform tint of the Pacific coast from Payta to
Coquimbo. As at very many other places on the
coast, the maps indicate a stream from the Cordillera
falling into the sea at Arica, but the traveller searches
in vain for running water, or even for a dry channel

WATER SUPPLY ON THE COAST. 121

to show where the stream ought to run. Nevertheless,
Arica, unlike the places farther south, does actually
possess fresh water in some abundance. The water
from the Cordillera filters through the sandy belt of
low country near the coast, and there are springs or
wells sufficing not only for the local demand, but also
for the wants of Iquique, a much more considerable
place more than eighty miles distant. The little
steamer whose office it is to carry the weekly supply
of water to the Iquique people was taking her cargo
on board at the moment, and one was at a loss to
imagine what would happen if any mischance should
befall the steamer or the engine. It is certain that
under the iritelligent rule of the Incas, many places
now parched were made habitable by aqueducts
carrying water from the mountains, and there are
probably many other places where water might be
procured by boring; but the porous character of the
superficial soil makes this an uncertain resource, and
the general uniformity of all the deposits gives little
prospect of Artesian wells.

Near to the town are a few meagre attempts at
cultivation in the shape of vegetable gardens, sur-
rounded by ditches, into which it seems that a little
water comes by infiltration. A few grasses and other
herbaceous plants, mostly common tropical weeds, were
to be found here. Elsewhere, the ground was, as
usual on the coast, merely sand, with here and there
clumps of bushes about six or seven feet in height,
chiefly Composite of the characteristic South American
genera, Baccharis and Tessaria. A bush of Ce@salpinia
Gilliesii, with only a few of its beautiful flowers left,

122 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

the ornament of hot-houses in Europe, struck one as a
strange apparition on this arid coast.

The position of Arica, connected as it is by railway
with Tacna, the centre of a rich mineral district,
possessing the best anchorage on this part of the
Pacific coast, and a constant supply of good water,
must some day make it a place of importance. The
headland which commands it is crowned by a fort, on
which the Peruvians had planted a good many guns,
and its seizure by the Chilians was one of the first
energetic blows struck during the war.

For some reason, not apparent, the great waves
which flow inland after each considerable earthquake
shock have been more destructive at Arica than at
any other spot upon the coast. Three times the place
has been utterly swept away, and one memorial sur-
vives in the shape of the hull of a large ship, lying
fully a mile inland, seen by us a few miles north of
the town as we approached in the morning. On each
occasion the little town has been rebuilt close to the
shore. Experience has not taught the people to build
on the rising land, only a few hundred yards distant.
Each man believes that the new house will last his
time—Apres moi le deluge, with a vengeance !

At Arica the coast-line, which from the promontory
of Ajulla, about 6° north latitude, has kept a directioss
between south-east and south-south-east for a distance
of about twelve hundred English miles, bends nearly
due south, and maintains the same direction for
nearly double that distance. It is in the tract lying
between Arica and Copiapo that the conditions which
produce the so-called rainless zone of the Pacific

PORTS ON THE RAINLESS COAST. 123

coast have had the maximum effect. In that space
of about six hundred miles (farther than from Liver-
pool to Oporto) there is no inhabited place—with the
possible exception of Pisagua—where drinkable water
is to be had. Nowhere in the world is there such an
extensive tract of coast so unfitted for the habitation
of man. But this same region is rich in products
that minister to human wants, and man has overcome
the obstacles that seemed to render them inaccessible.
Besides mines of copper, silver, and lead, the deposits
of alkaline nitrates, whose extent has not yet been
fathomed, richly reward the expenditure of labour and
capital. One after another industrial establishments
have arisen along the coast at places suitable for the
embarkation of produce, and some of these have
already attained the dimensions of small towns. The
Ayacucho called at no less than nine of these places,
and there are two or three others that are occasion-
ally visited. At a few of them, as at Iquique, the
water-supply is partially or altogether conveyed by
sea, but most of them subsist by distillation from sea-
water.

As may well be supposed, there is little in these
places to interest a stranger, and a description of one
may serve for all, Some more or less extensive
works, with one or several tall chimneys, are the most
prominent feature. Near to each establishment are
three or four clean-looking houses for managers and
head agents, of whom the majority appear to be
English. Grouped in narrow sandy lanes near at
hand are the dwellings—mere sheds built of reeds—of
the working people. In some of the more consider-

124 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

able places an iron church, in debased sham-Gothic
style, has been procured from the United States, and
has been set up in a central position, with the outline
of a plaza in front of it, and several drinking-shops
clustered near.

The aspect of the coast is not less monotonous than
that of the inhabited places. The sea-board is nearly
a straight line running from north to south, and,
except at Mejillones, I saw no projecting headland to
break its uniformity. Nearly everywhere what appears
to be a range of flat-topped hills from about eight to
fifteen hundred feet in height, of uniform dull grey hue
unbroken by a single patch of verdure, forms the back-
ground. In truth, these seeming hills are the western
margin of the great plateau of the desert of Atacama,
which at its edge slopes rather steeply towards the
Pacific coast, sometimes leaving a level margin of one
or two miles in width, sometimes approaching within
a few hundred feet of the shore. I find it difficult to
form a conception of the causes which have led to
this singular uniformity in the western limit of the
volcanic rocks of the plateau. Whether we suppose
the mass to have been originally thrown out from
craters or fissures in the range of the cordillera by
subaérial or submarine eruptions, we should think it
inevitable that the western front should show great
irregularities corresponding to greater volume of the
streams of eruptive matter in some parts.

Admitting—what may be held for a certainty—
that, whatever may have been the original conditions,
the whole region has since been submerged, and that
marine action would have levelled surface inequalities,

WHITE ROCKS AT PISAGUA. 125

it is not easy to understand how the uniformity in the
western front could have been brought about during
the period of subsequent and comparatively recent
elevation. If this had occurred along an axis of
elevation near to the present coast-line, the effect
must have been to produce a coast-range parallel to
that of the Andes, with a watershed having an eastern
as well as a western slope, and accompanying dis-
turbance of the strata, such as we find on a great
scale in western North America. Some indications
of such action may be seen in Chili, south of Copiapo,
and further to the south, but I am not aware of any
fact to justify a similar supposition respecting this
part of the coast of South America,

On the morning of May 3 we were anchored in
front of Pisagua, which, being the port of Tarapaca,
the chief centre of the nitrate deposits, is at present
an active place. The houses are rather more scattered
than usual, some of them being built on rising ground,
apparently above the reach of earthquake waves.
The range of apparent hills, fully fifteen hundred feet
in height, rises steeply behind the little town, and the
monotonous slope is broken by a long zigzag line
marking the railway to Tarapaca. Some steep rocks
rising from the sea to the south of the anchorage
were in great part brilliantly white, recalling the
appearance of quartz veins, or beds of crystalline
limestone, dipping at a high angle. Thinking the
existence of such rocks on this coast very improbable,
I was anxious to inspect them ; but when I was told
that the time of our stay would merely allow of a
short visit to the town, I did not care toland. The

126 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

same appearances are common along the coast, and I
soon afterwards ascertained that they are produced
by the droppings of sea-birds—the same which, when
accumulated in large masses, form the guano deposits
of the detached rocks and islets of the coast.

In the afternoon we reached Iquique, which is, I
believe, the largest of the unnatural homes of men on
this coast. Some one who had gone ashore here
returned, bringing copies of two newspapers, by which
the public of Iquique are kept informed as to the
affairs of the world. I had already seen with surprise,
and had many further opportunities for observing,
the extent to which the newspaper press in South
America has absorbed whatever literary capacity
exists in the country. Of information there is not
indeed much to be gathered from these sheets ; but
of grand sentiments and appeals to the noblest
emotions the supply seems inexhaustible. I regret to
own that experience in other parts of the world had
already made me somewhat distrustful of such appeals ;
but the result of my study of South American news-
papers culminated in a severe fit of moral indigestion,
and I do not yet receive in a proper spirit any appeal
to the noblest sentiments of my nature.

Iam far from supposing, however, that with those
who read literature of this kind the debilitating effect
attributed to it by some critics necessarily ensues.
Some at least of the heroic virtues have survived.
For a man to die for his country may not be the
highest form of heroism, but in every age it has
drawn forth the instinctive admiration of his fellows ;
and it is not at Iquique that one should think of

THE SEA-FIGHT AT IQUIQUE. 127

making light of it. These waters, which, during the
late war, witnessed the fight between the Esmeralda
and the Hwascar,* would, in another age of the
world, have become as famous as those of Salamis.
On the morning of May 4 we called at Huanillos,
a small place of recent growth, not marked on any
map that I have seen. It lies within a few miles of
the mouth of the Loa, which, as laid down on maps,
appears to be a considerable stream, rising in the
Cordillera and traversing in a circuitous course the
Bolivian part of the Atacama desert. I naturally
inquired why the mouth of such a river had not been
selected as the site of a port. J was informed that, in
spite of the maps, no water flows through the channel
of the river, and that what can be obtained by digging
is brackish and unfit for drinking. Whether this

* Two small Chilian wooden ships, the Zsmeralda, of 850 tons,
mounting eight guns, commanded by Arturo Prat, and the Covadonga,
of 412 tons, with two guns, commanded by Condell, were engaged in
the blockade of Iquique, when, on the 2Ist of May, 1879, they were
attacked by the Peruvian ironclad /zdefendencia, of 2004 tons, mount-
ing 18 (chiefly heavy Armstrong) guns, commanded by J. G. Moore,
and the monitor AHwascar, of 1130 tons, mounting two 300-pounder
Armstrong turret guns, besides two deck guns, under Miguel Grau,
the most skilful and enterprising of the Peruvian commanders. The
Chilian captains resolved on a desperate defence. After maintaining
for two hours the fight against the Hzascar, Arturo Prat resolved on the
attempt to board his adversary. Bringing his ship alongside, he sprang
on the deck of the Hwascar ; but the ships were separated at once, and
two men only fell along with him, while the Zsmeralda went to the
bottom with her crew of 180 men, of whom several were ‘picked up by
the boats of the Huascar. The Independencia, following the little
Covadonga, ran on the rocks in the shallows south of Iquique, and
became a‘total wreck ; while the Covadonga, though shattered by her
enemy’s guns, was able to reach Autofogasta. The heroism of the
Chilian commanders saved their country, and at the critical moment
changed the fortune of the war.

128 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

arises from the fact that the trials have been made
too near the shore, within reach of the infiltration of
sea-water, or that all the water traversing the region
inland becomes impregnated with saltpetre, I am
unable to decide ; but it seems probable that careful
examination of the water, some of which undoubtedly
finds its way underground from the Cordillera to the
Pacific coast, might.add considerably to the resources
of the country. The cost of conveying water direct
from the mountains to certain points in the interior,
and thence to the coast, would possibly be repaid by
the saving in fuel now used for the distillation of sea-
water, to say nothing of the probability that some
portions of the surface would become available for
cultivation. The experience of the Isthmus of Suez,
where a constantly increasing area near the course of
the freshwater canal has become productive, should, I
think, encourage the attempt.

About midday we reached Tocopilla, another place
of recent creation, consisting of a large establishment
with several chimneys and the usual group of sheds
for the workmen. Steep rocky slopes rise close
behind, and it seemed possible to see something of
the conditions of life on this part of the coast without
going beyond sight and hearing of the steamer.
Being told that our stay was to be short, but that the
steam-whistle would be sounded a first time exactly a
quarter of an hour before our departure, I shouldered
my tin vasculum and went ashore. Passing the houses,
I at once steered for the rocky slopes behind. Here
at last I found what I had often heard of, but in whose
existence I had almost ceased to believe—a land

9

SCENERY OF THE MOON, 129

absolutely without a trace of vegetable life. Among
the dolomite peaks of South Tyrol I had often been
told that such a peak was absolutely bare of vegeta-
tion, but had always found a fair number of plants in
clefts and crevices. I had been told the same thing
at Suez of the burnt-up eastward face of Djebel
Attakah, where even on the exposed rocks I had
been able to collect something ; but here I searched
utterly in vain. Not only was there no green thing;
not even a speck of lichen could I detect, though I
looked at the rocks through a lens. Even more than
by the absence of life, | was impressed by the appear-
ance of the surface, which showed no token that water
had ever flowed over it. Every edge of rock was
sharp, as if freshly broken, and on the steep slope no
trace of a channel furrowed its face.* The aspect is
absolutely that of the scenery of the moon—of a
world without water and without an atmosphere. I
saw no insect and no lizard, no living thing, with the

* In the preface to his ‘‘ Florula Atacamensis,” Dr. Philippi, who
has explored this region more thoroughly than any other traveller, states
that on the range of coast hills between the Pan de Azucar (lat. 26° 8'
south) and Miguel Diaz (lat. 24° 36’) the fogs, called in Peru gavua, or
garruga, deposit during a great part of the year some moisture which
occasionally takes the form of fine rain, such as is familiarly known to
occur on the hills near Lima. He remarks as singular the fact that the
same phenomenon is not observed on the coast north or south of those
limits. From more recent observations, it would appear that this is not
strictly true as regards the higher coast hills near Coquimbo, but it
seems to hold as regards the tract of coast to the northward, between
the neighbourhood of Taltal and that of Iquique, a distance of about
four degrees of latitude. It may be that the coast hills are lower here
than further south, and that as the desert region inland rises very
gradually, and has a higher temperature inland than near the coast, the
formation of fog is prevented. Whatever be the cause, the absence of
fog would go far to account for the utter sterility of this region.

K

130 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

strange exception that on the rocks nearest the houses
there were several small birds, which appeared to be
rather shy, and which I was not able to approach. I
was afterwards told that these birds live on the grain
which they are able to steal or to pick out from the
manure in the stables, where a few horses and mules
are kept for the needs of the place. Assuming this to
be correct, the arrival of the birds at such a place
remains a mystery.

A passenger who had spent some time at this
singular place further told me that the horses, con-
stantly fed on dry grain, and receiving but a scanty
ration of distilled sea-water, usually become blind,
but do not otherwise suffer in health, He added a
‘story to the effect that some palings which had been
painted green were found a few days after covered
with marks of teeth, and with the paint almost com-
pletely removed. The mules, attracted by the colour,
had sought the refreshment of green food, and had
vainly gnawed away the painted surface.

However singular the aspect of nature in this place
might be, it could not long detain a naturalist. A
world without life is soon found to be monotonous ;
and after clambering about for some time, and satisfy-
ing myself that there was nothing to be found, I
turned to the shore, where broken shells and other
remains of marine animals presented at least some
variety. Seaweeds appeared to be scarce, but some
were to be seen in the little pools left among the
rocks by the retreating tide.

Just as I was about to collect some objects which
might have been of interest, the steam-whistle of the

ANTOFAGASTA. 131

Ayacucho summoned me to return to the ship. As I
was by this time at some distance from the landing-
place, I hurried back under a blazing sun, and reached
the ship within less than twenty minutes, only to find
that haste was quite superfluous, as we did not start
until more than an hour later.

The sun had already set when we reached Cobija.
This was, I believe, the first place inhabited on this
part of the coast. Before the late war, Bolivia held
the coast from the mouth of the Loa to the Tropic of
Capricorn, a tract of about one hundred and sixty
miles, rich in mineral wealth, the whole of which,
along with the adjoining provinces of Peru, is now
annexed to Chili. Cobija, which was a place of some
importance, is now much reduced, and little business
seems to be carried on there.

Early on the 5th of May we were before Anto-
fagasta, now the most thriving place on this coast, if
a place can be said to thrive which exists under such
unnatural conditions. It is, however, slightly better
off than its neighbours to the north. A gentleman
who resided here for some time assured me that at
intervals of five or six years a heavy fall of rain
occurs here. At such times not only the coast region,
but the Atacama desert lying between the Cordillera
and the sea is speedily covered with fresh vegetation,
which after a few months is dried up and disappears.
At such times the guanacos descend from the moun-
tains, and actually reach the coast.

We must, without my attention being called to the
fact while in my cabin, have turned back to the north-
ward after leaving Antofagasta, as in the dusk we

132 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

were before Mejillones, which lies fully thirty miles
north of the former place. It stands on a little bay,
well sheltered from the south by a considerable rocky
promontory, and, as I had been led to expect, the
ground is here broken and irregular, offering more
promise of safe retreat for the indigenous vegetation
than anywhere else on this coast. I had looked
forward with interest to an hour or two on this more
promising ground, and it was a disappointment to be
unable to profit by a comparatively long stay, for we
remained at anchor after nightfall, embarking cargo
and some passengers until midnight. For the third
time within twenty-four hours we crossed the Tropic
of Capricorn, and thenceforward remained in the
south temperate zone. But in this region the term is
in no way specially appropriate to the coast climate
of Chili, for nothing can be more truly temperate than
that of the so-called tropical zone which we were
now leaving. During the voyage from Callao the
thermometer properly shaded had but once (while
anchored at Arica) reached 70° Fahr. It usually stood
by night at 64” to 65°, and at about 68° by day, except
occasionally when exposed to the cool southern
breeze, when it fell rapidly on two occasions, marking
only 62°2°.

My aneroid barometer by Casella, graduated only
to 19 inches, and therefore useless during my visit to
the Cordillera, did not appear to have suffered, as
these instruments often do, by the reduced pressure.
It did not vary during seven days by so much as
one-twentieth of an inch from the constant pressure
29.9, and agreed closely with the ship’s mercurial

UNIFORMITY OF THE CLIMATE. 133

barometer. Perhaps, owing to the fact that my
observations were not sufficiently frequent and re-
corded with sufficient accuracy, I failed to detect on
this coast of America the daily oscillations of pressure,
which in this latitude probably amount to about one-
twentieth of an inch.

On the 6th of May we reached Taltal, a small
place, the general aspect of which reminded me of
Tocopilla, and my first impression on landing was
that this was equally devoid of vegetable and animal
life. But on reaching the rocky slope, which rises very
near the landing-place, I at once perceived some
indications of water having flowed over the surface,
and in the course of the short half-hour which was
allowed ashore J found three flowering plants, two of
them in a condition to be determined, the third dried
up and undistinguishable. In the evening we touched
at Chafieral, a place rising into importance as being
the port of a rich mining district. The southerly
breeze had been rather stronger than usual during the
afternoon, and some passengers complained of the
motion of the ship. An addition of seventy tons of
copper in the hold, which was shipped here by torch-
light, appeared to have a remarkable effect in steady-
ing the vessel.

We reached Caldera early on the 7th, and remained
for five or six hours. This is the port of Copiapd,
the chief town of Northern Chili—the only one, indeed,
which could have grown up under natural conditions.
A considerable stream, the Rio de Copiapd, which
drains the western slope of the Cordillera, passes by
the town. Caldera, the port, is not at the mouth of

134 _ NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

the river, but several miles further north, and water is
doubtless conveyed there in some abundance, as, for
the first time since leaving Arica, a few bushes in
little enclosed gardens could be descried from the
harbour, and I was afterwards shown two stately
trees, the ornament of the place, which were nearly
fifteen feet in height. I went inland about a mile
and a half, visiting a slight eminence where the rock,
evidently very recent, crops out at the surface, and
one or two other promising spots. Most of the
country was covered with sand, in places soft and
deep, and anywhere else in the world I should have
thought it wretchedly barren,.but after my recent
experience the meagre vegetation appeared almost
luxuriant.

There is much interest attaching to the flora of this
desert region of South-western America. The species
which grow here are the more or less modified repre-
sentatives of plants which at some former period
existed under very different conditions of life. In
some of them the amount of modification has been
very slight, the species, it may be presumed, possess-
ing a considerable power of adaptation. Thus one
composite of the sun-flower family, which I found
here, and also at Payta, is but a slight variety of
Encelia canescens,* which I had seen growing luxu-
riantly in the gravelly bed of the Rimac near Lima,
and along that river to a height of six thousand feet

* The four species of Ewcelia described in De Candolle’s “Pro-
dromus ” appear to me to be but slightly modified forms of a single
species. Since the publication of that work, several other and quite
distinct species have been ranked under the same generic name.

BRITISH PACIFIC SQUADRON. 35

13

above the sea. In this parched region the plant is
stunted, and the leaves are hoary with minute white
hairs, which may serve as a protection against evapo-
ration. The same species, with other slight modifica-
tions, extends to all the drier portions of the western
coast as far south as Central Chili, A dwarf shrub
with yellow flowers like those of a jessamine, but
with very different two-horned fruit, called Sytanthus,
was an example of a much greater amount of change.
Its only allies are two species in tropical Brazil, very
different in appearance, though nearly similar in
essential structure. We may safely conclude that a
long period has elapsed since these forms diverged
from a common stock, and that many intermediate
links have perished during the interval.

Several of the ships composing the British Pacific
squadron were lying at Caldera at this time, and after
returning from my short excursion ashore, I went on
board the Zriumph, Captain Albert Markham, bearing
the flag of Admiral Lyons, commander-in-chief. With
regret I declined the admiral’s hospitable invitation
to accompany the squadron to Valparaiso, but I was
unable to refuse Captain Markham’s kind suggestion
that, as his ship was under orders to return to
England on the arrival of the Swzftsure, then ex-
pected, I should become his guest on the passage
from Valparaiso to Montevideo. The 77viumph having
been detained in Chilian waters many weeks longer
than was then expected, I was afterwards forced to
forego the agreeable prospect of a voyage in company
with an officer whose varied accomplishments and
extensive observation of nature under the most varied

136 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

conditions make his society equally agreeable and
instructive.

Leaving Caldera soon after midday, the Ayacucho
reached Coquimbo early on the following morning.
With only the exception of Talcahuano, this is the
best port in Chili, being sheltered from all troublesome
winds, and affording good anchorage for large ships.
The town of La Serena, the chief place in this part of
Chili, stands on moderately high ground about two
miles from the sea, and may be reached in about
twenty minutes from the port by frequent trains which
travel to and fro. We were warned that our stay was
to be very short, and that those who went to the city
could not remain there for more than half an hour. I
had no difficulty in deciding to forego the attractions
of the city, whatever they might be, for a far more
tempting alternative offered itself. The range of low
but rather steep slopes that rises immediately behind
the chief line of street was actually dotted over with
bushes, veritable bushes, and the unusual greenish-
grey tint of the soil announced that it was at least
partially covered with vegetation. In the spring, as
I was assured, the hue is quite a bright green. To
a man who for the preceding week had seen nothing
on land but naked rocks or barren sand, the somewhat
parched and meagre vegetation of Coquimbo ap-
peared irresistibly attractive. I could not expect to
add anything of value to what is already known,
through the writings of Darwin and other travellers,
respecting the evidences of elevation of the coast
afforded by the raised terraces containing recent
shells, whose seaward face forms the seeming hills

IMMUNITY OF THE BOTANIST. 137

behind the town, and I felt free to give every available
moment to collecting the singular plants of this
region.

One of the minor satisfactions of a naturalist in
South America arises from the fact that the in-
habitants are so thoroughly used to seeing strangers
of every nationality, and in the most varied attire,
that his appearance excites no surprise and provokes
no uncivil attentions. Going about almost always
alone, with a large tin box slung across my back, I
never found myself even stared at, which, in most
parts of Europe, is the least inconvenience that befalls
a solitary botanist. The amount of attention varies,
indeed, in different countries. In Sicily and in Syria
one is an object of general curiosity, and one’s every
movement, as that of a strange animal, watched by
a silent crowd ; but it is only in Spain that the in-
offensive stranger is subject to personal molestation,
and the little boys pelt him with stones without
rebuke or interference from their seniors, who never-
theless boast of their national courtesy.* Fortunately
it nowhere occurs to the most ill-disposed populations
that a shabbily dressed man, engaged in grubbing up
plants by the roots, can be worth robbing. Usually
regarded as the assistant to some pharmacist, the
botanist is, I think, less subject to molestation than

* While botanizing in the Tajo de Ronda, the singular cleft which
cuts through the rocky hill on which the town is built, I was once for
some time in positive danger. The boys, having espied me, assembled
on the bridge that crosses the cleft, some three hundred feet above my
head, and commenced a regular fire of stones, that drove me to take
shelter under an overhanging rock until, being tired of the sport, they
turned their attentions elsewhere.

138 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

the follower of any other pursuit ; his only difficulty
being that, if ignorant of the healing art, he cuts a
poor figure when applied to for medical advice.

Quite unnoticed, I made my way through the long
street of Coquimbo, and, at the first favourable oppor-
tunity, turned up a lane leading to the slopes above
the town. The first plant that I saw, close to the
houses, was a huge specimen of the common European
Marrubium vulgare, grown to the dimensions of a
much-branched bush four or five feet high. It is
common in temperate South America, reaching a
much greater size than in Europe. The season was,
of course, very unfavourable, the condition of the
vegetation being very much what may be seen at the
corresponding season—late autumn—in Southern
Spain, before the first winter rain has awakened the
dormant vegetation of the smaller bulbous-rooted
plants. Nevertheless, I found several very curious
and rare plants still in flower, some of them known
only from this vicinity, and among them a dwarf
cactus, only three or four inches in height, with com-
paratively large crimson flowers just beginning to
expand.

At length, on the morning of May 9, the voyage
came to an end as we slowly steamed into the harbour
of Valparaiso, which, with the large amount of shipping
and the conspicuous floating docks, gives an impres-
sion of even greater importance than it actually pos-
sesses. The modern town, built in European fashion,
with houses of two and even three floors above the
ground, on the curved margin of the bay partly
reclaimed from the sea, and the older town, chiefly

VALPARAISO. 139

perched on the edge of the plateau some two hundred
feet above the main street, and divided by the deep
ravines (quebradas) that converge towards the bay,
have been described by many travellers; but I do
not remember to have seen any sufficient warning as
to the frightful peril to which the majority of the
population is constantly exposed. Over and over
again earthquakes have destroyed towns in western
South America. Houses built of slight materials,
with a ground floor only, or at most with a single
floor above it, may fall without entailing much loss of
life; but it is frightful to contemplate the amount of
destruction of life and property that must ensue if a
violent shock should ever visit Valparaiso. And the
peril is twofold ; the great wave which is the usual
sequel of a violent earthquake, would inevitably
destroy whatever might survive the first shock in the
crowded streets of the lower town.

After overcoming the preliminary difficulties of
landing and passing my luggage through the custom-
house, I proceeded to the Hotel Colon, in the main
street, kept by a French proprietor to whose lively
conversation I owed much information and amuse-
ment during my short stay. Some three hours were
occupied by a few visits, a stroll through the chief
streets, and the despatch of a telegram to Buenos
Ayres. Not choosing to incur the heavy expense of
a telegram from Valparaiso to England, I had availed
myself of the courtesy of the officials of the Royal
Mail Steamboat Company to arrange that a telegram
from Valparaiso to Buenos Ayres should be forwarded
by post from the latter place, thus saving fully three

140 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

weeks’ time. In the afternoon I climbed up one of
the steep tracks leading to the upper part of the town,
where the population mainly consists of the ‘poorest
class. The houses were small and frail looking, but
fairly clean, and I nowhere saw indications of abject
want, such as may too often be witnessed in the out-
skirts of a large European city.

Valparaiso has all the air of a busy place, with
some features to which we are not used in Europe.
Along the line of the narrow main street tramcars
are constantly passing to and fro. The names over
the shops, many of which are large and handsome,
are mainly foreign, German being, perhaps, in a
majority; but the important mercantile houses are
chiefly English, and, except among the poorer class,
the English language appears to be predominant.
All people engaged in business acquire it when young,
and very many of Spanish descent speak it with
fluency and correctness. The Hotel Colon stands
between the main street and a broad quay, part of
the space reclaimed from the margin of the bay, and
my windows overlooked the busy scene, thronged
from daylight till.evening with a crowd of men and
vehicles. It was somewhat startling to see frequent
railway trains run through the crowd, with no other
precaution than the swinging of a large bell on the
locomotive to warn people to get out of the way.

I started soon after daylight on the t1oth for a
botanical excursion over the hills behind the town,
and, as I had rather exaggerated expectations of the
harvest to be collected, I had engaged a boy to carry
a portfolio wherein to stow away what I could not

FLORA OF CENTRAL CHILI. tat

conveniently carry for myself. Though I moved
slowly, as naturalists generally do, my companion
soon grew tired, or pretended fatigue, and after an
hour or so I sent him back to the hotel with the
portfolio well filled.

The flora of Central Chili is denominated by Grise-
bach that of the transition zone of western South
America ; but, except in the sense that it occupies a
territory intermediate between the desert region to
the north and that of the antarctic forests to the south,
the term is not very appropriate. On the opposite
side of the continent, the flora of Uruguay, Entrerios,
and the adjoining provinces, may be truly said to
offer a transition between that of South subtropical
Brazil and that of the pampas region, most of the
genera belonging to one or other of those regions,
the one element gradually diminishing in importance
as the other assumes a predominance. In this respect
the Chilian flora presents a remarkable contrast, being
distinguished by the large number of vegetable types
peculiar to it, and having but slight affinities either
with those of tropical or antarctic America.

Of 198 genera peculiar to temperate South America,
the large majority belong exclusively to Central Chili,
and these include several tribes whose affinity to
the forms of other regions is only remote. Two of
these tribes—the Vivianee and Francoacee—have
even been regarded by many botanists as distinct
natural orders; and many of the most common and
conspicuous species will strike a botanist familiar
with the vegetation of other regions of the earth as
very distinct from all that he has known elsewhere.

142 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

With only a few exceptions, these endemic types
appear to have originated in the Andean range,
whence some modified forms have descended to the
lower country ; several of these, as was inevitable,
have been found on the eastern flanks of the great
range, and it is probable that further exploration will
add to the number ; but it is remarkable that as yet
so large a proportion should be confined to Chilian
territory.

Grisebach has fixed the limits of that which he has
called the transition zone at the Tropic of Capricorn
to the north, and the thirty-fourth parallel of latitude
to the south ; but these in no way correspond to the
natural boundaries. As I have already pointed out,
the flora of the desert zone, extending from about the
twentieth nearly to the thirtieth parallel of south
latitude, shows a general uniformity in its meagre
constituents. It is about the latitude of Coquimbo,
or only a little north of it, that the characteristic
types of the Chilian flora begin to present themselves,
and these extend southward at least as far as latitude
36° south, and even somewhat farther, if I may judge
from the imperfect indications of locality too often
afforded with herbarium specimens.*

* One of the difficulties felt by all students of geographical dis-
tribution arises from the imperfect or careless indications given both in
books and in herbaria, and this is more felt in regard to South America
than as to any other part of the world. A very large proportion of the
earlier collections bear simply the label ‘‘ Brazil,” forgetting that the
area is as great as that of Europe. In other cases local names of places,
not to be found on maps or in gazetteers, embarrass the student and
weary his patience. It is mainly from Darwin that naturalists have

learned that geographical distribution is the chief key to the past history
of the earth,

DISTRIBUTION OF RAINFALL. 143

In discussing the causes that have operated on the
development of the Chilian flora, the same eminent
writer has been misled by incomplete and erroneous
information as to the climate of the region in question,
and more especially as to the distribution of rainfall,
which is no doubt the most important factor. It is
true that the peculiar character of the Chilian climate
makes it very difficult to express by averages the
facts that mainly influence organic life. Between the
northern desert region, where rain in a measurable
quantity is an exceptional phenomenon, and the
southern forest region, extending from the Straits of
Magellan to the province of Valdivia, Central Chili
has in ordinary years a long, dry, rainless summer,
followed by rather scanty rainfall at intervals from
the late autumn to spring. About once in four or
five years an exceptional season recurs, when rain
falls in summer as well as winter, and in which the
total fall may be double the usual amount, and at
longer intervals, usually after a severe earthquake,
storms causing formidable inundations occur, when
in a few days the rainfall may exceed the ordinary
amount for an entire year. When several such storms
are repeated in the same year, we may have a total
rainfall of three or four times the ordinary average.*

* The last season of excessive rainfall was that of 1877. I have seen
no complete returns, but it appears that the rain of that year com-
menced in Central Chili in February, a very rare phenomenon ; that
more than six inches of rain fell in April, of which, at Santiago, four
inches fell in twenty-four hours. More heavy rain fell in May, and
finally in July a succession of storms flooded large districts, destroying
property and life, the fall for the month being more than fourteen inches
at Valparaiso. Much interesting information respecting the climate of
Chili will be found in a work by Don B. Vicuiia Mackenna, ‘“‘ Ensayo.

144 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

Such seasons appear to recur six or seven times in
each century, and it is clear that, according as the
meteorologist happens to include or exclude such a
season in his data, the’figures expressing the average
must vary very largely. Inasmuch as plant life is
regulated by the ordinary conditions of temperature
and moisture, we are less liable to error in taking the
results which exclude exceptional seasons.

In discussing, therefore, the conditions of vegetation
in Central Chili, it seems safe to conclude that the
averages given in the following table, extracted from
the careful work of Julius Hann, “Lehrbuch der
Klimatologie,” are above rather than below the ordi-
nary limit.. I find, indeed, that while the average rain-
fall at Santiago during the twelve years from 1849
to 1860 was 419 millimetres, or nearly 16} English
inches, the average for the six years from 1866 to
1871 was 299 millimetres, or less than 12 inches. It
is evident that the indigenous vegetation must be
adapted to thrive upon the smaller amount of moisture
expressed by the latter figures.

The following table, compiled from Hann’s work,
gives the most reliable results now available, and
shows the mean temperature of the year, of the
hottest and coldest months, the extremes of annual
temperature, and the rainfall for the chief places in
Chili, with a few blanks where information is not
available. The maxima and minima do not express
the absolute extremes attained during the entire period
for which observations are available, but the means of

Historico sobre el Clima de Chile” (Valparaiso: 1877), from which I
have borrowed the above-mentioned particulars.

CEIMATE OF CENTRAL CHILI.

145

the annual maxima and minima.

The temperatures
are given in degrees of Fahrenheit’s thermometer.

Mean | Mean | Mean | Maxi- | Mini- Rainfall
PL South |tempera-|tempera-|tempera-| mum mum mute
aes latitude. | ture of | ture of | ture of |tempera-|tempera-| ; the
the year.|January.| July. ture. ture. | MSnEs-
La Serena (Coquimbo) | 29° 56'| 59°2° | 65°19 | 53°1° 16
poe semar seach ees 33° 1 { §7°6° | 63°19 | 52°5° | 77°79 | 45°0° | 1375
antiago (1740 , 2 : ‘ ‘ :
above hee i a3 2y' | SSOP) Ge-2P | agre”) BPG) Sou | Aa
Talca feet abov , 7
the so) nnn | 35° 36° | 56°52] 70°2°| 45°0° es
Valdivia .....0.....cc0000 39° 49’ | 52°9° | 61°5° | 45°0° | 84‘0° | 29°5° | I15‘0
Ancud, Island of
Chiloe (164 feet}) 41° 46’| 50°7°}| 56°5° | 45°9° 134°0
above the sea) ......
Punta A: = i i i
“Of Magellan)’ | 53° 10" | 43°2° | 51°3° | 34°9°| 76:3? | 28-4°| 22°5

This table brings out very clearly the influence of
the cold southern currents of the ocean and air in
reducing the summer heat of the western side .of South
America; for, while the winter temperatures are not
very different from those of places similarly situated
on the west side of Europe and North Africa, those
of summer are lower by 8° or 10° Fahr., and the
mean of the year is lower by 6° or 7° than that of
places in the same latitude on the east side of South
America. It is also apparent that much of what has
been stated in works of authority as to the climate
of this region is altogether incorrect. In his great
work on the “Vegetation of the Earth,” Grisebach
gives the mean temperature of Santiago as 67'5", or
nearly 12° higher than the mean result of ten years’
observation, and. the rainfall as over 40 inches, or

* T believe that in the column for rainfall at Punta Arenas, snow has

not been taken into account.
L

146 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

nearly three times the average—more, indeed, than
three times the average—of ordinary seasons.
Arriving in Chili about the end of the long dry
season, I had but very moderate expectations as to
the prospect of seeing much of its peculiar vegeta-
tion, and I was agreeably surprised to find that there
yet remained a good deal to interest me, especially
among the characteristic evergreen shrubs, having
much of the general aspect of those of the Mediter-
ranean region, though widely different in structure
from the Old-World forms. One or two slight showers
had fallen shortly before my arrival, and as a result
the ground was in many places studded with the
golden flowers of the little Oxalis lobata. This appears
to have a true bulb, formed from the overlapping
bases of the outer leaves, in the centre of which the
undeveloped stem produces one or more flowers,
which appear before the new leaves. The surface of
the dry baked soil was extremely hard, costing some
labour to break it with a pick in order to collect
specimens, and it is not easy to understand the pro-
cess by which a young flower-bud is enabled to force
its way to the upper surface. The open country on
the hills near Valparaiso is bare, trees being very
scarce, and for the most part reduced to the stature
of shrubs with strong trunks; but in the ravines, or
quebradas, that descend towards the coast some of
these rise to a height of twenty or twenty-five feet.
One of the objects of my walk over the hills was to
obtain a good view of the Andes, and especially of
the peak of Aconcagua, the highest summit of the
New World. I had had a glimpse of the peak from

WINTERS BARK. 147

the sea on the previous morning, but light clouds
hung about the entire range during this day, and I
was unable to identify with certainty any of the
summits. The distance in an air line is about one
hundred English miles, and I was struck by the clear-
ness of the air in this region as compared with what I
had seen from the coast of Ecuador or Peru. Every
point that stood out from the clouds was seen sharply
defined, as one is accustomed to observe in favourable
weather in the Mediterranean region.

Returning to the town, I took my way along one of
numerous deep ravines that have been cut into the
seaward surface of the plateau. Though they are
witnesses to the energetic action of water, they are
often completely dry at this season ; yet they exercise
a marked influence on the vegetation. The shrubs
rise nearly to the dimensions of trees, and several
species find a home that do not thrive in the open
country. I was specially interested in, for the first
time, finding in flower the Winter’s bark (Drémys
Winter), a shrub which displays an extraordinary
capacity of adaptation to varying physical conditions,
as it extends along the west side of America from
Mexico to the Straits of Magellan, and also to the
highlands of Guiana and Brazil, accommodating itself
as well to the perpetual spring of. the equatorial
mountain zone as to the long winters and short, almost
sunless, summers of Fuegia. The only necessary
condition seems to be a moderate amount of moisture ;
but even as to this there is wonderful contrast between
the long rainless summer and slight winter rainfall of
Valparaiso, and the tropical rains of Brazil on the one

148 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

hand, and the continual moisture of Valdivia and
Western Patagonia on the other. This is one of the
examples which goes to show how much caution
should be used in drawing inferences as to the climate
of former epochs from deposits of fossil vegetable
remains. This instance is doubtless exceptional, but
there is some reason to think that what may be
called physiological varieties—races of plants which,
with little or no morphological change, have become
adapted to conditions of life very different from those
under which the ancestral form was developed—are
far less uncommon than has been generally supposed.

It is to me rather surprising that a shrub so orna-
mental as the Winter’s bark should not be more
extensively introduced on our western coasts. It
appears not to resist severe frosts, but in the west of
Ireland and the south-west of England it should be a
welcome addition to the resources of the landscape
gardener. Although voyagers have spoken highly of
its virtues as a stimulant and antiscorbutic, it does
not appear to have held its ground in European
pharmacopeias, and I believe that the active principle,
chiefly residing in the bark, has never been chemically
determined.

On May 11 I proceeded to Santiago. Mr. Drum-
mond Hay,* the popular consul-general, who at this
time was also acting as the British chargé d ‘affaires at
the legation at Santiago, was so fully occupied at the
consular court that I was able to enjoy little of his
society ; but he was kind enough to telegraph to the

* The recent untimely death of this valauble official is deplored by
all classes in Chili.

RAILWAY TO SANTIAGO. 149

Hotel Oddo at Santiago to secure for me accommoda-
tion. With the usual difficulty of effecting an early
start, which appears to prevail everywhere in South
America, I reached the railway station in time for the
7.45 a.m. train. For some distance the railroad runs
near the sea, passing the station of Vifia del Mar,
where many of the Valparaiso merchants have pretty
villas. I was more attracted by the appearance of
the country about the following station of Salto,
where rough, rocky ground, with clumps of small trees
and the channels of one or more streams, promised
well for a spring visit. But I was at every turn
reminded that I had fallen on the most unfavourable
season. After the long six or seven months’ drought
the face of the country was everywhere parched, and
the only matter for surprise was that there should
yet remain some vestiges of its summer garb of
vegetation.

The direct distance from Valparaisgq to Santiago is
only about fifty-five miles, but the line chosen for the
railway must be fully double that length. The country
lying directly between the sea-coast and the capital
is broken up by irregular masses, partly granitic and
partly formed of greenstone and other hard igneous
rocks. These in Europe would be regarded as con-
siderable mountains, as the summits range from six
thousand to over seven thousand feet in height, but
they nowhere exhibit the bold and picturesque forms
that characterize the granite formation in Brazil. On
either side of this highland tract two considerable
streams carry the drainage of the Cordillera to the
ocean. The northern stream, the Rio Aconcagua,

150 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

bears the same name as the famous mountain from
whose snows it draws a constant supply even in the
dry season. Some sixty miles further south, the
Maipo, draining a larger portion of the Andean range,
flows to the coast by the town of Melipilla. The
valley of the Maipo offers a much easier, though a
circuitous, railway route to Santiago than that chosen
by the Chilian engineers, which for a considerable
distance keeps to the valley of the Aconcagua. The
stream is reached near to Quillota, a place which has
given its name to this part of the valley.

Travelling at this season, I was not much struck by
the boasted luxuriance of the vegetation of the vale
of Quillota; but I could easily understand that the
eye of the stranger, accustomed to the arid regions
of Peru and Northern Chili, must welcome the com-
parative freshness of the landscape, in which orchards
of orange and peach trees alternate with squares of
arable land. _ Of the few plants that I could make out
from the railway car what most attracted my attention
was the frequent recurrence of oval masses of dark
leaves, much in the form of a giant hedgehog three or
four feet in length and half that height, remarkably
uniform in size and appearance. The interest was
not diminished when I was able, at a wayside station,
to ascertain that the plant was a bramble, on which I
failed to find flower or fruit, but which from the leaves
can be nothing else than a variety of the common
bramble, or blackberry, introduced from Europe.

At the station of Llaillai (pronounced YVazyaz) we
met the train from Santiago, and were allowed a

CHARACTERISTIC VEGETATION. IS

quarter of an hour for breakfast. The arrangements
were rather rough, but the food excellent—much
superior, indeed, to what one commonly finds at an
English refreshment-room. This is a junction station,
and a train was in readiness to take passengers from
Santiago or Valparaiso by a branch line up the valley
of the Aconcagua to San Felipe and Santa Rosa de
los Andes. The Santiago train here leaves that valley,
and, turning abruptly to the south, commences a long
and rather steep ascent of the ridge that divides the
basin of the Maipo from that of the Aconcagua. To
our right rose the Cerro del Roble, about 7250 feet in
height, one of the highest of the coast range.*

Here I first encountered the characteristic aspect
of the hilly region of Central Chili. A tall columnar
cactus (Cereus Quzsco) is the most conspicuous plant.
Sometimes with a solitary stem, but usually having
two or three together from the same root, they stand
bolt upright from fifteen to twenty-five feet in
height. Next to this the commonest conspicuous
plant is a large species of Puya, belonging to the
pine-apple family, with long, stiff, spiky leaves, and
these two combined to give a strange and some-
what weird appearance to the vegetation. Here and
there were dense masses of evergreen bushes or small
shrubs, and more rarely small solitary trees. Among
these was probably the species of beech (Fagus obliqua
of botanists) which the natives call vodle (or oak),
there being, in fact, no native oaks in America south

* This is doubtless the summit described by Darwin under the name
Campana de Quillota. He gives the height as 6400 feet above sea-
level. The figures in the text are taken from the Chilian survey.

152 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

of the equator ; but in a passing railway train I could
not hope to identify’ unfamiliar species. Both here
and elsewhere in Chili, I noticed that the guzsco is
almost confined to the northern or sunny slopes ;
while, as Darwin observed, the tall bamboo grass (a
Chusquea) prevails on the shady sides of the hills.

The summit level, according to Petermann’s map,
is 4311 feet (1314 metres) above the sea, and thence-
forward there is a continuous gradual slope of the
ground towards Santiago. The country shows few
signs of population, and the larger part of the surface
‘is left in a state of nature, and used only for pasturage
in winter. In this arid region cultivation is nearly
confined to the valleys of the streams that descend
from the Cordillera. The stony beds of the streams
passed by the railway were almost completely dried
up, and I think that I saw water in one spot only
on the whole way between the Aconcagua and the
Mapocho.

Any want of interest or variety in the nearer land-
scape was amply made up by the increasing grandeur
of the views of the Cordillera as we approached the
capital of Chili, rendered all the more imposing by
fresh snow, which extended down to the level of ten
or eleven thousand feet. Although it does not include
several of the highest summits of the Andes, the range
which walls in the province of Santiago to the east
is probably the highest continuous portion of the great
range; for in a distance of seventy miles, from near
the Uspallata Pass to the Volcano of Maipe, I believe
that there is but one narrow gap where the crest of
the chain falls below the level of nineteen thousand

ARRIVAL AT SANTIAGO, 153

feet.* To the eye, however, the outline seen from the
plain is very varied, and by no means gives the
impression of a continuous wall. Huge buttresses,
with peaked summits, not much inferior in height to
the main range, project westward, and in the bays
between them form Alpine valleys, which send down
streams to fertilize the country. By these buttresses
the peak of Tupungato, 20,278 feet in height, the
highest summit of this part of the chain, is concealed
from Santiago, and I doubt whether it is anywhere
visible from the low country on the Chilian side.
Soon after twelve o’clock the train reached the
station at Santiago, and I found Mr. Flint, the
obliging German proprietor of the Hotel Oddo, in
readiness with a carriage to take me to his hotel.
The first impression of Santiago, irrespective of the
grandeur of its position, is that of a great city. The
houses, consisting only of a ground floor, or at most
with a single floor overhead, built round an enclosed
court, or patio, cover a large space, and the town
occupies three or four times the area that an equal
population would require in Europe. It is laid out,
even more regularly than Turin, in square blocks of
nearly the same dimensions, so that the ordinary way
of reckoning distances is by guadras. One enters the

* The mapping of the Andean chain is a task of immense difficulty,
and although the Chilian survey is the best that has yet been executed,
it leaves much to be desired. Even in the small district which I was
able to visit, I found several grave errors in Petermann’s map, reduced
from the Chilian survey, which is, nevertheless, the best that has been
published in Europe. One of the most serious is the omission of the
Uspallata Pass, the most frequented of those leading from Central Chili
to the Argentine territory, which is neither named nor correctly indi-
cated by the tints adopted to mark the zones of elevation. ‘

154 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

town by the Alameda, a straight street, with fine
houses on one,side and a public garden on the other,
nearly two miles in length, along which, at intervals,
are statues of the men who have earned the gratitude
of their country, the most conspicuous being the
equestrian statue of General O’Higgins, the foremost
hero of the war of independence. :

Turning at right angles into one of the side streets,
we soon reached the Hotel Oddo, unpretending in
appearance, which was recommended to me as being
quieter and more comfortable than the Grand Hotel.
This, which was close at hand, occupies the upper
floor of a fine pile of building, that fills one side of
the Plaza Major, or great square of the city. There
seems to be an uneasy feeling that at the first severe
shock of earthquake this monument of misplaced
architecture may be levelled to the ground, to the
destruction of all its inmates.

My first visit in Santiago was made to Don Carlos
Swinburne, an English merchant, long established in
the city, who has acquired the universal respect and
regard of all classes, and whose well-earned personal
influence has been on several occasions effective for
the mutual benefit of his native land and his adopted
country. To his kindness and courtesy I am under
many obligations. Later in the day I proceeded to
call upon Dr. Philippi, the veteran naturalist, to whom
we owe so much of our knowledge of the flora and
fauna of Chili.

In Santiago, as in most other South American
towns, the first thing that a stranger should do is
to learn the routes of the tramcars, which con-

DOCTOR PHILIPPI. 155

stantly ply through the principal arteries. Hackney
coaches are to be found, and are sometimes indis-
pensable, but they are heavy cumbrous vehicles, ill
hung on high wheels; one travels slowly and suffers
a severe jolting over ill-paved streets. To say nothing
of economy, the tramcar runs smoothly at a brisk
pace, is usually clean and commodious, and is generally
used by all classes of the population. The main
point is to take care not to travel in the opposite
direction from that intended ; but here, with the great
landmarks of the Andes always in view, it is not easy
to go wrong as to the points of the compass.

To find Dr. Philippi I was directed to a house
of modest appearance within the precincts of the
Quinta Normal. This establishment is intended to
combine the functions of a horticultural garden and
a model farm, but the greater part of the grounds
appears to be laid out as ornamental pleasure-ground.
A large handsome building, -originally constructed
for a great industrial exhibition, has been turned
to good account as a museum of natural history.
I was received by Professor Federigo Philippi, who
now worthily fills the chair of Natural History in the
University of Santiago, from which, after a tenure of
many years, his father has retired. Between naturalists
none of the ordinary formalities of introduction are
required, and cordial relations grow up rapidly.
Knowing that Dr. Philippi had already reached an
advanced age, I was apprehensive that some infirmity
might have chilled the ardour of his interest in
science ; but I was agreeably disabused when from an
adjoining room the professor called his father to join

156 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

our conversation. I found a man who, although in
his seventy-sixth year, was still full of vigour of mind,
and I had full opportunity on the following morning
to assure myself that this is sustained by abundant
physical energy.

Time slips by rapidly in a conversation on subjects
of mutual interest, and when, after arranging for a
short excursion with Dr. Philippi, I returned home-
ward, the setting sun was lighting up the heavens
with the beautiful tints that are more common in
the warm Temperate zone than in other regions of
the earth. Low as are the houses, they were just
high enough to shut out all but occasional glimpses
of the Cordillera from the street ; but when I reached
the great plaza I came to the conclusion, which
I still retain, that Santiago is by many degrees the
most beautifully situated town that I have anywhere
seen. Rio Janeiro, Constantinople, Palermo, Beyrout,
Plymouth, all have the added beauty that the sea
confers on land scenery ; but such a spectacle as is
formed by the majestic semicircle of great peaks
that curve round Santiago, lit by the varying tints of
day and evening, is scarcely to be matched elsewhere
in the world. In position, as in plan of building, I
was reminded of Turin; but here the Alps are nearly
twice as high, and at half the distance. Further than
that, the low country at Turin opens to the east, and,
although glorious sunrise effects are not seldom visible,
they never rival the splendours of the close of day.

On the following morning, May 12, I started with
Dr. Philippi in a hackney coach for an excursion to
the Cerro San Cristobal, an isolated hill rising about

CERRO SAN CRISTOBAL. 157

one thousand feet above the valley of the Mapocho.
We crossed that stream by a very massive bridge,
constructed to resist the formidable flood poured
down the channel after heavy rains, and for about
three miles followed the right bank along a rough
road deep in the sand formed by the disintegration of
the volcanic rocks. We were glad to leave our
vehicle at some mills at the foot of the hill, and spent
some three hours very agreeably in clambering up
and down the rough slopes. The shrubs were much
the same as those which I afterwards saw elsewhere
in similar situations, but I was fortunate in being
introduced to them by one so familiar with the flora
as my excellent companion. Among these, as well as
the herbaceous plants, the Composite prevail over
every other natural order. Two common species
belong to the tribe of J/utisiace@, unknown in Europe,
and almost confined to South America. The bushy
species of Baccharis, a genus very widely spread in
the New World, but not known elsewhere, were also
very common. An acacia (A. Cavenia) approached
more nearly to the dimensions of a tree. It has stiff,
spreading, and very spiny branches, and is widely
spread throughout the drier parts of temperate South
America. Among the few herbaceous plants in
flower I was fortunate in seeing the pretty Gynopleura
linearifolia. This belongs to a tribe of the passion-
flower family, very distinct in habit and appearance,
which has been by some eminent botanists ranked as a
distinct natural order under the name JMWalesherbiacee.
It includes only two genera with ten or twelve species,
all exclusively natives of Chili or Peru.

158 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

A veil of morning haze or mist, not uncommon at
this season, hung over the city and marred the com-
pleteness of the grand view from the summit of the
Cerro. Though easily explained, the seeming opacity
of a thin stratum of vapour seen from above, as I
have often noticed in the Alps, is remarkable. Before
we started, and after our return, the haze over the
city was scarcely perceptible. Not only did the sun
shine brightly in the town, but the outlines of the
neighbouring peaks were perfectly distinct. Looking
down from the upper station, the slight differences in
the intensity of the comparatively feeble light pro-
ceeding from the various objects on the surface, by
which alone they are made visible, were concealed by
the haze which reflected a portion of the comparatively
strong light received from the sky, just as when looking
from the outside at a window which reflects the light
from the sky, we cannot distinguish objects within.

In the afternoon Mr. Swinburne was good enough
to accompany me in a visit to Don Benjamin Vicufia
Mackenna, one of the most conspicuous and remark-
able of the contemporary public men of Chili. His
career has been in many ways singular. In early life
he took part in two attempts of a revolutionary
nature. Fortunately for themselves, the Chilians have
gained from their own and their neighbours’ experience
a fixed aversion to revolution, and, while acknowledging
the existence of abuses, have felt that violent change is
certain to entail worse evils. Both attempts failed, and
the leaders were condemned to death, the sentences
being judiciously commuted to temporary exile.

Since his return, Mr. Mackenna has done good

DON BENYAMIN V. MACKENNA. 159

service as head of the municipality of Santiago, has
been a prominent member of the legislature, and was,
in 1881, the unsuccessful candidate for the presidency
of the republic. But it is chiefly by his fertility as a
writer that Mr. Mackenna has secured for himself an
enduring reputation. Gifted with keen intelligence
and a marvellously retentive memory, his readiness
to discuss in turn the most varied topics, whether
by speech or pen, is quite phenomenal. Besides being
a constant contributor to newspapers and periodicals,
he has published over a hundred volumes, most of
them devoted either to illustrate the history or to
promote the progress of his native country. I was
most kindly received, and my only regret, on this and
subsequent occasions, was that the shortness of my
stay prevented me from enjoying more fully the
society of this interesting man. From the room—in
itself a library—reserved for the spare copies of his
own works, I selected four volumes out of the many
which he was kind enough to place at my disposal.
On the following day Mr. Vicufia Mackenna was
kind enough to devote several hours to taking me to
various objects of interest in the city, beginning with
the natural history museum at the Quinta Normal.
Rightly supposing that they would be of interest, my
guide afterwards took me to see the most remarkable
trees of the city, each of which possesses some historic
interest. In an old and rather neglected garden
attached to the palace of the archbishop is the finest
known specimen of the peumo, the most important
indigenous tree of Central Chili. Popular tradition
affirms that under this tree, in 1640, Pedro de Valdivia,

160 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

the founder of Santiago, held a conference with the
native Indian chiefs, in which they agreed to allow
the strangers a certain territory for settlement. It is
undoubtedly very ancient, and is divided nearly from
the ground into a number of massive branches spread-
ing in all directions, so as to form a hemisphere of
dark green foliage rather more than sixty feet in
diameter. The tree belongs to the laurel family
(Cryptocarya Peumus of botanists), and is densely
covered with thick evergreen leaves impenetrable to
the sun. The red oval fruits are much appreciated
by the country people, but they have a resinous taste
unpalatable to strangers.

In the garden of the Franciscan convent we saw a
very fine old Lombardy poplar, from which it is said
that all those cultivated in Chili are descended. The
story runs that a prior of the convent, who visited his
brethren at Mendoza, some time in the seventeenth
century, found there poplar trees introduced from
Europe, and which in that denuded region were the
sole representatives of arboreal vegetation. The
sapling which he carried back on his return across
the Andes grew to be the tree which still flourishes in
the convent at Santiago. To judge from its appear-
ance, the story is no way improbable.

In the gatio of a fine house in the city are two
remarkably fine specimens of the Eucalyptus globulus,
a tree now familiar to visitors at Nice and many other
places in the Mediterranean region. It has been of
late extensively planted throughout the drier parts
of temperate South America, and promises to be of
much economic value. The pair which I saw here

A HOUSE IN SANTIAGO. 161

had been planted seventeen years before, and, like
twins, had kept pace in their growth. The height
was about sixty feet, and the girth at five feet from
the ground about seven feet.

As a specimen of one of the better houses in
Santiago, Mr. V. Mackenna took me to that of one of
his cousins, who with his family was at the time
absent in the country. The building included three
small courts, or patios, each laid out with ornamental
plants well watered. The reception-rooms, very
richly furnished in satin and velvet, as well as the
apartments of the family, were all on the ground floor,
most of them opening into a patio. Over a part of
the building were small rooms constructed of slight
materials for the use of servants, so that the risk of
fatal injuries even in a severe earthquake seemed to
be but slight.

I was told the history of the owner of this fine
house, which, from what I afterwards heard, was no
more than a fair sample of the economic condition of
Chilian society. Many of the older Spanish families
are large landowners, and, in spite of vicissitudes due
to droughts and occasional inundations, derive settled
incomes from property of this kind. But the pro-
digious wealth that has flowed from the rich mining
districts has proved a temptation too strong to be
resisted, and there are comparatively few of the
wealthier class who have not engaged in mining
speculations. It is needless to say that along with
some great prizes there have been many blanks in the
lottery, and the result has been that the fortunes of

families have undergone the most extraordinary vicis-
M

162 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

situdes. People get used to a condition of society
where the same man may be rich to-day, reduced
nearly to pauperism a year later, and then again, after
another short interval, rolling in wealth. It is to be
feared that the effect, if continued for a generation or
two, will not be favourable to progress in the higher
sense.

The existence of a class not forced to expend its
energies on acquiring wealth, and having some
adequate objects of ambition, is still the most im-
portant condition for the advancement of the human
race. We may look forward to other conditions of
society when, having found out the extremely small
value of most of the luxuries that now stimulate
exertion, men will be able peacefully to develop a
healthier and happier social state, in which labour and
leisure will be more equally distributed ; but this is
yet in the distant future, and perhaps the greatest
difficulty in its attainment will arise from premature
attempts to impose new conditions which, if they are
to live, must be of spontaneous growth.

One of the marked features of Santiago is the steep
rock of Santa Lucia rising abruptly near the eastern
end of the Alameda. It has been well laid out with
winding footpaths, and has a frequented restaurant.
The view of the snowy range on one side and the city
on the other can scarcely be matched elsewhere in the
world.

On reaching Santiago, I was mainly preoccupied
with the question of how to use my short stay with
the best advantage so as to see as much as possible
of the scenery and vegetation of the great range, con-

WINTER SEASON APPROACHING. 163

sistently with the promise I had given before leaving
home to avoid all risks to health. From the abun-
dance of fresh snow along the range, it was obvious
that the precipitation on the higher flanks of the
Cordillera must be considerably greater than it is in
the low country, where only one or two slight showers
had fallen ; and we were in the season when rain is
annually expected, which, of course, would take the
form of snow in the higher region. I had already
obtained a letter to the manager of the mines at Las
Condes, a place about fifteen miles from Santiago,
and some eight thousand feet above the sea. But,
after taking counsel with those best informed, I de-
cided on giving a few days to a visit to the Baths of
Cauquenes, in the valley of the Cachapoal, a little
above the point where that stream issues from the
mountains into the plain of Central Chili. There
remained a possibility of making an excursion from
Cauquenes into one of the interior valleys, especially
that of Cypres, famed for the variety of high moun-
tain plants that find a home near the glacier which
descends into it, and there was the advantage that
even in case of bad weather no serious inconvenience
would arise.

I started next morning, May 14, by the railway,
which is carried nearly due south from the capital to
Talca, and thence to Concepcion. I found myself in
the same carriage with Mr. Hess, the lessee and
manager of the Baths, an energetic, practical man,
fully impressed with a sense of his own importance
as head of an establishment which annually attracts
the best society of Chili. The railway journey, which

164 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

carries one for about fifty miles parallel to the great
range of the Cordillera, is very interesting, even at
this season, when much of the country shows a
parched surface. The finest views are those gained
where the line passes opposite the opening through
which the Maipo issues from the mountains into the
plain. This river, which even in the dry season shows
a respectable volume of water, is formed by the union
of the torrents from four valleys that penetrate nearly
to the axis of the Cordillera. Of Tupungato, the
highest summit hereabouts, 20,270 feet above sea-
level, I saw nothing, as it is masked by a very lofty
range that divides two of the tributary valleys. A
slender wreath of vapour marked the volcano of San
José, just twenty thousand feet in height, at the head
of the southern branch of the river. It is only at one
point visible from the railway.

On the way from Valparaiso to Santiago I had
already been much struck by the prevalence over
wide areas of plants not indigenous to the country,
most of them introduced from Southern Europe. The
most conspicuous are plants of the thistle tribe, all
strangers to South America, and especially the
cardoon, or wild state of the common artichoke. This
is now far more common in temperate South America
than it anywhere is in its native home in the Mediter-
ranean region. In Chili it is regarded with some
favour, as mules, and even horses, eat the large spiny
leaves freely at a season when other forage is scarce.
The same cannot be said of our common coarse spear-
thistle (Cxicus lanceolatus), which, though of much
more recent introduction, has now invaded large

IMMIGRANT PLANTS. 165

tracts of country, especially in the rather moister
southern provinces. I was informed that, with the
strange expectation that it would be useful as fodder,
an Englishman had imported a sack of the seed,
which he had spread broadcast somewhere in the
neighbourhood of Concepcion. Many other European
plants have been introduced, either intentionally or
by accident, and have in some districts to a great
extent supplanted the indigenous vegetation. As to
many of these, it appears to me probable that their
diffusion is due more to the aid of animals than the
direct intervention of man. This is especially true
of the little immigrant which has gone farthest in
colonizing this part of the earth—the common stork’s-
bill (Evodium cicutarium), which has made itself
equally at home in the upper zone of the Peruvian
Andes, in the low country of Central Chili, and in the
plains of Northern Patagonia. Its extension seems to
keep pace with the spread of domestic animals, and,
as far as I have been able to ascertain, it is nowhere
common except in districts now or formerly pastured
by horned cattle. It is singular that the same plant
should have failed to extend itself in North America,
being apparently confined to a few localities. It is
now common in the northern island of New Zealand,
but has not extended to South Africa, where two
other European species of the same genus are estab-
lished.

In considering the facts relating to the rapid
extension of certain plants when introduced into new
regions, and the extent to which they have supplanted
the indigenous species, I confess that I have always

166 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

been a little sceptical as to the primary importance
attributed by Darwin * to the fact that most of these
invaders are northern continental species. In the
course of a long existence extending over wide areas,
he maintains that these have acquired an organization
fitting them better to maintain the struggle for exist-
ence than the indigenous species of the regions over
which they have spread. Of course, it is true in the
case of territories very recently raised from the sea,
and not in direct connection with a continental area
inhabited by species well adapted to the conditions of
soil and climate, that immigrant species well adapted
to the conditions of their new home will spread very
rapidly, and may easily supplant the less vigorous,
because less well adapted, native species. The most
remarkable case of this kind is perhaps presented by
Northern Patagonia and a portion of the Argentine
region, raised from the sea during the most recent
geological period. The only quarters from which the
flora could be recruited were the range of the Andes
to the west, and the subtropical zone of South
America to the north. Everything goes to prove that
the forms of plants are far more slowly modified than
those of animals—or, at least, of the higher vertebrate
orders. The new settlers are unable quickly to adapt
themselves to the new conditions of life, and as a
result we find that the indigenous flora of the region
in question is both numerically poor in species, and
that these have been unable fully to occupy the ground.
Among the species intentionally or accidentally intro-
duced by the European conquerors, those well adapted
* “ Origin of Species,” 3rd edit., p. 410.

CHECKS ON COLONIZATION, 167

to the new country have established a predominance
over the native species ; but I question whether, if the
course of history had been different, and the con-
querors of South America had come from South
Africa or South Australia, bringing with them seeds
of those regions, we should not have seen in Patagonia
African or Australian plants in the place of the Euro-
pean thistles and other weeds now so widely spread.
If I am not much mistaken as to the history of the
introduction of foreign plants into new regions, it very
commonly happens that a species which spreads very
widely at first becomes gradually restricted in its area,
and finally loses the predominance which it seemed
to have established. Attention has not, I think, been
sufficiently directed to the fact that the chief limit to
the spread of each species is fixed by the prevalence
of the enemies to which it is exposed, and that plants
carried to a distant region will, as a general rule, enjoy
advantages which in the course of time they are likely
to lose. Whether it be large animals that eat down
the stem—as goats prevent the extension of pines—
or birds that devour the fruit, or insects that attack
some vital organ, or vegetable parasites that dis-
organize the tissues, the chances are great that in a
new region the species will not find the enemies that
have been adapted to check its extension in its native
home. Of the marvellous complexity of the agencies
that interact in the life-history of each species we
first formed some estimate through the teachings of
Darwin ; but to follow out the details in each case will
be the work of successive generations of naturalists.
We cannot doubt that in a new region new enemies

168 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

will arise for each species that has become common,
or, in other words, that other organisms, whether
animals or plants, will acquire the means of maintain-
ing their own existence at the expense of the new-
comer. The wild artichoke is doubtless perfectly
adapted to the climate of the warmer and drier parts
of the Mediterranean region, and is there rather widely
spread ; but it is nowhere very common, even in places
where the ground is not much occupied by other
species. We do not know all the agencies that prevent
it from spreading farther, but we do not doubt that
it is held in check by its appropriate enemies. In
South America it would appear that these, or some
of them, are absent, and the plant has spread far and
wide. If some common bird should take to devouring
the seeds, or some other effectual check should arise,
the area would very speedily be reduced.

The train stopped for breakfast at the Rancagua
station, a few miles from the town of that name.
Along with very fair food at the restaurant, cheaper
delicacies were offered by itinerant hawkers, including
various sweet cakes of suspicious appearance and
baskets of red berries of the peumo tree. At the next
station, called Gualtro, about fifty miles from Santiago,
we left the train, and, after the usual long delay, con-
tinued our journey in a lumbering coach set upon
very high wheels. This seems to be the general
fashion for carriages in South America, arising from
the fact that the smaller streams, which swell fast
after rain, are usually unprovided with bridges.

Incautious travellers in South America may easily
be misled by the frequent use of the same name for

PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY OF CHILI. 169

quite different places. One bound for the Baths of
Cauquenes must be careful not to confound these
with the town of Cauquenes, the chief place of a
department of the same name, more than a hundred
miles farther to the south.

Before reaching Gualtro we had crossed the Cacha-
poal, a torrential stream which drains several valleys
of the high Cordillera. Our course now lay eastward,
towards the point where the river issues from the
mountains into the plain, and where, as everywhere
in Central Chili, its waters are largely used for irriga-
tion. The road along the left bank lies on a slope
at some height above the stream, and gives a wide
view over the plain, backed by the great range of the
Cordillera. Irrespective of the picturesque interest
of the grand view, I added somewhat to the impres-
sions respecting the physical geography of Central
Chili which I had recently received from an exami-
nation of Petermann’s reduction from the large govern-
ment map, and from the information given me at
Santiago.

I had reached Chili with no other ideas respecting
the configuration of the country than those derived
from the twelfth chapter of Darwin’s “Journal of
Researches,” which with little modification have been
repeated by subsequent writers, even so lately as in
the excellent article on “Chile,” in the American
Cyclopzedia.

Struck by the conformation of the range between
Quillota and Santiago, and the somewhat similar
range south of the Maipo, and writing at a time when
there were no maps deserving of the name, and when

170 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

the channels of Patagonia had been most imperfectly
explored, Darwin was led to infer a much closer
resemblance between the orographic features of the
two regions than it is now possible to admit. He
supposed the greater part, if not the whole of the
Chilian coast, to be bordered by mountain ranges
running parallel to the main chain of the Cordillera,
thus forming a succession of nearly level basins lying
between these outer mountains and the main range,
each being drained through a tranverse valley which
cuts through the outer range. Such a conformation
of the surface would undoubtedly resemble what we
find on the western coast of South America, between
the Gulf of Ancud and the Straits of Magellan. But
the facts correspond ‘with this view only to a limited
extent.

The tints laid down on Petermann’s map to indicate
successive zones of height above the sea are far from
being completely accurate, but slight errors of detail
do not affect the general conclusions to which we
must arrive. If we carry the eye along from north to
south, we find a succession of great buttresses or
promontories of high land projecting westward from
the main range, between which relatively deep valleys
carry the drainage towards the Pacific coast. The
effect of a continuous sinking of the land would be to
produce a series of deep bays running far inland to
the base of the Cordillera, and further depression
might show here and there some scattered islets, but
nothing to resemble the almost continuous range of
mountainous islands that separate the channels of
Patagonia from the ocean. As far as it is possible to

A CHILIAN COUNTRY-GENTLEMAN. 171

judge of a region yet imperfectly surveyed, the case
is quite different in Southern Chili, below the parallel
of 40°. From near Valdivia a lofty coast range, cut
through by only one deep and narrow valley, extends
southward to the strait, only a few miles wide, that
divides the island of Chiloe from the mainland, and is
evidently prolonged to the southward in the high land
that fringes the western flank of that large island. A
moderate rise of the sea-level would submerge the
country between Puerto Montt and the Rio de San
Pedro, and produce another island very similar in
form and dimensions to that of Chiloe.

Our lumbering carriage came to a halt at the place
where the road crosses a stream—the Rio Claro—
which drains some part of the outer range and soon
falls into the Cachapoal. Close at hand was a plain
building with numerous dependencies, which turned
out to be the residence of Don Olegario Soto, the
chief proprietor of this part of the country. I pro-
ceeded at once to deliver a letter to this gentleman,
whose property extends along the valley for a distance
of thirty or forty miles into the heart of the Cordillera.
My object was to ascertain the possibility of making
an excursion into the interior of the great range, and
to obtain such assistance as the proprietor might
afford. The house, so far as I saw, was rustic in
character, and my first impression of its owner was
that the same epithet might serve as his description.
There was a complete absence of the conventional
and perfectly hollow phrases which form the staple of
Castilian courtesy. But first impressions are pro-
verbially misleading. On my making some obviously

172 NOTES OF:'A NATURALIST.

superfluous remark as to my imperfect use of the
Spanish tongue, Don Olegario changed the conversa-
tion to English, which he spoke with perfect ease and
correctness. We discussed my project of a mountain
excursion, and I found at once that he was ready to
give practical assistance in every way. The doubt
remained as to the season and the weather. If no
rain or snow should fall, there was no other obstacle.
He readily undertook to provide men and horses and
everything needful for an excursion of three days in
the Cordillera, and I was to let him know my resolve
on the following day.

I afterwards heard in some detail the family history
of this liberal-minded gentleman. His father com-
menced life as a common miner. With the aid of
good fortune, natural intelligence, and activity, he
became the owner of a valuable mine in Northern
Chili, and amassed a large fortune, mainly invested
in the purchase of land. Having several sons, he sent
them all for education to England, and, to judge from
the specimen I saw, with excellent results. Large
proprietors who use intelligence and capital to develop
the natural resources of the country supply, in some
states of society, the most effectual means for progress
in civilization ; but, excepting in Chili, such examples
are rare in South America.

The day was declining when we reached the Baths
of Cauquenes, and I had time only for a short stroll
through the establishment and its immediate sur-
roundings. It stands on a level shelf of stony ground
less than a hundred feet above the river Cachapoal,
the main building consisting of a range of bedrooms,

THE BATHS OF CAUQUENES. 173

all on the ground floor, disposed round a very large
quadrangle. The rooms are spacious and sufficiently
furnished, and I was struck by the fact that there is
no fastening whatever to the doors, which usually
stand ajar. This speaks at once for the constant
apprehension of earthquakes that seems to haunt the
Chilian mind, and for the general honesty of the
people, amongst whom theft is almost unknown.
Besides some additional rooms in wings adjoining the
great court, the baths are an annexe overhanging the
river, to which you descend by broad flights of stairs.
A large handsome hall, lighted from above, has the
bath-rooms ranged on either side, all exquisitely clean
and attractive. The adjoining ground, planted mainly
with native trees, is limited in extent. A narrow and
deep ravine, cut through the rocky slope of the ad-
joining hill, is traversed by one of those slight wire
suspension bridges common in this country, that swing
so far under the steps of the passenger as to disquiet
the unaccustomed stranger. The views gained from
below up the rugged and stern valley of the Cachapoal
are naturally limited, but the rather steep hills rising
above the baths promised a wider prospect towards
the great range of the Cordillera, and did not dis-
appoint expectation.

The autumn season being now far advanced, the
guests at the establishment were few—about twenty in
all. After supper they assembled in a drawing-room
and adjoining music-room. I was struck not only
by the general tone of courtesy and good-breeding of
the party, but by the fact that several of them at least
were well-informed men, taking an intelligent interest

174 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

in physics and natural history. Two or three gentle-
men spoke a little, but only a little, English, and, my
command of Spanish being equally imperfect, conver-
sation did not flow very freely, and I retired for the
night with a feeling that at a more favourable season
I should be very loth to quit such pleasant head-
quarters.

After a rather cold night, I rose early on the 15th
of May, with a sense of the impending necessity for an
immediate decision as to my future plans. Scanning
anxiously the portion of the great range seen towards
the head of the valley, I saw that fresh snow extended
much lower than I had observed it at Santiago, while
heavy broken masses of dark clouds lay along the
flanks of the higher mountains. I received no en-
couragement from Mr. Hess. The ordinary season
for rain in the low country had arrived, and this
would take the form of snow in the inner valleys of
the Cordillera ; all appearances boded a change of
weather which is always anxiously desired by the
native population. I reluctantly decided to despatch
a messenger to Don Olegario Soto renouncing the
projected excursion, contenting myself with the pros-
pect of approaching as near to the great range as
could be accomplished in a single day from the baths.

To the naturalist, however, a new country is never
devoid of interest ; and this was my first day on the
outer slopes of the Chilian Andes. The season was,
indeed, the most unfavourable to the botanist of the
entire year. After six months’ drought, broken only
by one or two slight showers, the ground was baked
hard, nearly to the consistence of brick, and most of

CHILIAN TREES. 175

the herbaceous vegetation utterly dried up. A great
part of the day was nevertheless very well spent in
rambling over the hill above the baths, and making
closer acquaintance with many vegetable forms alto-
gether new, or hitherto seen only from a distance.
The trees and shrubs of this region are with scarce
an exception evergreen, and the most conspicuous,
though differing much from each other in structure
and affinities, bear a striking resemblance in the
general form and character of their foliage, formed of
thickset, broadly elliptical, leathery leaves, giving a
dense shade impervious to the sun. The largest is
the peumo* tree, already referred to, which forms a
thick trunk, but rarely exceeds thirty feet in height.
Next to this in dimensions are two trees of the
Rosaceous family, allied in essential characters (though
very different in appearance) to the Spirzeas, of which
the common meadowsweet is the most familiar ex-
ample. One of these, the Quz//aja saponaria of
botanists, is much prized for the remarkable properties
of the bark, said to contain, along with carbonate of
lime and other mineral constituents, much saponine,
an organic compound having many of the properties
of soap. It is commonly used for washing linen,
and especially for cleansing woollen garments, to
which it gives an agreeable lustre. Nearly allied to
this is the Kageneckia oblonga, a small tree of no

* Molina, one of the most pernicious blunderers who have brought
confusion into natural history, grouped together under the generic name
Feumus several Chilian plants having no natural connection with each
other. Misled by his erroneous description, botanists have applied the
name feumus to a fragrant shrub, common about Valparaiso and else-
where, which is known in the country by the-name doldu.

176 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

special use except to aid in clothing the parched hills
of the lower region of Chili. It would seem that all
these trees might be successfully introduced into the
warmer parts of southern Europe, especially the south
of Spain and Sicily, and the Quz//aja would doubtless
prove to be of some economic value.

To the European traveller the most remarkable
vegetable inhabitant of the dry hills of Central Chili is
the tall cactus (Cereus quisco), which I had first seen
on the way from Valparaiso to Santiago. They were
abundant on the lower slopes about Cauquenes, the
stiff columnar stems averaging about a foot in
diameter. I was told that the plant was now to be
found in flower, and was surprised to observe on the
trunks, as I approached, clusters of small deep-red
flowers that appeared very unlike anything belonging
to this natural family. Nearer inspection showed
that they had none but an accidental connection with
the plant on which they grew. The genus Loranthus,
allied to our common European parasite, the mistletoe,
is widely spread throughout the world, chiefly in the
tropics. From three to four hundred different species
are known, nearly all parasites on other plants; as a
rule, each species being confined to some special
group, and many of them known to fix itself only
upon a single species. Botanists in various regions
have remarked that there is frequently a marked
resemblance between the foliage of the parasitic
Loranthus and that of the plants to which it is
attached ; but it is especially remarkable that the
only species which is known to grow upon the leafless
plants of the cactus family should itself be the only

A CURIOUS PARASITE. 177

leafless species of Loranthus, consisting as it does
only of a very short stem, from which the crowded
flower-stalks form a dense cluster of bright-red,
moderately large flowers. Although it is not easy to
conjecture how it may act, it is conceivable that these
conformities may be results of natural selection ; but
it is also possible that, like many curious instances of
parallelism among the forms of plants belonging to
widely different types, the facts may hereafter be seen
to result from some yet undiscovered law regulating
the direction of variation in the development of
organic beings.

In some places dense masses of spiny shrubs were
massed together, overgrown by climbing plants,
amongst which the most strange and attractive were
composites of the genus Mutista. The Chilian species
have all stiff, leathery, undivided leaves ending in a
tendril, with large brownish-red or purple flowers, of
which very few were to be found at this advanced
season. Among the shrubs I was struck by a species
of Colletia,a genus characteristic of temperate South
America. They are nearly or quite leafless, and
remind one slightly of our European furze, but are
much more rigid, with fewer, but hard and penetrating
spines, which, unlike those of the furze, are true
branches, sharpened to a point and set on at right
angles to the stem. The species common here
(Colletia spinosa of Lamarck) grows to a height of
four or five feet, and would probably be found very
useful for hedges on dry stony ground in the south of
Europe. I regret that the seeds which I sent to Italy

have not germinated.
N

178 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

At the present season, corresponding to mid-
November in Europe, I could not expect to see much
of the native herbaceous vegetation, and the majority
of the plants collected showed little more than the
parched skeletons of their former selves. The recent
slight showers, which alone had broken the long
drought since the preceding spring, sufficed to awaken
into life two species of Oxalis, whose flowers and
early leaves just pierced through the hard surface of
the soil ; but, although some young leaves heralded
the appearance of species of the lily tribe, no other
new flowers had appeared. Ferns were scarce, but I
was rather surprised to find a fine Adiantum in some
abundance under the shade of the Quz/laja and
Kageneckia trees.

In the evening I arranged with Mr. Hess to start
early on the following morning, with the object of
approaching as nearly as possible to the higher zone
of the Cordillera, of which, despite cloudy weather, I
had tempting glimpses during the day.

I was on foot early on the 16th, but the prospect
was not altogether cheering. The clouds which
covered the sky were of leaden hue, and lay about
mid-height on the range of the Cordillera. The horses
were ready after the usual delay, and a taciturn young
man, who probably thought the expedition a bore,
was in readiness to act as guide. As Iwas about to
mount, Mr. Hess lent me a poncho, which I at once
drew over my head, and for which I afterwards had
reason to be grateful. We rode on in silence for
more than an hour, following a track that cuts across
the great bend of the Cachapoal above the baths. The

USE OF THE PONCHO. 179

river is formed by the union of four or five torrents
that issue from as many of the interior valleys of the
Cordillera. It flows at first northward, nearly parallel
to the main chain, until, a few miles above the baths,
it bends westward and descends towards the open
country. We had reached a point overlooking the
upper valley, and, as far as one might judge from
glimpses through breaks in the clouds, commanding
a noble view of the great range of the Cordillera.
Before us lay the slopes by which, at a distance of
two or three miles, we might reach the only bridge
which spans the upper course of the Cachapoal.
Just at this interesting point the threatened rain
began, at first gentle, but steadily increasing. I went
on for some time on the chance of any token of
improvement; but, as none appeared, I decided on
sending back the horses and returning on foot to the
baths.

I had this day my first experience of the value of a
genuine poncho woven by the Indian women from the
wool of the guanaco, Throughout South America
the cheap articles in common use, manufactured in
England and Germany, have almost replaced the
native garment. They are comparatively heavy and
inconveniently warm, while not at all efficient in
keeping out rain. After more than three hours’
exposure to heavy rain, the light covering lent to me
by Mr. Hess had allowed none to pass. It is surprising
that such a serviceable and convenient garment, which
leaves the arms free, and is equally useful on foot or
on horseback, is not more generally adopted in
Europe, especially by sportsmen. A good poncho is

180 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

not, however, to be had cheaply. I was asked sixty
dollars for one at Buenos Ayres, and that, I believe,
is about the ordinary price.

The change of weather which culminated in this
wet day at Cauquenes seems to have extended along
the range of the Cordillera; but, to illustrate the
rapid change of climate which is found in advancing
northward along the west side of the Andes, I may
mention that, while the rain continued to fall steadily
for ten and a half hours at Cauquenes, it lasted but
five hours at Santiago, about fifty miles to the north-
ward; and at Santa Rosa, forty miles farther in a
direct line, only two hours’ rain was obtained by the
thirsty farmers on the banks of the Aconcagua.

On the morning of the 17th the clouds had dis-
appeared, and the valley was lit up with brilliant
sunshine. Fresh snow lay thickly on the flanks of
the higher mountains, and I had reason to con-
gratulate myself that I had not undertaken an expe-
dition which would have resulted in utter discomfort
without any adequate compensation, as the Alpine
vegetation must have been completely concealed by
the fresh snow. The roads and paths were all deep
in mud, and the slopes very slippery from the rain,
so I decided on descending to the rocky banks of the
river below the baths, and, following the stream as
far as I conveniently could. I did not go far, but a
good many hours were very well occupied in examin-
ing the vegetation of the left bank of the Cachapoal
and of a little island of rock in the middle of the
stream. In summer one of the ordinary suspension
bridges of the.country enables the visitors to cross to

GROUPS OF INCOMPLETE SPECIES. 181

the right bank, but this is removed during winter,
and the swollen waters of the river made all the usual
fords impassable for the present.

Many forms of Asca//onza were abundant along the
stream. A few species only of this genus are culti-
vated in English gardens, but in their native home,
the middle and lower slopes of the Andes, they
exhibit a surprising variety of form while preserving
a general similarity of aspect. They are all ever-
green shrubs, some rising to the stature of small trees,
with undivided, thick, usually glossy leaves, and white,
red, or purplish flowers. Although forty-three dif-
ferent species have been described from Chili alone,
it is easy to find specimens not exactly agreeing with
any of them, and to light upon intermediate forms
that seem to connect what appeared to be quite
distinct species. They afford an example of a fact
which I believe must be distinctly recognized by
writers on systematic botany—that in the various
regions of the earth there are some groups of vege-
table forms in which the processes by what we call
species are segregated are yet incomplete; and amid
the throng of closely allied forms, the suppression of
those least adapted to the conditions of life has not
advanced far enough to differentiate those which can
be defined and marked by a specific name.

To the believer in evolution, it must be evident
that at some period in the history of each generic
group there must have occurred an interval during
which species, as we understand them, did not yet
exist ; and perhaps the real difficulty is to explain
why such instances are not more frequent than they

182 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

now appear to be, Familiar examples are the genera
Hieracium and Rosa in Europe; Aster and Solidago
in North America; while in South America, Escallonza,
Malvastrum, and several groups of Myriacee seem to
exhibit the same phenomenon.

Another genus having numerous species in South
America, but, so far as I know, not displaying the
same close connection of forms linking the several
species, is Adesmia, a leguminous genus allied to the,
common sainfoin. I found several species near the
baths, the most attractive being a little spiny yellow-
flowered bush, with much the habit of some Mediter-
ranean Genista, but with pods formed of several joints,
each covered with long, purple, glistening hairs.

A bright day was followed by a clear cold night,
the thermometer falling to 40° Fahr..in the court, and
slight hoar-frost was visible in the lower part of the
valley near the baths. I started early for a ramble
over the higher hills rising to the south and south-
west of the establishment. After following a track
some way, I struck up the steep stony slopes, meeting
at every step the dried skeletons of many interesting
plants characteristic of this region of America, but
here and there rewarded by finding some species in
fruit, or even with remains of flower. After gaining
the ridge, I found that the true summit lay a con-
siderable way back, quite out of sight of the baths.
To this, which is called EZ Morro de Cauquenes,* 1
directed my steps, wishing to enjoy a unique oppor-
tunity for a wide view of the Chilian Andes.

* The Baths of Cauquenes are said to be 2523 feet above the sea ;
the Morro, by aneroid observation, is about 2000 feet higher,

PANORAMIC VIEW OF THE ANDES. 183

The day was cloudless, and the position most
favourable. In this part of the range the Cordillera
bends in a curve convex to the east, so as to describe
a nearly circular arc of about 60°, with Cauquenes as
a centre. The summits of the main range, which
apparently vary from about sixteen to nineteen thou-
sand feet in height, and are nearly forty miles distant,
send out huge buttresses dividing the narrow valleys
whose waters unite to form the Cachapoal, and are in
many places so high as to conceal the main range.
The slopes are everywhere very steep, so that, in
spite of the recent fall of snow, dark masses of volcanic
rock stood out against the brilliant white that mantled-
the great chain. The tints in Petermann’s map would
indicate that the highest peaks are those lying about
due east, but it appeared to me that two or three of
those which I descried to the south-east, though
slightly more distant, were decidedly higher. It will
probably be long before the Chilian Government can
undertake a complete survey of the gigantic chain
which walls in their country on the eastern side. No
pass, as I was informed, is used to connect the upper
valley of the Cachapoal with the Argentine territory.

From the summit I descended about due north
into a little hollow, whence a trickling streamlet fell
rather rapidly towards the main valley. As commonly
happens in Chili, this has cut a deep trench, or
guebrada ; and when I had occasion to cross to the
opposite bank, I had no slight difficulty in scrambling
down the nearly vertical wall, though partly helped
and partly impeded by the shrubs that always haunt
these favourable stations. The Winter’s bark, not

184 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

yet in flower, differed a good deal from the form which
I had seen at Valparaiso, and the foliage was much
the same that I afterwards found in the channels of
Patagonia. Among the few plants yet flowering at
this season was a large lobelia, of the group formerly
classed as a distinct genus under the name 7xfa,*
and which is peculiar to Chili and Peru.

* As happens with many other plants described by early botanists,
there has been much confusion in regard to the species named by
Linnzeus Lobelia Tupa. The plant was first made known to Europeans
by the excellent traveller, Father Feuillée, whose “‘ Journal des Obser-
vations Physiques Mathématiques et Botaniques faites sur les cdtes de
YAmérique meridionale, etc.,” published in 1714, is a book which may
still be consulted with advantage. His descriptions of plants are usually
careful and accurate, but the accompanying plates all ill-executed and
often misleading. Linnzus, followed by Willdenow, refers to Feuillée’s
work, but gives a very brief descriptive phrase which suits equally well
Feuillée’s plant and several others subsequently discovered. Aiton, in
the “ Hortus Kewensis,” gives the name Zodelia Tupa to a plant which
is plentiful about Valparaiso, where I found it still in flower, the seeds
of which were received at Kew about a century ago from Menzies.
This is now generally known by the not very appropriate name 7; upa
salicifolia of Don, but was first published by Sims in the Botanical
Magazine, No. 1325, as Lobelia gigantea, which name it should now
bear. The plant which I found near Cauquenes appears to be the
Tupa Berterit of Decaudolle, a rare species, apparently not known to
the authors of the ‘‘ Flora Chilena.” No doubt could have arisen as to
the plant intended by Linnzeus as Zodelia Tupa if writers had referred
to Feuillée’s full and accurate description. His account of the poisonous
effects of the plant was probably derived from the Indians, and may
be exaggerated. The whole plant, he says, is most poisonous, the mere
smell causing vomiting, and any one touching his eyes after handling
the leaves is seized with blindness. I may remark that the latter
statement, which appears highly improbable, receives some confirmation
from the observations of Mr. Nation, mentioned above in page 77.
The plant which I saw in Peru, but failed to collect, is much smaller
than most of the Chilian species, and has purple flowers, but is nearly
allied in structure. It is probably the Yuga secunda of Don. I gather
from a passage in one of Mr. Philippi’s writings that the word tupa in
Araucanian signifies poison, We are yet, I believe, ignorant of the

CAPTIVE CONDORS. 185

On my return from a delightful walk, I found much-
desired letters from home awaiting me, and along
with them’ the less welcome information that the
departure of the Triumph was delayed for several
weeks. Renouncing with regret the agreeable pro-
spect of a voyage in company with Captain Markham,
I at once wrote to secure a passage in the German
steamer Rhamses, announced to leave Valparaiso on
May 28.

Among other objects of interest at this place, I was
struck by the proceedings of two captive condors,
who, with clipped wings, roamed about the establish-
ment, and seemed to have no desire to recover the
liberty which they had lost as young birds. One of
them was especially pertinacious in keeping to the
side of the court near to the dining-room and kitchen,
always on the look-out for scraps of meat and refuse.
Contrary to my expectation, the colour of both birds,
which were females, was a nearly uniform brown, with
only a few white feathers beneath. They were larger
than any eagles, but scarcely exceeded one or two of
the largest dammergeier of the Alps that I have seen
in confinement.

On the morning of May 19 I with much regret
took my departure from the baths, and found myself
in company with an elderly gentleman and his pretty
and agreeable daughter, who also desired to return to
Santiago. Starting some two hours earlier than was
at all necessary, we had spare time, which I employed
in looking for plants at Rio Claro and about the

chemical nature of the poisonous principle contained in the plants of
this group.

186 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

Gualtro station ; but at this season very little remained
to interest the botanist. We reached the capital
about five p.m., and, as the days were now short, the
sun was setting as I went in an open carriage along
the broad Alameda, which runs nearly due east. The
better to enjoy the finest sunset which I had yet seen
in America, I was sitting facing westward, with my
back to the horses, when an unusual glow of bright
light on the adjoining houses caused me to turn my
head. Never shall I forget the extraordinary spectacle
that met myeyes. I am well used to brilliant sunsets,
for, so far as I know, they are nowhere in the world
so frequent as in the part of north-eastern Italy
approaching the foot of the Alps, with which I am
familiar. But the scene on this evening was beyond
all previous experience or imagination. The great
range of the Cordillera that rises above the town,
mostly covered with fresh snow, seemed ablaze in a
glory of red flame of indescribable intensity, and the
whole city was for some minutes transfigured in the
splendour of the illumination.

The subject of sunset illumination has been much
discussed of late in connection with the supposed
effects of the great eruption of Krakatoa, and I con-
fess to a suspicion that these have been considerably
overrated. That the presence of finely comminuted
particles in the higher region of the atmosphere is one
of the chief causes that determine the colour of the
sky, may be freely conceded by those who doubt
whether a single volcanic eruption sufficed to alter the
conditions over the larger part of the earth’s surface.
It is certain that some of the districts ordinarily noted

SUNSET ILLUMINATION. 187

for sunsets of extraordinary brilliancy are remote from
active volcanoes. So far as South America is con-
cerned, it may, on the other hand, be remarked that
if volcanic action be an efficient cause, it is present
at many points of the continent as well as in Central
America, while brilliant sunsets are, so far as I know,
of rare occurrence except in Chili.

188 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

CHAPTER IV.

Baths of Apoquinto—Slopes of the Cordillera—Excursion to
Santa Rosa de los Andes and the valley of Aconcagua—
Return to Valparaiso—Voyage in the German steamer
Rhamses—Visit to Lota—Parque of Lota—Coast of Southern
Chili—Gulf of Pefias—Hale Cove—Messier’s Channel—
Beautiful scenery—The English narrows—Eden harbour—
Winter vegetation—Eyre Sound—Floating ice—Sarmiento
Channel—Puerto Bueno—Smyth’s Channel—Entrance to
the Straits of Magellan—Glorious morning—Borya Bay—
Mount Sarmiento—Arrival at Sandy Point.

HaviInG devoted the day following my return to
Santiago to botanical work, chiefly in the herbarium
of Dr. Philippi, I started on the following morning in
company with his son, Professor Friedrich Philippi,
for an excursion up the slopes of the mountain range
nearest the city. My companion had kindly sent
forward in advance his servant with horses, and we
engaged a hackney coach to convey us to the Baths
of Apoquinto, where a warm mineral spring bursts
out at the very base of the mountain. The common
carriages throughout South America are heavy
lumbering vehicles, and the road, though nearly level,
was deep in volcanic sand; but the horses are
excellent, and, in spite of several halts to collect a few

BATHS ON APOQUINTO. 189

plants yet in flower, we accomplished the distance of
nine miles in little over an hour.

The establishment at Apoquinto is on a small scale
and somewhat rustic in character, but it had been
recently taken by an Englishman, and now supplies
fair accommodation, which would be prized by a
naturalist who should be fortunate enough to visit
Chili at a favourable season. We mounted our horses
without delay, and at once commenced the ascent,
gentle for a short way, but soon becoming so steep
that it was more convenient to dismount at several
places. Under the experienced guidance of my
companion, I found more interesting plants still in
flower or fruit than I had ventured to expect at this
season. I here for the first time found a species of
Mulinum, one of a large group of umbelliferous plants
characteristic of the Chilian flora, and nearly all
confined to South America. The leaves in the
commonest species are divided into a few stiff pointed
segments, reminding one somewhat of the Echinophora
of the Mediterranean shores, once erroneously sup-
posed to be a native of England.

I was especially struck on this day with the
extraordinary variety of odours, pleasant or the
reverse, that are exhaled by the native plants of Chili.
As commonly happens in dry countries, a large
proportion of the native plants contain resinous gums,
each of which emits some peculiar and penetrating
smell. J had already observed this elsewhere in the
country, but, perhaps owing to the great variety of
the vegetation on these slopes, the recollections of the
day are indelibly associated with those of the im-

190 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

pressions on the olfactory nerve. If there be persons
in whom such impressions are sufficiently distinct to
be accurately recalled by an effort of the memory, I
can imagine that in some countries the nose might
afford a valuable help to the botanical collector. To
judge, however, from personal experience, I should
say that of all the senses that of smell is the one
which supplies the least accurate impressions, and
those least capable of certain recognition.

We reached a place where a small stream from the
upper part of the mountain springs in a little water-
fall from a cleft in the rocks, and which is known as
the Saltode San Ramon. This is probably about four
thousand feet above the sea-level, and between us
and the lower limit of the snow which covered the
higher slopes there stretched a rather steep acclivity,
covered, like the ground around us, with bushes and
small shrubby plants. A few small trees (chiefly
Kageneckia) grew near the Salto, but higher up
scarce any were to be seen. Professor Philippi, who
is well acquainted with the ground, thought that little,
if anything, would be added to our collections by
continuing the ascent, so we devoted the spare time
to examining the ground in our immediate neighbour-
hood, thus adding a few species not before seen. Jn
summer, however, an active botanist, starting early
from Apoquinto, who did not object to an ascent of
six or seven thousand feet, would reach the zone of
Alpine vegetation, and be sure to collect many of the
curious plants of this region of the Andes.

May 22 and the following day were fully occupied
in Santiago. Among other agreeable acquaintances,

THE CUMULATIVE VOTE IN CHILI. Ig

I called upon Don F. Balmacedo, then minister for
foreign affairs, and now President of the Republic,
who favoured me with a letter of introduction to the
governor of the Chilian settlement in the Straits of
Magellan. I also enjoyed an interesting conversation
with Dr. Taford, then designated by the Chilian
Government for the vacant archbishopric of Santiago.
Some canonical objections appear to have created
difficulties at Rome, and the see, as I believe, remains
vacant.

I found in Dr. Taford an agreeable and well-
informed gentleman, who appeared to hold enlightened
views, and to be free from many of the prejudices
which the Spanish clergy have inherited from the dark
period of ecclesiastical tyranny and absolute royalty.
With regard to the Chilian clergy in general, I derived
a favourable impression from the testimony of my
various acquaintances. At all events, they appear to
be respected by the mass of the population, whereas
in Peru they are regarded with dislike and contempt
by all classes alike.

Among the various claims of the Chilian republic
to be regarded with interest by the student of political
progress, I must note the fact that it has for some
time successfully adopted a system of suffrage which
is supposed to be too complex for the people of our
country. In political elections for representatives the
mode of voting is, I believe, very nearly the same as
that known amongst us as the Hare system; while in
municipal elections the cumulative vote is adopted,
each voter having as many votes as there are candi-
dates to be elected, and being allowed to give as many

192 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

votes as he pleases to the one or more candidates of
his choice. I unfortunately was not aware of these
facts while in the country, and therefore failed to
make inquiry on the subject; but the fact that, while
there is a keen interest in political life, no one has
proposed to alter the present mode of voting, seems
to prove that the existing system gives general
satisfaction.

Early in the morning of May 24 I left Santiago,
bound for Santa Rosa de los Andes, the highest town
in the valley of the Rio Aconcagua. That river is
mainly fed from the snows of the great peak from
which it takes its name, the highest summit of the
New World.* In its lower course it waters the Quil-
lota valley, through which the railway is carried from
Valparaiso to Santiago. In travelling from the latter
city it is therefore necessary to return to the junction
at Llaillai, whence a branch line leads eastward along
the river to San Felipe and Santa Rosa. The sky
was cloudless, the air delightfully clear, and the views
of the great range were indescribably grand and
beautiful, especially in the neighbourhood of San
Felipe. The summit of Aconcagua, as seen from this
side, shows three sharp peaks of bare rock, too
steep to retain the snow which now lay deep on the
lower declivities. It has been inferred that the summit
must be formed of crystalline or metamorphic rock,
as there is no indication of the existence of a crater.
This is by no means improbable, as we know that

* The measurements of the height of the peak of Aconcagua vary
considerably in amount, but I believe that the most reliable is that
adopted by Petermann—6834 metres, or 22,422 English feet,

SANTA ROSA DE LOS ANDES. 193

granite, old slates, and conglomerates, as well as newer
Secondary rocks, are found at many points along the
axis of the main range ; but, on the other hand, we
know that most of the higher peaks in Central Chili
are volcanic, and the removal of all but some frag-
ments of the cone of an ancient crater may leave
sharp teeth of rocks such as are seen at the summit
of Aconcagua. In the view which I obtained from
the Morro of Cauquenes I observed several lofty
peaks of somewhat the same character, which struck
me as probably the shattered remains of ancient
craters,

Reaching Santa Rosa early in the afternoon, I pro-
ceeded to the Hotel Colon in the g/aza, which, as
usual, forms the centre of the town. The French
landlord and his wife were civil, obliging people, and,
although the establishment seemed to be much out
at elbows, I was soon installed in a tolerably good
room, and supplied with information for which I had
hitherto been vainly seeking. The main line of com-
munication between the adjoining republics of Chili
and Argentaria* is over the Uspallata Pass at the
head of the valley of Aconcagua ; and Santa Rosa, or
as it is more commonly called, Los Andes, is the
starting-point for travellers from the west. Don B,
V. Mackenna had kindly furnished me with a letter
to the officer in charge of the custom-house station at
the foot of the pass, known as the Resguardo del Rio

* The inconvenience of using a periphrasis for the name of so
important a country may warrant my adoption of the obvious name
Argentaria in place of Argentine territory, or Argentine Confederation,
and I shall adhere to the shorter designation in the following pages.

oO

194 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

‘Colorado, and led me to believe that a carriage road
extended as far as that point. The latter statement
was, however, disputed by several of my acquaintances
in Santiago, and the most various assertions were
made as to the distance and the time requisite for the
excursion. As it turned out, Mr. Mackenna, as he
‘generally is, was correctly informed. The road, as I
now learned, was in bad order, but quite passable for
a catriage; and the distance could be accomplished in
little over three hours.

Having ordered a vehicle for the next morning, I
inquired for a man or a boy acquainted with the
neighbourhood of the town, who might serve as guide
and carry some of the traps with which a botanist is
usually encumbered. An _ ill-looking fellow, who
seemed to have been drinking heavily overnight,
soon made his appearance, and we started through a
long, dusty street, with only very few houses at wide
intervals, which led to the road by which I was to
travel on the following morning. Seeing the ground
near the town to be much inclosed, while on the
opposite side of the river a broad belt of flat stony
ground, partly covered with bushes and small trees,
gave better prospect to the botanist, I desired to be
conducted to the nearest bridge by which I might
cross the stream. When we reached the place it
appeared to be even a more rickety structure than
usual, requiring some care to avoid the numerous
holes in the basket-work which formed the floor.
Having ascertained that I meant to return the same
way, my guide proceeded to stretch himself on the
bank, where I found him fast asleep on my return.

A LAZY GUIDE. 195

The character of the vegetation was the same as
that about Santiago, but the general aspect indicated
a decided increase of dryness in the climate, so that
at the present season there was very little remaining
to be gleaned by the botanical collector. As usually
happens, however, careful search did not go quite un-
rewarded. I found several species not before seen,
and even where there were no specimens fit for
preservation something was to be learned. My next
object was to ascend the neighbouring hill, or cerro,
which immediately overlooks the town of Santa Rosa.
A new proprietor had bought a tract of land on the
left bank of the river, and erected very substantial
fences rather troublesome to a trespasser. My so-
called guide dropped behind as I began to ascend the
hill—only five or six hundred feet in height— finally
turned back, and, having deposited my goods at the
hotel, claimed and received an ill-earned fee. The
stony slopes were utterly parched, yet I found a few
botanical novelties. A small shrubby composite with
prickly leaves, but with the habit and inflorescence of
a Baccharis, was still in tolerable condition. I took it
for the female plant of some species of that charac-
teristic South American dicecious genus ; but I after-
wards ascertained that it belonged to a completely
different group, namely, the J/utisiacee, being the
Proustia baccharoides of Don.

The view from the summit of the Cerro towards
the Andean range was not equal to that from San
Felipe, but on the opposite side the outlook towards
the plain was interesting. The contrast between the
zone of cultivation in the low lands accessible to

196 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

irrigation and the higher ground, burnt by the summer
to a uniform yellow-brown tint, was striking to the
eye. The town of Santa Rosa, laid out on the flat at
the foot of the hill, was a curious feature in the
prospect. It was designed on the regular plan which
seems to have recommended itself to all the European
settlers in the American continent, but which I have
nowhere seen so exactly carried out as at this place.
A chess-board supplied the model, with one row of
squares cut off to avoid some rough ground. Fifty-six
squares—quadras—exactly equal in size, are divided
by broad roads, and the whole is surrounded by a
wall about half a mile in length each way. The
guadra in the centre forms the g/aza ; the others were
to be occupied by houses and gardens. To make the
town, as planned by its founders, a perfect model, it
wants nothing but houses and people to live in them.
It was, perhaps, imagined that, being on the main line
of communication across the Andes, this might become
a place of some importance; but the traffic is very
limited, and, such as it is, it is carried on by trains of
horses and mules that travel to and fro between
Valparaiso and Mendoza. The area of land fit for
cultivation in the valley above San Felipe is small,
and the resort of retail traders doubtless very limited.
The result is that Santa Rosa is a town without
houses. Many of the guadras are occupied by a
single house and annexed garden, and only round or
close to the plaza is such a thing as a row of adjoining
buildings to be seen.

The morning of May 25 was noteworthy as pro-
ducing the solitary instance of punctuality in a native

VALLEY OF ACONCAGUA. 197

of South America that I encountered in the course of
my journey. The virtuous driver of the carriage
which I had engaged to take me to the Resguardo
was actually at the door of the hotel at the appointed
hour, soon after sunrise; but it availed little for my
object. Not a soul was stirring in the hotel; and
though I made no small disturbance, it was long
before I could induce the lazy waiter to make his
appearance. I had not thought of providing my
breakfast overnight, and could not start without food
for a long day’s expedition.

At length we started on the road by the left bank
which I had followed on the previous evening, and,
the weather being again nearly perfect, I thoroughly
enjoyed a very charming excursion, which carried me
farther into the heart of the Cordillera than I had yet
reached. As very often happens, however, the nearer
one gets to the great peaks the less one is able to see
of them. The general outline of the slopes in the
inner valleys of high mountain countries is usually
convex, because the torrents have deepened the trench
between opposite slopes more quickly than subaérial
action has worn away the flanks; and it is only
exceptionally that the summits of the ridges can be
seen from the intervening valley. Among mountains
where the main lines of valley are, so to say, structural
—z.e. depending on inequalities produced during the
original elevation of the mountain mass—the case is
somewhat different. Such valleys are usually nearly
straight, as we see so commonly in the European
Alps, and the peaks lying about the head of the
valley are therefore often in view ; but in the Andes,

198 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

as in many parts of the Rocky Mountains, it would
appear that the valleys are exclusively due to erosive
action, and, their direction being determined by merely
local conditions, they are extremely sinuous, and rarely
follow the same direction for any considerable dis-
tance.

The road up the Aconcagua valley seemed to me
at the time to be about the worst over which I ever
travelled in a carriage, but I had not then made
acquaintance with the mountain tracks, which they
are pleased to call roads, in the United States. Look-
ing back in the light of subsequent experience, I
suppose that the Chilian roads should rank among
the best in the American continent, although this one
was so uneven that in awkward places, where it over-
hung the river, the carriage was often tilted so much
to one side that I was thankful not to have with me a
nervous companion.

About half-way to the Resguardo the road crosses
the river by a stone bridge, where it rushes in a
narrow channel between high rocky banks, Seeing
botanical inducements, I descended to examine the
banks on either side, and in crossing the bridge
noticed, what I might otherwise have overlooked,
that the crown of the arch was rapidly giving way.
There was a large hole in the centre, and the structure
was sustained only by the still solid masonry on each
side, where the wear and tear had been less constant.
I have often admired the calm good sense displayed
by the horses in all parts of America, and was
interested in observing the prudent way in which our
steeds selected the safest spots on either side of the

A SENSITIVE PLANT. 199

hole without any appearance of the nervousness which
seems hereditary in English horses, partly due, I
suppose, to the unnatural conditions in which they
live. With every confidence in animal sagacity, but
none whatever in the stability of the bridge, I thought
it judicious on my return in the evening to recross it
on foot.

I found two or three curious plants not before seen
on the rocks here, and again found the singular
Zygophyllaceous shrub Porliera hygrometrica, which
is not uncommon in this part of Chili. The numerous
stiff spiny branches diverging at right angles must
produce flowers during a great part of the year, as I
observed at this season both nearly ripe fruit and
flowers in various stages of development. The small
pinnate leaves, somewhat resembling in form those
of the sensitive plant, have something of the same
quality. But in this case the effective stimulus seems
to be that of light, causing them to expand in sun-
shine and to close when the sky is covered. If at all,
they must be very slightly affected by contact, as I
failed to observe it. If I am correct, the appropriate
specific name would be fhotometrica rather than
hygrometrica.

In the hedges and among the bushes a pretty climb-
ing plant (Eccremocarpus scaber) seemed to be common
on the right bank of the stream, producing flower and
ripe fruit at the same time. It belongs to the trumpet-
flower tribe (Bignonzacee), though not rivalling in size
or brilliancy of colour the true Bignonias which I
afterwards saw in Brazil.

Having passed on the left the opening of a narrow

200 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

valley which appears to contain the main stream of
the Aconcagua, I reached the Resguardo somewhat
before noon, and proceeded at once to deliver my
letter to Captain X——,, the officer commanding the
frontier station. I was most courteously received,
with a pressing invitation to join the almuerzo, or
luncheon, which is the ordinary midday meal in Chili.
Besides the lady of the house, I met at table an
officer of the Chilian navy, a friend of my host, who
had come to recruit in mountain air after recovery
from a serious illness, and who spoke English fairly
well. The conversation was interesting, and I was
struck by the excellent tone and quick intelligence
displayed by these agreeable specimens of Chilian
society. In the kindest way, and with evident
sincerity, my host pressed me to remain for a week
at his house, and promised me many excursions in
the neighbourhood. It was with real reluctance that,
owing to imperious engagements, I was forced to
decline the hospitable invitation; and it has been a
further regret that, having failed to note it at the
time, my treacherous memory has not retained the
name of this amiable gentleman.

Meanwhile, although the time passed so pleasantly,
I was burning with the desire to make use of the
brief interval available for seeing something of the
surrounding country. The Resguardo stands at
the junction of a rivulet that descends from the
Uspallata Pass with the Rio Colorado, which flows
from the north-east apparently from the roots of the
great peak of Aconcagua. As far as I could: see,
the track leading to the pass wind in zigzags up steep

THE VERBENA FAMILY. 201

slopes, at this season almost completely bare of
vegetation, and I decided on following the valley of
the Rio Colorado, where, at least along the banks
of the stream, vegetation was comparatively abundant.
My obliging host had provided a horse and a guide,
and I rode for about an hour up the valley, which in
great part is narrowed nearly to a ravine. In one
place, where it widens to a few hundred yards, I
passed a peasant’s cottage, with a few stony fields
from which the crop had been gathered.

Among the plants not before observed, I was at
first puzzled by a sort of thicket of long green leafless
stems eight or ten feet in height, growing near the
stream. Only after searching for some time I detected
some withered remains of a short spike of flowers at
the ends of the stems, which showed the plant to be
of the Verbena family. Whatever may be the original
home of that ancient tribe which has spread through-
out all the temperate and tropical regions of the
earth, it is in South America, and especially in the
extra-tropical regions, that it has developed the greatest
variety both of genera and species. On the heights
of the Peruvian Andes, from the snows of the Chilian
Cordillera to the shores of the Pacific, as well as on
the plains of Argentaria and Uruguay, the botanist
is everywhere charmed by the brilliant flowers of
numerous species of true Verbena. In the warmer
zone the allied genus Lzfpza becomes predominant,
and displays an equal variety of aspect ; but in Chili
especially we find a number of plants very different
in aspect, although nearly allied in structure to the
“familiar types. The plant of the Rio Colorado—

202 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

known to botanists as Bazllonia spartiocdes—appears
to be rare in Chili, as it is not among the species
collected by the earlier explorers of this region.

I was interested in finding here two species of
Loranthus, which, unlike their congeners, grow in a
respectable way, depending on their own resources for
subsistence. The great majority of nearly four hun-
dred known species of this genus live as parasites on
the stems of other plants, but these form bushes with
woody roots, which apparently have not even an
underground connection with those of their neigh-
bours. When I returned to the Resguardo, laden with
plants, it was high time to think of starting homeward
to Santa Rosa. I did not much fancy travelling by
night over the curious road that I had followed in the
morning, and my coachman seemed to hold the same
opinion very strongly. Accordingly I soon started,
after cordial leave-taking, but was a little surprised
when, without previous warning, the driver pulled up
his horses at the garden gate of a substantial house,
which I had noticed in the morning a few hundred
yards below the Resguardo. Presently a young man
came out, and, addressing me in very fair English,
explained that he had written to order a carriage for
the following day, but would be thankful if I could
give him a seat to convey him to his family at Santa
Rosa. Of course I willingly consented, and in the
conversation, which was carried on alternately in
Spanish and English during the following three hours,
I gained an opportunity for some practice in a
language which has never been quite familiar to me.

I became interested in the poor young fellow, who

RETURN TO VALPARAISO. 203

was evidently in an advanced stage of pulmonary
consumption. He had been on a visit with friends, in
the vain hope that the pure air of this mountain
valley might arrest the disease, and now, as the
season was far advanced, wished to rejoin his wife
and children at Santa Rosa. Like many consumptive
patients, he had a feverish proneness for talk; and,
having first told me his own story, he asked me a
multitude of questions respecting my present journey
and as to the other countries that I have visited. At
length, with evident reference to my age, he gravely
said, “No le parece Sefior que es tiempo para
descansar?” I answered that there would be time
enough to descansar when one is laid underground,
and that for the present I saw no occasion to rest.
As I stopped the carriage only two or three times to
gather plants, and the driver kept his horses at a
smart trot most of the way, we accomplished the
return journey of eighteen or twenty miles in a little
under three hours, and reached the town at nightfall.
On the 26th I returned to Valparaiso, meeting the
Santiago train at the now familiar junction station of
Llaillai. Although the weather was still fine, clouds
hung round the Cordillera, and I was not destined
again to enjoy the glorious view of the great range.
My first care on reaching the port was to secure my
passage in the German steamer as far as the Straits of
Magellan. I found that the steamship Ramses of the
Cosmos line, which in ordinary course should have
departed on the 28th, was delayed until the following
day, May 29. It was inevitable to regret that the
additional day had not been devoted to the Rio

204 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

Colorado, but, in fact, I found my time fully occupied
during the two days that remained available. The
collections of dried plants made up to this time had
to be packed securely in the chest in which they were
to remain until they reached England, and, as every
botanist knows, it is expedient to hasten the process
of drying fresh plants as far as possible before going
to sea, where the operation is always one of difficulty.

I was invited to dinner on the day of my arrival by
Mr. C , one of the chief English merchants estab-
lished in Chili, and acquired some interesting informa-
tion from his conversation. Having been at work
during a great part of the previous night, I was,
however, thoroughly tired, and was able to profit less
than I should have done by the hospitable entertain-
ment. On the morning of my departure from
Cauquenes I had met Mr. Edwin Reed, an English
naturalist many years resident in . Chili, and by
appointment called upon him at his house in Val-
paraiso. Mr. Reed has a good knowledge of the
botany and zoology of his. adopted country, and
several hours were agreeably spent on each of the
two available days in going through parcels of his
duplicate collections, when he was good enough to
give me flowering specimens of plants which I had
seen only in imperfect condition, as well as of many
others from the higher region of the Cordillera which
had been entirely inaccessible to me.

My visit to Chili had now come to an end. All
needful preparations were concluded ; and, after a busy
morning and an excellent luncheon at the Hotel
Colon, I went on board the Ramses early in the

GERMAN STEAMERS. 205

afternoon of May 29, not without deep regret at
quitting a country where I had spent twenty of the
most enjoyable days of my life. The only occupants
of the first-class saloon were a German gentleman,
Mr. Z——; his wife, a delicate Peruvian lady, who
remained in her cabin during most of the voyage ; five
children; and a maid. I found a good clean cabin,
which had been reserved for my use, and before long
a tall, handsome man of pleasant countenance intro-
duced himself to me as Captain Willsen, commanding
the Rhamses.

The steamers of the German Cosmos line, of which
this is, I believe, a fair example, differ in many
respects from the great English ocean steamships
which conduct most of the intercourse between Europe
and South America. They are mainly destifed for
cargo, the accommodation for passengers being com-
paratively very limited, and of scarcely half the
dimensions, being of rather less than two thousand tons
displacement by our measurement. In our passenger
ships speed is always the foremost consideration. In
accordance with the national temperament, the German
steamers set slight store on that object; safety and
economy are the aims constantly kept in view, and
the consumption of an increased quantity of ‘coal in
order to gain a day would be regarded as culpable
extravagance. The especial advantage which they
offer to every traveller in this region is that, owing to
their light draught, they are able to traverse the
narrow and intricate channels of Western Patagonia
between the mountainous islands and the mainland;
while to sea-sick passengers the object of avoiding

206 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

more than four hundred miles of the heavy seas of
the Southern Pacific is a further inducement. A
naturalist finds an additional attraction in the general
sympathy and helpfulness which he may expect from
every officer in a German ship. Courtesy and friendly
feeling are almost invariably to be found on board our
steamers, but the pursuits of a naturalist rarely seem
to call forth the slightest show of interest.

Our departure was fixed for two p.m., but in fact
we did not move till past seven, long after dark at
this season. On getting out to sea we found a
moderate swell running from the southward, and
moved slowly, as coal was economized. On the follow-
ing morning we found ourselves rather far from land,
and, although the weather was moderately clear, we
had only a few distant glimpses of the coast during
the day. The barometer fell slowly about two-tenths
of an inch from morning to night, and it seemed
evident that we were about to bid farewell to the
bright skies of Central Chilii We were to take in
coal for the voyage to Europe at Lota, about two
hundred and fifty nautical miles south of Valparaiso.
That distance could be easily accomplished, even by
the Rhamses, in twenty-four hours; but as there was
no object in arriving before morning, we economized
fuel and travelled slowly. Heavy rain fell during the
entire night, and ceased only when, on the morning of
May 31, we entered the harbour of Lota.

Lota is a place which, although not marked on
Stanford’s latest map of South America, has within
a short time risen to considerable importance, owing
to the discovery of extensive deposits of lignite of

COAL DEPOSITS OF LOTA., 207

excellent quality. I have heard various estimates of
its value as steam coal, the lowest of which set five
tons of Lota coal as equal to four of Welsh anthracite.
The seams appear to be of considerable thickness,
and the underground works have now extended toa
considerable distance from the shore. All the ocean
steamers returning to Europe now call here for their
provision of fuel, and in addition the proprietor has
established extensive works for smelting copper and
for making glass. The owner of this great property
is a lady, the widow of the late Mr. Cousifio, whose
income is rated at about £200,000 a year. About
2500 people are constantly employed, who, with their
families, inhabit a small town of poor appearance
which has grown up on the hill overlooking the
harbour.

I was courteously invited to the house of Mr.
Squella, a relation of Madame Cousifio, who has the
direction of this great establishment, and there had
the pleasure of again meeting my former travelling
companion, Mr. H , and also Captain Simpson,
an officer of the Chilian navy of English extraction,
who, while commanding a ship on the southern coast,
has rendered some services to science. The conversa-
tion was carried on chiefly in English, which has
decidedly become the “ingua franca of South America,
but was shortened by my natural anxiety to turn to the
best account the short time at my disposal. I had a
choice between three alternatives—a descent into the
coal mine, a visit to the works above ground and the
miners’ town, or a ramble through the so-called park,
which occupies the promontory stretching westward

208 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

which forms the natural harbour of Lota, and covers
a great portion of the precious deposit to which the
place owes its new-born importance. I naturally
preferred the latter, feeling that my limited experiencé
as a geological observer would not allow me to profit
much by a subterranean excursion. I made inquiry,
however, as to the vegetable remains found in the
lignite, and I was told that they are abundant, although
the few specimens which I saw showed but slight
traces of vegetable structure. I was led to believe
that a collection of specimens had been sent to
Europe to my late lamented friend, Dr. Oswald Heer,
but I am not aware that he has left any reference to
such a collection, or even that it ever reached his
hands.

The parque of Lota, to which I directed my steps,
has rather the character of an extensive pleasure-
ground than of what we ¢all a park; but the surface
is so uneven, and the outline so irregular, that I could
not estimate its extent. The numerous fantastic
structures in questionable taste that met the eye in
every direction create at the first moment an unfavour-
able impression, but the charms of the spot are so
real that this is soon forgotten. The variety and
luxuriance of the vegetation, and the diversified views
of the sea and the rocky shores, were set off by
occasional bursts of bright sunshine, in which the
drops that still hung on every leaflet glittered like
jewels of every hue. The trees here were of very
moderate dimensions, the largest (here called rode)
being of the laurel family, which, for want of flower or
fruit, I failed to identify. The Spaniards in South

THE PARQUE OF LOTA. 209

America have given the name vod/e, which properly
means “oak,” to a variety of trees which agree only
in having a thick trunk and spreading branches. The
shrubs were very numerous, partly indigenous and
partly exotic, and a peculiar feature which I have not
noticed in any other large garden is the number of
parasites living on the trunks and branches of the
trees and shrubs. Ferns were very numerous and
grow luxuriantly, showing a wide difference of climate
between this coast and that of the country two or
three degrees further north. But the great ornament
of this place is the beautiful climber, Lapageria rosea,
now producing in abundance its splendid flowers,
which so finely contrast with its dark-green glossy
foliage. The specific name vosea is unfortunate, as
the colour of the flowers is bright crimson, verging on
scarlet.

One of the special features of this garden was the
abundance of humming-birds that haunted the shrubs
and small trees, and darted from spray to spray with
movements so rapid that to my imperfect vision their
forms were quite indistinguishable. Whenever I
drew near in the hope of gaining a clearer view, they
would dart away to another shrub a few yards distant,
and I am unable to say whether the bright little
creatures belonged to one and the same or to several
different species.

At one place where the garden is only some twenty
feet above the beach, I scrambled down the rocks, and
was rewarded by the sight of two or three plants
characteristic of this region. The most attractive of

these is one of the many generic types peculiar to
P

210 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

the Chilian flora, allied to the pine-apple. The long
stiff leaves, edged with sharp teeth and radiating from
the lower part of the stem, are coloured bright red
along the centre and at the base, forming, when seen
from a distance, a brilliant, many-rayed red _ star.
Another novelty was Francoa sonchifolia, which also
clings to the rocks by the sea. It has somewhat the
habit of a large crucifer, but the structure of the
flower and fruit is widely different. It was regarded
by Lindley as the type of a distinct natural family,
but has been, with one other Chilian genus (Ze7z//a),
classed as a tribe of the saxifrage family.

Time passed quickly in such an interesting spot,
and the hour appointed for returning to the ship had
nearly arrived, when Mr. Reilly, the gardener who has
the management of the pargue, invited me to see his
house. He came, as I learned, from Wexford, in
Ireland, had had some training in the Royal Gardens
at Kew, when his fortunate star led him to Chili. I
found him installed in a very pretty and comfortable
house, charmingly situated, in as full enjoyment of
one of the most beautiful gardens in the world as if
he were its absolute owner. This was only one more
instance of the success which so often attends my
countrymen when removed to a distance from their
native land. Freed from the evil influences that
seem indigenous to the soil of that unfortunate island,
they develop qualities that are too rarely perceptible
at home. The arguments for emigration are com-
monly based only on the economical necessity for
relieving the land of surplus population ; to my mind
it may be advocated on other and quite different

CAUTIOUS SEAMANSHIP. 211

grounds. For every Irishman who is carried to a
distant land there is a strong probability of a distinct
gain to the world at large.

I left the argue at Lota with my memory full of
pictures of a spot which, along with Mr. Cooke’s
famous garden at Montserrat, near Cintra, and that of
M. Landon in the oasis of Biskra, I count as the
most beautiful garden that I have yet seen.

A rather large island—Isla de Sta. Maria—lies off
the Chilian. coast to the west of Lota, and is separated
on the southern side from the promontory of Lavapie
by a channel several miles wide. But as this is beset
with rocks, the rule of the German steamers is to
avoid the passage, excepting in clear weather by day.
In deference, therefore, to this cautious regulation, we
set our helm to the north on leaving Lota, two or
three hours after sunset, and only after keeping that
course for some ten miles, and running past the small
port of Coronel, steered out to seaward, and finally
resumed our proper southerly direction. Our sleep
was somewhat disturbed by the heavy rolling of the
ship during the night, and the morning of the Ist of
June broke dimly amid heavy lowering clouds, just
such a day as one might expect at the corresponding
date (December 1) on the western coast of Europe.
Although the sea was running high, there was little
wind. The barometer at daybreak stood at 29°98,
having risen a tenth of an inch since the previous
evening, and the temperature was about 52° Fahr.
In our seas one would suppose that a gale must have
recently prevailed at no great distance, but I believe
the fact to be that in the Southern Pacific high seas

212 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

prevail during a great part of the year, even where no
strong winds are present to excite them. Gales are
undoubtedly common in the zone between the fiftieth
and sixtieth degrees of south latitude, and the waves
habitually run higher there than they ever do in the
comparatively confined area of the Atlantic. The
disturbances are propagated to great distances,
modified, of course, by winds, currents, and the form
of the coasts when they approach the land; but the
smooth waters that extend more than thirty degrees
on either side of the equator are rarely encountered
in higher latitudes. The skies brightened as the
day wore on, and the sun from time to time broke
through the clouds; but we were out of sight of land,
and the only objects in view during the day were the
sea, the sky, and the numerous sea-fowl that followed
the ship. The incessant rolling made it difficult to
settle down to any occupation.

We were now abreast of that large tract of Chili
which has been left in the possession of its aboriginal
owners, the Araucanian Indians, extending about one
hundred miles from north to south, and a rather greater
distance from the coast to the crest of the Cordillera.
It is unfortunate that so little is known of the
Araucanians, as, in many respects, they appear to be
the most interesting remaining tribe of the aboriginal
American population. For nearly two centuries they
maintained their independence in frequent sanguinary
encounters with the Spaniards, which are said on
Chilian authority to have cost the invaders the loss of
100,000 men. Since the establishment of Chilian
independence, the policy of the republic has been to

ARAUCANIAN INDIANS. 213

establish friendly relations with this indomitable
people. The territory between the Bio-Bio river to
the north and the Tolten to the south was assigned
to them, and small annual donations were made to
the principal chiefs on condition of their maintaining
order amongst the tribesmen. During the last forty
years, however, white settlers have trespassed to a
considerable extent on the Indian territory, both on
the north and south sides, but have generally contrived
to keep up friendly intercourse with the natives, while
Chilian officials, established at Angol on the river
Mallego, exercise a species of supervision over the
entire region.

The present Araucanian population is somewhat
vaguely estimated at about 40,000, and it is a question
of some interest whether, like most native races in
contact with those of European descent, they will
ultimately be improved out ofexistence, or be gradually
brought within the pale of civilization and fused with
the intrusive element. The soil is said to be in great
part fertile; they raise a large quantity of live stock,
and some of the chiefs are said to have amassed
wealth, and to have begun to show a ‘taste for the
comforts and conveniences of civilized life.

While at Santiago, I made some inquiry as to the
language of the Araucanian tribes. I was informed
that in the seventeenth century the Jesuit missionaries
published a grammar of the language, of which only
two or three copies are known to exist. About the
beginning of this century a new edition, or reprint, of
this work appeared at Madrid, but, as I was assured,
has also become extremely rare, and copies are very
seldom to be procured.

214 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

On the evening of the Ist the barometer had risen
about a tenth of an inch, but by the following morning
had returned to the same point (very nearly thirty
inches) as on the previous day, without any change
in the state of the weather; but we enjoyed more
sunshine, and the proceedings of the birds that cease-
lessly bore us company afforded us constant occupa-
tion and amusement. Two species were predominant.
One of these was the well-known cape pigeon (Daption
capensis), familiar to all mariners in the southern
hemisphere. This is a handsome bird, much larger
than a pigeon, exhibiting a considerable variety of
plumage in what appeared to be adult individuals.
In all the ground colour is white, and the tips of the
spreading tail feathers are dark brown or nearly black.
The upper surface of the wings sometimes showed a
somewhat tesselated pattern of white and dark brown,
but more commonly were marked by two transverse
dark bands, with pure white between. They were
very numerous, as many as from fifty to a hundred
being near the ship at the same time, keeping close
company, and often swooping over the deck a few
feet over our heads ; but, although seemingly fearless,
they never were induced to take a piece of meat from
a man’s hand, though the temptation was often re-
newed. The next in frequency—called on this coast
colomba—is nearly as large as the cape pigeon, with
plumage much resembling that of a turtle dove. This
also approached very near. Both of these birds seemed
to feel fatigue, as, after circling round the ship for half
an hour at a time, they would rest on the surface of
the water, dropping rapidly astern, but after some

BIRDS OF THE SOUTHERN OCEAN. 215

minutes resume their flight and soon overtake the ship.
More interesting to me were the two species of
albatross, which I had never before had an oppor-
tunity of observing. These were more shy in their
behaviour, never, I think, approaching nearer than
seventy or eighty yards, and usually following the
ship with a slow, leisurely flight still farther astern.
The common, nearly white, species (Diomedea exulans)
is but a little larger than the dark-coloured, nearly
black species, which I supposed to be the Diomedea
JSuliginosa of ornithologists.* If, as is probable, the
same birds followed us all day, we saw but two of the
latter, which are, I believe, everywhere comparatively
scarce. In both species I was struck by the peculiar
form of the expanded wing, which is very narrow in
proportion to its great length.

The moment of excitement for the birds, as well as
for the lookers-on, was when a basket of kitchen refuse
was from time to time thrown overboard. It was
amusing to watch the rush of hungry creatures all
swooping down nearly at the same point, and making
a marvellous clatter as they eagerly contended for the
choice morsels. It did not appear to me that the
smaller birds showed any fear of the powerful albatross,
or that the latter used his strength to snatch away
anything that had been secured by a weaker rival.

About noon on the 2nd of June we were abreast of
the northern part of the large island of Chiloe, but
were too far out to sea to get a glimpse of the high

* It is quite possible that the bird which I took for the black
albatross was the giant petrel, common, according to Darwin, in these
waters, and closely resembling an albatross,

216 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

land on the west coast. At the northern end the
island is separated from the mainland by a narrow
channel (Canal de Chacao) only two or three miles in
width ; but on the east side the broad strait or interior
sea between Chiloe and the opposite coast is from
thirty to forty miles in breadth, and beset by rocky
islets varying in size from several miles to a few yards.

Another unquiet night ushered in the morning of
the 3rd of June. This was fairly clear, with a fresh
breeze from the south-west, which, as the day ad-
vanced, rose nearly toa gale. The sea did not appear
to run higher than before, but the waves struck the
ship’s side with greater force, and at intervals of about
ten minutes we shipped rather heavy seas, after which
the deck was nearly knee-deep in water, and a weather
board was needed to keep the saloon from being
flooded. The barometer fell slightly, and the tempera-
ture was decidedly lower, the thermometer marking
about 50° Fahr. Some attempts at taking exercise
on the hurricane deck were not very successful, my
friend, Mr. H , being knocked down and some-
what bruised, and we finally retired to the saloon, and
found the state of things not exhilarating. We saw
nothing of the Chonos Archipelago, consisting of three
large and numerous small islands, all covered with
dense forest, and separated from the mainland by a
strait, yet scarcely surveyed, about a hundred and
twenty miles in length, and ten to fifteen in breadth.

Darwin, writing nearly fifty years ago, anticipated
that these islands would before long be inhabited, but
I was assured that no permanent settlement has ever
been established. Parties of woodcutters have from

HEAVY SEAS OF THE SOUTH PACIFIC. 217

time to time visited the islands, but no one has been
tempted to remain. The excessive rainfall, which is
more continuous in summer than in winter, makes
them unfit for the residence of civilized man; but it
seems probable that Fuegians transported there would
find conditions favourable to their constitution and
habits of life. It is another question whether the
world would be any the better for the multiplication
of so low a type of humanity.

In the afternoon, as the sea was running very high,
the captain set the ship’s head to the wind. We saw
him but once, and perceived an anxious expression
on his usually jovial countenance. It afterwards came
out that he apprehended the continuance of the gale,
in which case he might not have ventured to put the
helm round so as to enter the Gulf of Pefias. At
nightfall, however, the wind fell off, and by midnight
the weather was nearly calm, though the ship gave us
little rest from the ceaseless rolling. During all this
time sounds that issued at intervals from the cabin of
the Peruvian lady and her children showed. that what
was merely a bore to us was to them real misery. I
have often asked myself whether there is something
about a sea-voyage that develops our natural selfish-
ness, or whether it is because one knows that the
suffering is temporary and has no bad results, that
one takes so little heed of the really grievous condition
of travellers who are unable to bear the movement of
the sea. A voyage with sea-sick passengers, especially
in bad weather, when one is confined to the saloon,
is a good deal like being lodged in one of the prisons
of the Spanish inquisition while torture was freely

218 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

applied to the unhappy victims; and yet persons who
are not counted as hard-hearted seem to bear their
position with perfect equanimity, if not with something
of self-satisfaction.

The morning of the 4th of June was so dark that
we supposed our watches to have gone astray. Of
course, the days were rapidly growing shorter as we
ran to the southward, but the dim light on this morn-
ing was explained when we sallied forth. The wind
had veered round to the north, and in these latitudes
that means a murky sky with leaden clouds above
and damp foggy air below. The change, however,
was opportune. We were steering about due south-
east, entering the Gulf of Pefias, with the dim outline
of Cape Tres Montes faintly seen on our larboard
bow.

T have already alluded to the peculiar conformation
of the south-western extremity of the South American
continent, which, from the latitude of 40° south to the
opening of the Straits of Magellan, a distance of about
nine hundred miles, exhibits an almost continuous
range of high land running parallel to the southern
extremity of the great range of the Andes. At its
northern end this western range, under the names
Cordillera Pelada and Cordillera de la Costa, forms
part of the mainland of Chili, being separated from
the Andes by a broad belt of low country including
several large lakes, those of Ranco and Llanquihue
being each about a hundred miles in circuit. South
of the Canal de Chacao the range is continued by the
island of Chiloe and the Chonos Archipelago, and
then by the great mountainous promontory whose

RANGE OF THE ANTARCTIC FLORA. 219

southern extremity is Cape Tres Montes. Here
occurs the widest breach in the continuity of the range,
as the Gulf of Pefias is fully forty miles wide. To
the southward commences the long range of moun-
tainous islands that extend to the Straits of Magellan,
between which and the mainland lie the famous
channels of Western Patagonia. It is worthy of note
that, corresponding to the elevation of this parallel
western range, the height of the main chain of the
Andes is notably diminished. Of the summits that
have hitherto been measured south of latitude 42°
only one—the Volcano de Chana—attains to a height
of eight thousand feet, and there is reason to believe
that numerous passes of little more than half that
elevation connect the eastern and western slopes of
the chain.

Another point of some interest is the northern ex-
tension of the so-called antarctic flora throughout the
whole of the western range, many of the characteristic
species being found on the Cordillera Pelada close to
Valdivia, which does not, I believe, much exceed three
thousand feet in height. It is true that a few antarctic
species have been found in the higher region of the
Andes as far north as the equator, just as a few
northern forms have travelled southward by way of
the Rocky Mountains and the highlands of Mexico
and Central America ; and Professor Fr. Philippi has
lately shown that many southern forms, and even a
few true antarctic types, extend to the hills of the
desert region of Northern Chili, where the constant
presence of fog supplies the necessary moisture.*

* See an interesting paper in the Journal of Botany for July, 1884.

220 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

The true northern limit, however, of the antarctic flora
may be fixed at the Cordillera Pelada of Valdivia.

We crept on cautiously into the gulf, anxiously
looking out for some safe landmark to secure an
entrance into the northern end of Messier’s Channel.
Soon after midday we descried a remarkable conical
hill, which is happily placed so as to distinguish the
true opening from the indentations of the rocky coast.
As we advanced the air became thicker and colder,
as drizzling rain set in; but the practised eyes of sea-
men are content with indications that convey no
meaning to an ordinary landsman, and just as the
night was closing in almost pitch dark, the rattle of
the chain cable announced that we had come to
anchor for the night in Hale Cove.

The weather had become very cold. At two p.m.
in the gulf the thermometer stood at 42°, and after
nightfall it marked only a few degrees above freezing-
point, so that, even in the saloon, we sat in our great
coats, not at all enjoying the unaccustomed chilliness.
All rejoiced, therefore, when the captain, having quite
recovered his wonted cheerfulness, announced that a
stove was to be set up forthwith in the saloon, and
a tent erected on deck to give shelter from the weather.
The stove was a small, somewhat rickety concern, and
we fully understood that it would not have been safe
to light it while the ship was labouring in the heavy
seas outside; but it was especially welcome to me, as
I was anxiously longing for the chance of getting my
botanical paper thoroughly dry. As we enjoyed a
cheerful dinner, two of the officers pushed off in one
of the ship’s boats into the blackness that had closed

WILD CELERY. 221

around. After some time a large fire was seen blazing
a few hundred yards from the ship, and, amid rain
and sleet, we could descry from the deck some moving
forms. They had succeeded, I know not how, in
getting the damp timber into a blaze, and were good-
naturedly employed in gathering whatever they could
lay hands upon to contribute to my botanical collec-
tion. Not much could be expected under such con-
ditions, but everything in this, to me, quite new region '
was full of interest. Dead branches covered with large
lichens introduced me to one of the most characteristic
features of the vegetation. The white fronds, four or
five inches wide, and several feet in length, enliven the
winter aspect of these shores, and possibly supply food
to some of the wild animals. Among the plants
which had been dragged up at random were several
roots of the wild celery of the southern hemisphere.
It is widely spread throughout the islands of the
southern ocean, as well as on the shores of both coasts
of Patagonia, and was described as a distinct species
by Dupetit Thouars; but in truth, as Sir Joseph
Hooker long ago remarked in the “ Flora Antarctica,”
there are no structural characters by which to distin-
guish it from the common wild celery of Europe,
which is likewise essentially a maritime plant. Grow-
ing in a region where it is little exposed to sunshine,
it has less of the strong characteristic smell of our wild
plants, and the leaves may be eaten raw as salad, or
boiled, which is not the case with our plant until the
gardener, by heaping earth about the roots, diminishes
the pungency of the smell and flavour.

One thought alone troubled me as I lay down in

222 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

my berth to enjoy the first quiet night’s rest. If the
weather should hold on as it now fared, there was but
a slight prospect of enjoying the renowned scenery of
the channels, or of making much acquaintance with
the singular vegetation of this new region. It was
therefore with intense relief and positive delight that
I found, on sallying forth before sunrise, a clear sky
and a moderate breeze from the south. Snow had
fallen during the night, and was now hard frozen ; and
in the tent, where my plants had lain during the
night, it was necessary to break off fragments of ice
with numbed fingers before laying them in paper.

We weighed anchor about daybreak, and the sth
of June, my first day in the Channels, will ever remain
as a bright spot in my memory. Wellington Island,
which lay on our right, is over a hundred and fifty
miles in length, a rough mountain range averaging
apparently about three thousand feet in height, with
a moderately uniform coast-line. On the other hand,
the mainland presents a constantly varying outline,
indented by numberless coves and several deep narrow
sounds running far into the recesses of the Cordillera.
In the intermediate channel crowds of islets, some rising
to the size of mountains, some mere rocks peeping
above the water, present an endless variety of form
and outline. But what gives to the scenery a unique
character is the wealth of vegetation that adorns this
seemingly inclement region. From the water’s edge
to a height which I estimated at fourteen hundred feet,
the rugged slopes were covered with an unbroken
mantle of evergreen trees and shrubs. Above that
height the bare declivities were clothed with snow,

THE ENGLISH NARROWS. 223

mottled at first by projecting rocks, but evidently
lying deep upon the higher ridges. I can find no
language to give any impression of the marvellous
variety of the scenes that followed in quick succession
against the bright blue background of a cloudless sky,
and lit up by a northern sun that illumined each new
prospect as we advanced. At times one might have
fancied one’s self on a great river in the interior of
a continent, while a few minutes later, in the openings
between the islands, the eye could range over miles of
water to the mysterious recesses of the yet unexplored
Cordillera of Patagonia, with occasional glimpses of
snowy peaks at least twice the height of the summits
near at hand. About two o’clock we reached the so-
named English Narrows, where the only known
navigable channel is scarcely a hundred yards in
width between two islets bristling with rocks. The
tide rushed through at the rate of a rapid river, and
our captain displayed even more than his usual
caution. Some ten men of the crew were posted
astern with steering gear, in readiness to provide for
the possible breakage of the chains from the steering-
house. It seemed unlikely enough that such an
accident should occur at that particular point, but
there was no doubt that if it did a few seconds might
send the ship upon the rocks.

One of the advantages of a voyage through the
Channels is that at all seasons the ship comes to
anchor every night, and the traveller is not exposed
to the mortification of passing the most beautiful
scenes when he is unable to see them. When more
thoroughly known, it is likely that among the numerous

224 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

coves many more will be found to offer good anchorage;
but few are now known, and the distance that can
be run during the short winter days is not great. We
were told that our halt for the night was to be at
Eden Harbour, less than twenty miles south of the
English Narrows, and to my great satisfaction we
dropped anchor about 3.30 p.m., when there was still
a full hour of daylight. Our good-natured captain
put off dinner for an hour, and with all convenient
speed I went ashore with Mr. H—— and two officers
of the ship.

Eden Harbour deserves its name. A perfectly
sheltered cove, with excellent holding-ground, is
enclosed by steep forest-clad slopes, culminating to
the north in a lofty conical hill easily recognized by
seamen. The narrow fringe between the forest and
the beach is covered with a luxuriant growth of ferns
and shrubby plants, many of them covered in summer
with brilliant flowers, blooming in~a solitude rarely
broken by the passage of man. After scrambling
over the rocks on the beach, the first thing that struck
us was the curious nature of the ground under our
feet. The surface was crisp and tolerably hard, but
each step caused an undulation that made one feel as
if walking on a thick carpet laid over a mass of
sponge. Striking a blow with the pointed end of my
ice-axe, it at once pierced through the frozen crust,
and sank to the hilt over four feet into the semifluid
. mass beneath, formed of half-decomposed remains of
vegetation.

At every step plants of this region, never before
seen, filled me with increasing excitement. Several

VEGETATION OF EDEN HARBOUR. 225

were found with very tolerable fruit, and there were
even some remains of the flowers of Desfontainea
spinosa and Mitraria coccinea, The latter beautiful
shrub appears to have been hitherto known only from
Chiloe and the Chonos Archipelago. In those islands
it is described as a tall climber straggling among the
branches of trees. Here I found it somewhat stunted,
growing four or five feet high, with the habit of a small
fuchsia. Neither of these is a true antarctic species.
Like many Chilian plants, they are peculiar and much-
modified members of tribes whose chief home is in
tropical America. Everything else that I saw was
characteristically antarctic. Three small coniferous
trees peculiar to this region; a large-flowered berberry,
with leaves like those of a holly, growing six or eight
feet high, still showing remains of the flower; and
two species of Pernettya, with berries like those of a
bilberry, and which replace our Vaccinia in the
southern hemisphere, were among the new forms
that greeted me.

A few minutes’ stumbling over fallen timber brought
us to the edge of the forest, and it was soon seen that,
even if time allowed, it would be no easy matter to
penetrate into it. The chief and only large tree was
the evergreen beech (agus betuloides of botanists).
This has a thick trunk, commonly three or four feet
in diameter, but nowhere, I believe, attains any great
height. Forty feet appeared to me the outside limit
attained by any that I saw here or elsewhere. But
perhaps the most striking, and to me unexpected,
feature in the vegetation was the abundance and
luxuriance of the ferns that inhabit these coasts. From

Q

226 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

out of the stiff frozen crust under our feet a profusion
of delicate filmy ferns (Hymenophylla) grew to an
unaccustomed size, including several quite distinct
species; while here and there clumps of the stiff
fronds of Lomaria magellanica, a couple of feet in
height, showed an extraordinary contrast in form and
habit. As Sir Joseph Hooker long ago remarked,
the regular rigid crown of fronds issuing from a thick
rhizome, when seen from a little distance, remind one
forcibly of a Zamia. It was to me even more sur-
prising to find here in great abundance a representa-
tive of a genus of ferns especially characteristic of the
tropical zone. The Glecchenza of these coasts differs
sufficiently to deserve a separate specific name, but
in general appearance is strikingly like that which
I afterwards saw growing in equal abundance in
Brazil.

This continent, with its thousands of miles of un-
broken coast-line, and its mountain backbone stretching
from the equator to Fuegia, has offered extraordinary
facilities for the diffusion of varied types of vegetation.
As I have already remarked, some species of antarctic
origin travel northward, and some others, now con-
fined to the equatorial Andes, are most probably
modified descendants from the same parent stock;
while a small number of tropical types, after under-
going more or less modification, have found their
way to the extreme southern extremity of the con-
tinent.

By a vigorous use of my ice-axe, which is an ex-
cellent weapon for a botanist, I succeeded in uprooting
a good many plants from the icy crust in which they

A RED CRAB. 227

grew; but the minutes slipped quickly by, daylight
was fading in this sheltered spot, shut out from the
north and west by steep hills, and too soon came the
call to return to the ship. On the beach I picked up
the carapace of a crab—bright red and beset with
sharp protuberances—evidently freshly feasted on by
some rapacious animal. The whole of the body and
the shell of the under part as well as the claws
had disappeared, leaving nothing but the carapace,
which I presume had been found too hard and indi-
gestible. Darwin informs us that the sea-otter of this
region feeds largely on this or some allied species of
crab.

The cold was sufficient to make the little stove in
the saloon of the steamer very acceptable, but at no
time throughout the voyage could be called severe.
Between noon and three p.m. on the sth of June the
thermometer in the open air stood about 40° Fahr.,
and fell at night only two or three degrees below
freezing-point. The barometer was hich, gradually
rising from 30 inches to 30°3, at which it stood on the
following day. Everything promised settled weather,
and it was therefore disappointing to find. the sky
completely covered when I went on deck early in the
morning of the 6th. A light breeze from the north
raised the temperature by a few degrees and brought
the clouds. The scenery throughout the day was
even of a grander character than before, and the
absence of sunshine gave it a sterner aspect. At
times, when passing the smaller islands, I was forcibly
reminded of the upper lake of Killarney, the re-
semblance being much increased by the appearance

228 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

of the smaller islets and rocks worn down and rounded
by floating ice. On this and the following days I
frequently looked out for evidences of ice-action on
the rocky flanks of the mountains. These were at
some points very perceptible up to a considerable
height ; but all that I could clearly make out ap-
peared to be directed from south to north, and nearly
or quite horizontal. I failed to trace any indication
on the present surface of the descent in a westerly
direction of great glaciers flowing from the interior
towards the coast.

Before midday we passed opposite the opening of
Eyre Sound, one of the most considerable of the
numerous inlets that penetrate the mountains on the
side of the mainland. This is said to extend for forty
or fifty miles into the heart of the Cordillera, and it
seems certain that one, or perhaps several, glaciers
descend into the sound, as at all seasons masses of
floating ice are drifted into the main channel. We
did not see them at first, as the northerly breeze had
carried them towards the southern side of the inlet ;
but before long we found ourselves in the thick of
them, and for about a mile steamed slowly amongst
floating masses of tolerably uniform dimensions, four
or five feet in height out of the water, and from ten
to fifteen feet in length. At a little distance they
looked somewhat like a herd of animals grazing.
Seen near at hand, the ice looked much weathered,
and it may be inferred that the parent glacier reaches
the sea somewhere near the head of the sound, and

they had been exposed for a considerable time before
reaching its mouth.

ORIGIN OF THE GLACIERS. 229

The existence of great glaciers descending to the
sea-level on the west coast of South America, one of
which lies so far north as the Gulf of Pefias, about
47° south latitude, is a necessary consequence of the
rapid depression of the line of perpetual snow on
the flanks of the Andes, as we follow the chain
southward from Central Chili to the channels of
Patagonia. The circumstance that permanent snow
is not found lower than about fourteen thousand feet
above the sea in latitude 34°, while only 8° farther
south the limit is about six thousand feet above the
sea-level, has been regarded as evidence of a great
difference of climate between the northern and
southern hemispheres, and more especially of excep-
tional conditions of temperature affecting this coast.
It appears to me that all the facts are fully explained
by the extraordinary increase of precipitation from
the atmosphere, in the form of rain or snow, which
occurs within the zone where the rapid depression of
the snow-line is observed. So far as mean annual
temperature of the coast is concerned, the diminution
of heat in receding from the equator is less than the
normal amount, being not quite 5° Fahr. for 7° of
latitude between Valparaiso and Valdivia. But the
annual rainfall at Valdivia is eight times, and at
Ancud in Chiloe more than nine times, the amount
that falls at Santiago. Allowing that the dispropor-
tion may be less great between the snowfall on the
Cordillera in the respective latitudes of these places,
we cannot estimate the increased fall about latitude
40° at less than four times the amount falling in
Central Chili, When we further recollect that in the

230 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

latter region the sky is generally clear in summer,
and that the surface is exposed to the direct rays of
a sun not far from vertical, while on the southern
coast the sun is constantly veiled by heavy clouds, it
is obvious that all the conditions are present that must
depress the snow-line to an exceptional extent, and
allow of those accumulations of snow that give birth
to glaciers. When a comparison is drawn between
South Chili and Norway, it must not be forgotten
that at Bergen, where the Norwegian rainfall is said
to be at its maximum, the annual amount is sixty-
seven inches, or exactly one-half of that registered in
Chiloe.

It is a confirmation of this view of the subject that
in going southward from the parallel of 42° to Cape
Froward in the Straits of Magellan, through 12° of
latitude, while the fall of mean yearly temperature
must be reckoned at 8° Fahr., the depression of the
snow-line cannot exceed three thousand feet.* Of
course, we have no direct observations of rainfall in
the Channels or on the west side of the Straits of
Magellan, but there is no doubt that it diminishes
considerably in going southward.

To the south of Eyre Sound the main channel
opens to a width of four or five miles, and is little
encumbered by rocky islets, so that we kept a direct
course a little west of south, and in less than two
hours reached the southern extremity of Wellington
Island, and gained a view of the open sea through a

* The estimates given by Pissis do not rest en accurate observations,
and seem to me exaggerated. I should be inclined to reckon the

difference of height of the snow-line between the extreme stations as
nearer to two thousand than to three thousand feet.

INTRICACY OF THE CHANNELS. 231

broad strait which is known as the Gulf of Trinidad.
Now that this has been well surveyed, it offers an
opportunity for steamers bound southward that have
missed the entrance to the Gulf of Pefias to enter
from the Pacific, and take the course to the Straits
of Magellan through the southern channels.

We had now accomplished the first stage in the
voyage through the Channels. Many local names
have been given to the various passages open to
navigation on this singular coast; but, speaking
broadly, the northern portion, between Wellington
Island and the mainland, is called Messier’s Channel ;
the middle part, including a number of distinct
openings between various islands, is known as the
Sarmiento Channel; and the southern division, be-
tween Queen Adelaide Island and the continent, is
Smyth’s Channel. Facing the Pacific to the south of
Wellington Island are three of large size—Prince
Henry Island, Madre de Dios, and Hanover Island,
besides countless islets which beset the straits that
divide these from each other ; and the course followed
by the steamers lies between the outer islands and
another large one (Chatham Island) which here rose
between us and the mainland.

In the afternoon the north wind freshened; as a
result, the weather became very thick, and rain set in,
which lasted throughout the night. Our intended
quarters were in a cove called Tom Bay; but our
cautious captain, with a due dislike to “ dirty weather,”
resolved to halt in a sheltered spot a few miles farther
north, known as Henderson’s Inlet. Both these places
afford excellent shelter, but the bottom is rocky,

232 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

and ships are much exposed to lose their anchors.
Although we arrived some time before sunset, the
evening was so dark, and the general aspect of things
so discouraging, that no one suggested an attempt to
go ashore. Although we were quite near to land, I
could make out very little of the outlines ; and, indeed,
of this middle portion of the voyage I have retained
no distinct pictures in my memory.

It struck me as very singular that, with a moderately
strong breeze from the north, the barometer should
have stood so high, remaining through the day at
about 30°3 inches, and marking at nine p.m. 30°28.
The temperature, as was to be expected, was higher
than on the previous day, being about 40° during the
day, and not falling at night below 35°.

Although the morning showed some improvement
in the appearance of the weather, the sky was gloomy
when, after a little trouble in raising the anchor, we
got under way early on the 7th of June. The clouds
lifted occasionally during the day, and I enjoyed some
brief glimpses of grand scenery ; but the only distinct
impression I retained was that of hopeless bewilder-
ment in attempting to make out the positions of the
endless labyrinth of islands through which we threaded
our way. In spite of all that has been done, it seems
as if there remained the work of many surveying ex-
peditions to complete the exploration of these coasts.
As to several of the eminences that lie on the eastern
side of the channel, it is yet uncertain whether they
are islands or peninsulas projecting from the main-
land. It was announced that our next anchorage was
to be at Puerto Bueno, there being no other suitable

PUERTO BUENO. 233

place for a considerable distance, and we were led to
expect that we should probably find there some
Fuegians, as the place is known to be one of their
favourite haunts.

We dropped anchor about half-past two, in a rather
wide cove, or small bay, opening into the mainland
a few miles south of Chatham Island. The shores
are comparatively low, and enclosed by a dense forest
of evergreen beech, which in most parts descends to
the water's edge. The place owes its good repute
among mariners to the excellent holding-ground ; but
it did not appear to me as well sheltered as the other
natural harbours that we visited, and as the bottom
shelves very gradually, we lay fully a mile off the
shore. Fortunately the weather had improved some-
what; a moderate breeze from the north brought
slight drizzling rain, but gave no further trouble. A
boat was soon ready alongside, and we pulled for the
shore, with three of the ship’s officers armed with
fowling-pieces, intended partly to impress the natives
with due respect, but mainly designed for the water-
birds that abound along the shores of the inlet. We
were correctly steered for the right spot, as, on
scrambling ashore and crossing the belt of spongy
ground between the water and the edge of the forest,
we found evident tokens that the Fuegian encamp-
ment had not been long deserted. The broken
remains of a rude canoe and fragments of basket-
work were all that we could find, and we judged that
a small party, perhaps no more than ten or a dozen,
had left the place a few weeks before our arrival.
These wretched Fuegians are said to go farther south,

234 NOTES OF A. NATURALIST.

and to keep more to the exposed coasts during winter,
because at that season animal life is there more
abundant.

After exchanging sundry jokes about the general
disappointment in failing to behold the wilde fraulein
in their natural home, the party separated, two of
the officers proceeding in the boat towards the upper
part of the inlet in quest of water-fowl. For nearly
an hour we heard the frequent discharge of their
guns, and much ammunition must certainly have been
expended; but when they returned their report was
that the birds were too wild, and no addition was
made to the ship’s larder.

The general character of the vegetation at Puerto
Bueno was the same as that at Eden Harbour, but
there were some indications of a slight increase in the
severity of the climate. Mitraria coccinea and a few
other representatives of the special flora of Chili were
no longer to be found, while some antarctic types not
before seen here first made their appearance. The
most prominent of these was a bush from three to
five feet high, in general appearance reminding one
of rosemary, but at this season abundantly furnished
with the plumed fruits characteristic of a composite.
This plant, nearly allied to the genus Olearia, whose
numerous species are confined to Australia, New
Zealand, and the adjoining islands, is known to
botanists as Chzliotrichium amelloides, and is one of
the characteristic species of this region. It is plentiful
in Fuegia and on the northern shores of the Straits
of Magellan. Sir Joseph Hooker, in the “Flora
Antarctica,” remarks that this is the nearest approach

PATAGONIAN CONIFERS. 235

to a tree that is made by the meagre native vegeta-
tion of the Falkland Islands.

My attention had already been directed at Eden
Harbour to the peculiar coniferous plants of this
region, and I here found the same species in better
condition. The most conspicuous, a small tree with
stiff pointed leaves somewhat like an araucaria, here
produced abundant fruit, which showed it to be a
Podocarpus (P. nubigena of Lindley). Another shrub
of the same family, but very different in appearance,
is a species of Lzbocedrus, allied to the cypress of the
Old World, which tolerates even the inclement climate
of Hermite Island, near Cape Horn. The distribu-
tion of the various species of this genus is not a little
perplexing to the botanical geographer. This and
another species inhabit the west side of South America,
two are found in New Zealand, one in the island of
New Caledonia, one is peculiar to Southern China,
and one to Japan, while an eighth species belongs to
California. The most probable supposition is that
the home of the common ancestor of the genus was
in the circumpolar lands of the Antarctic Circle at a
remote period when that region enjoyed a temperate
climate; but the processes by which descendants
from that stock reached such remote parts of the
earth are not easily conjectured.

It was nearly dark when the unsuccessful sportsmen
returned with the boat, and but for the ship’s lights
we should have scarcely been able to make out her
position. Some of the many stories of seamen cast
away in this inclement region came into my mind
during the short half-hour of our return, and, in the

236 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

presence of the actual scenes and conditions, my
impressions assumed a vividness that they had never
acquired when “ living at home at ease.”

In the evening I observed that the barometer had
fallen considerably from the usually high point at
which it stood up to the 6th, and throughout the night
and the following day (June 8) it varied little from
29'9 inches. When we came on deck on the morning
of the 8th, the uniform remark of the passengers was,
“What a warm day!” We had become used to a
temperature of about 40°, and a rise of 5° Fahr. gave
the impression of a complete change of climate. It
is curious how completely relative are the impressions
of heat and cold on the human body, and how difficult
it is, even for persons accustomed to compare their
sensations with the instrument, to form a moderately
good estimate of the actual temperature. We paid
dearly, however, for any bodily comfort gained from
the comparative warmth in the thick weather that
prevailed during most of the day. We had some
momentary views of grand scenery, but, as on the
preceding day, these were fleeting, and I failed to
carry away any definite pictures. It would appear
that in such weather the navigation amid such a
complete maze of islands and channels must be nearly
impossible, but the various surveying-expeditions have
placed landmarks, in the shape of wooden posts and
crosses, that suffice to the practised eyes of seamen.

About ten a.m. we reached the end of the Sarmiento
Channel, opposite to which the comparatively broad
opening of Lord Nelson Strait, between Hanover
Island and Queen Adelaide Island, leads westward to

SMYTH’S CHANNEL. 237

the Pacific, and before long entered on the third stage
of our voyage, which is known as Smyth’s Channel.
This name is used collectively for the labyrinth of
passages lying among the smaller islands that fill the
space between Queen Adelaide Island and the main-
land of South-western Patagonia ; but to distinguish
the openings between separate islands various names
have been given, with which no one not a navigator
need burthen his memory. Perhaps the thick weather
may have been the cause, but we all noticed the
comparative rarity of all appearance of animal life on
this and the previous day. A large whale passing
near the ship gave the only occasion for a little
momentary excitement. As we ran southward, and
were daily approaching the winter solstice, the suc-
cessive days became sensibly shorter, and it was
already nearly dark when, soon after four p.m., we
cast anchor in an opening between two low islands
which is known as Mayne Channel.

It was impossible not to experience a sense of
depression at the persistence of such unfriendly
weather during the brief period of passing through a
region of such exceptional interest, an opportunity, if
once lost, never to be recovered. With corresponding
eagerness the hope held out by a steady rise of the
barometer was greeted, especially when I found that
this continued up to ten p.m., and amounted since
morning to a quarter of an inch. We were under
way some time before daylight on June 9, and
great was my delight when, going on deck, I found a
cloudless sky and the Southern Cross standing high in
the firmament.

238 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

It was a morning never to be forgotten. We
rapidly made our way from amid the maze of
smaller islands, and glided over the smooth water
into a broad channel commanding a wide horizon,
bounded a panorama of unique character. As the
stars faded and daylight stole over the scene, fresh
features of strangeness and beauty at each successive
moment came into view, until at last the full glory
of sunshine struck the highest point of Queen
Adelaide Island, and a few moments later crowned
the glistening summits of all the eminences that
circled around. The mountainous outline of Queen
Adelaide Island, on the right hand, which anywhere
else would fix attention, was somewhat dwarfed by
the superior attractions of the other objects in view.
We had reached the point where Smyth’s Channel
widens out into the western end of the Straits of
Magellan, and right in front of us rose the fantastic
outline of the Land of Desolation, as the early
navigators styled the shores that bound the southern
entrance to the Straits; and as we advanced it was
possible to follow every detail of the outline, even to
the bold summit of Cape Pillar, forty miles away
to the westward. Marking as it does the entrance
to the Straits from the South Pacific, that headland
has drawn to it many an anxious gaze since steam
navigation has made the passage of the Straits easy
and safe, and thus avoids the hardship and delay of
the inclement voyage round Cape Horn.

The coast nearest to us was at least as attractive as
any other part of the panorama. The southern
extremity of the continent is a strange medley of

STRAITS OF MAGELLAN. 239

mountain and salt water, which can be explained only
by the irregular action of elevatory forces not follow-
ing a definite line of direction. Several of the narrow
sounds that penetrate the coast are spread out inland
into large salt-water lakes, and all the shores along
which we coasted between Smyth’s Channel and
Sandy Point belong to peninsulas projecting between
fifty and one hundred miles from the continuous
mainland of Patagonia. The outline is strangely
varied. Bold snow-covered peaks alternate with lower
rocky shores, and are divided by channels of dark
blue water penetrating to an unknown distance into
the interior. From amidst the higher summits flowed
several large ice-streams, appearing, even from a
distance, to be traversed by broad crevasses. I did
not see any of these glaciers actually reach the sea,
but one, whose lower end was masked"by a projecting
forest-clad headland, must have approached very near
to the beach.

I have called the scene unique, and, in truth, I
believe that nothing like it is to be found elsewhere
in the world. The distant picture showing against
the sky under the low rays of the winter sun is pro-
bably to be matched by some that arctic navigators
bear in their memory; but here, below the zone of
snow and ice, we had the striking contrast of shores
covered by dense forest and clothed with luxuriant
vegetation. Not much snow can have fallen, as up
to a height of about twelve hundred feet above the
sea, as far as the forest prevails, none met the eye.
On the Norwegian coast, where one might be tempted
to look for winter scenes somewhat of the same

240 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

character, the forest is composed of coniferous trees,
which have a very different aspect, and at the corre-
sponding season they are, I imagine, usually so laden
with snow that they can give little relief to the eye.

I was struck by the fact that, although we had
travelled southward five and a half degrees of latitude
(nearly four hundred English miles) since entering
the Gulf of Pefias, the upper limit of the forest belt
was so little depressed. I could not estimate the
average depression at more than from two to three
hundred feet.

As we advanced into the main channel, and
were drawing near to the headland of Cape Tamar,
where the Straits of Magellan are narrowed between
that and the opposite coast of the Land of Desolation,
we noticed that what seemed from a distance to be a
mere film of vapour lying on the surface of the sea
grew gradually thicker, rose to a height of about one
hundred feet, and quite abruptly, in the space of two
or three ship’s lengths, we lost the bright sky and the
wonderful panorama, and were plunged in a fog that
lasted through the greater part of the afternoon. The
one constant characteristic of the climate of this
region is its liability at all seasons to frequent and
abrupt change, especially by day. It is, as I learned,
a rare event when a day passes without one or two, or
even more frequent, changes of the wind, bringing
corresponding changes of temperature, rain, or snow,
or clear sky ; but, as a rule, the weather is less incon-
stant in winter than at other seasons. A short ex-
perience makes it easy to understand the extreme
difficulty of navigation in the Straits for sailing ships,

BORVA BAY. 241

and the expediency of preferring the less inviting
course of rounding Cape Horn.

Several times during the day the fog cleared away
for a while, and gave us grand views of the coast
on either hand. That of the Land of Desolation
especially attracted my attention. Captain Willsen
pointed out to me, as we stood on the bridge, to
which I had free access, the opening of a narrow
sound which has lately been ascertained to penetrate
entirely through what used to be considered a single
island. The éxpressive name must, indeed, be aban-
doned, for, if I am not mistaken, the Land of Desola-
tion of our maps is already known to consist of three,
and may possibly form many more islands, divided
from each other by very narrow channels. Our
cautious commander resolved once again to anchor
for the night, and selected for the purpose Borya
Bay, a small sheltered cove some distance east of
Port Gallant, a harbour often visited by the English
surveying-expeditions. Daylight had departed when,
about half-past five, we reached our anchorage ; but
the sky was again quite clear, and we enjoyed the
weird effects of moonlight illumination. The scenery
is very grand, and was more wintry in aspect than
at any other point in our voyage. A mountain at
the head of the cove rose steeply to a height of at
jeast two thousand feet, and cast a dark shadow over
the ship as we lay very near the shore. The shores
were begirt with the usual belt of forest, but this did
not extend far, and the declivities all around were
clad with snow, which lay rather deep. It appeared
to me that a rather large glacier descended to within

R

242 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

a few hundred feet of the shore, but, seen by the
imperfect light, I felt uncertain as to the fact. Since
entering the Straits, I had noticed that on the steeper
slopes facing the south, where the surface can receive
but little sunshine at any season, the forest ascends
but a short distance above the sea-level. Above that
limit in such situations I observed only a scanty
covering of bushes, and higher up the surface at this
season appeared quite bare.

As Borya Bay is one-of the customary haunts of
the Fuegians, the steam-whistle was sounded on our
arrival as an invitation to any natives who might be
encamped there. This always suffices to attract
them, with the hope of being able to gratify their
universal craving for tobacco. The appeal was not
answered, as the people were doubtless on the
outer coasts, and we were not destined to see
anything of the most miserable of all the races of
man.

As the weather remained bright, the anchor was
raised soon after midnight, and by one a.m. we were
on our way, steering south-east, to round the southern
extremity of the mainland of America. Awaking to
the disappointment of having missed a view of one of
the most interesting portions of the Straits, I hurried
on deck, and found a new change in the aspect of
the skies. The night had been cold, with a sharp
frost ; but in the morning, soon after daybreak, the
air felt quite warm, with the thermometer marking
39° Fahr. A northerly breeze had set in, and as an
inevitable result brought thick weather. I again
noticed, however, that the barometer on these coasts

MOUNT SARMIENTO. 243

seems to be very slightly affected by changes in the
wind’s direction. It stood last night at 30°16 inches,
and on the morning of the roth, with a complete
change of weather, had fallen only eight-hundredths
of an inch,

The southern end of the continent is shaped like a
broad wedge, whose apex is Cape Froward, laying in
south latitude 53° 54’. We passed it early in the
forenoon, giving the headland, which we saw dimly
to the north, a broad berth, so that we about touched
the 54th parallel. If we compare this with the
climate of places in about the same latitude, as, for
instance, with that of the Isle of Man, we are apt to
consider the climate as severe; but we habitually
forget how far the condition of Western Europe is
affected by exceptional circumstances ; and if we look
elsewhere in the northern hemisphere, taking, for
instance, the Labrador coast, the south of Kamschatka,
or even the coast of British Columbia, we must admit
that the Straits of Magellan afford no confirmation to
the prevalent ideas respecting the greater cold of the
climate of the southern hemisphere.

Soon after this turning-point of the voyage the sky
partially cleared to the southward, and we were
fortunate enough to enjoy one of the most impressive
scenes that my memory has recorded. The broad
sound that divides Clarence Island from the main
island of Tierra del Fuego lay open before us, flanked
on either hand by lofty snow-clad summits. In the
background, set as in a frame, rose the magnificent
peak of Mount Sarmiento, the Matterhorn of this
region, springing, as it appeared, from the shore to a

244 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

height of seven thousand feet.* Sole sovereign of these
antarctic solitudes, I know of no other peak that
impresses the mind so deeply with the sense of
wonder and awe. As seen from the north, the eastern
and western faces are almost equally precipitous, and
the broad top is jagged by sharp teeth, of which the
two outermost, one to the east, the other to the west,
present summits of apparently equal height. At a
distance of about twenty-five miles the whole mass
seemed to be coated with snow and ice, save where
some sharp ridges and teeth of black rock stood out
against the sky. I remained for some time utterly
engrossed by the marvellous spectacle, and at last
bethought myself of endeavouring to secure at least
an outline of the scene; but before I could fetch a
sketch-book, a fresh change in the weather partly
obscured, and, a ‘few minutes later, finally concealed
from my eyes a picture that remains vividly impressed
on my memory.

It was impossible not to speculate on the origin
and past history of this remarkable peak. Admitting
that there is evidence to show that the larger part
of the rocks of this region are of volcanic origin,
it appeared to me evident not only that Mount
‘Sarmiento is not a volcanic cone, but that the rock
of which it is composed is not of volcanic origin.
Whether its real form be that of a. tower, or that of a
ridge with precipitous sides seen in profile, no volcanic
socks elsewhere in the world can retain slopes so

* T am not aware that the concurrent conclusions as to the height of
this mountain have been verified by accurate observations, but the height
commonly given appears to be-a close approximation to the truth.

CHANGE OF SCENERY. 245

nearly approaching to the vertical. It is, I believe, a
portion of the original rock skeleton that formed the
axis of the Andean chain during the long ages that
preceded the great volcanic outbursts that have
covered over the framework of the western side of
South America. Like most peaks of a similar form,
I am disposed to believe that in the course of gradual
upheaval the flanks have been carved by marine
action to the nearly vertical form which impresses the
beholder. Although snow-covered mountains suffer
a certain limited amount of denudation in the channels
through which glaciers flow, there is reason to hold
that they are far less subject to degradation than
those which are not protected from the main agencies
that wear away rocky surfaces. It is by alternations
of temperature, by frost, and the action of running
water, that rocks are rapidly eaten away, and from
these a snow-covered mountain is to a great extent
secured.

A few miles east of Cape Froward the coast of the
mainland trends nearly due north for a distance of
fully sixty miles, and a marked change is perceived in
the aspect of the shores. Instead of the bold outlines
to which our eyes had become accustomed, the coast-
line lay low, fringed with forest on the side of the
mainland, which now lay to our west, and on the
other hand showing bare flats, here and there flecked
with fresh snow. The land on that side at first
belonged to Dawson Island ; but later in the day, as
we approached our destination, the dreary flats formed
part of Northern Tierra del Fuego.

The weather was thick as we passed Port Famine,

246 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

and there was little to attract attention until we drew
near to Sandy Point, a place that was to me the more
interesting as I intended to make it my home until
the arrival of the next English steamer. The belt of
forest rose over low swelling hills near the sea, and in
the distance a loftier range, from two to three thousand
feet in height, showed a nearly horizontal line against
the cloudy sky. As we approached, several structures
of painted wood became visible, and for the first time
since we left Lota we beheld human dwellings.
Sandy Point, known to the natives of South America
by the equivalent name Punta Arenas, is certainly
one of the most isolated of inhabited spots to be
found in the world. Since the scramble for Africa
has set in, it is, I suppose, only on the Australian
coast that one would find any settlement so far
removed from neighbours or rivals. On the side of
Chili the nearest permanent habitations are in the
island of Chiloe, fully seven hundred miles distant in a
straight line, and considerably farther by the only
practicable route. On the side of Argentaria there is
a miserable attempt at a settlement at the mouth of
the river Santa Cruz, where the Argentine Govern-
ment has thought it expedient to hoist their flag in
order to assert the rights of sovereignty of the Con-
federation over the dreary wastes of South-eastern
Patagonia. This was described to me as a group of
half a dozen wooden sheds, where a few disconsolate
soldiers spend a weary time of exile from the genial
climate of Buenos Ayres. By the sea route it is
about four hundred miles from Sandy Point, but no
direct communication between the two places is kept

ISOLATION OF SANDY POINT. 247

up. For all practical purposes, the nearest civilized
neighbours to Sandy Point are the English colonists
in the Falkland Islands, where, in spite of inhospitable
soil and climate, some of our countrymen have
managed to attain to tolerable prosperity, chiefly by
sheep-farming. But with an interval of nearly five
hundred miles of stormy ocean mutual intercourse is
neither easy nor frequent.

i

248 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

CHAPTER V.

Arrival at Sandy Point—Difficulties as to lodging—Story of
the mutiny—Patagonian ladies—Agreeable society in the
Straits of Magellan—Winter aspect of the flora—Pata-
gonians and Fuegians—Habits of the South American
ostrich—Waiting for the steamer—Departure—Climate of
the Straits and of the southern hemisphere—Voyage to
Monte Video—Saturnalia of children—City of Monte Video
—Signor Bartolomeo Bossi; his explorations—Neighbour-
hood of the city—Uruguayan politics—River steamer—Ex-
cursion to Paisandu—Voyage on the Uruguay—Use of the
telephone—Excursion to the camp—Aspect of the flora—
Arrival at Buenos Ayres — Industrial Exhibition—Argentine
forests—The cathedral of Buenos Ayres—Excursion to La
Boca—Argentaria as a field for emigration.

THE time had come for parting with my genial
fellow-traveller, Mr. H , with our excellent captain,
and with the officers of the Ramses, to all of whom I
felt indebted for friendly aid in my pursuits ; and on
entering the boat that was to take me ashore I was
introduced to the captain of the port, an important
official of German origin. Of his various excellent
qualities, the only one that I at first detected was a
remarkable gift of taciturnity, rarely interrupted by a
single monosyllable. I was aware that accommoda-
tion for strangers at Sandy Point is extremely limited,

ARRIVAL AT SANDY POINT. 249

but I consoled myself with a belief that, if it came
to the worst, the letter which I carried to the governor
from the minister for foreign affairs at Santiago would
help me through any preliminary difficulties. On
reaching the shore, my luggage was without further
question carried to a house close by, which is at this
place the sole representative of a hotel. The accom-
modation available for strangers consists of a single
room of fair dimensions, and this, as I soon learned,
was occupied by a stranger. A glance at the
multitudinous objects scattered about made me feel
sure that the visitor must be a brother naturalist, but
did not help me to solve the immediate difficulty.
As I stood at the entrance, a dark-haired person,
speaking pretty good English, proposed to take me
to the house of the English vice-consul, and in his
company I had the first view of the settlement of
Sandy Point. As the ground rises very gently from
the beach, few houses are seen from the sea, and the
place is not so inconsiderable as it at first appears.
Though rather to be counted as a village than as a
town, it has the essential privilege of a Spanish city
in the possession of a p/aza, not yet quite surrounded
by houses. The buildings are small, and nearly all
built of wood painted outside.

The next piece of information received was un-
favourable to my prospects. An Argentine corvette
had reached Sandy Point a few days before, and the
vice-consul had been invited, along with the governor
and other notabilities, to a luncheon, which was likely
to last for some time. I was fortunately provided
with a note of introduction to Dr. Fenton, the

250 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

medical officer of the settlement, which I now pro-
ceeded to deliver. Being somewhat unwell, he had
not joined the marine entertainment, and I was at
once cordially received. Not many minutes were
needed to discover in my host a fellow-countryman,
one of a family in the county of Sligo, with which I
had some former acquaintance. Possessing in large
measure the national virtue of hospitality, Dr. Fenton
might have perhaps been satisfied with even a slighter
claim; but, as it was, I from that time continued
during my stay to receive from him the utmost kind-
ness and attention. The first short conversation
made me much better acquainted with the history of
the settlement than I was before my arrival.

In 1843 the Chilian Government decided on
establishing a penal settlement in the Straits of
Magellan, and selected for its position Port Famine,
which had been frequently visited by early navigators.
After a few years’ experience that place was abandoned,
and the settlement was transferred to Sandy Point.
This was. partly preferred on account of a deposit of
lignite of inferior quality, which lies little more than
a mile from the shore. A considerable number of
convicts were maintained at the station, and as there
was little risk of escape they were allowed consider-
able liberty. At length, in 1877, the injudicious
severity of the governor of that day provoked a
revolt among the convicts. They speedily overcame
the keepers, and the officials and peaceable inhabitants
had no resource left but to fly to the forest. The
convicts proceeded to set fire to the houses. Dr.
Fenton lost his house, furniture, and books, and, in

STORY OF THE MUTINY. 2gt

addition, the record of ten years’ meteorological
observations. By a fortunate accident, a Chilian war-
vessel reached Sandy Point just when disorder was at
its height ; the insurgents were speedily overpowered,
and several of the ringleaders executed. The weather
was unusually mild, and the refugees, amongst whom
were many ladies and young children, suffered less
than might have been expected in such a climate.
Nearly all the houses seen by me had been hastily
erected since the outbreak, and, as was natural, were
on a scale barely sufficing for the wants of the
inmates.

I fully understood that no amount of hospitable
intentions could enable Dr. Fenton to give me quarters
in his house, and he assured me that the governor,
Don Francisco Sampayo, was no less restricted as to
accommodation. One resource, however, seemed
available: the German consul, Herr Meidell, had
returned for a visit to Europe, and it was thought
that, on application to his partner, a room might
certainly be obtained in his house. My dark-haired
friend, who had reappeared on the scene, and who
turned out to be a native of Gibraltar, kindly under-
took to arrange the matter, and, after an early dinner
at Dr. Fenton’s hospitable table, I proceeded with
him to present my letter to the governor. The great
man had not yet returned to shore, but I made the
acquaintance of his wife, a delicate Peruvian lady,
who sat, wrapped in a woollen shawl, in a room
without a fire, of which the temperature must have
been about 45° Fahr. On leaving the governor's
house, we again encountered my envoy, whose

ty

52 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

countenance at once proclaimed that he had failed in
his mission. Mr. Meidell, being a cautious man, had
locked up most of his furniture and household effects
before going to Europe, and had left strict injunctions
that no one was to enter the part of his house used as
a private dwelling. As we stood consulting about
further proceedings, a tall figure approached, and I
Jearned that it belonged to the stranger who occupied
the solitary room available for visitors to Sandy
Point.

I speedily made the acquaintance of Signor Vin-
ciguerra, one of the group of energetic young Italian
naturalists whose head-quarters are at Genoa. He
belonged to the expedition commanded by Lieutenant
Bove of the Italian navy, and had remained at Sandy
Point to investigate the zoology of the neighbouring
coast, while his companions proceeded to Staten
Island, or Isla de los Estados, at the eastern extremity
of the Fuegian Archipelago. Community of pursuits
and several mutual friends at once cemented cordial
relations, and Signor Vinciguerra kindly undertook to
make room for me in his rather restricted quarters.
We proceeded to the house close by the landing-
place, and I was in the act of arranging the matter
with the landlord, when the British vice-consul
appeared. He had overcome the scruples of Mr.
Meidell’s partner, a mattress and some coverings had
been found, a room was at my disposal, with a bed on
the floor, and the lodging difficulty was solved.

Not without some regret at being separated from
an agreeable companion, I accepted the offered
quarters, and had the needful portion of my luggage

PATAGONIAN LADIES. 253

carried to my temporary home. As the sun. set before
four o'clock, it was already dark before I was in-
stalled in my new quarters, and the evening was spent
under the hospitable roof of Dr. Fenton, from whom
I received much interesting information as to the
region which he has made his home, and the in-
digenous population. On my way to his house I saw
the first specimens of the Patagonian Indians, who at
this season frequent the settlement to dispose of skins,
chiefly guwanaco and rhea, and indulge in their ruling
passion for ardent spirits. Two ladies of large and
stout build, attired in shabby and torn European
dress, and both far gone in intoxication, were standing
at a door of a shop or store, and indulging in loud
talk for the entertainment of a circle of bystanders.
The language was, I presume, their native dialect,
with here and there a word of Spanish or English,
and the subject seemed to be what with us would be
called chaff, as their remarks elicited frequent peals of
laughter. I was suddenly reminded of a drunken Irish
basket-woman whose freaks had been the cause of
mingled alarm and amusement in my early childhood.

During the day the streets of Punta Arenas were
deep in mud, but as I went home at night, the sky
was cloudless, a sharp frost had set in, and the mud
was hard frozen. I had not before enjoyed so fine
a view of the southern heavens. The cross was
brilliant, nearly in the zenith, and I made out clearly
the dark starless spaces that have been named the
coal-sacks.

I was on foot before daylight on the 11th of June.
The benevolent German who managed Mr. Meidell’s

254 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

establishment sent up a cup of hot coffee, and a
brazier with charcoal, which was grievously wanted
to dry my plant-paper. The sky was still clear, and
the sun, rising blood-red over the flat shores of Tierra
del Fuego on the opposite side of the Straits, was
a striking spectacle. I had arranged overnight to
take with me a boy having some knowledge of the
neighbourhood, and was just starting for a walk when
I met the governor, who at this early hour was on his
way to call upon me. After a short conversation with
this courteous gentleman, and accepting an invitation
to dine at his house, I pursued my course in the direc-
tion of the now disused coal mine. For about half
a mile I followed the tramway which was erected
some years ago to carry the coal to the port. It runs
along the low ground between the hills and the shore,
and then enters a little flat-bottomed valley between
the hills. Heavy rain had recently fallen, and the
flat had been flooded, but the surface was now frozen
over. Before long we found the tramway imprac-
ticable ; it had been allowed to fall to decay, and,
being supported on trestles, the gaps were incon-
veniently frequent. I then attempted to continue my
walk over the flat, and found the ice in some places
strong enough to bear my weight, but it frequently
gave way, and I soon got tired of splashing through
the surface into the ice-cold water, and resolved to
betake myself to the adjoining hills. The weather
showed itself as changeable on this day as it usually
is in this singular climate. For about half an hour
the sky was clear and the sun so warm that I could
not bear an overcoat. Then a breeze sprung up from

VEGETATION OF SANDY POINT. 255

the north-west, the sky was soon covered, and some
rain fell; again the sky cleared, and, if I remember
right, four or five similar changes occurred before
nightfall.

At this season I could not expect to see much of
the vegetation of the country, but I found rather more
than I expected. Two Composite, both evergreen
shrubs, were abundantly clothed with fruit, and among
other characteristic forms I collected two species of
Acena,a genus widely spread through the southern
hemisphere, allied to, but very distinct from, our
common Adchemilla. From its ancestral home in
south polar lands, many descendants have reached
South America, and some of these have followed the
Andean chain, and thus got to Mexico and California.
From the same stock we find representatives in New
Zealand, Australia, Tristan d’Acunha, and South
Africa, while one has travelled so far as the Sandwich
Islands. The seeds are provided with hooked beaks,
which may have attached themselves to the plumage
of oceanic birds, and a single successful transport in
the course of many ages may have introduced the
parent of the existing species to new regions of the
earth. It was not without interest to find two cosmo-
politan weeds, our common shepherd’s purse and
chickweed, both flowering in winter in this remote
part of the world.

From the summit of the hill I enjoyed a good
view of the flat-topped range—apparently from 2500
to 3000 feet in height—that separates the Straits
of Magellan from Otway Water. This is a land-
locked basin nearly fifty miles long and half as wide,

256 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

connected with the sea by a narrow sound that opens
on the western side of the Straits near Port Gallant.
The lower slopes of the intervening range are covered
with forest, and the summit apparently bare, but in
this season covered with snow. If the extreme diffi-
culty of penetrating the forests were not well known,
it would be a matter of surprise that no one has ever
crossed the range, and that the eastern shores of
Otway Water, not thirty miles distant from Punta
Arenas, are yet unexplored.

In returning to Punta Arenas I passed through the
remains of the burnt forest that once extended close
to the houses. In the summer of 1873, either by design
or accident, fire seized the forest, composed of large
trees of the antarctic beech, and raged so furiously for
a time as to threaten destruction to the entire place.
After the first efforts at averting the immediate danger,
no further interference was attempted, and I was
assured that the conflagration was not entirely ex-
hausted until the ensuing winter, nearly six months
after it commenced. I passed the charred remains of
hundreds of thick stumps, many of them over three
feet in diameter, but I was surprised to find several
trees much too large to have grown up since the fire,
which in some unexplained way escaped destruction.
Unlike most of the beeches of the southern hemisphere,
this has deciduous leaves, so that the branches were
bare; but many of them were laden with the curious
parasite, AZysodendron punctulatum, the structure of
which plant and its allies was long ago admirably
illustrated by Sir Joseph Hooker.*

* «Flora Antarctica,” vol. ii. p. 289.

+

THE GOVERNOR'S FAMILY. 257

The evening of this day was very agreeably spent
at the house of the governor, who had invited to his
table Commander Pietrabona and two officers of the
Argentine corvette, Cabo de Ornos, Signor Vinciguerra,
the captain of the port, and two or three of the prin-
cipal inhabitants. One of the favourable features by
which a stranger is impressed in Chili is the com-
parative moderation with which political conflicts are
conducted. In the other South American republics
a conspicuous party leader is marked by the opposite
party for relentless proscription, and not rarely for
assassination. In Chili political offences are condoned.
Don Francisco Sampayo, who is a courteous and
" accomplished gentleman, had been mixed up in the
same abortive movements in which Don B. Vicufia
Mackenna was concerned, and had with that gentle-
man undergone a term of exile, but was subsequently
appointed by his political opponents to the govern-
ment of this settlement.

The government house was unpretending, and could
not by any stretch of language be called luxurious.
Two good reception-rooms and the bedrooms of the
family, all on the ground floor, opened into a small court
exposed to rain and snow. The reception-rooms had
fireplaces, but these were used only in the evenings,
and it was not surprising that the governor’s wife,
brought up in the tepid climate of Peru, seemed unable
to resist the inclemency of this region. Their children,
however, were vigorous and thriving, reminding one
more of English boys and girls than any I had seen
in South America. The most interesting figure in the
family group was that of the mother of Madame

S

258 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

Sampayo, an elderly lady, with the remains of remark-
able beauty, and an unusual combination of dignity
and grace with lively, almost playful, conversation.
The removal to this inhospitable shore had not
quenched her activity, and she employed her leisure
in devising pretty ornaments from seaweeds, shells,
and other natural productions of the place.

The Chilian and Argentine Republics concluded,
in the year before my visit, a convention to regulate
their rival pretensions to the possession of the territory
on both sides of the Straits of Magellan, which at one
time threatened to engage the two states in war for
a worthless object. The new boundary-line is drawn
along the middle of the peninsula, ending in Cape
Virgenes at the eastern entrance of the Straits, thus
leaving to Chili the whole of the northern shores.
Opposite to Cape Virgenes is a headland named Cape
Espiritu Santo on the main island of Tierra del Fuego.
The boundary runs due south from that point, cutting
the island into two nearly equal parts, of which the
eastern half, along with Staten Island, is assigned to
Argentaria. As I understood from the conversation
at dinner, Commander Pietrabona had obtained from
his government a grant or lease of Staten Island, but
it seems very doubtful whether any profit can be
derived from an island lying nearly three degrees
further south than the Falklands, and fully exposed
to the antarctic current.

Amongst the various nationalities that met on this
evening, the representative of Germany, the captain
of the port, was perhaps the most typical. He is
believed to have a more complete and accurate know-

A WET DAY. 259

ledge of the coasts of the Straits of Magellan and of
the Channels of Patagonia than any other living man,
The conversation was animated, and not seldom turned
on the topography of this region; but the worthy
Teuton sat obstinately silent, or, when directly ap-
pealed to, generally answered by a single monosyllable
of assent or negation. A superficial cbserver would
have set this down as evidence of a surly or misan-
thropic disposition, but in truth this worthy man is
noted for good nature and a ready disposition to oblige
his neighbours. Having accepted the governor’s offer
of a horse for an excursion on the following day, I
departed with the other guests, and once again enjoyed
the view of the southern heavens undefiled by a single
cloud, and found the mud of the streets frozen hard.
The dawn of June 12 was again cloudless, and
the circle of the red sun, distorted by refraction, rose
over the flats of Tierra del Fuego. But in less than
a quarter of an hour heavy leaden clouds gathered
from all sides and portended a stormy day. I felt
rather unwell, and resolved to postpone my intended
excursion to the following day. After the needful
care given to my plant-collections, I repaired to the
hospitable sitting-room of Dr. Fenton, which was, I
believe, the only moderately warm spot at Punta
Arenas, and passed the day in his company, or that of
Mrs. Fenton and their pretty and intelligent children.
The heavy rain which persisted nearly all day
diminished my regret at having to remain indoors.
I made a few notes of the varied information which
I obtained from a gentleman who has had unusual
opportunities for acquiring knowledge, and who,

260 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

although not a professed naturalist, appears to be an
accurate observer.

The Patagonian Indians who frequent Punta Arenas
to dispose of skins appear to be rapidly diminishing
in numbers, and one good observer believes that they
are now to be counted rather by hundreds than by
thousands. The chief cause is doubtless the destruc-
tive effect of ardent spirits. They commonly expend
nearly everything they gain in drink, but after re-
covering from a fit of beastly intoxication they usually
invest whatever money remains in English biscuits,
which they carry off to the interior. Here, as well
as at many other places in South America, I heard
curious stories showing the extraordinary estimation
in which Messrs. Huntley and Palmer are held by the
native population. Among the curious customs of
these Indians, Dr. Fenton told me that as soon as a
child is born one or more horses are assigned to it as
property, and if the child should die, as they often do,
prematurely, the horses are killed. He further says
that a childless Indian not rarely adopts a dog, the
ceremony being marked by assigning horses to the
dog as his property, and that, as in the case of the
human child, at the dog’s death the horses are killed.

Agreeing with most of those who have observed the
Fuegians in their native home, Dr. Fenton is sceptical
as to the possibility of raising that hapless tribe above
their present condition. All honour is due to the
devoted men who have laboured at the mission station
at Ushuaia in the Beagle Channel, and it may be that
some partial success has been obtained with children
taken at an early age. But, looking around at the

HABITS OF RHEA DARWINII. 261

multiplied needs of so many other less degraded
branches of our race, one is tempted to believe that
such noble efforts might more usefully be bestowed
elsewhere. Dr. Fenton thinks that the fact, which
appears to be well attested, that Fuegians, in a rough
sea, when in danger in their frail canoes, have been
known to throw an infant overboard, is evidence that
they believe in spirits, the child being offered to
.appease the wrath of supernatural powers. I confess
that I place little reliance on the conclusions of
civilized men as to the ideas or motives of savage
races in a condition so low that we have the most
imperfect means of communicating with them.

I was not able to ascertain positively whether the
species of rhea, or South American ostrich, found
near the Straits of Magellan, is exclusively the smaller
species (Rhea Darwiniz), but I believe there is no
doubt that the larger bird does not range so far as
Southern Patagonia. Dr. Fenton has had frequent
opportunities for observing the habits of the bird.
He finds that the nests are constructed by the female
birds, three or four of these joining for the purpose.
One of them deposits a single egg in a hollow place,
and over this the nest is built. Each of the females
deposits several eggs in the nest, and then wanders
away, the male bird sitting on the nest till the young
birds are hatched. When this happens the parent
clears away the nest, breaks up the egg which lay
beneath it, and gives it to the young birds for food.
The flesh is described as delicious, somewhat inter-
mediate in flavour between hare and grouse.

Dr. Fenton had commenced the trial of an experi-

262 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

ment which, if successful, may hereafter attract settlers
to the eastern shores of the Straits of Magellan. The
appearance of the country had already shown to me
that the climate is much drier here than on the western
side of Cape Froward, and I believe that the range
above spoken of, which divides this coast from Otway
Water, is about the eastern limit of the extension of
the zone of continuous forests that cover all but the
higher levels of Western Patagonia. Between Peckett
Harbour, about forty miles north of Punta Arenas,
and the Atlantic coast the country is open and pro-
duces an abundance of coarse herbage. Sheep are
known to thrive in the Falkland Islands, about the
same latitude, and Dr. Fenton had recently procured
from that place a flock which he had established in
the neighbourhood of Peckett Harbour.

I was warned that the English steamer might
possibly arrive in the afternoon of June 13, though
more probably on the following day, so that it was
expedient to start early on the short excursion which
I proposed to make along the coast to the north of
Punta Arenas. The horses were ready soon after
sunrise, and the governor’s secretary was good enough
to accompany me. After fording the stream which
flows by the settlement, we for some distance followed
the sandy beach, dismounting here and there to ex-
amine the vegetation. Few plants could at this
season be found in a state in which they could be
certainly identified, but there was quite enough to
reward a naturalist. It was very interesting to find
here several cosmopolitan species whose diffusion
cannot, I think, be set down to the agency of man.

BOTANICAL EXCURSION. 263

Of these I may reckon Plantago maritima, and a
slight variety of our common sea-pink (Armeria
maritima, var. andina). To these I am disposed to
add Rumex acetosella, which I found creeping in
the sand far from the settlement, and a form of
the common dandelion (Taraxacum levigatum of
botanists). Along with these were several represen-
tatives of the antarctic flora—a Colobanthus, three
species of Acena,a Gununera, an Ourisia, and several
others. Of bushes the most conspicuous are the ber-
berries, of which I found three species. One of these,
which I had already seen in the Channels, has leaves
like those of a holly, and is appropriately named
Berberis ilicifolia. Another, which is very common
here (Berberis buxifolia), has sweet berries, pleasant
to the taste ; and the third (B. empetrifolia) is a dwarf
bush, scarcely a foot high, which seems to be confined
to the sandy shore. A taller shrub, which I had seen
in the Channels as well as in this neighbourhood
(Maytenus Magellanica of botanists), is called Leva
dura, and is valued for the hardness of the wood,
useful for many small articles. The genus extends
throughout South America, but most of the species
inhabit tropical Brazil, and we may look on this as
the solitary representative of the tropical flora which
has reached the southern extremity of the continent.
Having collected whatever was to be found close to
the shore, I proposed to strike inland towards the
base of the low hills. The country near was a dead
flat, and seemed to offer no obstacle. After riding
for about a mile over dry ground, we gradually found
ourselves in the midst of shallow pools of water, now

264 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

frozen over. As we advanced progress became more
and more difficult. The heavy rain of the preceding
day had partially melted the ice. In some places it
was strong enough to bear the horses; but it con-
stantly broke under their feet, and they became
restive, very naturally objecting to this mode of
travelling. After a while, to my surprise, we struck
upon a cart track. This, as I soon saw, led to two or
three houses inhabited by a few Swiss settlers, who
endeavoured to make a living by raising some vege-
tables for Punta Arenas. The soil appeared to be
rich: in this.climate few plants can mature fruit or
seed, but the more hardy European vegetables thrive
sufficiently. Our difficulties were by no means at an
end. The cart track was a mass of half-frozen mud,
with holes fully two feet deep, into which the horses
plunged, until at last it was not easy to persuade
them to move in any direction. I dismounted and
ascended a hillock some eighty feet above the plain,
but on all sides could see no issue from the maze of
shallow frozen pools. With some trouble we reached
one of the houses, but, in answer to our inquiries, were
told that they knew of no better way to Punta Arenas
than by the cart track. Apprehending the arrival of
the Pacific Company’s steamer, and not wishing to
remain another fortnight in this remote region, I
resolved to return as best we could, and, as always
happens, experience enabled both horses and riders
to avoid the worst places, so that we got through
better than we had expected.

Having made all ready for the possible arrival of
the steamer, whose stay is usually very short, I again

ZEAL FOR EDUCATION. 265

enjoyed the hospitality of the governor,and once more
found myself in the agreeable society of Signor Vin-
ciguerra. One of the many laudable characteristics
of Chilian society, in striking contrast with their kins-
men in Spain, is the genuine anxiety commonly
shown for the education of the rising generation. It is,
indeed, rather amusing to note the tone of contempt-
uous pity with which the Chilians of pure Spanish
descent speak of their European cousins, who are
usually denominated “los Gotos.” The governor's
eldest son had been sent to Germany to pursue his
studies, and the services of a young German, who
apparently had got into some scrape connected with
politics in his own country, had been secured to con-
duct the education of the younger children. Before
dinner the preceptor was engaged in guiding the
fingers of one child upon an old pianoforte, and
immediately after dinner lessons were resumed with
the other children.

In the course of the evening we had a curious
illustration of the difficulty of speaking correctly two
closely allied dialects. Conversing in Italian with
Signor Vinciguerra, a laugh was raised against me
for introducing a Spanish word into a sentence ; but
this was redoubled when, a few minutes later, my
Italian friend did exactly the same thing.

Thought is inextricably linked with the impressions
derived from the senses, which, excepting with the
deaf and dumb, are ordinarily based upon language ;
and whenever a man speaks with even moderate
fluency the fact implies that he thinks in that
language. The effort of changing from one language

266 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

to that of another is that of changing, so to say, the
channel through which thought runs. When they
are sufficiently different there is no difficulty in main-
taining thought within the assigned channel; but
when the languages, or dialects, are nearly alike, it is
much more difficult to maintain the intended course.
It seems to me, indeed, that there is a link of associa-
tion not only between the idea and the word, but also
with the sound of the word. There is comparatively
little difficulty in passing from one language to
another, though etymologically near akin, when the
prevailing sounds are different. Thus, although
Portuguese and Spanish are so nearly allied, it is
easier to pass from one to the other than from Spanish
to Italian, because the phonetic differences are greater
in the former case.

The night passed without disturbance, though I had
made all ready in case of being summoned to embark ;
but as the arrival of the steamer was confidently
predicted, I completed my arrangements, and removed
my luggage to the office of the port captain on the
morning of the 14th. The weather was nearly quite
dry all day, with a prevailing sharp wind from the
south-west, varied by two or three abrupt changes. I
did not venture to go into the country, and contented
myself with trotting up and down, mainly with the
object of keeping myself warm. Evening closed ; but
no steamer appeared, and I accepted Dr. Fenton’s
offer of a sofa in his sitting-room for the night, whereon
to await the expected summons. Towards four
o'clock I sallied forth, without disturbing the house-
hold. Profound silence prevailed throughout the

WRECK OF THE “ DOTEREL.” 267

settlement; the stars of the southern hemisphere
beamed with extraordinary brilliancy, and the muddy
streets were iron-bound with frost. After another
doze on the sofa, I again went out at dawn, and
enjoyed a beautiful sunrise.

The morning of June 15 was unusually favourable
for distant views. Beyond the low, bare flats of
Tierra del Fuego there showed to the south-east a
range of hills, or mountains, whose heights I estimated
at from 3500 to 4000 feet, but it is needless to say
that, with unfamiliar atmospheric conditions, where
the judgment as to distance is so uncertain, such an
estimate is quite unreliable. Nearly due south lies
Dawson Island, and several high summits were visible
in that direction, but I do not believe that either
Mount Darwin or Mount Sarmiento are visible from
this part of the coast.

During the day I went a short way along the shore
to the south, passing the cemetery wherein lie the
bodies recovered from the wreck of the Doterel. The
origin of the explosion which caused that ship to go
down with all hands within sight of the settlement,
was long a matter of doubt. The most probable
opinion is that it was due to the spontaneous ignition
of gas generated in unventilated coal-bunkers. Nearly
opposite lay the hull of another ship which became a
partial wreck on this coast. It contained a cargo of
Welsh coal, which is sold at the heavy price of four
pounds a ton, and occasionally serves for steamers
whose supply has run short.

Along the sandy shores the most conspicuous plant,
with large white cottony leaves, is a species of Senecio

268 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

(S. candidans of botanists), which, with nearly twenty
others, represents that cosmopolitan genus in this
region. What light would be thrown on the past
history of the vegetable kingdom if we could learn
the origin of that vast genus, and the processes by
which it has been diffused throughout the world!
Of about nine hundred known species that extend
from the Arctic Circle to high southern latitudes, and
from the highest zone of the Alps, the Himalayas
and the Andes, to the low country of Brazil and the
scorching plains of North and South Africa, the great
majority are confined to small areas, and are unusually
constant in structure, thus presenting a marked con-
trast to the ordinary rule, dwelt on by Darwin, that
among genera that extend over a large portion of
earth and have numerous species, the species, or many
ef them, are themselves widely spread and vary much
in form. Neither do we find among the crowd of
species many indications of the general tendency to
form groups of species nearly allied in appearance
and structure within the same geographical area.
Many of the very numerous South American species
are nearly allied to European and Asiatic forms. Thus
in the comparatively small area of Europe we find
the representatives of groups characteristic of regions
widely separated,,and even in the poverty-stricken
flora of Britain such different forms as the common
groundsel, the ragwort of neglected fields, and the
less common Senecio paludosus, and S. campestris.
The day wore on, and yet no steamer appeared.
Knowing people began to speculate on the possibility
of some accident having delayed her arrival, or sur-

PACIFIC STEAMER DELAYED. 269

mised the prevalence of such thick weather about the
western entrance to the Straits as might have led her
commander to make the circuit by Cape Horn. In
the latter case, I should be detained for another fort-
night, and although I should have gladly seen some-
thing more of the country, and found myself meantime
fortunate in pleasant society, I did not in this season
desire so long a delay. Once more I betook myself
at night to the sofa in Dr. Fenton’s hospitable house,
and at length, about four in the morning, a tapping
at the window announced that the lights of the steamer
were in view. Dr. Fenton, who wished to go on
board, was speedily ready, and we went to the landing-
place where, until the jetée, still in construction, should
be finished, the boats are run up on the sandy beach.
There was some delay in finding the key of the store
where my luggage was housed, but at last we were
ready to start. The boat, however, was fast aground
on the flat margin of the bay ; in vain the four boat-
men shoved with their oars, until the taciturn port
captain barked out the order to get into the water
and shove her off. It was freezing hard, and I fear
the poor fellows wished me and my luggage no good
when, after much striving, we were finally afloat, and
they resumed their places at the oars. In the dark
the great hull loomed gigantic as, about five a.m., we
pulled alongside of the steamer, which turned out to
be the Jéeria, one of the largest and finest vessels
of the Pacific Company, commanded by Captain
Shannon.

Having learned that the steamer had been detained
by very heavy weather in the South Pacific, and had

270 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

had great difficulty in making Cape Pillar, the western
landmark of the Straits, I bade farewell to my kind
host, and sought for quarters in-the great floating
hotel. There is something depressing in arriving in
a place of entertainment ona cold night, when it is
obvious that one’s appearance is neither expected nor
desired. After a while a steward, scarcely half awake,
made his appearance, and arranged my berth. I soon
turned in, and slept until near nine o’clock, when we
were already well on our way towards the Atlantic
opening of the Straits. The morning was bright and
not very cold, and for the first time since I entered
this region the weather remained unchanged during
the day, and the. sky clear, with the exception of
heavy banks of cloud which showed in the afternoon
above the southern and western horizon.

In the morning, when about twenty miles north of
Sandy Point, and nearly abreast of Peckett Harbour,
the unmistakable peak of Mount Sarmiento was for
a short time distinctly seen. It is needless to say
that this was due to atmospheric refraction, for the
distance was rather over a hundred English miles,
and in a non-refracting atmosphere a mountain seven
thousand feet high would be below the visible horizon
at a distance of about eighty-five miles. Of Mount
Darwin, which is believed to be the highest summit of
the Fuegian Archipelago, I was not destined to see
anything ; it is probably completely concealed by the
range which runs across the main island of Tierra del
Fuego.

The scenery of the eastern side of the Straits of
Magellan offers little to attract the eye, the shores on

RE-ENTERING THE ATLANTIC, 271

both sides being low and little varied. From Cape
Froward to Peckett Harbour the Patagonian coast
runs nearly due north, and then trends east-north-east
for about seventy miles, where the channel is con-
tracted between the northern shore and Elizabeth
Island. After passing the island, we entered the part
called “The Narrows,” where the Fuegian coast
approaches very near to the mainland of the continent.
As the day was declining, we issued from this channel
into a bay fully thirty miles wide, partly closed by
two headlands, which are the landmarks for seamen
entering the Straits from the Atlantic. That on the
Fuegian side is Cape Espiritu Santo, and the bolder
promontory on the northern side is the Cape Virgenes,
To a detached rock below the headland English sea-
men have given the name Dungeness. In the failing
light, I could see that the coast westward from Cape
Virgenes rises into hills, which appeared to be bare of
forest. I should guess their height not to exceed two
thousand feet, if it even reaches that limit.

It was almost quite dark when we finally re-entered
the Atlantic, and found its waters in a very gentle
mood. In these latitudes the name Pacific is not well
applied to any part of that which the older navigators
more fittingly designated the Southern Ocean.

It was impossible to live for more than a week in
winter, at the southern extremity of the American
continent, without having one’s attention engaged by
the singular features of the climate of this region, and
especially by their bearing on wider questions which
have of late years assumed fresh importance. Mainly
through the writings of Dr. James Croll, and the re-

272 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

markable ability and perseverance with which he has
sustained his views, geologists and students of every
other branch of natural science have learned to
estimate the influence which the secular changes in
the eccentricity of the earth’s orbit may have exercised
on the physical condition of our planet. I have
ventured, in the Appendix, to discuss some portions
of the vast range of subjects treated of by Dr. Croll,*
and to state the reasons which force me to dissent
from some of his conclusions ; but I shall here merely
say that the impressions derived from my own short
experience have been confirmed by subsequent diligent
inquiry, and especially by the writings of Dr. Julius
Hann, most of which have been published since my
return to England.

The belief that the mean temperature of the southern
is considerably lower than that of the northern hemi-
sphere was, until recently, prevalent among physical
geographers, and has been assumed as an undoubted
fact by Dr. Croll. He accounts for it by the pre-
dominance of warm ocean currents that pass from the
southern to the northern hemisphere within the tropics,
and which, as he maintains, ultimately carry a great
portion of the heat of the equatorial regions to the
north Temperate and Frigid Zones. I think that
this belief, as well as many others regarding physical
geography, originated in the fact that physical science
in its more exact form, had its birth in Western Europe,
a region which, especially as to climate, is altogether
exceptional in its character. The further our know-.
ledge, yet too limited, has extended in the southern

* See Appendix B.

TEMPERATURE OF SOUTHERN HEMISPHERE. 273

hemisphere the less ground we find for a belief in the
supposed inferiority of its mean temperature. What
we do find, in exact conformity with obvious physical
principles, is that in the hemisphere where the water
surface largely predominates over that of land, the
temperature is much more uniform than where the
land occupies the larger portion of the surface. In
the former, the heat of summer is mainly expended
in the work of converting water into vapour, and
partially restored in winter in the conversion of vapour
into water or ice.

We unfortunately possess but three stations in the
southern hemisphere, south of the fiftieth degree of
latitude, from which meteorological observations are
available, and these are all in the same vicinity—the
Falkland Islands, Punta Arenas, and Ushuaja, the
mission station in the Beagle Channel at the south
side of the main island of Tierra del Fuego. The
following table shows the mean temperature of the
year at these stations in degrees of Fahrenheit’s scale.

South latitude. Mean temperature of year.
Falklands ... dha gee, GU GT aay about 43°00°
Punta Arenas... gee 53025) ae sia 43°52°
Ushuaja_ ... ane Ai SAR SB. Sas acs 42°39°

If we compare these with the results of observations
at places on the east side of continents in the northern
hemisphere, we find the latter to show a very much
more rigorous climate. Nikolaiewsk, near the mouth
of the Amur, in lat. 52° 8’ north, has a mean annual
temperature of 324° Fahr.; and at Hopedale, in
Labrador, lat. 55° 35’, the mean is certainly not
higher than 26° Fahr. Even in the island of Anticosti,

al

274 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

at the mouth of the St. Lawrence, lat. 49° 24’ north,
the main yearly temperature is only 35°8°, or more
than 7° below that of the Falkland Islands. But it
may be truly said that, although the stations now
under discussion are on the eastern side of the South
American continent, they virtually enjoy an insular
climate, and that there is probably little difference
between their temperature and that of places on the
west side of the Straits of Magellan.

On comparing the few places out of Europe from
which we possess observations in high northern
latitudes, I think that the station which admits of
the fairest comparison is that of Unalaschka in the
North Pacific. The observations at [liluk in that
island, in lat. 53° 53’ north, show a mean annual
temperature of only 38:2° Fahr., while at Ushuaja, 1°
farther from the equator, the mean temperature is
higher by more that 4°. It is true that at Sitka, in
lat. 57° north, we find a mean temperature of 43'28°
Fahr., or about the same as that of the Falklands.
But the position of Sitka is quite exceptional. It is
completely removed from the influence of the cold
currents that destend through Behring’s Straits, and
a great mountain range protects it from northerly
winds ; south-westerly winds prevail throughout the
year, and a very heavy rainfall, averaging annually
eighty-one inches, imports to the air a large portion of
heat derived from equatorial regions. On the coast
of Western Patagonia and Southern Chili, this source
of heat is partly counteracted by the cold antarctic
current that sets along the western coast of South
America.

VOVAGE TO MONTE VIDEO. 278

The general conclusion, which seems to be fully
established, is that the southern hemisphere is not
colder than the northern, and that all arguments
based upon an opposite assumption must be set
aside.

Among the passengers on board the /deria were a
large proportion of ladies and children, the families of
English merchants settled in Chili They had been
miserable enough during the three or four days before
entering the Straits. The weather had been very
severe, and, large as is the vessel, heavy seas con-
stantly broke over her upper deck, so that even the
most adventurous were confined to the cabins, very
many to their berths. The change to quiet waters
and brighter skies acted like a charm, and the spirits
of the passengers rose even more than the barometer.
The children naturally became irrepressible, and left
not a quiet corner in the whole ship. Having first
invaded the smoking-cabin and made it the chief
depot for their toys and games, they next took posses-
sion of a small tent rigged up on the upper deck, to
which the ejected smokers had retired. There are
moments in such a voyage when one thinks that half
a gale of wind with a cross sea would not be altogether
unwelcome.

If such a perverse wish did arise in any breast, it
was certainly disappointed. The voyage to Monte
Video was uneventful, and offered little of special
interest, but the weather was throughout fine. On
the second day we met a slight breeze from the north,
causing a decided rise of temperature and a fall of
the barometer, but only a few drops of rain fell ; and

276 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

then, after returning to the normal temperature, the
thermometer rose steadily as we advanced daily about
four degrees of latitude. It may be worth while to
give the following extract from my notes, observing
that on board, ship temperature observations are
merely rough approximations, Those best admitting
comparison are made about a quarter of an hour after
sunset, the precise hour, of course, varying with the
latitude, of which I give only a rough estimate.

Date. Time. Latitude. Barometer. sar
June 16 Sunset 52° 30° 30°06 in. 37°5°
» 17 Noon 50° 29°68 ,, 48°5°
Sunset 29°70 ,, 48°0°
» 8 Noon 46° 29°90 ,, 50°5°
Sunset . 29°90 ,, 45°2°
» 19 9 a.m. 29°90 ;, 52°0°
Noon 42° 29°86 ,,
Sunset 29°88 ,, 480°
55 20° FO a.m. 38° 20° 29°88 ,,
Sunset 29°83 5, 54°0°

Favoured by clear weather, we occasionally had
glimpses of projecting headlands on the Patagonian
coast, and especially on the 19th, when we made out
the promontory of San José on the south side of the
wide and deep Bay of San Matias, and later in the
same day sighted some hills on the north side of
the same gulf near the mouth of the Rio Colorado,
the chief of Patagonian rivers.* As far as I could

* It is unfortunate that the Spaniards who had the naming of so
large a part of the American continent should have shown so little
inventive faculty. When they did not adopt a native name for a river,
they rarely got beyond Red River, Black River, or Big River, and

wherever we turn we encounter a Rio Colorado, a Rio Negro, or a Rio
Grande,

ESTUARY OF LA PLATA. 277

discern, the sea-birds that approached the ship were
the same species which had visited us on the Pacific
coast, cape pigeons being as before the most numerous
and persevering.

At sunrise on the shortest day we were approach-
ing the city of Monte Video. Covering a hill some
three hundred feet in height, and spreading along the
shore at its base, the town presents a rather imposing
aspect. It looks over the opening of the vast estuary
of La Plata, fully sixty miles wide, into which the
great rivers of the southern half of the continent
discharge themselves. From the detritus borne down
by these streams the vast plains that occupy the
larger part of the Argentine territory have been
formed in recent geological times, but the alluvial
deposits have not yet filled up the gulf that receives
the two great streams of the Parana and the Uruguay.
It would seem, however, that that consummation is
rapidly approaching. Extensive banks, reaching
nearly to the surface at low water, occupy large
portions of the great estuary, and the navigable
channel is so shallow that large ships are forced to
anchor twelve or fourteen miles below Buenos Ayres,
and even at Monte Video cannot approach nearer.
than two miles from the landing-place.

A small steam-tender came off to convey passengers
to the city, and, with very little delay at the custom-
house, I proceeded to the Hotel de la Paix, a French
house, to which I was recommended. In spite of the
irregularity of the ground, the city is laid out on the
favourite Spanish chess-board plan, in guadras of
nearly equal size. The main streets run parallel to

278 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

the shore, and, being nearly level, are well supplied
with tramcars ; but the cross streets are mostly steep
and badly paved. The flat roofs of the houses, en-
joying a wide sea-view, are the favourite resort of the
inmates in fine weather, and many of them have a
mirador, roofed in and windowed on all sides, whence
idle people may enjoy the view sheltered from sun’ or
rain. A stranger is at once struck by one marked
difference between the towns on the Atlantic coast
and those on the western side of South America.
Here people live free from the constant dread of
earthquakes, and do not shrink from making their
town houses as high as may be convenient ; but the
towns become more crowded, and one misses the
charming fatios of the better houses of Santiago and
Lima.

To a traveller fresh from Peru and Chili and
Western Patagonia, the region which I now entered,
with its boundless spaces of plain and its huge rivers,
appears by comparison tame and unattractive to the
lover of nature. It is true that the industrial develop-
ment of the last quarter of a century has been almost
as rapid here as in the great republic of North
America, The great plains are now traversed by
numerous lines of railway, and steamers ply on the
‘greater rivers and several of their tributaries. A
naturalist may now accomplish in a few weeks, and
at a trifling cost, expeditions that formerly demanded
years of laborious travel. The southern slopes of the
Bolivian Andes, stretching into the Argentine States
of Salta, Oran, and Jujuy, are easily reached by the
railway to Tucuman ; and yet easier is the journey by

CLIMATE OF URUGUAY. 279

the Paraguay river steamers that carry him over
seventeen hundred miles of waterway to Cuyaba, in
Central Brazil, the chief town of the great province of
Matto Grosso. But the time at my disposal was
strictly limited, and the coming glories of Brazil
haunted my imagination, so that I had no difficulty
in deciding to make but a brief halt in this part of
the continent, limiting myself to a short excursion on
the river Uruguay and a glimpse of Buenos Ayres.
Of three days passed at Monte Video a consider-
able portion was occupied by the English newspapers,
full of intelligence of deep and chiefly of painful
interest; but I twice had a pleasant walk in the
country near the city. Some heavy rain had fallen
before my arrival, and the roads, which are ill kept,
were deep in mire; but the winter season in this
region is very agreeable, and the favourable impression
made during my short stay was confirmed by the
general testimony of the residents as to the salubrity
of the climate. The winter temperature is about the
same as in the same latitude on the Chilian coast, but
the summers are warmer by 9° or 10° Fahr., and the
mean temperature of the year fully 5° higher, being
here about 62° Fahr. We are, however, far removed
from the great contrasts of temperature that are
found on the eastern side of North America. At
Monte Video the difference between the means of the
hottest and coldest months is 22°, while in the same
latitude on the coast of North Carolina the difference
is fully 35°. On the whole, the climate most nearly
resembles that of places on the coast of Algeria,
especially that of Oran, save that in the latter place

280 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

the winters are slightly colder and the summer
months somewhat hotter.

The town is surrounded by country houses belong-
ing to the merchants and other residents, each with a
guinta (garden or pleasure-ground), in which a variety
of subtropical plants seem to thrive. Comparatively
few of the indigenous plants showed flower or fruit,
certainly less than one is used to see in winter nearer
home on the shores of the Mediterranean. Buta small
proportion of the ground is under tillage, and beyond
the zone of houses and gardens one soon reaches the
open country, which extends through nearly all the
territory of the republic. The English residents have
adopted the Spanish term (camo), which is universally
applied in this region of America to the open country
whereon cattle are pastured, and the stranger does
not at first well understand the question when asked
whether he is “ going to the camp.”

The only fences used in a region where wood of
every kind is scarce are posts about six feet high,
connected by three or four strands of stout iron wire.
These are set at distances of some miles apart, and
serve to keep the cattle of each estancia from straying.
It is said that when these fences were first introduced,
many animals were killed or maimed by running at
full speed against the iron wires, but that such cases
have now become rare. The more intelligent or more
cautious individuals avoided the danger, and have
transmitted their qualities to a majority of their off-
spring.

At the hospitable table of the British minister, Mr.
Monson, I met among other guests Mr. E , one

‘ SIGNOR BARTOLOMEO BOSSI. 281

of the principal English merchants, whose kindness
placed me under several obligations. On the follow-
ing day he introduced me to an enterprising Italian,
whose name deserves to be remembered in connection
with modern exploration of the coasts of Patagonia
and Tierra del Fuego. Signor Bartolomeo Bossi, who
emigrated early in life to South America, seems to
be a born explorer, and whenever he has laid by
sufficient funds for the purpose he has forsaken other
pursuits to start upon some expedition to new or
little known parts of the continent. In a small
steamer of 220 tons, fitted out at his own cost, he has
in two expeditions minutely explored the intricate
coasts of the Fuegian Archipelago and a great portion
of the Channels of Patagonia.

Several of the discoveries interesting to navigators
made in the course of the first of these voyages
were published in the Woticias Hidrograficas of the
Chilian naval department for 1876, and Signor Bossi
asserts that the chief motive that determined the
English admiralty in despatching the surveying
expedition of the A/ert was to verify the announce-
ments first made by him. I have not seen any
reference to Signor Bossi in the interesting volume,
“The Cruise of the A/ert,” by Dr. Coppinger ; but it
appears certain that many of the observations re-
corded in the Santiago Wodzezas have been accepted,
and are embodied in the most recent charts.

In this part of America the Republic of Uruguay
is commonly designated as the Banda Oriental,
because it lies altogether on the eastern bank of that
great river. It possesses great natural advantages—

282 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

fine climate, sufficiently fertile soil, ready access by
water to a vast region of the continent, along with a
favourable position for intercourse with Europe. But
these privileges are made almost valueless by human
perversity. The military element, which has been
allowed to dominate in the republic, is the constant
source of social and political disorder. A stable
administration is unknown, for each successful general
who reaches the presidential chair must fail to satisfy
all the greedy partisans who demand a share of the
loaves and fishes. After a short time it becomes the
turn of a rival, who, with loud promises of reform, and
flights of patriotic rhetoric, raises the standard of
revolt. If he can succeed in getting enough of the
troops to join him, the revolution is made, and
Uruguay has a new president, whose history will be a
repetition of that of his predecessors. If the pretender
should fail, he is summarily shot, unless he be fortu-
nate enough to make his escape into the adjoining
territories of Brazil or Argentaria.

On the day after my arrival the news of a rising
headed by a popular colonel reached the capital, and
troops were sent off in some haste to suppress the
revolt. In each case the existence of the Government
depends on the uncertain contingency whether the
troops will remain faithful or will hearken to the fair
promises of the new candidate for power.

It is obvious that a country in a chronic condition
of disorder is a very inconvenient neighbour, and
Uruguay would long have ceased to exist as a
separate government, if it were not for the jealousy
of the two powerful adjoining states. Brazil and

NIGHT IN THE ESTUARY. 283

Argentaria * are each ready and willing to put down
the enfant terrible, but neither would tolerate the
annexation by its rival of such a desirable piece of
territory. The prospect of a long and sanguinary war
has hitherto withheld the Governments of Rio and
Buenos Ayres, and secured, for a time, immunity to
Uruguayan disorder.

I had arranged to start on the 24th of June, in the
steamer which plies between Monte Video and the
Lower Uruguay. That day being one of the many
festas that protect men of business in South America
from the risk of overwork, banks and offices were
closed, and but for the kindness of Mr. E—— I should
have found it difficult to carry out my plan. I went
on board in the afternoon, and found a small crowded
vessel, not promising much comfort to the passengers,
but offering the additional prospect of safe guidance
which every Briton finds on board a ship commanded
by a fellow-countryman.

The sun set in a misty sky as we left our moorings
and began to advance at half speed into the wide
estuary of La Plata. As night fell the mist grew
denser, and during the night and following morning
we were immersed in a thick white fog. It was in
reality a feat of seamanship that was accomplished
by our captain. The great estuary of La Plata,
gradually narrowing from about sixty miles opposite

* The constant inconvenience of employing such cumbrous expressions
as Argentine Confederation or Argentine territory for a state of such
vast extent and such yearly increasing importance must be felt by every
one who has occasion to speak or write about this region of America.
I trust that I shall be forgiven if in this book, as well as elsewhere, I
have taken the liberty of applying a single name, which has nothing
about it so strange as that it should not long since have come into use.

cd

284 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

Monte Video to about sixteen at Buenos Ayres, is
almost everywhere shallow and beset by sand or mud-
banks, between which run the navigable channels.
According to their draught, the ships that conduct
the extensive trade between Buenos Ayres and Europe
are spread over the space below the city, the larger
being forced to anchor at a distance of fourteen miles.
To avoid the banks, and to escape collision with the
ships in the water-way, in the midst of a fog so dense
was no easy matter. It is needless to say the utmost
caution was observed. We crept on gently through
the night, and at daybreak approached the anchorage
of the large ships. Our captain seemed to be perfectly
acquainted with the exact position of every one of
them, and, as with increasing light he was able to
recognize near objects, each in turn served as a buoy
to mark out the true channel. Soon after sunrise we
reached the moorings, about two miles from the
landing-place, and lay there for a couple of hours,
while the Buenos Ayres passengers and goods were
conveyed to us in a steam-tender. It was a new
experience to know one’s self so close to a great and
famous city without the possibility of distinguishing
any object.

At about ten a.m. we were again under steam and
making for the mouth of the Uruguay on the northern
side of the great estuary. The fog began to clear,
and finally disappeared when, a little before noon, we
were about to enter the waters of the mighty stream,
which is, after all, no more than a tributary of the
still mightier Parana.* Just at this point, signals and

* The Parana, with its great tributary the Paraguay, drains an area

THE URUGUAY RIVER. 285

shouts from a very small steamer induced our captain
to slacken speed. The strangers urgently appealed
to him to take on board some cargo for a place on
the river, the name of which escaped me. To this
request a polite but very decided refusal was returned,
the prudence of which we afterwards appreciated. The
cargo in question doubtless consisted of arms, ammu-
nition, or other stores for the use of the revolutionary
force supposed to be gathered at Mercedes, not far
from the junction of the Rio Negro with the Uruguay,
and it clearly behoved the steamboat company to
avoid being involved in such enterprises.

At its mouth the Uruguay has a width of several—
probably seven or eight—miles, and at the confluence
of the Rio Negro, some fifty miles up stream, the breadth
must be nearly half as much. The water at this time
was high, as heavy rain had fallen in the interior, and
the current had a velocity of about three miles an hour.
I believe that it is only exceptionally, during unusu-
ally dry seasons, that tidal water enters the channels
of the Parana or the Uruguay. I was struck by the
frequent passage of large green masses of foliage that
floated past as we ascended the river. Some consisted
of entire trees or large houghs, but several others ap-
peared to be formed altogether of masses of herbaceous
vegetation twined together or adhering by the tangled
roots. It can easily be imagined that, where portions
of the bank have been undermined and fall into a
stream, the soil is washed away from the roots, and the
whole may be floated down the stream and even

of more than 1,100,000 square miles; the basin of the Uruguay is
reckoned at 153,000 square miles,

286 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

carried out to sea. The efficacy of this mode of
transport as one of the means for the dispersion of
plants is now generally recognized, and, considering
that the basin of the Parana covers a space of over
twenty-one degrees of latitude, we must admit the pro-
bability that it has had a large part in the diffusion of
many tropical and subtropical species to the southern
part of the continent.

The Rio Negro, which drains about half the terri-
tory of the republic, is the chief affluent of the Uruguay.
At the junction we met a small steamer which plies
to and fro on the tributary stream, and some time
was lost in effecting the exchange of passengers and
cargo. From some new-comers we gathered rather
vague reports as to the attempted revolution. The
chief was a certain Colonel Maximo Perez, already
well known in Uruguayan political life. I have
already explained that the term in this country means
the effort to use the soldiery to upset the existing
administration, or, if you happen to be in power, to
employ the same agency to make short work of your
rivals. It was generally thought that Perez had
made the mistake of raising the standard too soon,
and must fail. This anticipation was soon verified,
and before I left the country two reports, each equally
authentic, reached the capital—the one that he had
made his escape, the other that he had been shot.
To the community it was a matter of indifference
which story might be true: in the one case, he would
appear again to renew the revolt ; in the other, some
new adventurer would take his place.

A few miles above the confluence of the Rio Negro

ISLANDS OF THE URUGUAY. 287

we reached Fray Bentos, the great factory where
“Liebig’s Extract of Beef” is prepared and sent to
Europe. Whatever prosperity exists in the Banda
Oriental depends altogether on beef. To the raising
of horned cattle the greater part of the soil of the
republic is devoted, and in caring and guarding them
most of the rural population is employed. The
saladeros, where the animals are slaughtered and
the various parts converted to human use, are the
chief, almost the only, industrial establishments,
and it is their produce that supports the trade and
navigation.

Though the channel is narrower above the junction
of the Rio Negro, the Uruguay was still a mighty
river, from one to two miles in width, with numerous
islands, all covered with trees and seemingly unin-
habited. The trees on the islands and along the
banks are mostly small, about thirty feet in height,
but on some of the islands they must certainly surpass
fifty feet. It was impossible for a passing stranger to
identify the unfamiliar forms of these trees, which
seemed to present considerable variety, the more so
as the majority appeared to be deciduous, and but a
few withered leaves remained on the nearly bare
branches.

Paisandu, the place of my destination, is about a
hundred and fifty miles from the mouth of the river,
and the steamer often accomplishes the distance in
fourteen hours, I was led to hope that we should
arrive soon after midnight, but as night fell a dense
fog spread over the river. Further progress was
impossible, and we dropped anchor in mid-channel.

288 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

With sunrise the fog quickly melted away, and the
turning of the screw soon announced that we had
resumed our journey. Up to this point the banks of
the river on either side had been absolutely flat, but
at an early hour on the 26th we for the first time
were relieved by the appearance of some rising ground
on the east side of the river, There was nothing
deserving to be called a hill, but so impatient is
human nature of the monotony of dead-level, that
even a rise of a couple of hundred feet is a welcome
alleviation. A house on the summit, which must
command a vast range of view, appeared to be the
only desirable residence I had yet seen in this region.
The dead-level soon resumed its place on the eastern
bank ; but a few miles farther we began to descry a
range of low hills on the opposite, or Argentine, bank
of the stream. We had hitherto held no communica-
tion with the territory on that side, but before noon
we dropped anchor opposite to the landing-place for
the town of Concepcion. This is one of the chief
places in the state of Entrerios, which, as the name
implies, fills the space between the two great rivers,
Parana and Uruguay, and extends northward about
two hundred and forty miles from the estuary of La
Plata. The town stands on a low hill about two
miles from the river. Some passengers went ashore, a
few were taken in their place, and after a short delay
the screw was again in motion and the voyage was
resumed,

About two p.m. we were at length opposite to Pai-
sandu, a name known to most English readers only by
the ox-tongues prepared at the neighbouring saladeros.

PAISANDU. 289

One of the peculiarities of this region arises from the
fact that in the estuary and along the lower course of
the great rivers the banks shelve so gradually that
boats are seldom able to approach the shore. Else-
where the inhabitants would make provision by con-
structing long jetties carried far enough to enable boats
to draw alongside. But suitable timber is said to be
scarce and very dear, and, besides, such constructions
would deprive a part of the population of their means
of gaining a livelihood. Carts with a pair of enormous
wheels, seven or eight feet in diameter, are driven
into the water till it reaches nearly to the shafts, and
passengers scramble as best they may into or out of
the boats. In this novel fashion I reached the shore,
with one or two other passengers.

Paisandu has the aspect of a thriving country town,
with streets and buildings of plain aspect, but looking
clean and well cared for. It stands on rising ground,
which is not a hill, but merely the river-ward slope of
the flat country through which the Uruguay has here
scooped a broad trench about a hundred feet below
the general level. JI founda very fair country inn kept
by an Englishman, and at once proceeded to deliver
a note of introduction to Dr. French, an English
physician who enjoys considerable local reputation.
The days being short at a season corresponding to
our European Christmas, it was already too late for
an excursion to the neighbouring country, which was
postponed till the following morning; and I passed
the greater part of the afternoon and evening in the
agreeable society of Dr. French, whose range of general
information, and thorough acquaintance with the

U

290 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

country which he has made his home, rendered his
conversation interesting and instructive.

Many Englishmen seem to imagine that, at least as
regards material progress, distant countries, with the
possible exception of the United States, are much
less advanced than we are at home. I was led to an
opposite conclusion as far as the more advanced states
of South America are concerned, and I was struck by
one illustration of the fact that I encountered at
Paisandu. In the course of my long conversation
with Dr. French, we were three times interrupted by
the tinkling of a little bell connected with telephone
wires carried into his sitting-room. I learned that a
wire was carried from each of the chief estancias and
saladeros within a circuit of eight or ten miles from
the town. On each occasion advice was sought and
obtained as to some case of sickness or accident, and
it was impossible not to be struck by the great addi-
tion thus made to the usefulness of a skilful medical
adviser in country districts. With regard to this and
other applications of the telephone and the electric
telegraph, our backward condition may be explained
by the extraordinary fact that the English people
have tolerated the existence of a Government
monopoly, which, in many cases, acts as a prohibition ;
but in other matters, such as electric lighting, our
relative inferiority must be set down to the extreme
slowness with which new ideas germinate and reach
maturity in the English nature.

I was much interested by the information given to
me by Dr. French as to the frequent occurrence of
the fossil remains of large extinct mammalia in this

FOSSIL REMAINS IN URUGUAY. 291

district. Complete skeletons are, of course, not
commonly found ; but large bones in good condition
are, as I learned, easily procured. My stay was
necessarily so short that I could not expect to obtain
any, but I entertained a hope, not yet realized, that
through the kind intervention of Dr. French, some
valuable specimens might be obtained for the Cam-
bridge University Museum. But to complete our
knowledge of the very singular extinct fauna of this
region of America, prolonged research on the spot,
conducted by experienced palzontologists, is a
necessary condition. These plains are the cemeteries
in which myriads of extinct creatures lie entombed.
We probably have got to know the majority of the
larger species, but it is probable that many others have
as yet escaped the notice of naturalists.

The steamer in which I had travelled ascends the
river as far as Salto, about sixty miles above Paisandu ;
but at that place the navigation is interrupted by
rapids, and travellers pursue their journey by land
until they reach the steamers that ply on the upper
waters of the Uruguay. I should have wished to visit
Salto, but the steamer was to arrive at night and to
depart on the return voyage next morning. By
stopping at Paisandu I secured the opportunity for
seeing a little of the country and the vegetation.

By way of seeing something of the natives, Dr.
French took me to one of the best houses in the town,
and introduced me to one of his patients, an old lady
ninety years of age. She did much credit to the skill
of her medical adviser, as I found her full of life and
activity, conversing freely and intelligently on the

292 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

topics of the day. In the garden surrounding her
house were a number of orange trees in full bearing,
and, amongst other exotics, the largest tree of Euca-
lyptus globulus that I have yet seen, though planted,
as the old lady assured me, only twenty years before.

It was announced that the return steamer was due
at two p.m. on June 27, so I arranged, in the lan-
guage of this region, to go for an excursion ¢o the
camp as early as possible in the morning. In com-
pany with a young Englishman to whom Dr. French
had introduced me, I started in a carriage, and, after
passing through the belt of gardens and fields sur-
rounding the town, soon reached a rather wide stream
running between muddy banks. I now understood
why all the vehicles hcre are hung upon such ex-
tremely high wheels. The horses take to the water
as easily as if they were amphibious, and we got
across the stream without taking in water, but not
without a severe tug to get the carriage through the
deep mud. We next approached a large saladero ;
but I had no curiosity to see the process of slaughter,
nor the various stages by which a live animal is
speedily converted into human food. We made a
circuit round the sa/edero and the adjoining enclosures,
and before long reached the open country.

The general aspect reminded me of what I have
seen at the corresponding season in the less inhabited
parts of Northern Africa, especially near Tunis,
although the plants, as, might be expected, are not
only different, but in great part belong to different
natural families. Open spaces covered with herbaceous
vegetation alternate with patches of low bushes, mostly

FLORA OF THE CAMP. 293

evergreen, and here and there with shrubs under ten
feet in height ; but there was nothing deserving to be
cailed a tree. The indigenous trees of this region
seem to be confined to the banks and islands of the
great rivers. -Among the bushes were four species of
Baccharis, a Composite genus characteristic of South
America, three species of Solanum, a Lycium, etc.
But the commonest bush, which extends from the
Tropic of Capricorn to Patagonia, is Duvauz dependens,
with crooked branches beset with stout thorns, which
has no near ally among European plants. I found
several plants still in flower—two or three pretty
species of the mallow tribe, a Buddleza, an Oxralzs, and
a Teréen2 (V. phlogifolia), nearly allied to the orna-
mental species of our gardens.

I returned to the town just in time to have all in
readiness for the steamer, which arrived punctually at
two o'clock. and, after bidding farewell to Dr. French,
embarked with the impression that life in a country
town on the Uruguay is very much like life in a
country town anywhere in Europe—somewhat dull,
but not devoid of interest to one who is content to
fee] that he has been of some use to fellow-creatures.

The weather had become brighter, and we were
spared the annoyance of waiting at night for the
clearing of the fog. We held on our course down the
stream, and at sunrise were again at anchor opposite
to the city of Buenos Ayres, now for the first time
become visible. Seen in the bright moming light, it
presented a somewhat imposing aspect, as befits the
most populous and important port of the South
American continent. The advance of the Argentine

294 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

Confederation has been so rapid since public tran-
quillity has been assured that the returns of a few
years ago are doubtless considerably below the truth.
Those of the five years from 1870 to 1874 show a
yearly average of about ten millions sterling of im-
ports, and nearly seven and a half millions of exports ;
but these figures, especially the latter, should now be
much increased. Of the whole commercial movement
more than eighty per cent. belongs to Buenos Ayres,
and the extension of railways must further increase
its supremacy.

I went to the Hotel de Provence, a French estab-
lishment fairly well kept, and, after confinement in
the little den on board the river steamer, enjoyed the
novel sense of occupying a spacious room. <A good
part of the day was spent in wandering about the
town. It is built on the regular chess-board plan,
with guadras of equal dimensions. The streets are
narrow and ill-paved, most of them traversed by tram-
cars, which are the only convenient vehicles ; but the
whole place is pervaded by an air of activity which
seems strange in Spanish America, reminding one
rather of the towns of the United States.

I was directed to an exhibition of the natural pro-
ducts and manufactures of the states * of the Argentine
Confederation, which appeared to make a creditable
show, but of which I felt myself to be no competent
judge. I was chiefly interested by the large collections
of native woods from Corrientes and the mountain
regions of Tucuman, Salta, and the adjoining states.

* The term Jrovdnces, commonly applied to the federated States, is
misleading, and should be laid aside.

Mi ce cw

ARGENTINE FORESTS, 295

We know at present very little as to the extent of the
Argentine forests, and still less as to the proportion
in which the more valuable species are distributed ;
but it is obvious that in these forests there exist
important sources of wealth, which, however, must
require good management for their future develop-
ment. Many of the largest and most valuable trees
belong to the family of Leguminos@, and may be
found to rival in importance those of Guiana.

Speaking of the forests of the northern states, the
late Professor Lorentz writes that they are exclusively
confined to the eastern slopes of the mountains on
which the winds from the Atlantic deposit their
moisture, while the western slopes remain dry and
bare of trees. He dwells on the need for an efficient
forest law, as the result of the carelessness of the
sparse population is that in the neighbourhood of in-
habited places much valuable timber is ruthlessly
destroyed. It may be feared that, under a constitution
which, for such purposes, leaves practical autonomy
to fourteen different states, it may be very difficult to
obtain the enactment of an efficient law, and still more
difficult to secure its enforcement.

The chief architectural boast of Buenos Ayres is the
Plaza Mayor, one side of which is occupied wy the
cathedral, a very large pile in the modern Spanish
style, which is not likely to serve as a model for
imitation. The day being a /esta, there was a
ceremony in the afternoon, which attracted a crowd
of the female population. The great church was
ablaze with thousands—literally thousands—of wax
candles, and the entire pavement was covered with

296 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

costly carpets of the most gaudy colours. The be-
haviour of the congregation did not convey to a
stranger the impression of religious feeling. It is
doubtful, however, to what extent we are right in
applying in such matters the standard derived from
a different race and different modes of feeling. A
severer style of worship would have no attractions for
a people who thirst for satisfaction to the eye and ear ;
and they would certainly not be the better, in their
present condition of progress, if the scepticism of the
age were to close this avenue of escape from the sordid
cares of daily life.

On June 29, my second day at Buenos Ayres, I
made a short excursion to the Boca, on the shore of
the Rio de la Plata, only about three miles from the
city. I had an illustration of the careless way in
which, from want of sympathy or want of imagination,
most people give directions to strangers. Being in-
formed that the tramcars plying to La Boca were to
be found in a certain street, I proceeded thither to
look out for a vehicle going in the right direction.
After a few minutes a vehicle appeared, coming from
La Boca. After ten minutes more a second arrived
from the same direction, and after ten minutes more
a third, but not one in the opposite sense. At last
I went into the shop of a German chemist near at
hand, when the mystery was explained. The cars
enter the town by one street, make a short circuit,
and return by a different street.

The Boca does not offer much to interest a stranger.
I could have fancied myself somewhere in the out-
skirts of Leghorn, so frequent were the familiar sounds

SAGITTARIA MONTEVIDENSIS. 297

of the Italian tongue, save that in Italy it would be
difficult to find a spot where the horizon is unbroken
by a near hill, or by the distant outline of Alp or
Apennine.

Having paid a short visit to Mr. Schnyder, the
newly appointed Professor of Botany, I strolled
through the adjoining fields with the hope of finding
some remains of the autumnal vegetation. The low
flat country is intersected by broad ditches, and much
reminded me of Battersea fields as they existed half
a century ago, when I first began to collect British
plants. Seeing in a ditch the remains of a fine
Sagittaria, 1 filled a bit of paper with the minute
seeds, and from these has sprung a plant which has
for several seasons been admired by the visitors to
Kew Gardens. It is the Sagittaria Montevidensis,
which is not uncommon in Argentaria and Uruguay,
but, so far as I know, does not extend to Brazil—a
singular fact, considering that the seeds must be
readily transported by water-birds. In its native
home it grows to a somewhat larger size than the
European species, but is not very conspicuous. Culti-
vated at Kew, in a house kept at the mean temperature
of about 78° Fahr., it has attained gigantic propor-
tions, rising to a height of over six feet, and the
petioles of the leaves attaining the thickness of a
man’s arm.

I had arranged to take my passage to Brazil in the
steamer Veva, of the Royal Mail Company, and at
this season I felt no regret at quitting this region of
South America, which offers comparatively slight
attractions to the tourist. I was led, however, from

298 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

all the information that I collected, to form a high
estimate of the advantages that it offers to European
settlers. At the present time the chief source of profit
is from the rearing of cattle; but, though long neg-
lected, agriculture promises to become the . most
important element of national prosperity. Until the
middle of this century there were none but wooden
ploughs of the type used by the aborigines, and corn
was imported from abroad to feed the townspeople.
There are now numerous agricultural colonies formed
by foreign settlers, especially in the state of Santa
Fé, and the results have been eminently successful.
Large crops of grain, especially wheat, of excellent
quality, are easily raised. The vine prospers, even as
far south as Bahia Blanca, and in the northern states
cotton, olives, tobacco, and other subtropical products
appear to thrive. These agricultural colonies have
been chiefly formed by Italian, Swiss, and German
immigrants, and one of the most recent, composed of
Welshmen, has been established so far south as the
river Chubat in Patagonia. It may be feared that,
owing to the deficient rainfall of that region, the
prospects of the settlement are somewhat uncertain.
The Argentine Government has shown its wisdom
in promoting immigration by the extraordinary
liberality of the terms offered to agricultural settlers
from Europe. With a territory as large as the whole
of continental Europe, exclusive of Russia, and a
population of scarcely two millions, immigration is the
indispensable requisite for the development of re-
sources that must render this one of the most im-
portant nations of the earth. The law, which, as I

EMIGRATION TO ARGENTARIA. 299

believe, is still in force, offers to settlers wishing to
cultivate the national lands which are under the
control of the Central Government the following
terms :—An advance of the cost of the passage from a
European port to Buenos Ayres, with conveyance from
that city to the location selected; a free gift of a
hundred hectares (about 247 acres) to each of the first
hundred families proceeding to a new settlement; an
advance, not exceeding a thousand dollars per family,
to meet expenses for food, stock, and outfit, repayable
without interest in five years; the sale of additional
Government land at two dollars per hectare, payable
in ten annual instalments ; and, finally; exemption from
taxes for ten years.

To the class of settlers who hold themselves above
farming work other careers are open. Many young
Englishmen who enjoy life in the saddle have done
well as managers of estancias, for the raising of horses
and cattle. The chief advice to be given to those
who have some capital at their disposal is not to
purchase property until they have gained practical
experience. The Argentines show a laudable anxiety
for the spread of education, and there is a considerable
demand for teachers and professors, which has been
mainly supplied from Germany, many of the professors
from that country being men who have established a
merited reputation.

One of the attractions of this region for European
settlers is the excellence of the climate. Though not
quite so uniform as that of Chili, it is free from the
extremes of temperature that prevail in the United
States. In the low country the difference between

300 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

the mean temperature of the hottest and coldest
months is from 22° to 25° Fahr., while in the middle
states of the northern continent the difference is nearly
twice as great—from 40° to 45°. The mean summer
temperature is here about the same as in places six
or eight degrees farther from the equator in eastern
North America. The rainfall, which is of such vital
importance to agriculture, appears not to be subject
to such great annual irregularities as it is in the
United States and Canada. The average at Buenos
Ayres is about thirty-five inches annually, and in
ascending the Parana this increases to fifty-three
inches in Corrientes, and eighty inches in Paraguay.
It is only in some parts of the interior—e,g. about
Mendoza—and in Patagonia, that the cultivator
is, in ordinary seasons, exposed to suffer from
drought.

Apart from the economic results of the great influx
of immigration, the large recent admixture of European
blood is effecting important salutary consequences. I
have seen no recent returns, but it appears * that in
the six years ending 1875, the number of immigrants
from Europe exceeded 284,000, or about 47,500
annually ; and I believe that this average has been
exceeded since that date. Of the whole number fully
one-half are Italians, and I found unanimous testi-
mony to the fact that they form a valuable element
in the population. With the exception of a small

* Much information respecting this country is to be found in a volume
entitled, ‘‘ The Argentine Republic,” published in 1876 for the Cen-
tenary Exhibition at Philadelphia. It contains a series of papers pre-

pared by Mr. Richard Napp, assisted by several German men of
science..

PROGRESS OF ARGENTARIA. 301

proportion from the Neapolitan provinces, it is ad-
mitted that, whether as agricultural settlers or as
artisans in the cities, the Italians are an orderly,
industrious, and temperate class. The Germans and
Swiss are not nearly so numerous, but form a useful
addition to the orderly element in their adopted
country. It may be hoped that experience and
education have not been thrown away on the native
Argentine, and that the memory of the forty years of
intestine disorder which followed the final establish-
ment of independence may serve as a warning against
renewed attempts at revolution; but assuredly the
foreign element, which rapidly tends to become pre-
dominant, will be found an additional security against
the renewal of disorder.

Although a majority of the large commercial houses
at Buenos Ayres are English, and the trade with this
country takes the first place in the statistical returns,
the predominance is not so marked as it is on the
western side of South America. Next to England,
and not far behind, France has a large share ia the
trade, and although Germany has only lately entered
the field, it appears that the business operations with
that country are rapidly extending. Here, and at
several other places in South America, I heard com-
plaints that German traders palm off cheap inferior
goods, having forged labels and trade-marks to imitate
those of well-known English manufacturers. It is true
that charges of a similar nature have been recently
brought against some English houses. One asks if
the progress of civilization is to lead us back to caveat
emptor as the only rule of commercial ethics. If so,

302 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

some further means must be discovered to enable the
innocent purchaser to protect himself.

The most serious difficulty in the way of the
increasing foreign trade of Argentaria is that arising
from the shallowness of the great estuary of La Plata,
which prevents large vessels from approaching the
ports. In the course of ages nature will remedy the
defect, when the present shoals are raised by deposits
of fresh silt so as to confine the volume of water
brought down by the great rivers, which would then
scour out navigable channels. Whether the process
may not be hastened by human skill and enterprise is
a question which I am unable to answer. At present
I believe that the only point where vessels of moderate
burthen can approach the shore is at Ensenada, about
fourteen miles below Buenos Ayres. It is now con-
nected by railway with the capital, and promises to
become an important trading port.

EMBARCATION AT BUENOS AYRES. 303

CHAPTER VI.

Voyage from Buenos Ayres to Santos—Tropical vegetation in
Brazil—Visit to San Paulo—Journey from San Paulo to
Rio Janeiro—Valley of the Parahyba do Sul—Ancient
mountains of Brazil—Rio Janeiro—Visit to Petropolis—
Falls of Itamariti—Struggle for existence in a tropical
forest—The hermit of Petropolis—Morning view over the
Bay of Rio—A gorgeous flowering shrub—Visit to Tijuca
—Yellow fever in Brazil—A giant of the forest—Voyage
to Bahia and Pernambuco—Edquatorial rains—Fernando
Noronha—St. Vincent in the Cape de Verde Islands—
Trade winds of the North Atlantic—Lisbon—-Return to
England.

ABOUT midday on. June 30, I took my departure
from Buenos Ayres. The operation was not altogether
simple or to be quickly accomplished. Jolting heavily
over the ill-paved streets, a hackney coach carried me
and a fellow-traveller with our luggage to the river-
bank. The sight was very strange. It was a busy
day, and there were literally hundreds of high-wheeled
carts engaged in carrying passengers and goods out
to the boats, which lay fully half a mile from the
shore. When, after a delay that seemed excessive,
we were installed in a boat, this was pulled in a
leisurely fashion to the steam-tender, which lay more
than a mile farther out. When the hour fixed for the

304 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

departure of the tender was long past, we at length
got under way, and finally reached the eva steamship
of the Royal Mail Company, about fourteen miles
below the city, at five o’clock.

With iron punctuality dinner was served at the
regular hour, although none of the passengers were
ready, and the luggage was not brought on board till
after dinner. There was, in truth, no reason for haste,
as we were appointed to call at Monte Video on the
following morning. My chief business at that place
was to recover possession of the chest containing my
botanical collections, which I had deposited at the
custom-house.

Impressed with the attractions of Brazil, and feeling
the strict limits of time to which I was bound, I asked
myself if I should not have done better to have omitted
a visit to the Plata region, and saved nine days by
proceeding direct to Brazil in the /derza, which started
on the 22nd of June. I should certainly recommend
that course to any naturalist travelling under similar
circumstances at the same season ; but I am sure that,
if I had done so, I should have felt regret at having
missed an opportunity, and should have fancied that
I had lost new and interesting experiences.

At four p.m. on the Ist of July the big ship began
to move from her moorings opposite Monte Video, and
for about sixty miles kept a due easterly course.
Somewhere near the port of Maldonado we passed a
bright light on an island which shows as a bold head-
land. I was told that this is known as Cape Frio,
because of the cold often encountered here by those
arriving from Brazil. It may be supposed that the

VOVAGE TO SANTOS. 305

force of the south-west wind which prevails in winter
is more felt as the wide opening of the great estuary
is reached. During my own short stay, the wind
never rose beyond a gentle breeze, and the temperature
on land was no more than agreeably cool, usually
between 55° and 60° Fahr. during the day.

The distance from Monte Video to Santos, which is
reckoned at 970 sea miles, was accomplished in about
three days and eighteen hours. The voyage was
uneventful. On the 3rd we approached the Brazilian
coast, but the land lay low, and no objects could be
distinguished. The weather was all that could be
desired by the most delicate passengers, the barometer
remaining almost stationary at about 30°2 inches,*
and the temperature by day rising gradually from
57° at Monte Video to 62° in lat. 25° south. Before
sunrise on the morning of July 5, we entered the bay
through which the Santos river discharges itself into
the Atlantic, and found ourselves in a new region.
The richness of the green and the luxuriance of the
foliage recalled the aspect of the coast at Jacmel, in
Hayti, and as the morning advanced, while we slowly
steamed towards the head of the bay, I had no
difficulty in deciding on a course which had already
suggested itself to my mind. I knew that Santos is
connected by railway with Sao Paulo (better known
in the form San Paulo), the chief town of this part of
Brazil, and that the railway between that place and
the capital was also completed; and I accordingly

* Dr. Hann (‘ Klimatologie,” p. 657, e¢ seg.) has discussed the causes
of the prevalent high barometric pressure on both coasts of temperate
South America, and has shown that in winter the area of maximum
pressure moves northward towards the Tropic of Capricorn.

x

306 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

determined to leave the steamer, and find my way by
land to Rio Janeiro.

Santos is an ancient place which had long remained
obscure, until the great development of coffee-cultiva-
tion in South Brazil, and the construction of a railway
to the interior, have made it the most advantageous
port for the shipment to Europe of that important
product. It lies at the mouth of an inconsiderable
stream that enters the head of the bay. Seen from
the sea, it appears to be backed by a range of lofty,
flat-topped hills, but, in truth, these are no more than
the seaward face of the great plateau which extends
through a considerable part of the province of San
Paulo. Although Santos is placed a few miles south
of the Tropic of Capricorn, the aspect of the vegetation
is completely tropical; and if a stranger were in
doubt, the fringe of cocoa-nut palms on the shores of
the bay would completely reassure him. Although
the thermometer on board ship did not rise above
67°, the air seemed to us, arriving from the south,
very warm, and we were surprised to hear the com-
pany’s agent, when he came on board, complain that
he had found the water in his bath uncomfortably
chilly,

I landed with a young German fellow-traveller who,
like myself, intended to proceed to San Paulo; and,
as we found that the train was not to start for three
hours, we occupied the time in ascending the nearest
hill. It was now nearly three months since I had
enjoyed a glimpse of true tropical vegetation in the
forest of Buenaventura, and the interest and delight
of this renewed experience can never be forgotten.

TROPICAL VEGETATION AT SANTOS. 307

It was clear that on the slopes about Santos the native
forests had been cleared, but on all the steeper parts,
not reclaimed for cultivation, the indigenous vegeta-
tion had resumed the mastery. Trees and shrubs in
wonderful variety contended for the mastery, and
maintained, as they best could, a precarious struggle
for existence with a crowd of climbers and parasites.
So dense was the mass of vegetation that it was
impossible to penetrate in any direction farther than
a few yards, and there was no choice but to follow the
track that led to the summit of the slope, on which
stood a pretty house with an adjoining coffee-planta-
tion. Among the many new forms of vegetation here
seen, the most singular was that of the 77/andsia.*
Long, whitish, smooth cords hang from the branches
of the taller trees, and at eight or ten feet from the
ground abruptly produce a rosette of stiff leaves, like
those of a miniature pineapple, with a central spike
of flowers. But the most brilliant ornament of this
season was a species of trumpet-flower (Sizgnonza
venusta, Ker = Pyrostegia tgnea, Presl), which, partly
supporting itself, and partly climbing over the shrubs
and small trees, covered them with dense masses of
brilliant orange or flame-coloured flowers.

Laden with specimens, I returned to the town just
in time for the afternoon train to San Paulo. The
railway was constructed by an English company, and
is so far remarkable that a somewhat difficult problem
has been solved in an efficient and probably economical
fashion. The object is, within a distance of a few

* The species common here is allied to 7. stricta, but is not, I think,
identical,

308 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

miles, to raise a railway train about 2500 feet. This
is done by four stationary engines. The line is laid
on four rather steep inclines, with nearly level inter-
mediate spaces, each ascending train being counter-
poised by one descending in the opposite direction,
and the loss of time in effecting the connections is
quite inconsiderable.

On every map of Brazil that I have seen, the Serra
do Mar, which we were here ascending, is represented
as a range of mountains running parallel to the coast,
and extending from near Rio Janeiro to the Bay of
Paranagua in South Brazil, apparently dividing the
strip of coast from the low country of the interior.
Most travellers would probably have expected, as I
did, that on reaching the summit we should descend
considerably before reaching San Paulo, and it was
with surprise that from the summit I saw before me
what appeared to be a vast level plain, with some
distant hills or mountains in the dim horizon. It is
true that the drainage of the whole tract is carried
westward and ultimately reaches the Parana; but the
slope is quite insensible, and I do not think that, in
the space of about sixty miles that lay between us
and San Paulo, the descent can exceed two or three
hundred feet. There was a complete change in the
aspect of the vegetation, and open tracts of moorland
recalled scenes of Northern Germany.

Night had closed before we reached the station at
San Paulo. There was a difficulty about a carriage
to convey us to the hotel. Perhaps the demands
were unreasonable, or perhaps we were too unfamiliar
with the coinage of Brazil, which is that of the mother

GERMAN COMMERCIAL TRAVELLERS. 309

country ; but on hearing from the driver a demand
for several thousand rees, we indignantly resolved to
walk, and engaged a man to convey our luggage to
the hotel. We were favourably impressed by the
appearance of this provincial capital. In the space of
a mile we passed through several good streets, well
lighted with gas, and better paved than any I had
seen in South America. Many handsome houses
with adjoining gardens were passed on the way, and,
on reaching the Grand Hotel, nice clean rooms, and
good food provided for the evening meal, further
conduced to favourable first impressions of Brazil.

My young German companion, a traveller for a com-
mercial house, was returning from a visit to the interior
of Brazil. By steamer on the Parana and Paraguay
he had gone from Buenos Ayres to Cuyaba, the capital
of the province of Matto Grosso, a vast region with
undefined boundaries, probably larger than most of
the European states. I have often been struck by
the results of superior education among Germans
engaged in business, as compared with men of the
same class in other countries. It is not that they often
merit the designation of intellectual men, and still
more rarely do they show active interest in scientific
inquiry ; but they retain a respect for the studies they
have abandoned, are ready to talk intelligently on
such subjects, and, as a rule, have a regard for
accuracy as to facts which is so uncommon in the
world, as much because the majority are too ignorant
to appreciate their importance as owing to deliberate
disregard of truth. I did not learn much as to the
progress of inner Brazil, but my fellow-traveller

310 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

mentioned a few particulars that had struck him as
singular. He found the civil population of Cuyaba
solicitous in their adherence to European fashions in
dress, and, as a special note of respectability, the men
always appearing in what are vulgarly called chimney-
pot hats. The current coin in all but small transac-
tions consisted in English sovereigns, but he was
unable to explain how these have reached a region
which can have so few commercial relations with this
country. He departed on the following morning,
while I resolved to spend a day in visiting the neigh-
bourhood of the city.

Although San Paulo lies exactly on the southern
tropic, the winter climate is positively cool, and at
sunrise on July 6 the thermometer stood at 58° Fahr.
On a rough estimate from a single barometric obser-
vation it stands. about 2400 feet above the sea. Its
appearance was altogether unlike that of all the towns
seen in Spanish America. The somewhat wearisome
monotony of regular square blocks gave place to the
irregular arrangement of some of the provincial towns
in England, several streets running out into the
country and ending in detached villas. The general
impression was that of comfort and prosperity. Several
well-appointed private carriages were seen in the
streets, and the shops were as good as one commonly
sees in a European town of the same class.

I was much interested by the short country excur-
sion, which occupied most of the day, and by an
aspect of vegetation entirely new to me. The plants,
with scarcely an exception, belonged to genera pre-
vailing in tropical America, many of them now seen

FLORA OF THE BRAZILIAN PLATEAU. 311

by me for the first time ; but the species were nearly
all different from those of the coast region, and the
general aspect of the flora still more markedly
different. There was no trace of that luxuriance
which we commonly expect in tropical vegetation ;
monocotyledonous plants, except grasses, were very
few, and, in place of the large ferns that abounded at
Santos, I found but a single Géeichenia, allied to a
species that I had gathered in the Straits of Magellan.

Although a fair number of plants were still in
flower, I soon came to the conclusion that night frosts
must be not unfrequent at this season, and that a
considerable proportion of the vegetation must be
annually renewed. I found several groups of small
trees, chiefly of the laurel family, and for the first
time saw the Araucaria brasiliensis, possibly in a wild
state; but none of the trees attained considerable
height, and I doubt whether in a state of nature this
plateau has ever been a forest region. I was rejoiced
to see again, growing in some abundance, the splendid
Bignonia venusta, and was led to doubt whether its
real home may not be in the interior, and its appear-
ance at Santos due to introduction by man.

We possess a fair amount of information as to the
climate of the Brazilian coasts, but our knowledge of
the meteorology of the interior provinces is miserably
scanty. I was led to conjecture that, although the
district surrounding San Paulo is not divided by a
mountain range from the neighbouring coast region,
the climate must be very much drier, and that the
rainfall is mainly limited to the summer season.

In the course of my walk, I unexpectedly ap-

312 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

proached a country house about three miles from the
town, and was somewhat surprised by meeting a
carriage with ladies on their way to the house. As
far as my experience has gone in the country parts
of Portugal or Spain, such an encounter would there
be regarded as a very unusual phenomenon.

The railway from San Paulo to Rio Janeiro appears
to be a well-managed and prosperous concern, paying
to its shareholders dividends of from ten to twelve
per cent. The distance is about 380 miles, and the
trains perform the distance in about thirteen and a
half hours. Leaving my hotel in the dark, 1 found
at the station a crowd of passengers contending for
tickets; but good order was maintained, and we
started punctually at six o’clock. For some way the
line is carried at an apparent level over the plain,
with occasional distant views of high hills to the
north, and crosses two or three inconsiderable streams,
whose waters run to the Parana. A slight but con-
tinuous ascent, scarcely noticed by the passing
traveller, leads to the watershed which, in this direc-
tion, limits the vast basin of the Parana. After a
long but very. gentle descent, we reached a stream
flowing westward. I at first supposed it, like those
already seen, to be a tributary of the Parana which
made its way through some depression in the low
ridge over which we had passed ; but I soon ascer-
tained that this was an error. Near the spot where
the railway crosses it, the stream makes a sharp turn,
and thenceforth proceeds in a direction little north of
east for about four hundred miles, till it falls into the
Atlantic at Sao Joao da Barra, north-east of Rio

GEOLOGY OF EASTERN BRAZIL. 313

Janeiro. This is the Rio Parahyba do Sul, not to be
confounded with the Rio Parahyba north of Per-
nambuco, nor yet with the more important river
Paranahyba in the province of Piauhy.

For the greater part of the way to Rio the railway
runs parallel with the river. As laid down on the
maps, the valley lies between a mountain range called
the Serra da Mantiqueira on the left, and a minor
range, which divides the upper course of the river
from the middle part, where it flows in the opposite
direction. The appearance of the country through
which I now passed forcibly suggested to me views
respecting its geological history, which were confirmed
and extended by what I afterwards saw in the neigh-
bourhood of Rio, and by all that I have since been
able to learn on the subject.

I had already been struck by what little I had seen
of the plateau region of the province of San Paulo.
Beneath the superficial crust of vegetable soil, the
plateau appears to be formed of more or less red
arenaceous deposits, such as would result from the
erosion and decomposition of the gneiss or granite
which is the only rock I had seen in the country. In
the valley of the Parahyba, the connection was un-
mistakable. Every section in the valley showed
thick beds of the same coarse-grained, red arenaceous
deposits, and on the slopes the same material lay at
the base of whatever masses of granite we approached.
But what especially struck me were the forms and
appearance of the mountains on either hand, if that
designation could properly be given to them. I saw
nothing that would elsewhere be called a mountain

314 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

range. The outlines were in most places rounded and
covered with vegetation, but at intervals occurred
steep conical masses, of the same general type as the
sugar-loaf peaks surrounding the Bay of Rio Janeiro.
However steep, the rocks nowhere showed angular
peaks or edges, these being always more or less
rounded.

It would be rash to generalize from the partial
observations of a passing traveller; but the broad
outlines of the geology of Brazil, or, at least, of the
eastern provinces, have now been well traced,* and
some general conclusions may safely be drawn. It is
true that large districts of the interior have been but
partially explored, and remain blanks on the geological
map; but the eastern. half of Brazil is undoubtedly
ancient land, presenting no trace of secondary strata
except in small detached areas near the coast, and
where more recent tertiary deposits are to be found
only in a portion of the great valley of the Amazons.
A mountain range, having various local designations,
but which may best be called the Serra da Manti-
queira, extends from the neighbourhood of San Paulo
to the lower course of the Rio San Francisco, for a
distance of twelve hundred miles, and this is mainly
composed of gneiss, sometimes passing into true
granite, syenite, or mica schist; and the same may
be said of the Serra do Mar, a less considerable range

“lying between the main chain and the coast. The

* The best general account of the geology of Brazil that I have seen
is contained in a short paper by Orville A. Derby, entitled, ‘‘ Physical
Geography and Geology of Brazil.” It was published in the Rio News,
in December, 1884, and, through the kindness of Mr. Geikie, I have
seen a reprint in the library of the School of Mines.

DISINTEGRATION OF GRANITE. 315

southern limits of the Serra do Mar do not appear to
be well-defined, but we may estimate its length at
from five to six hundred miles. The other mountain
systems of the empire are less well known; but I
believe that the ranges dividing the province of Minas
Geraes from Goyaz, and the so-called Cordillera
Grande of the province of Goyaz, lying between the
two main branches of the great river Tocantins, are
largely formed of ancient sedimentary rocks of the
Laurentian and Huronian groups.

The granite of the Serra da Mantiqueira and Serra
do Mar is coarse-grained, with large crystals of felspar,
and is therefore much exposed to disintegration. So
far as I know, the vast masses of detritus forming the
plateaux of this region show no other materials than
such as would be produced by the disintegration of
the crystalline rocks, and there is strong reason to
believe that these have never been overlaid by
sedimentary deposits.

Let us now consider what must have been the past
history of a region formed of such materials, exposed,
during a large part of the past history of the earth, to
the action of the elements. In such an inquiry one
of the chief points for consideration is the amount of
rainfall. The direct effect, both mechanical and
chemical, of rain falling on a rock surface is perhaps
not the most important. Still more essential is its
action in removing the disintegrated matter, and
thereby exposing a fresh surface to renewed action,
The difference in the absolute result due to abundant
or deficient rainfall would be found, if we could cal-
culate it accurately, to be enormous. In a nearly

316 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

rainless country, such as Egypt or Peru, we see a
slope covered with dééris, and are apt to conclude
that the rock is being rapidly disintegrated ; but, in
truth, what we see is the work of many, perhaps
many hundred, centuries, which remains z” situ because
there is no agency to remove it. Ina land of heavy
rainfall the débris is speedily carried to lower levels,
and the work of destruction is constantly renewed.

We have scarcely any observations of rainfall in
the mountain districts of Brazil. The only reliable
return that I have seen is that of one year’s rainfall
at Gongo Seco, in Goyaz, which amounted to more
than a hundred and thirty inches ; but we may safely
conclude that it is everywhere very great. It is also
important to note that if, as most geologists now
believe, the Atlantic valley has existed since an early
period of the earth’s history, Eastern Brazil must
always have been a land of heavy rainfall. A great
mountain range on the eastern side of the continent
might have created a desert region in the interior,
but would have received in the past as much aqueous
precipitation as it does at the present time.

We have, therefore, to consider what must have
been the ancient condition of a region subjected
throughout vast periods of geological time to the
utmost force of disintegrating agencies applied to a
rock very liable to yield to them, and where, without
reckoning the large proportion which must have been
carried by rivers to the sea, we see such vast deposits
of the disintegrated materials formed out of the same
matrix. To my mind the conclusion is irresistible
that ancient Brazil was one of the greatest mountain

RUINS OF THE ANCIENT MOUNTAINS. 317

regions of the earth, and that its summits may very
probably have exceeded in height any now existing
in the world. What we now behold are the ruins of
the ancient mountains, and the singular conical peaks
are, as Liais has explained, the remains of some
harder masses of metamorphic gneiss, of which the
strata were tilted at a high angle. As the same
writer has remarked, although the crystalline rocks
are for the most part easily disintegrated, some por-
tions are formed of much more resisting materials,
and these have to some extent survived the incessant
action of destructive forces.

We are far from possessing the materials for a
rational estimate of the probable extent and elevation
of the ancient mountain ranges of Brazil. In the first
place, we have a plateau region occupying a large
part of the upper basin of the Parana, with an area of
fully 100,000 square miles, covered with detritus to
an unknown, but certainly considerable, depth. In
addition to this, it cannot be doubted that the finer
constituents carried down by that river, and its
tributary the Paraguay, from the same original home,
have largely contributed to the formation of the
Argentine pampas and Paraguay, including the
northern portion of the Gran Chaco. Borings and
chemical analysis of the soil may hereafter give us
reliable data; but in the mean time we may safely
reckon that an area of 200,000 square miles has been
mainly formed from the materials derived from the
ancient mountains whose importance I endeavour to
point out. In addition to all this, we should further
reckon the soluble matter and fine silt carried to the

318 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

ocean during the long course of geological history,.
and take into account that the same great mountain
region also furnished materials to streams which
flowed northward and eastward.

In attempting to speculate on the past history of
this region it is important to remark that, so far as
evidence is available, there is reason to believe that
Brazil has undergone less considerable changes of
level than most other parts of the earth’s surface.
Even if we go back to the period of the earlier
secondary rocks, there is no evidence to show that
movements of elevation or depression have exceeded
a few hundred feet.

I have attempted elsewhere* to give a sketch of
the views which I hold as to the probable origin of
the chief types of phanerogamous vegetation. I there
pointed out that, at a period when physical conditions
in the lower regions of the earth’s surface were widely
different, and the proportion of carbonic acid gas
present in the atmosphere was very much greater
than it has been since the deposition of the coal
measures, it was only in the higher region of great
mountain countries that conditions prevailed at all
similar to those now existing. I further argued that,
if the early types of flowering plants were confined,
as I believe they were, to the high mountains, we
could not expect to find their remains in deposits
formed in shallow lakes and estuaries until after the
probably long period during which they were gradu-
ally modified to adapt them to altered physical con-
ditions.

* Proceedings of the Royal Geographical Society for 1879, p. 564.

VALLEY OF THE PARAHYBA. 319

A general survey of the South American flora
shows, along with elements derived from distant
regions, a large number of types either absolutely
peculiar to that continent, or which, in some cases,
appear to have spread from that centre to other areas.
Of these peculiar types some may probably have
originated in the Andean chain, but as to the majority,
it seems far more probable that their primitive home
was in Brazil; and it is precisely on the ancient
mountains of this region that I should look for the
ancestors of many forms of vegetation which have
stamped their character on the vegetation of the con-
tinent.

I should be the first to admit that the views here
expressed have no claim to rank as more than pro-
bable conjectures ; but I hold that these, when resting
on some positive basis of facts, are often serviceable
to the progress of science, by stimulating inquiry and
leading observers to co-ordinate facts whose connec-
tion had not previously been apparent.

In following the valley, in places where the siliceous
soil supported only a scanty vegetation, I was struck
by the singular appearance of scattered piles, usually
about four feet in height, having much the appearance
of rude milestones, occurring here and there in some
abundance, but never very near each other. I was
often able to avail myself of the short halts of the
train at wayside stations to secure specimens of in-
teresting plants, but I was not able to approach near
to these unknown objects. I have no doubt, how-
ever, that they were habitations of termites, or, as they
are commonly called, white ants. I have never been

320 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

able to conjecture the origin of the instinct that
induces so many species of termites in different parts
of the world to construct dwellings in this form, nor
what advantage they can derive from it.

As the Parahyba appeared to be a rapid-flowing
stream, it is probable that in following the valley the
railway descends considerably before it reaches the
point, about eighty miles north of Rio, where it abruptly
turns away from the river to make its way to the
capital. The appearance of the vegetation announced
a change of climate, but I did not notice any palms
by the way. The country between the Parahyba
valley and the coast appears to be an irregular moun-
tain tract, nowhere of any great height, with projecting
summits rising here and there of the same general
character as those already described, and the railway
follows a sinuous course so as to select the lowest
depressions between the neighbouring bosses of granite.
As we wound to and fro, constantly changing our
direction amid scenes of increasing loveliness, night
closed with that suddenness to which one becomes
accustomed in the tropics, and the last part of the
way was unfortunately passed in darkness. The
approach to Rio must be surpassingly beautiful, but,
beyond the fantastic outlines of the surrounding
mountains, little could be discerned save the lights of
the city, visible for many miles before we reached
the railway station.

After a long drive through paved streets, I reached
the English hotel (Carson’s), and was curtly informed
that the house was full) The next in rank is the
Fonda dos Estrangeiros, to which I proceeded, and

THE BAY OF RIO ¥ANEIRO. 321

found quarters in a rather shabby room, not over-
clean. The general style of the establishment and
the food provided answered the same description. It
is generally admitted that the accommodation for
strangers in the capital of Brazil does not come up to.
the reasonable expectations of travellers.

By quitting. the steamer at Santos, and travelling
to Rio by land, I had gained some slight acquaintance
with a new region, but I was well aware that I had
suffered a considerable loss, The view on first enter-
ing the Bay of Rio Janeiro is one of those spectacles
that leave an ineffaceable impression even on persons
not very sensitive to natural beauty, and one on which
my fancy from early youth onwards had most often
dwelt. The pursuits of a naturalist, besides their own
fascination, offer additional rewards to all who worship
in the temple of Nature, but they also sometimes
exact a sacrifice. Sallying forth on the morning of
July 8, a little under the impression of the unattrac-
tive quarters of the night, I had but very moderate
expectations as to what might be enjoyed of the
scenery in the midst of a large city and its surround-
ings, but I was speedily disabused. Man has certainly
done little to set off the unequalled fascinations of the
place, but he has been powerless to conceal them. I
passed a delightful day, partly strolling much at
random on foot, and occasionally availing myself of
the street-cars, which are frequented by all classes, and
afford a stranger the best opportunity for seeing some-
thing of the very mixed population.

The famous Bay of Rio Janeiro may properly be
described as a salt-water lake, so completely is it

Y

322 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

landlocked and cut off from the open sea. About
thirty miles long and twenty in breadth, it is large
enough to allow of spacious views, yet not so large as
to lose in distance the marvellous background that is
presented in every direction by the fantastic peaks
that surround it. Numerous islands stud the surface,
the larger telling their history in piles of huge blocks,
either simulating rude Cyclopean architecture, or
lying in wild confusion—granite pinnacles, half-
decayed or fallen into utter ruin. The shores are
everywhere a maze of coves and inlets, in which land
and water are interlaced ; and over all—the mainland
and the islands alike—the wild riot of tropical vege-
tation holds its sway, defying the efforts of man to
tame it to trimness. Even within the limits of the
city, which stretches for about four miles along the
shore, four or five coves present a ceaseless variety of
outline. Of necessity the plan is completely irregular.
Where a space of level ground opens out between the
shore and the rocks, the city has spread out ; where the
rocks approach the water's edge, it is narrowed in
places to a single street. In architecture, since the
great era of Alcobacga and Batalha, the Portuguese
have not achieved much, and their descendants in
South America have done little to adorn the capital
of their great empire. The largest building, the
imperial palace, might easily be taken for a barrack.
Nature has undertaken the decoration of the city, and,
amid the palms, and under the shade of large-leaved
tropical trees in the public walks and gardens, the
absence of sightly buildings is not felt.

The suburb of Botafogo, which is the fashionable

THE AVENUE OF PALMS. 323

quarter, lies on the shores of the most beautiful of the
coves round which the city has grown up. It mainly
consists of a range of handsome villas facing the sea,
each with a charming garden, and, in this season,
must be a delightful residence. But it is generally
admitted that the climate of Rio is debilitating to
European constitutions. As compared with most
coast stations in the tropics the heat is not excessive—
the mean temperature of the warmest month (Feb-
ruary) is not quite 80° Fahr., and that of the coldest
(July) about 70°; but most Europeans, and especially
those of Germanic stock, require to be braced by
intervals of cold, if they are to endure a hot climate
with impunity. The annual appearance of yellow
fever in the city supplies a still stronger motive to
many of the foreign residents for fixing their abode
amongst the hills. The chief resort, which in summer
is frequented by most of the wealthier classes, is the
well-known Petropolis, in the Organ Mountains, or
Serra dos Orgdos, that rise beyond the northern
shores of the bay.

From Botafogo I directed my steps towards the
Botanic Garden, and, as usual among people of
Portuguese descent, found great readiness in giving
information to strangers. Following a road that
turned away from the shore, I seemed to have left the
city far behind, and be quite in the country ; but pre-
sently another beautiful dark blue cove opened out
before me, and again turning inland I reached the
garden. I must confess to a feeling of something
like disappointment at the famous avenue of palms.
It has been correctly described as reproducing the

324 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

effect of the aisle of a great Gothic cathedral, and the
defect, as it seemed to me, is that the reproduction is
too faithful, The trees of Oreodoxa regia, which are
about a hundred feet in height, are all exactly of the
same form and dimensions, so much alike that they
appear to have been cast in the same mould, and it is
difficult to persuade one’s self that they are not
artificial productions. It may not be easy to say why
the same uniformity which satisfies the eye in a con-
struction of stone, should fail to do so when similar
forms are represented by natural objects. I suppose
the fact to be that in all esthetic judgments the mind
is unconsciously influenced by trains of association.
Our admiration is aroused not merely by given com-
binations of colour or form—by the mere visual image
formed on the retina—but is controlled by our sense
of fitness. We should resent as a caprice of the
architect an irregularity in a vista of arches: among
objects endowed with life we expect some manifesta-
tion of the universal tendency to variation.

With an intention, never fulfilled, to make a second
visit to the garden, and, under the guidance of the
director, Dr. Glaziou, to make nearer acquaintance
with some of the vegetable wonders there brought
together, I returned to my hotel. Before reaching
Rio, I had decided to devote most of my short re-
maining time to a visit to the Organ Mountains, and
to make Petropolis my head-quarters. As there was
no especial reason for delay, I started for that place
on the morning of the following day, July 9.

I shall make no attempt to describe the beauties of
the bay as they were successively unfolded during the

THE ORGAN MOUNTAINS. 325

short passage to and from Petropolis. From early
youth the Bay of Naples has ever appeared to me so
perfectly beautiful that I was very reluctant to admit
the pretensions of a rival. Even now I can well
understand that some may find the pictures presented
to the eye on the charmed coasts of our Mediterranean
bay more complete, and the tints of the shores and
sea and sky more harmonious; but there could be
no doubt as to the gorgeous vesture that everywhere
adorns thisland. The vegetation of the Mediterranean
coasts seems but poor and homely after the eye has
dwelt on the luxuriance of tropical life, as though one
were to compare a garb of homespun with trappings
of velvet and embroidery. The islands of the bay
present a ceaseless variety. Some are mere rocks, on
which sea-birds of unknown aspect stood perched.
Many of the larger are inhabited, and one, as I heard,
has a population of thirteen hundred souls, and
several charming villas showed it to be a favourite
resort.

In about an hour and a half from the city, the
little steamer ran alongside of a wooden jetty at a
spot on the northern side of the bay facing the bold
range of the Organ Mountains, which extend for over
twenty miles in an easterly direction. Between the
northern shore and the foot of the mountains is a
level swampy tract, evidently filled up by the detritus
borne down by the numerous streams, and beyond
this the mountain range rises very abruptly from the
plain. Somewhat to my disappointment, I ascer-
tained that Petropolis lies at a considerable distance
from the higher part of the Organ range to which

326 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

my attention had hitherto been directed. It is
towards its eastern extremity that the Serra shows
that remarkable series of granitic pinnacles of nearly
equal height, appearing vertical from a distance, that
suggested the likeness to the pipes of an organ
whence these mountains obtained their name. The
height of the loftier part has been estimated at 7500
feet above sea-level. I do not think that any of the
summits near Petropolis can surpass the level of
5000 feet.

A short train with a small locomotive carried pas-
sengers for Petropolis across the low tract to the point
where the ascent abruptly commences, a distance of
nine or ten miles. The marshy plain is doubtless
fever-stricken, and we passed very few houses on the
way to the terminus, which is appropriately named
Raiz da Serra. The construction of a railway on the
slope leading thence to Petropolis, up which trains
should be drawn by a wire rope, had been commenced,
but at the time of my visit passengers were conveyed
in carriages, each drawn by six or eight mules. A
well-kept and well-engineered road—by far the best
mountain road that I have seen in any part of America
—leads to the pass or summit of the ridge that divides
Petropolis from the Bay of Rio. The views during
the ascent, especially in looking back over the bay,
were entrancing, and new and strange forms of vege-
tation showed themselves at each turn of the road.
From the summit, a gentle descent of a couple of
miles leads to the main street of Petropolis.

The place lies about 2900 feet above the sea, in
a basin or depression amidst forest-covered hills.

ATTRACTIONS OF PETROPOLIS. 327

The abundant rains of this region have carved the
surface into a multitude of little dells and recesses,
separated by hills and knolls of various size and
height, leaving in their midst one comparatively broad
space, where most of the buildings are grouped. The
streamlets that issue from every nook in the mountains
are finally united in two streams that flow in opposite
directions, but both, I believe, ultimately find their
way northward to the Parahyba. The streamlets
have been turned to account by the inhabitants, for
on each side of the main streets a rivulet of crystal
water serves to maintain the vigour of a line of trees
supplying the one need of the long summer—shelter
from the vertical midday sun. In the present season
(mid-winter) only one hotel was open; but in summer,
when all who can do so escape from the oppressive
heat of Rio, two or three others are generally crowded.
It is at once apparent that Petropolis is a place for
rest and enjoyment, not for business. The few shops
and hotels are all in the main street, Rua do Im-
perador; the other streets, or roads, lie between
ranges of detached villas, each with a garden, and
here and there some more secluded habitation is with-
drawn into some nook on the margin of the forest.
The large majority of the trees and shrubs of this
region have persistent leaves, but a few lose their
foliage annually in winter, and a few others, I believe,
during the heat of summer. The only prominent
reminder of the fact that we were in winter was the
appearance of the Bombax trees that line the main
street, now completely bare of foliage. The tree
commonly planted in this part of Brazil is, I believe,

328 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

the Bombax pubescens of botanists. The fruit, with its
copious silky appendage to the seeds, alone remained
at this season ; but when covered with a mass of large
white flowers, it must have a gorgeous appearance.

I cannot feel sure that every naturalist will approve
‘of the resolution, which I very soon formed, to remain
as long as was possible at Petropolis. To reach the
higher summits of the Organ Mountains would have
required at least three or four days’ travel, and at
this season I could expect to see very little of the
vegetation of the higher zone. In the mean time, I
found in the immediate neighbourhood, within a radius
‘of four or five miles, an unexhausted variety of objects
‘of interest, and the attractions of the place were
‘doubtless heightened by the fortunate circumstances in
which I found myself. It is certain that the ten days
that I spent at this fascinating spot remain in my
memory as the nearest approach to a visit to the
terrestrial paradise that I can expect to realize.
Besides the British minister, Mr. Corbett, I was for-
‘tunate enough to make the acquaintance of two
English families, whose constant kindness and hospi-
tality largely contributed to the enjoyment of my
stay. To find in the midst of the marvels of tropical
nature the charms of cultivated society, was a com-
bination that I had not ventured to promise to myself.

Although I never went farther than five or six
miles from my head-quarters, the variety of delightful
walks in every direction seemed to be inexhaustible ;
go where one would, it seemed certain that one could
not go wrong. I soon ascertained, indeed, that it is
useless to attempt to penetrate the forests, except by

THE STRUGGLE FOR EXISTENCE. 329

following a road or cleared path. My first lesson was
on the slope of a little hill some three hundred feet
in height that overlooks the town. I was told that
there was a path on the farther side, but, seeing the
ground partly open, with trees of small stature not
much crowded together, I resolved to follow the
straight course. The ascent cost me over two hours
of hard work, and I accomplished it only with the
help of a sharp knife, by which to cut through the
tangle of vegetation. In the midst of this I was
surprised to find tall fronds of our common English
bracken (Preris aguilina), a fern that has been able to
adapt its constitution to all but the most extreme
climates of the world. The little hill that cost me so
much labour had been completely cleared ten years
before, so that all the trees and shrubs had grown up
since that time.

The first excursion recommended to every stranger
at Petropolis is that to the Falls of Itamariti. I went
there twice, varying somewhat my course—the first
time with a horse, which I found quite unnecessary
and rather an incumbrance ; the second time alone.
The falls are not very considerable. A stream so
slender that it can be passed by stepping-stones falls
over two ledges of granite rock, together about forty
feet in height; but, framed in a mass of the most
luxuriant tropical vegetation, the whole forms a lovely
picture. For some reason which I did not learn, the
forest on the slopes of the lower part of the glen
below the falls had been felled just before my visit,
and its beauty had vanished, but fortunately the arm
of the destroyer was arrested before reaching the falls

330 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

As happens to every stranger in a tropical forest,
I was bewildered amidst the great variety of trees that
struggle for supremacy, the one condition for victory
being to get a full share of the glorious sunshine over-
head. By vigorous tugging at one of the Zanes that
hung like a rope from a branch sixty feet above my
head, I succeeded in breaking off a fragment, and
identifying one of the larger trees as a species of fig,
with large, oval, leathery leaves somewhat like those
of a magnolia. It is needless to say that each tree is
invaded by a host of enemies—parasites that fatten on
its substance, comparatively harmless epiphytes that
cling to the branches, and hosts of climbing lianes
that mount to the topmost branches, robbing them of
their share of sunlight, and hang down, often twined
together, and in the deep shade are generally mere
bare flexible stems. It was strange to observe that
one of the deadliest enemies, a small parasite, fixing
itself near the ground on the trunks of the larger trees,
is a species of fig, belonging to the same genus as some
of the giants of the forest, and doubtless tracing its
descent from a common ancestor. It is in the tropical
forest that one feels the force of Darwin’s phrase
“struggle for existence,” as applied to the vegetable
world. In our latitudes it is by an effort of the
imagination that we realize the fact that in our fields
and woodlands there is a contest going on between
rival claimants for the necessary conditions of life.
Here we see ourselves in the midst of a scene of
savage warfare. The great climbers, like monstrous
boas, that twine round and strangle the branch, remind
one of the Laocoon; the obscure parasite that eats

THE HERMIT OF PETROPOLIS. 331

into the trunk of a mighty tree till a great cavity
prepares its downfall, testifies to the destructive power
of an insidious enemy.

It is only in the more open spots that a botanist is
able to make close acquaintance with the smaller
trees and shrubs. Near to the stream I was able to
hook down a branch and secure flowering specimens
of a Begonia that grew to a height of over twenty
feet. In such situations Melastomacea were every-
where abundant, but for variety of forms the ferns
surpassed any of the families of flowering plants. I
was surprised to find that the beautiful tree ferns,
that add so much to the charm of the tropical flora,
were rarely to be found with fructification, and the
huge fronds being of quite unmanageable dimensions,
I did not attempt to collect specimens. Of the
smaller kinds, when I was able, with the kind assist-
ance of Mr. Baker, of Kew, to name my specimens,
I found that I had collected thirty-five species in the
neighbourhood of Petropolis.

During my stay here I visited a German gentleman
whose singular manner of life excites the interest and
curiosity of the European residents. I am ignorant
of the motives that have led Mr. Doer, evidently an
educated and cultivated man, to lead the life of a
hermit far from his native country. He has built for
himself a small house in the forest, on one of the hills
that enclose the basin of Petropolis, and lives quite
alone, except for the daily visit of a boy who carries
the provisions that satisfy his very moderate wants.
He seems to be entirely occupied in studying the
habits of the native animals of the country, and

332 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

especially those of the Lepidopterous insects—butter-,
flies and moths—that adorn this region. By attention
to the habitual food of the various species, he has
succeeded in keeping in his house the caterpillars that
in due time produce the perfect insect, and has pre-
served in cabinets large collections of fine specimens.
At the suggestion of the friend who accompanied
me, Mr. Doer was good enough to introduce me to
the family of small monkeys which he has raised and
domesticated. The senior members had been brought
from some place in Northern Brazil, but they had
multiplied, some of the offspring being born in his
house, and now formed a rather numerous party. The
creatures habitually passed the day in the forest, never,
in Mr. Doer’s belief, wandering to a distance from the
house, and at night came in and nestled among the
rafters of the roof. The call was by a peculiar note,
somewhat resembling a low whistle, repeated two or
three times, and before a minute had elapsed the little
creatures came swarming about the open window.
They were decidedly pretty, their large black eyes
giving an impression of intelligence, but I did not
detect any indication of attachment to their master.
I cannot say to what species they belonged. They
had large ears like those of the marmoset, but differed
in having a prehensile tail. One of them hung with
his head downward, suspended by the tail from some
projection above the window. After receiving some
fragments of sweetmeat they soon departed, returning
to their favourite haunts among the trees of the forest.
Starting early one morning, and reaching the crest
of the range that divides Petropolis from the Bay of

A SEA OF MIST. 333

Rio Janeiro, I enjoyed in great perfection a spectacle
that is commonly visible at this season when the
weather is clear and settled. Before sunrise a stratum
of mist extends over the bay and the low country
surrounding it. As I saw it, this may have been about
a thousand feet in thickness when the sun first reached
it, and the fantastic summits of the mountains rose
like islets from a sea of dazzling white. As the sun’s
rays began to act, the mist appeared to melt away
from above ; the lower hills and the rocky islands of
the bay emerged in succession, and finally the veil
completely disappeared, and the whole wondrous view
was completely disclosed.

The beautiful effects displayed in the gradual dis-
appearance of mist as seen from a height in early
morning must be familiar to every genuine moun-
taineer, and may be enjoyed amongst the hills of the
British Islands. Among my own recollections, a
certain morning, when I stood alone at sunrise on the
highest peak of the Pilatus, near Lucerne, showed the
phenomenon in a most striking way, accompanied as
it was by the coloured halo that surrounds the shadow
of the observer thrown on the cloud-stratum below.
But in my previous experience the disappearance of
the mist was always accompanied by the upward
movement of some portions of the mass. The surface
appears to heave under the action of force acting from
below, and some masses are generally carried up so
as temporarily to envelope the observer. In the view
over the Bay of Rio I was much farther away from
the surface of the mist than in previous experiences
of the kind, and I may have been misled by distance

’

334. NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

from the scene of action, but, though watching atten-
tively, I saw no appearance of heaving of the surface
or any break in its regular form. The waste seemed
to proceed altogether from the upper surface, and the
emergence of the prominent objects in regular suc-
cession gave direct evidence to that effect.

During the first five days of my visit the weather
at Petropolis was perfectly enjoyable. The tempera-
ture varied from about 60° Fahr. at sunrise to about
‘70° in the afternoon ; but the effect of radiation must
have been intense, as in an exposed situation a
minimum thermometer descended on one night to
46°, and on the next to 44°, and the dew was heavier
than I have ever seen it elsewhere, so that in some
places the quantity fallen from the leaves of the trees
made the ground perfectly wet in the morning. The
barometer varied very little, even after the weather
changed, and stood as nearly as possible three inches
lower than at Rio, showing a difference of level of
about 2900 feet. On the 16th of July the sky became
overcast, and some rain fell in the afternoon, the ther-
mometer rising at two p.m. to 73° Fahr., and moderate
rain fell on each succeeding day until the evening of
the 19th, but scarcely any movement of the air was
perceptible, There is a remarkable difference in the
distribution of rainfall between the part of Brazil lying
within about fifteen degrees of the equator and the
region south of that limit. At Pernambuco (south
lat. 8° 4’), out of an annual rainfall of about a hundred
and ten inches, nearly ninety inches fall during the
six months from March to August, and at Bahia, with
less total rainfall, the proportion is nearly the same.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF INDOLENCE. 33%

But at Rio Janeiro the rainy season falls in summer,
from November to March, and winter is the dry
season. Of an annual rainfall of forty-eight and a
half inches, only five and a half inches fall in the
winter months, June, July, and August, and less than
an inch and a half in July. No doubt the amount of
rain is greater at a mountain station such as Petropolis,
while the proportion falling in the different seasons
must be about the same.

At Petropolis, as well as elsewhere in South
America, I was struck by the fact that the children
of European parents born in the country speedily
acquire the indolent habits of the native population of
Spanish or Portuguese origin. The direct influence
of climate is doubtless one cause of the change of dis-
position, but I suspect that the chief share is due to
the great difference in the conditions of life which are
the indirect results of climate. Where mere existence
is so enjoyable, where physical wants are so few and
so easily supplied, the chief stimulus to exertion is
wanting, and the natural distaste for labour prevails
over the hope of gain. A boy will prefer to pick up
a few pence by collecting flowers, or roots, or butter-
flies in the forest near his home, to earning ten times
as much by walking to a distance, especially if ex-
pected to carry a light weight. On my first visit to
Itamariti I took with me a German boy, whom I left
in charge of the superfluous horse that I had been
advised to take with me. Finding the occupation a
bore, and probably fearing that he would have to
carry back the portfolio and vasculum that I had
taken for plant-collecting, he fastened the bridle to a

336 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

tree and disappeared, never coming to claim the pay
promised for his unaccomplished day’s work.

All delightful times come to an end, and, as I
resolved to visit Tijuca before departing from Brazil,
I quitted Petropolis on the morning of July 20, and
made my return to Rio amid brilliant sunshine, in
which the glorious scenery of the bay renewed its
indelible impression on my memory. In passing over
the tract of low land between Raiz da Serra and the
shore, partly overgrown by shrubs or small trees ten
or twelve feet in height, I found them covered with
masses of large flowers of the most brilliant purple
hue, where ten days before not a single flower had
been visible. The train halted for half a minute at
a solitary half-way house, and I was able to break off
a branch from the nearest plant. It belonged, as I
suspected, to the family of Me/astomacee, and is known
to botanists as Pleroma granulosum of Don; but one
seeing dried specimens in a European herbarium,
could form no conception of the gorgeous effect of
the masses of rich colour that were here displayed,
outshining the splendours of the Indian rhododendrons
now familiar to European eyes. I again found the
same species at Tijuca; but the soil and situation
were, I suppose, less favourable, and the show of
bloom was neither so rich nor so abundant.

I was told that the local name of this splendid
plant is guaresma, because it flowers in Lent, which
in Brazil falls in autumn ; but I afterwards ascertained
that the same name is given to several other species
of Melastomacee having brilliant flowers, and it seems
improbable that the same species which I found

THE EMPEROR DOM PEDRO. 337

bursting into flower in mid-winter should have also
flowered three or four months before. The only
remains of fruit that I found were dry, empty capsules
that had apparently survived the preceding summer.

Although I reached Rio some time before midday,
so many matters required my attention that I found
it impossible to return for a fuller visit to the Botanic
Garden. Mr. Corbett had kindly offered to present
me to the emperor, and, if time had permitted, I
should have gladly taken the opportunity of making
the personal acquaintance of a sovereign who stands
alone among living rulers for the extent and variety
of his scientific attainments, and for the active interest
he has shown in the progress of natural knowledge.
Irrespective of the qualities that appeal to the
sympathies of men of science, Dom Pedro is evidently
one of the remarkable men of our time. His excep-
tional energies, physical and mental, are incessantly
devoted to every branch of public affairs, and it is
said that he has even succeeded in inspiring some of
his subjects with a share of his own zeal. But, so far
as I could learn, he cannot be said to have achieved
popularity. Among indolent and listless people,
indefatigable industry produces an unpleasant effect.
Improvements may or may not be desirable, but they
are certain to give some trouble: it would be far
pleasanter to let things remain as they are. Perhaps,
whenever the time comes for Brazil to be deprived of
the guidance of the present emperor, its people will
become sensible of the loss they have sustained.

The steamer of the Royal Mail Company was to
depart on July 24, so that no time was to be lost in

Z

338 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

making my visit to Tijuca. That place lies among
the hills north-west of the city, about nine hundred
feet above the sea, and the distance is quite incon-
siderable; but the arrangements for visitors are
inconvenient. A tramway runs over the flat country
to the foot of the hill, and from the terminus the
remainder of the way is accomplished by carriage or
omnibus. But no luggage is taken by the tramway,
and this has to be forwarded on the previous day.
When I reached the station, about eleven a.m. on the
21st, I had an unpleasant quarter of an hour, during
which it appeared that the case containing most of
my Petropolis collections was lost or mislaid. At
length it was found lying in an outhouse ; no omnibus
was available, but I soon succeeded in hiring a carriage
to convey me to Tijuca.

The country between the city and the lower slopes
of the hills is covered with the villas of wealthy
natives, many of them large and handsome houses,
each surrounded by a garden or pleasure-ground. In
these grounds the mango, bread-fruit tree, and others,
with large thick leaves giving dense shade, were in-
variably planted ; and here and there palms, of which
I thought I could distinguish four or five species,
gave to the whole the aspect of completely tropical
vegetation. Amidst the mass of trees, it was rarely
possible to get a glimpse of the exquisite scenery
surrounding Rio on every side, and it was only towards
the top of the hill that I gained a view of the bay.
Tijuca lies on the farther, or westward, slope, nearly
surrounded by forest, and consists of only a few
houses, of which the chief is White’s Hotel. As I

TREATMENT OF VELLOW FEVER. — 339

afterwards learned, Mr. White, who is engaged in
business in the city, was in the habit of hospitably
entertaining his friends at a spot which naturally
attracted frequent visits, and at length judiciously
turned his house into an hotel, where a moderate
number of guests find charming scenery, comparative
coolness in the hot season, and far more of creature-
comforts than are to be had in the hotels of Rio.

Time allowed me no more than a short stroll in the
immediate neighbourhood before the hour of dinner,
at which I met several intelligent and well-informed
gentlemen, and amongst them three English engineers,
from whom I received much information as to the
country which they have made their home.

Amongst other questions discussed was that, so
important to Europeans, regarding the annual visita-
tion of yellow fever and the best method of treatment.
I was especially struck by the experiences of the
youngest of the party, who had come out from Eng-
land a few years before to superintend some consider-
able new works for the drainage of Rio. For two
years he lived altogether in the city, constantly requir-
ing to go below, and sometimes remaining for hours
in the main sewers. During that time he was never
attacked by the fever, and no fatal cases arose among
the workmen engaged in the same work. Since its
completion this gentleman had been engaged on other
works of a more ordinary character, and had habitually
slept in the country during the hot season ; but, under
conditions apparently more favourable, he had been
twice stricken by the fever. The first attack, which
was probably slight, was at once cut short by a large

340 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

dose of castor oil and aconite administered by a
friend. In the following year he experienced a more
serious attack, and had been treated by a doctor of
good repute, mainly with tartar emetic. It appears
that professors of the healing art in Brazil regulate
their charges, not by the amount of time or labour
which they give, but by the estimated value of the
patient’s life. If he survives, it is considered that the
remuneration should be in the nature of salvage—a
considerable percentage on the amount of his income.
In the present case the young engineer had been
required to pay a fee of £180. In some cases, where
the doctor’s demand appeared utterly unreasonable,
foreigners have attempted to appeal to the tribunals,
but it appears that the results of litigation have not
encouraged others to resort to the protection of the
law.

In answer to my inquiries, most of my informants
made light of the difficulties of exploring the interior
of Brazil, but they agreed in the opinion that much
time must be given by any traveller wishing to break
new ground. Even in the more or less fully settled
provinces, the spaces to be traversed are so great, and
the means of communication so imperfect, that a
large margin must be left for unexpected delays.
One gentleman, who had travelled far in Goyaz and
Matto Grosso, assured me that he had never en-
countered any difficulty as to provisions. Three
articles of European origin are to be found, so he
assured me, at every inhabited place in the interior—
Huntley and Palmer’s biscuits, French sardines, and
Bass’s pale ale.

VEGETATION OF TIFUCA. 341

July 22 was a day of great enjoyment, devoted to
the immediate neighbourhood of Tijuca, where objects
of interest were so abundant as to furnish ample
occupation for many days. I have said that the place
is almost surrounded by the forest which spreads over
the adjoining hills. J now learned that less than fifty
years before, at a time when coffee-planting in Brazil
became a mania, and was counted on as everywhere a
certain source of wealth, the aboriginal forest which
covered the country was completely cleared, and
coffee-planting commenced on the largest scale.
Experience soon proved that the conditions either of
soil or climate were unfavourable, and after a few
years the land was again abandoned to the native
vegetation. About thirty-five years had sufficed to
produce a new forest, which in other lands might be
supposed to be the growth of centuries. The trees
averaged from two to three feet in diameter, and
many were at least seventy feet in height. One of
the largest is locally called za; it belongs to the
leguminous family, has a trunk nearly quite bare, and
the upper branches bore masses of cream-coloured
flowers ; but, finding it impossible to obtain flower or
fruit, I have beep unable to identify it. The vegeta-
tion here appeared to be even more luxuriant than
that of Petropolis, and to indicate a somewhat higher
mean temperature. The proportion of tree ferns was
decidedly greater, and a good many conspicuous
plants not seen there were here abundant. Some of
these, such as Bignonia venusta, Allamanda, etc., may
have strayed from the gardens; but many more ap-
peared to be certainly indigenous. Of flowering

342 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

plants the family of Melastomacee was decidedly
predominant, and within a small area I collected
fifteen species, eight of which belonged to the beautiful
genus Pleroma. One of these (P. arboreum of
Gardner) is a tree growing to a height of forty feet ;
but the species of this family are more commonly
shrubs not exceeding ten or twelve feet in height.

I was unfortunately not acquainted at that time
with the observations made near Tijuca by Professor
Alexander Agassiz, which appear to him to give
evidence of glacial action in this part of Brazil. It

- would be rash, especially for one who has not been
able to examine the deposits referred to, to controvert
conclusions resting on such high authority; but I
may remark that the evidence is confessedly very
imperfect, and that the characteristic striations, either
on the live rock or on the transported blocks, which
are commonly seen in the theatre of glacial action,
have not been observed. I lean to the opinion that
the deposits seen near Tijuca are of the same charac-
ter as those described by M. Liais* as frequent in
Brazil. The crystalline rocks are of very unequal
hardness, and while some portions are rapidly dis-
integrated, the harder parts resist. The disintegrated
matter is washed away, and the result is to leave a
pile of blocks of unequal dimensions lying in a
confused mass.

On the following day, my last in Brazil, one of my
new acquaintances was kind enough to guide me on
a short excursion in the forest, which enabled me to

* See his valuable work, ‘ Climats, Géologie, Faune et Géographie
Botanique du Bresil.”

A GIANT TREE. 343

approach one of the giants of the vegetable kingdom.
At the time of the clearing of the aboriginal forest
two great trees were spared. One of these had been
blown down some years before my visit, and but one
now remained. It was easily recognized from a
distance, as it presented a great dome of verdure that
rose high above the other trees of the forest. The
greater part of the way was perfectly easy. A broad
track, smooth enough to be passable in a carriage,
has been cleared for a distance of many miles over
the forest-covered hills.

Following this amid delightful scenery, we reached
a point scarcely two hundred yards distant from the
great tree. I had already learned that even two
hundred yards in a Brazilian forest are not very easily
accomplished, but I was assured that a path had been
cut a year or two before which allowed easy access to
the foot of the tree. We found the path, but it was
soon apparent that it had been neglected during the
past season, and in this country a few months suffice
to produce a tangle of vegetation not easily traversed,

When at length we effected our object, we found
ourselves at the base of a cylindrical column or tower,
with very smooth and uniform surface, tapering very
slightly up to the lowest branch, which was about
eighty feet over our heads. We measured the girth,
and found it just twenty-nine feet at five feet from
the ground. It is needless to say that I could form
no conjecture as to the species, or even the family,
to which this giant belongs, as I was quite unable to
make out the character of the foliage. While near
to it we could form no guess as to the height; but

344 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

my companion, whose profession made him used to
accurate estimates, and who had observed it from
many points of view, reckoned the height at between
180 and 200 feet. I had not then seen the giant
conifers of western North America, but, excluding the
two Sequoias, I have not found any single tree to
equal this. In the valleys of the Alleghany Moun-
tains in Tennessee, I have indeed beheld not unworthy
rivals. The Lzrzodendron there sends up a stem more
than seven feet in diameter, and frequently exceeds
150 feet in height.

To diminish my regret at quitting this beautiful
region, the morning of July 24 broke amid dark
clouds and heavy rain, which continued till the after-
noon. I had counted on enjoying a few hours in Rio
before my departure, but, that being impossible, I
went directly from Tijuca to the landing-place, and
thence on board the steamer of the Royal Mail Com-
pany, which was to take me back to England. This
was the Zagus, and I had much pleasure in finding
her under the command of Captain Gillies, with
whom I had made the voyage from Southampton to
Colon. In the afternoon we slowly steamed out of
the bay. Its glories were veiled, heavy clouds rested
on the Organ Mountains ; but the Corcovado and the
other nearer summits appeared from time to time,
and the last impression was that of fleeting images of
beauty the like of which I cannot hope again to
behold.

The course for steamers from Rio Janeiro to Eng-
land is as nearly as possible direct. The coast of
Brazil from Rio to Pernambuco runs from south-

WINDS OF THE ATLANTIC. 345

south-west to north-north-east, in the same direction
that leads to Europe ; and from the headland of Cabo
Frio to the entrance of the English Channel at
Ushant, a distance of about 72° of latitude and 38°
of longitude, the helm is scarcely varied from the
same course. It is somewhat remarkable that in so
long a voyage, in which one passes from the Tropic
of Capricorn to the region of the variable anti-trade
winds of the northern hemisphere, it not very rarely
happens, as I was assured by our experienced captain,
that north-north-east winds are encountered through-
out the entire distance. This was nearly verified in
the present case. For comparatively short periods
the wind shifted occasionally to the north and north-
west ; more rarely, and at brief intervals, light breezes
from the south and south-east were experienced ; but
the north-east and north-north-east winds predomi-
nated, even on the Brazilian coast, until we reached
the latitude of Lisbon.

It is an admitted fact in meteorology, that the
trade winds of the northern are—at least in the
Atlantic—stronger than those of the southern hemi-
sphere; but at the winter season of the south, the
south-east trade winds prevail in the equatorial zone,
and are not rarely felt as far as eight or even ten
degrees north of the equator. But in investigating
the extremely complex causes that determine the
direction of air currents, and especially those slight
movements that make what is called a_ breeze,
it is difficult to trace the separate effect of each
agent. The neighbourhood of a coast constantly
brings local causes into play, and it may well be that

346 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

the rapid condensation of large masses of vapour,
such as occurs at each heavy fall of rain, may deter-
mine temporary currents in the air in directions
opposed to the general and ordinary march of the
winds. Irrespective, however, of any such local
causes, we must bear in mind the general tendency
of air currents towards motion of a circular or spiral
character. When we meet a breeze blowing in a
direction contrary to that which ordinary experience
leads us to expect, we must not forget the possi-
bility that it may be a portion of the ordinary
current which has formed an eddy. The main facts
of meteorology are now well established, but the local
deviations may give room for prolonged study.

Although I knew that the delay at both places
would be short, I looked forward with much interest
to the prospect of landing at Bahia and Pernambuco.
The latter place especially is known to be the chief
mart for the natural productions of Equatorial
America, Skins of animals, birds living and dead,
gorgeous butterflies and shells, are easily procurable ;
and a mere visit to the fish and vegetable markets is
sure to make a visitor acquainted with objects of
interest. But my expectations were doomed to dis-
appointment.

We reached Bahia on the morning of July 27.
The city stands on a point of land north of the
entrance to an extensive bay, called by the Portuguese
Bahia de Todos Santos, and the proper name of the
city is Sado Salvador; but the concurrent practice of
foreigners has established the name now in general
use. The steamer lay in the roadstead nearly a mile

COAST CLIMATE OF BRAZIL. 347

from the shore, and the heavy boats, carrying some
passengers for Europe, moved slowly as they pitched
to and fro in the swell of the sea. Just as they
came alongside, rain suddenly burst in a torrent from
the clouds, which had formed in the course of a few
minutes. For the first time in my journey, I regretted
the omission to have supplied myself with a water-
proof cloak. A thorough wetting in tropical countries
usually entails an attack of fever, and for that I was
not prepared; so, along with two or three other
passengers who wished to go ashore, I remained in
the main deck. The rain ceased, and there was an
interval of sunshine ; but the torrential showers were
renewed two or three times before we resumed our
voyage in the afternoon.

I have already noticed the contrast that exists
between the winter and summer climate of this part
of Brazil and that of Rio and the southern provinces,
In the latter the rainy season is in summer, while
nearer the equator, although no season can be called
dry, the chief rainfall occurs in winter—that is to say,
in the season when the sun is farthest from the zenith.
While passing through the equatorial zone, when
intervals of bright weather alternated with extremely
heavy rain, I frequently consulted the barometer, but
was unable to trace the slightest connection between
atmospheric pressure and rainfall, the slight oscilla-
tions observed being due to the diurnal variation
everywhere sensible in the tropics.

The temperature on this part of the coast was only
moderately warm, varying from 76° to 78° Fahr. on
this and the following day, when we called at Maceio,

348 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

a place of increasing commercial importance. Our
stay was so short that no one attempted to go ashore,
although the weather was favourable. Several whales
were seen both on the 27th and 28th, but I failed to
ascertain to what species they belonged.

On the evening of the 28th we experienced a
decided rise of temperature ; three hours after sunset
the thermometer still stood at 81° Fahr., and, with
two remarkable intervals, it did not fall below 80°
during the following eight days. During that time
my attention was often directed to the physiological
effects of heat on the human economy, and both my
own experience and the conflicting testimony of
travellers lead me to conclude that there are many
facts not yet satisfactorily explained.

On the enfeebling effect of moist tropical climates
there is a general agreement, both as to the fact and
the chief cause; but, as I have remarked in a pre-
ceding page, the circumstance that this is little or
not at all experienced at sea is apparently anomalous.
With regard to the direct effect of the sun’s rays
on the surface of the body, and especially in the
production of sun-stroke, the evidence of scientific
travellers is conflicting, and the explanations offered
are by no means satisfactory. On the one hand, it is
asserted on good authority that in the equatorial zone
the direct effect of the sun is far greater than it is
in Europe at the same elevation above the horizon.
The rapid reddening and blistering of the skin where
exposed, and sun-stroke from exposure of the head,
are said to be the ordinary effects. Being extremely
sensitive to solar heat, I have always carefully pro-

SUN-STROKE. 349

tected my head, and have avoided rash experiments.
Of the reddening and blistering of the skin I have
had very frequent experience in Europe, upon the
Alps and other mountains ; but I observed none but
very slight effects of this kind in the tropics, even
with a nearly vertical sun, either on land or while at
sea. Dr. Hann* cites many statements on the
subject. In the West Indies cases of sun-stroke are
rare, and the inhabitants expose themselves without
danger. In nearly all parts of British India, as is too
well known, the danger of exposing the head to the
sun is notorious, and the same is certainly true of
most parts of tropical Africa.

The most obvious suggestion is that, inasmuch as
dry air absorbs less of the solar heat than air
charged with aqueous vapour, the injurious effects
should be more felt in dry climates than in damp
ones. But, so far as what is called sun-stroke is con-
cerned, the balance of evidence is opposed to this
conclusion. Sir Joseph Fayrer, who has had wide
experience in India, expressly asserts that the hot
dry winds in Upper India induce less cases of sun-
stroke than the moist though cooler climate of Bengal
and Southern India. Dr. Hann quotes Borius for a
statement that in Senegambia the rainy season is that
in which sun-stroke commonly occurs, while he further
asserts that on the Loango coast, in very similar
climatal conditions, the affection is almost unknown,
and that Europeans even expose the head to the sun
with impunity.

My own conclusion, fortified by that of eminent

* © Klimatologie,” p. 382.

350 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

authorities, is that the phenomena here discussed are
of a very complex nature; that different physical
agencies are concerned in the various effects produced
on the body ; and that most probably there are many
different pathological affections which have been
classed together, but which, when more fully studied,
will be recognized as distinct.

In the first place, I apprehend that the action of
the sun which causes discolouration and blistering of
the skin has no relation to that which causes sun-
stroke. It is a local effect confined to the surfaces
actually exposed, and, if it could be accurately
registered, would serve the purpose of an actinometer,
depending as it does on the amount of radiant heat
reaching the surface in a unit of time.

Sun-stroke proper is, I believe, an affection of the
cerebro-spinal system arising from the overheating of
those parts of the body. It is by no means confined
to the tropics, or to very hot countries, as many cases
occur annually in Europe, and still more frequently in
the eastern states of North America.

Nearly allied to sun-stroke, but perhaps sufficiently
different to deserve separate classification, are those
attacks which some writers style cases of thermic
fever, which arise mainly in places where the body is
for a continuance exposed to temperatures exceeding
the normal amount of the human body. In producing
thermic fever, it would appear that the depressing
effect of a hot moist climate acts powerfully as a
predisposing cause, and such cases not uncommonly
arise where there has been no exposure whatever to
the direct rays of the sun,

PERNAMBUCO. 351

It is easy to understand that, as a general rule,
seamen are less exposed than other classes to any of
the injurious effects of heat, but it is remarkable that
they should enjoy complete exemption. Cases are
not very uncommon among seamen going ashore in
hot countries, but I have not found a well-authenticated
case of sun-stroke arising on board ship; and cases of
thermic fever in the Red Sea usually arise in the
engine-room of a steamer rather than among the men
on deck.

On the morning of July 29 we reached Pernambuco,
to which I had looked forward as the last Brazilian
city that I was likely to see. It had been described
to me as the Venice of South America, and the com-
parison is to a slight extent justified by its position
on a lagoon of smooth water, separated from the open
roadstead by a coral reef several miles in length. It
enjoys the further distinction, unusual in a place
within eight degrees of the equator, of being remark-
ably healthy. But on this occasion fortune was
against me.

No doubt for some sufficient reason, we did not
enter the rather intricate passage leading inside the
reef, but lay to in rough water outside. For a short
time the scene was brilliant. The hot sun beat down
on the deep blue water, and lit up the foam on the
crests of the dancing waves, and the sky overhead
showed such a pure azure that one could not suppose
the air to be saturated with vapour. Before long
boats were seen approaching, tossed to and fro in the
broken water; but before they drew near, heavy
clouds had gathered in the course of a few minutes,

352 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

and a torrent.of water was discharged such as I had
never experienced except in passing under a waterfall.
As each boat came alongside, a seat was let down
from the upper deck, and the passengers were hoisted
up in turn, those who had not efficient waterproofs
being as thoroughly drenched as if they had been
dipped in the sea. Four or five times during the day
the sky cleared, the blazing sun returned, and the
decks were nearly dry, when another downpour of
torrential rain drove us all to seek shelter, each
shower lasting only from ten to fifteen minutes.

During the hotter hours of the day a rather strong
breeze set in towards the shore, and I have no doubt
that it is to its full exposure to this ordinary sea-
breeze that the city owes its comparative healthiness.
It was interesting to watch the manceuvres of the
catamarans, in which the native fishermen were
pursuing their avocations. This most primitive of
sea-craft is formed of two or three logs well spliced
together, with some weight to serve as ballast fastened
underneath. In the forepart a stout stick some ten
feet long stands up as a mast and supports a small
sail, and amid-ships a short rail, supported on two
uprights, enabled the two men who form the crew to
hold on when much knocked about by the waves. A
single paddle seems to serve as a rudder, but it is not
easy to understand how such a rude substitute for a
boat is able to work out to sea against the breeze
which commonly sets towards the shore.

A large proportion of the steerage passengers who
came on board at Bahia and Pernambuco were
Portuguese returning to their native country after a

1

THE ANEROID BAROMETER. 353

residence, either as artisans or as agricultural settlers,
in Brazil. My command of the language is un-
fortunately so limited that I failed to extract from
these fellow-passengers any interesting information.
With scarcely an exception, each carried at least one
parrot, usually intended for sale at Lisbon, where it
appears that they are in some request. Comparatively
high prices are given for birds that freely simulate
human speech.

We were under steam in the afternoon of the 29th,
and soon lost to view the South American continent.
On the following day the barometer for the first time
showed the diminution of pressure which is normally
found in the equatorial zone. Between nine a.m. and
four p.m. the ship’s mercurial barometer fell about a
quarter of an inch from 30°30 to 30°06 inches, and my
aneroid showed nearly the same amount of difference.
It must be remembered, however, that nearly one-
half of the effect (at least one-tenth of an inch) must
be set down to the daily oscillation of the height of
the barometer, which so constantly occurs within the
tropics, the highest pressures recurring at ten a.m. and
ten p.m., and the lowest about four p.m. and four a.m.

I carried with me on this journey only a single
aneroid barometer, an excellent instrument by Casella,
whose performance was very satisfactory, and which
in a very short time returned to its normal indication
after exposure to diminished pressure in the Andes ;
but it had the defect, which, so far as I know, is
common to the aneroid instruments by the best
makers, that the temperature at which the scale is
originally laid down by comparison with a standard

2A

354 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

mercurial barometer is not indicated on the face of
the instrument. Assuming that the aneroid is com-
pensated for variations of temperature, and I have
found this to be the case within ordinary limits in
gaod instruments, there remains the question to what
height of mercury at what temperature a given read-
ing of the aneroid corresponds. For scientific pur-
poses it is customary to reduce the reading of the
mercurial barometer to the temperature of the freezing-
point of water, and it is often supposed that the
aneroid reading corresponds to that figure. But we
may feel pretty confident that the maker, in laying
down the scale, did not work in a room at freezing-
point. I have been accustomed to assume 15° Cent.,
or 59° Fahr., as about the probable temperature with
instruments made in our climate.

In the present case, the barometer-reading of 30°06
inches at the temperature of 84° Fahr. would (neg-
lecting the small correction for capillarity) be reduced
by about fourteen-hundredths of an inch, in order to
give the correct figure at freezing-point ; but for com-
parison with an aneroid, supposed to have been laid
down at 59° Fahr., the correction would be a fraction
over seven-hundredths of an inch. As a matter of
fact, my aneroid marked at four p.m. 29.89 inches, or,
allowing for the correction, just one-tenth of an inch
less than the ship’s mercurial barometer, and, as I
believe, was more nearly correct.

As the sun was declining on the evening of July 30,
we sighted the remarkable island of Fernando
Noronha. It lies about four degrees south of the
equator, and more than two hundred miles from the

FERNANDO NORONHA. 355

nearest point of the Brazilian coast. The outline is
singular, for the rough. hills which cover most of the
surface terminate at the western end of the island in
a peak surmounted by a column, in the form of a
gigantic lighthouse, which must rise over a thousand
feet above the sea-level.* Although Darwin passed
some hours on the island in 1832, it remains to the
present day one of the least known of the Atlantic
islands, so far as regards its natural productions. A
fellow-passenger who had landed there assured me
that he had found granite; but I have no doubt that
the island is exclusively of volcanic origin, for such
is the opinion of the few scientific men who have
visited it.

The island has been converted by the Brazilian
Government into a convict station, and in consequence
access by strangers has become very difficult. Such
information as we possess is mainly to be found in
Professor Moseley’s account of the voyage of the
Challenger. On landing there with Sir G. Nares, he
at first obtained permission from the governor to visit
the island and to collect natural objects; but the
permission was very soon retracted, and he was unable
to obtain specimens of several singular shrubs that
abound and give the island the appearance of being
covered with forest.

Now that the attention of naturalists has been
directed to the especial interest attaching to the fauna
and flora of oceanic islands, and their liability to

* Darwin’s estimate of the height was one thousand feet, while
Professor Moseley gives double that amount. I incline to think that
the lower figure is nearer to the truth.

356 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

extinction owing to competition from species intro-
duced by settlers, it may be hoped that the explora-
tion of this small but remarkable island will before
long be undertaken by a competent naturalist. For
that purpose it would be, in the first place, necessary
to obtain the permission of the Brazilian Government,
and to secure the means of existence during a stay of
ten or twelve days on the island. The most effectual
means would be through direct personal application
to the emperor, who is well known to take a lively
interest in all branches of natural science.

With the thermometer standing about 82°, the
passengers naturally preferred the upper deck to the
close air of the saloon, and were resting in their ship-
chairs between nine and ten p.m., when suddenly there
came an outburst of coughing and sneezing, followed
by demands for muffling of every kind. There was
no sensible movement in the air, but I found that the
thermometer had fallen to 79° Fahr., and there was a
feeling of chilliness which was not easily explained
by that slight fall of temperature.

The mystery was explained on consulting the chief
officer, who throughout the voyage paid much atten-
tion to the temperature of the sea. Since leaving
Pernambuco, the thermometer in buckets brought up
from the surface had varied only between 82° and 83°.
On this evening we had abruptly encountered a
relatively cold current, with a temperature somewhat
below 76°, and the. effect of being surrounded by a
body of cool water when the skin was in the con-
dition usual in the tropics was felt by nearly all the
passengers.

M. GEORGES CLARAZ. 357

With slight variation, this comparatively cool current
must have extended over a large area on both sides
of the equator, as the temperature of the water re-
mained nearly the same for about forty-eight hours.

Throughout the voyage from Brazil to Europe, I
was fortunate in enjoying the society of a man of
remarkable intelligence, who has been a diligent and
accurate observer of nature in a region still imperfectly
known. M. Georges Claraz, by birth a Swiss, belong-
ing to a family of small proprietors in the Canton of
Fribourg, had gone out as a young man to improve
his fortune in South America. He had received a
fair scientific education, having followed the lectures
of the eminent men who have adorned the Polytechnic
School at Zurich; but, what is much more rare, he
appeared to have retained everything that he had
ever learned, and to have had a clear perception of
the scientific value of the observations that a stranger
may make in a little-known region. After passing
some time in the state of Entrerios, he had settled
at Bahia Blanca, close to the northern border of
Patagonia. He had established friendly relations
with the Indians, and made frequent excursions in
the interior of Patagonia and southward as far as,
and even beyond, the river Chubat.

During the entire time, although engaged in the
work of a settler, M. Claraz seems to have made care-
ful notes of his observations—on the native Indians
and their customs ; on the indigenous and the domestic
animals ; on the plants and their uses; on the mineral
structure of the country, not omitting to take specimens
of the mud brought down by the different rivers ; and

358 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

on general physics. Of his large collections I trust
that the greater part have safely reached Switzerland.
A considerable collection of dried plants, sent home
while he resided at Bahia Blanca, was unfortunately
lost. He was good enough, after his return, to send
me a smaller collection remaining in his hands, of
which I gave an account in the Yournal of the Linnean
Society for 1884.

As I trust that the great store of information col-
lected by M. Claraz will before long be given to the
world, I should not wish to anticipate the appearance
of his work, but I may say that among many in-
teresting particulars, several of which I noted at the
time, I was especially struck by the evidence collected
among the Indians, which seemed to prove that the
Glyptodon survived in Patagonia down to a compara-
tively recent period, and that the tradition of its
presence is preserved in the stories and songs of the
natives.

Early on July 31 we passed the equator, but it was
not till ten p.m. on the following day that we escaped
from the area of cool water and found the ordinary
equatorial temperature of 82°5°. During the three
following days the weather was hot and relaxing, the
thermometer ranging by day between 84° and 85°.
For some hours on the 2nd of August the wind
came from south-south-east, but before evening it
backed to west, and blew from that point rather freshly
at night. On the following day we appeared to have
met the north-east trade wind, which was, however,
a gentle breeze, and occasionally veered to the north-
west,

ISLAND OF ST. VINCENT. 359

In the afternoon of August 4 we made out the
picturesque outline of the Cape Verde Islands, and
before sunset entered the channel between St. Vincent
and St. Antdo, finally dropping anchor for the night
in the outer part of the fine harbour of St. Vincent.
Having been selected as a coaling station, this has
become the chief resort of steamers plying between
Europe and the Southern Atlantic, and we were led
to expect that the operation would take up great part
of the following day. Here a fresh disappointment
awaited me. I had confidently reckoned upon spend-
ing several hours ashore, and seeing something of the
curious vegetation of the island, which includes a
scanty representation of tropical African types, with
several forms allied to the characteristic plants of the
Canary Islands.

I had not duly taken account of the perverse
temper of the officers of health, whose chief object in
life seems everywhere to be to make their authority
felt by the needless annoyance they cause to un-
offending fellow-creatures. We had left Rio with a
clean bill of health ; not a single case of yellow fever
had occurred for months before our departure; but
Brazil is regarded as permanently “suspected,” and
quarantine regulations were strictly enforced in our
case.

I am far from believing that in certain conditions,
and as regards certain diseases, judicious quarantine
regulations may not be effective; but, reckoning up
all the loss and inconvenience, and the positive
damage to health, arising from the sanitary regula-
tions now enforced, I question whether it would not

360 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

be better for the world if the system were entirely
abolished.

The view of St. Vincent, backed by a bold and
stern mountain mass, on which scarcely a trace of
vegetation is visible from a distance, was for some
time sufficiently interesting ; but as the day wore on,
and the sun beat down more fiercely, life on board
became less agreeable. To keep out the penetrating
coal dust all the ports were closed, and, with the
thermometer at 90°, the air below was stifling, and
the passengers generally preferred to remain on deck,
and breathe the hot air mixed with the coal dust that
arose from the open bunkers.

I offered two of the boatmen who hung about the
ship three milreis if they would land on an un-
inhabited part of the bay, which I pointed out to
them, and collect for me every plant they found
‘growing, and I was well pleased when, after two or
three hours, they returned with a respectable bundle
of green foliage. Under the vigilant eyes of the
officers of health the specimens were hauled up to
the deck, while the three dollars were thrown into the
boat. It is remarkable that coin is nowhere supposed
to convey contagion.

When I came to examine it, I found to my disgust
that the bouquet included only the leaves of two
species, with no trace of flower or fruit. One was
most probably Vicotiana glauca, introduced from
tropical America; the other a leguminous shrub,
possibly a Cassia, but quite uncertain.

The rest of the passengers spent most of the day
in bargaining with the hucksters who flocked round

ATLANTIC TRADE WINDS. 361

the ship. Ornaments made from palm leaves, sweet-
meats of very suspicious appearance, photographs,
and tobacco in various forms, were the chief articles
of traffic, and the main object seemed to be to prolong
the chaffering and bargaining over each article so as
to kill as much time as possible. More attractive in
appearance were the tropical fruits, of which those
suitable to a dry climate grow here in perfection. In
spite of persevering efforts, I have never developed
much appreciation of the banana as an article of diet,
but I thought those obtained here much the best that
I have anywhere eaten.

General satisfaction was felt when, the work of
coaling being finished, the ship was again in motion,
with her head set towards Europe. On returning to
the channel between the islands, and still more when
we had got well out to sea, we encountered a rather
strong breeze right ahead, which with varying force
continued for the next four days. This was, of course,
the regular trade wind of the North Atlantic, and had
the agreeable effect of lowering the temperature,
which at once fell to 78°. Along with the trade wind,
the sea-current apparently travels in the same direc-
tion. It is certain that the temperature of the water
was here much lower. Before reaching St. Vincent
we found it between 80° and 81° Fahr., while after
leaving the islands it had fallen to 74°. This tem-
perature remained nearly constant for three days, but
on the evening of the 9th, in about 27° north latitude,
we abruptly encountered another current of still cooler
water, in which the thermometer fell to 69°.

The force of the wind never, I think, exceeded

362 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

what seamen describe as a fresh breeze, but it sufficed
to cause at times considerable disturbance of the
surface ; and on the afternoon of the 6th we shipped
some heavy seas, so that it was found expedient to
slacken speed for a time.

I have alluded in a former page to the ordinary
observation that in the track of the trade winds the
breeze usually falls off about sunset. It is more
difficult to account for the opposite phenomenon,
which we experienced on three successive evenings
from the 7th to the gth of August, when the force of
the wind increased in a marked degree after nightfall.

I was also struck by the fact that the temperature
of the air throughout the voyage from St. Vincent to
the mouth of the Tagus seemed to be unaffected
either by the varying force of the wind or by[the fall
in surface-temperature of the sea, to which I have
above referred. On board ship in clear weather it is
very difficult to ascertain the true shade-temperature
when the sun is much above the horizon, but the
observations made at sunrise and after nightfall from
the evening of the 5th to the morning of the 11th
varied very slightly, the utmost range being from
77°5° to 73°.

Some points in the Canary Islands are often visible
in the voyage from Brazil to Europe, especially the
lofty peak of Palma; but we passed this part of the
course at night, and nothing was seen. As we drew
near to Europe, the wind, through keeping the sam
direction, gradually fell off to a gentle breeze, and the
surface of the water became glassy smooth, heaving
gently in long undulations. The relative effect of

THE TOWER OF BELEM. 363

smooth or rough water on the speed of steamers is
remarkable, and was shown by the fact that during
the twenty-four hours ending at noon on the 11th of
August the Zagus accomplished a run of 295 knots,
while three days before, with only a gentle breeze but
rougher water, the run to noon was only 240 knots.

Early in the afternoon of the 11th, the Rock of
Lisbon at the mouth of the Tagus was distinctly visible,
and we slowly entered the river and cast anchor at
the quarantine station below Belem. Our captain,
after the experience of St. Vincent, did not expect
to obtain pratique at Lisbon, and with more or less
grumbling the passengers had made up their minds
to remain on board, when, after a long deliberation,
the unexpected news, “admitted to pratique,” was
rapidly spread through the ship, and we moved up to
the anchorage opposite the picturesque old tower of
Belem, which the true mariner must always regard as
one of his holy places. It marks the spot wherefrom
Vasco de Gama and his companions, after a night
spent in prayer in the adjoining chapel, embarked on
their memorable voyage, and here, after years of
anxious uncertainty, King Manuel greeted the sur-
vivors on their return to their country.

The sun was sinking when such passengers as
wished to see something of Lisbon took the oppor-
tunity for going ashore, while others, like myself,
preferred to remain on board. Hoping to receive
letters at the post-office, I landed early next morning,
and found a tramcar to carry me to the centre of the
town. Early hours are not in much honour at Lisbon.
I found the post-office closed, and, after several vain

364 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

efforts, was informed that letters could not be delivered
until ten o’clock, the precise hour fixed for our de-
parture from the anchorage at Belem.

The voyage from Lisbon along the coasts of Portugal
and Galicia is usually enjoyed, even by fair-weather
sailors. The case is often otherwise with the Bay of
Biscay, but on this occasion there was nothing of which
the most fastidious could complain. I have sometimes
doubted whether injustice has not been done to that
much-abused bay, which, in truth, is not rightly so
called by those bound from the north to the coast of
Portugal. It is simply a part of the Atlantic Ocean,
adjoining the coast of Europe between latitudes
43° 46’ and 48° 28’. ‘I have not been able to ascertain
that the wind blows harder, or that the sea runs
higher there than elsewhere in the same latitudes,
and am inclined to rank the prejudice against that
particular tract of sea-water among vulgar errors.

The adventurer who has attempted to open up a
trade with some distant region is accustomed, as he
returns home, to count up the profits of his expedi-
tion ; and in somewhat the same spirit the man who
pursues natural knowledge can scarcely fail to take
stock of the results of a journey. It is his happy
privilege to reckon up none but gains, and those of
a kind that bring abiding satisfaction. He may feel
some regret that outer circumstance or his own short-
coming have allowed opportunities to escape, and
lessened the store that he has been able to accumu-
late ; but as for the positive drawbacks, which seemed
but trivial at the time, they absolutely disappear in
the recollection of his experiences. Thinking of these

PSEUDO-PESSIMISM. 365

things as the journey drew to a close, I could not
help feeling how great are the rewards that a traveller
reaps, even irrespective of anything he may learn, or
of the suggestions to thought that a voyage of this
kind cannot fail to bear with it. How much is life
made fuller and richer by the stock of images laid
up in the marvellous storehouse of the brain, to be
summoned, one knows not when or how, by some
hidden train of association—shifting scenes that serve
to beautify many a common and prosaic moment of
life !

Often during this return voyage my thoughts
recurred to an article in some periodical lent to me
by my kind friends at Petropolis, wherein the writer,
with seeming gravity, discussed the question whether
life is worth living. My first impression, as I well
remember, was somewhat contemptuous pity for the
man whose mind could be so profoundly diseased as
even to ask such a question, as for a soldier who, with
the trumpet-call sounding in his ear, should stop to
inquire whether the battle was worth fighting. When
one remembers how full life is of appeals to the active
faculties of man, and how the exertion of each of
these brings its correlative satisfaction; how the world,
in the first place, needs the daily labour of the majority
of our race; how much there is yet to be learned, and
how much to be taught to the ignorant ; what constant
demand there is for the spirit of sympathy to alleviate
suffering in our fellows ; how much beauty exists to
be enjoyed, and, it may be, to be brought home to
others ;—one is tempted to ask if the man who halts
to discuss whether life is worth living can have a

366 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

mind to care for truth, or a heart to feel for others, or
a soul accessible to the sense of beauty.

‘Recurring to the subject, as I sometimes did during
the homeward voyage, it seemed to me that I had
perhaps treated the matter too seriously, and that the
article I had read was an elaborate hoax, by which
the writer, while in truth laughing at his readers,
sought merely to astonish and to gain repute as an
original thinker. However the fact may be, when
taken in connection with the shallow pessimism which,
through various channels, has of late filtered into
much modern literature, there does appear to be some
real danger that the disease may spread among the
weaker portion of the young generation. A new
fashion, however absurd or mischievous, is sure to
have attractions for the feebler forms of human vanity.
It is true that there is little danger that the genuine
doctrine will spread widely, but the mere masquerade
of pessimism may do unimagined mischief. The
better instincts of man’s nature are not so firmly rooted
that we should wish to see the spread of any influence
that directly allies itself with his selfish and cowardly
tendencies.

To any young man who has been touched by the
contagion of such doctrines, I should recommend a
journey long enough and distant enough to bring
him into contact with new and varied aspects of
nature and of human society. Removed from the
daily round of monotonous occupation, or, far worse,
of monotonous idleness, life is thus presented in larger
and truer proportions, and in a nature not quite
worthless some chord must be touched that will stir

RETURN TO ENGLAND. 367

the springs of healthy action. If there be in truth
such beings as genuine and incurable pessimists, the
stern believer in progress will be tempted to say that
the sooner they carry out their doctrine to its logical
result the better it will be for the race. Their con-
tinued existence, where it is not merely useless, must
be altogether a mischief to their fellow-creatures.

On the morning of the 16th of August, all but com-
pleting five months since I quitted her shores, the
coast of England was dimly descried amid gusts of
cold wind and showers of drizzling rain. My winter
experiences in the Straits of Magellan were forcibly
recalled to my mind, and I felt some partial satisfac-
tion in the seeming confirmation of the conclusion
which I had already reached—that the physical differ-
ences between the conditions of life in the northern
and southern hemispheres are not nearly so great as
has generally been supposed.

APPENDIX A.

ON THE FALL OF TEMPERATURE IN ASCENDING TO HEIGHTS
ABOVE THE SEA-LEVEL.

THE remarkable features of the climate of Western Peru referred
to in the text seem to me to admit of a partial explanation from
the local conditions affecting that region. The most important
of these are the prevalence of a relatively cold oceanic current,
and of accompanying southerly breezes along the Peruvian
coast. These not only directly affect the temperature of the
air and the soil in the coast-zone, but, by causing fogs throughout
a considerable part of the year, intercept a large share of solar
radiation. It has been found in Northern Chili, some fifteen
degrees farther south than Lima, but under similar climatal
conditions, that, although the land rises rather rapidly in
receding from the coast, the mean temperature increases with
increasing height for a considerable distance. It is stated on
good authority* that at Potrero Grande, a place about fifty
miles distant, and 850 metres above the sea, the mean annual
temperature is higher by 2°5° C. than at Copiapd, or at the
adjoining port of Caldera. It is probable that in the valley of
the Rimac the mean temperature at a height of 1000 metres is
at least as high as it is at Lima. Taking the mean temperature
of the lower station at 19'2° C., and that of Chicla at 12'2°C.,
that would give a fall of 7° for a difference of level of 2724
metres, or an average fall of 1° for 387 metres, instead of 1° for
512 metres, as given in the text.

A further peculiarity in the climate, which tends to diminish

* T borrow this statement from the excellent ‘‘ Lehrbuch der Klimato-

logie,” by Dr. Julius Hann. Stuttgart, 1883.
2B

370 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

below the normal amount the rate of decrease of temperature,
is the comparative absence of strong winds, and the feebleness
of the sea-breezes which are usually so conspicuous in the
tropics. For reasons that will be further noticed, the fall in
temperature in ascending mountain ranges is largely due to
currents of air carried up from the lower region. In mountain
countries an air-current, encountering a range transverse to its
own direction, is mechanically forced to rise along the slopes,
and thus raises large masses of air to a higher level ; the same
effect in a less degree occurs with isolated peaks. But in the
Peruvian Andes, as well as in many other parts of the great
range, although storms arise from local causes on the plateau,
westerly winds from the ocean are infrequent and feeble ; and
the sea-breezes, due to the heating of the soil by day, much less
sensible than usual in warm countries.

Making full allowance for the operation of the two causes
here specified, it yet appears that the difference of temperature
between the coast and the higher slopes of the Peruvian Andes
is exceptionally small. It is not merely due to the abnormal
cooling of the coast-zone, but to the exceptionally high tempera-
ture found in the zone ranging from 3500 to 4000 metres. I
should not have attached much importance to the few observa-
tions of the thermometer that I was able to make during a
hurried visit, if the conclusion which they suggest had not been
strongly confirmed by the character and aspect of the vegetation.

When I found that the table given by Humboldt, which has
been copied and adopted by so many writers on physics, in
which the mean temperature at a height of 2000 toises, or 3898
metres, in the Andes of Ecuador, close to the equator, is set
down at 7°, while at Chicla, thirteen degrees of latitude south,
at a height less only by 174 metres, there is reason to believe
that we find a mean annual temperature of not less than 12°, I
was led to enter more fully into the subject.

The result of somewhat careful study has been to convince
me that, while the physical principles involved in the attempt to
discover the vertical distribution of temperature in the atmo-
sphere prove the problem to be one of extreme complexity, the
results hitherto obtained from observation are altogether in-
sufficient to guide us to an approximate law of distribution. I
may remark that the problem has not merely a general interest

APPENDIX. 371

in connection with the physics of the globe, but has a direct
bearing on two practical applications of science. The observa-
tions of the astronomer and the surveyor require a knowledge
of the amount of atmospheric refraction, by which the apparent
positions of the heavenly bodies, or of distant terrestrial objects,
are made to differ from the true direction ; and to determine
accurately the amount of refraction we should know the
temperature of the successive strata of air intervening between
the observer and the object. In determining heights by means
of the barometer, or any other instrument for measuring the
pressure of the air, it is equally necessary for accuracy to know
the variations of temperature in the space between the higher
and the lower station.

Three different opinions have prevailed among physicists as
to the law, or supposed law, of the rate of variation of tempera-
ture in ascending from the sea-level. The simplest supposition,
and the most convenient in practice, is that the fall of tempera-
ture is directly proportional to the height, and this has been
adopted in several physical treatises. In English works the
rate has been stated at a fall of 1° Fahr. for 300 feet of ascent,
and by French writers the not quite equivalent rate of 1° C.
for 170 metres has been adopted. The formula proposed by
Laplace for the determination of heights from barometric ob-
servations, which has been very generally adopted by travellers
and men of science, implicitly assumes that the rate of decrease
of temperature is more rapid as we ascend to the higher regions
than it is near the sea-level, and this opinion was explicitly
affirmed by Biot in his memoirs on atmospheric refraction. A
third hypothesis may be said to have originated when, in 1862,
Mr. Glaisher made his report of the results of the famous
balloon ascents effected by him and Mr. Coxwell,* and among
others exhibited a table showing the average decline of tempera-
ture corresponding to each successive thousand feet increase of
elevation from the sea-level to a height of 29,000 English feet.

As Mr. Glaisher’s tables showed a gradual decline in the rate
of fall of temperature with increasing height, they clearly did
not accord with the ordinary assumption of an uniform rate,

* See Reports of the British Association for the Advancement of
Science for 1882, pp. 451-453.

372 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

and still less with the hypothesis of Laplace and Biot. In
February, 1864, Count Paul de St. Robert, of Turin, communi-
cated to the Philosophical Magazine a short paper, in which he
showed the incompatibility of Mr. Glaisher’s results with the
ordinary formule for the reduction of barometric observations,
and proposed a new formula based on a law of decrement of
heat based upon Mr. Glaisher’s tables. In the following June,
M. de St. Robert published in the same journal a further paper,
in which, still accepting Mr. Glaisher’s results as accurate, he
investigated the subject in a masterly manner, as well with
reference to the measurement of heights, as in its connection
with the determination of the amount of atmospheric refraction.
The formula proposed by M. de St. Robert, and the tables
subsequently published by him for its adaptation to use,
appearing to be at once the most accurate and the most
convenient, have been adopted by myself and by many other
travellers ;* but it is evident that their value depends on the
correctness of the results, above referred to, deduced by Mr.
Glaisher, and their conformity with observation in mountain
countries.

Before we inquire into the conclusions to be drawn from
observation, it may be well to point out how incomplete is our
knowledge of the physical agencies which regulate the distri-
bution of temperature in the atmosphere.

The primary source of temperature is solar radiation, and its
effect at any given point on the earth’s surface depends on the
absolute amount of heating power in the sun’s rays, irrespective
of absorption, commonly designated the solar constant, and on
the proportion of heat which is lost by absorption in passing
through the atmosphere. The temperature of the air at any
point will, in the first place, depend on the amount of solar
radiation and of heat radiated from terrestrial objects directly
absorbed, and next on the heating of the strata near the surface
by convection. The amount of heat received from the sun,
directly or indirectly, varies of course with the sun’s declination

* It-is remarkable that there is no reference to the investigations of
M. de St. Robert, and the formula deduced from them, in the article
on the ‘‘ Barometrical Measurement of Heights,” in the new edition of
the Encyclopedia Britannica.

APPENDIX. 373

at the time, and the length of the day at the place of observa-
tion. When the sun is below the horizon the air loses heat by
radiation, and still more, in the strata near the surface, by
convection to surfaces cooled by radiation.

It was until lately believed that the experiments of Herschel
and Pouillet had given an approximate measure of the absolute
intensity of solar radiation, and that the proportion absorbed
by the atmosphere at the sea-level at a vertical incidence might
be estimated at about one-fourth of the whole. It is not too
much to say that the recent researches of Mr. Langley, especially
those detailed in his Report of the Mount Whitney expedition,*
have completely revolutionized this department of physics. It
now appears that the true value of the solar constant is not
much less than twice as great as the previous estimate, and that
rather more than one-third is absorbed by the atmosphere
before reaching the sea-level. Mr. Langley has further proved
that the absorptive action of the atmosphere varies with the
wave-length of the rays, and that, omitting the “cold bands”
which correspond to the dark bands in the visible spectrum, it
diminishes as the wave-length increases. It further appears
highly probable that the larger part of the absorptive action of
the atmosphere is due to the aqueous vapour, the carbonic-acid
gas, and the minute floating particles of solid matter, which are
present in variable proportions. Allowing for the probable
extension of our knowledge by further research, it is yet evident
that, even if we had not to take into account the further elements
of the problem next to be specified, the distribution of heat in
the atmosphere, as dependent on solar radiation, is a question of
extreme complexity.

The action of winds has an important effect in modifying the
temperature of the air. It is not possible to draw a distinct line
between the great air-currents, which affect large areas, and
slight breezes, depending on local causes, and limited to the
lower strata of the atmosphere ; but in relation to the present
subject it is necessary to distinguish between them. There is a
general circulation in the aérial envelope covering the earth,
caused by unequal heating of different parts of the surface.

* Published by the War Department, United States Army, /ro-
fessional Papers of the Signal Service, No. xv.

374 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

Heated air rises in the equatorial zone, and its place is filled
by currents from the temperate and subtropical zones. The
heated air from the equator flows at first as an upper current
towards the poles, but as it gradually loses its high temperature,
it becomes mixed with the currents setting from the poles
towards the equator, causing the atmospheric disturbances and
variable winds characteristic of the cooler temperate zones.
As a rule, bodies of air of different temperatures do not very
quickly mix, but tend to arrange themselves in layers or strata
in which masses of unequal temperature are superposed. It is
obvious that in such a condition, where-a layer of colder air lies
between two having a higher temperature, the whole cannot be
in a state of equilibrium. But in nature we constantly find that
equilibrium is never attained. There is a continual tendency
towards equilibrium, along with fresh disturbances which alter
the conditions.

As Professor Stokes remarks in a letter on this subject with
which he favoured me, “‘ to know the temperature of the succes-
sive strata as we ascend in a balloon, we should know the
biographies of the different strata.” Those which are now
superposed may have been hundreds of miles apart twenty-four
hours before. It follows that without a knowledge of the course
and velocity of the higher currents existing in the atmosphere,
we cannot expect to learn the vertical distribution of temperature.

Apart from the effects of the great movements of the air, there
is another effect of air-currents to be considered, which tends
especially to modify the temperature found at or near the
earth’s surface. The heating of the surface by day, and the
cooling by night, determine the existence of local currents of
ascending or descending air. In rising, the air encounters
diminished pressure, and therefore expands, and in so doing
overcomes resistance. The molecular work involved in dilatation
is performed at the expense of the other form of molecular work
which we call heat. In other words, the air in ascending loses
heat. It is found that the amount of decrement of temperature
due to the ascent of a body of air is nearly exactly 1° C. for 100
metres. As a general rule, ascending currents arise from the
surfaces exposed to the sun during the day, and must largely
contribute to produce the rapid decrement of heat which is
found in the lower strata near the surface, as compared with

APPENDIX. 375

the rate of change in the higher regions ; but it will be obvious
that the amount of effect produced by this cause is subject to
continual variation from changes in local conditions. The
nature of the soil, the extent and character of the vegetation,
the form of the surface, are all elements which modify the
amount of disturbance in the equilibrium of the surrounding
atmosphere. As above remarked, in discussing the climate of
Western Peru, prevailing winds which impinge upon a range
of mountains may indirectly affect the temperature of the
higher region by mechanically forcing masses of air to rise
along the slopes, and ultimately, by expansion, to be cooled
much below the temperature which they possessed when they
originally flowed against the slopes.

One of the most important agencies affecting the distribution
of temperature in the atmosphere arises from the presence of
aqueous vapour. In its invisible condition it affects the absorp-
tive power of the air on the solar rays, and, when condensed in
the form of cloud, it acts as a screen, intercepting most of the
calorific rays which would otherwise reach the earth. But it is
especially through the large amount of heat consumed in con-
verting water into. vapour, and set free when vapour returns to
the fluid state, that the temperature of the air is largely modified.
When we consider that in converting a given volume—say, one
cubic metre—of water into vapour, enough heat is consumed to
lower about 1,650,000 cubic metres of air by 1° C. in temperature,
and that the same amount of heat is liberated when the vapour
so produced returns to the liquid state, we perceive how power-
fully the ordinary processes of evaporation and condensation
must affect the temperature of the air.

It is needless to analyze further the several agencies which,
sometimes co-operating, and sometimes in mutual opposition,
determine the vertical distribution of temperature in the atmo-
sphere. It is but too obvious that no approach to uniformity
can be expected, and it might even be anticipated that any
approximation to a regular law of distribution that should be
found under one set of conditions—as, for instance, in serene
weather by day—would be altogether inapplicable under dif-
ferent conditions, such as exist in stormy weather, or by night.

-The need for practical application of some empirical rule, or
law, of vertical distribution has made it necessary to appeal to

376 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

the results of observation, and for this object the only existing
materials are to be found in the records of balloon ascents, and
in the observations made on high mountains. In balloon
ascents the temperature at any considerable height is free from
the disturbances caused by the vicinity of the earth’s surface,
and the results might be expected to contribute to the more
accurate determination of the amount of atmospheric refraction.
For the measurement of heights by the barometer, it would
appear safer to rely on such information as may be gleaned
from mountain observations.

Of balloon ascents by far the most important are those
achieved in 1862 by Messrs. Glaisher and Coxwell, to which I
have referred in a preceding page. Mr. Glaisher has given in
his report a full record of the actual observations made in the
course of his eight ascents, and has explained the processes by
which he constructed the successive tables, from which he
deduced as the final result a continuous decline (unbroken save
in a single instance) in the rate of decrement of temperature
found in passing through each successive zone of 1000 feet, in
ascending from the sea-level to a height of 29,000 English feet.

I am not aware that the processes employed by Mr. Glaisher
in obtaining these results have ever been subjected to such
close scrutiny as their importance demands, and as I have
found on careful examination that his results are not borne out
by the actual observations, I am forced to express my dissent
from his conclusions. The admiration due to the courage, skill,
and perseverance displayed by Mr. Glaisher throughout these
memorable ascents will not be lessened if we should find it
necessary to modify the inferences which he has drawn from
them.

The full discussion of Mr. Glaisher’s observations involves
an inconvenient amount of detail, and such readers as may
be disposed to enter more fully into the subject I must refer to
an article in the London, Edinburgh, and Dublin Philosophical
Magazine.

The general conclusions to which I have arrived from the
observations made under a clear or partially clear sky is, that
the average results show a rapid fall of temperature in the zone
extending to about 5000 feet, or 1500 metres, above the earth’s
surface, and that, within that limit, the rate of fall diminishes

APPENDIX. 377

as the height increases. Above the height specified the
observations prove that in each ascent the balloon passed
through successive strata of air whose temperature varied in a
completely irregular manner, the fall of temperature being
sometimes very rapid for an ascent of a few hundred feet, and
sometimes very slight in a much longer interval. In each of
the higher ascents we even find instances in which the thermo-
meter rose in ascending from a lower to a higher station,
reversing the ordinary progression. These alternations occurred
at various heights from 5000 to 25,000 or 26,000 feet above the
sea-level.* It seems to me very doubtful whether any safe con-
clusions can be drawn from averages deduced from separate
series of observations so discordant, but, in any case, I may
confidently assert that the results of actual observations do not
bear out the conclusions deduced by Mr. Glaisher.

I desire further to point out that these balloon ascents were
all executed by day, in summer, and in weather as serene as
can ordinarily be found in our climate. If they did authorize
us to derive from them an empirical law regulating the vertical
distribution of temperature, this might, at the best, serve to
approximate to the true amount of atmospheric refraction found
by day in geodetical observations, but would be no guide to the
conditions obtaining by night, which are those important to
the astronomer.

Mr. Glaisher has not failed to notice the great difference
shown by the observations made when the sky was overclouded
as compared with those under a clear or partially clear sky, and
has given a table showing that the mean results up to a height
of 4000 feet above the sea show a nearly uniform decline of 1°
Fahr. for each 244 feet at ascent. The numerical results of
observations made under, or amidst, cloud appear to me of no
practical value, as they depend upon conditions which are
subject to constant variation.

If it be true that observations in balloon ascents, which are
free from the disturbances caused by the vicinity of the earth’s

* Air nearly saturated with vapour is lighter than air relatively dry ; and
hence it may happen that, when a current of moist air meets one relatively
dry, it will flow over the latter if they are nearly at the same tempera-
ture, but if the drier current be much warmer, it may flow beneath it.

378 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

surface, have hitherto failed to lead to any general results
indicating a normal rate of decrease of temperature with in-
creasing elevation, it could scarcely be hoped that observations
on mountains should contribute farther to enlighten us. From
what has been already said, it is apparent that the fact that the
place of observation is close to the surface causes disturbances
the nature and amount of which must vary with each particular
spot, and with the season and the condition of the atmosphere
at the moment of observation.

The intensity of solar radiation increases rapidly with in-
creasing elevation,* so that when the sky is clear surfaces
exposed to the sun are heated much above the normal tempera-
ture. Owing to its slight absorptive power the free atmosphere
is little affected ; but the strata nearest the surface are heated
by convection, while a contrary effect follows when the surface
is no longer exposed to the sun, and radiates freely to the sky.

The air in mountain countries is rarely at rest. Even when
there is no sensible breeze, the unequal heating of the surface
causes ascending and. descending currents, which lose or gain
heat by expansion or contraction. More commonly winds are
experienced which, by impinging on the inclined surfaces, force
bodies of air to higher elevations, and thereby directly cause a
fall of temperature.

All these causes of disturbance are complicated by the action
of aqueous vapour, which, in most mountain countries, is sup-
plied from the surface, as well as borne upwards by ascending
currents. Besides the effect of raising the temperature where
condensation takes place, and lowering it where clouds are
dissolved in strata of dry air, the amount of aqueous vapour
present at a given place affects the intensity of solar radiation,
and the consequent amount of heating of the surface.

In spite of these obstacles to the attainment of accurate
numerical results from which to infer the distribution of
temperature in the atmosphere, we are yet, for the larger part
of the earth, forced to rely on mountain observations as the only

* On this subject see Handbuch der Klimatologie, by Julius Hann,
pp. 141, ef seg. See alse Tables I. and II. in a report on thermo-
metric observations in the Alps, by J. Ball,.in Reports of the British
Association for the Aavancement of Science for 1862, pp. 366-368.

APPENDIX. 379

available source from which any indications of a law of distri-
bution can be gleaned. Balloon observations have hitherto, so
far as I know, been confined to a few places in Europe ; and,
even if the results were more conclusive than they have hitherto
been, we should not be entitled to infer that they held good for
all parts of the earth. In countries where the course of the
seasons is more uniform, and the direction and force of the
winds less inconstant, it might be expected that the distribution
of temperature would exhibit some nearer approach to uni-
formity ; and the possibility of making observations at mountain
stations by night might enable us to form some conjecture as
to a condition of the atmosphere very different from that which
obtains when the influence of the sun is present.

It cannot be said that the observations hitherto made on
mountains have done as much as they might do, if properly
conducted, to contribute to our knowledge ; but a few leading
facts may be derived from them, and it is worth while to point
them out.

The most important of these is, perhaps, the influence ot
plateaux of elevated land in raising the temperature of the
adjacent air. This is established by observation in all parts of
the world, and it would appear that the rapid fall of temperature
in the strata near the surface which is found at or near the
level of the sea, is equally marked when we ascend from a
plateau to an isolated summit. Both these conclusions, how-
ever, apply only to observations made in the summer of
temperate regions, or in the warmer parts of the earth. Apart
from this effect of a relatively heated surface which appears to
extend above the surface to a height of about 1500 metres, or,
in round numbers, 5000 English feet, mountain observations
give but slight confirmation to the belief that the rate of de-
crease of temperature, in normal conditions of the atmosphere,
diminishes as the elevation increases.

In endeavouring to use the available materials one difficulty
arises from the fact that, in comparing the temperature of the
upper with the lower stations, observers have rarely been supplied
with simultaneous observations at the lower station, or that, when
these have been available, the distance has been so great that
the results throw little light on the probable condition of a
vertical column of air near the higher station. In parts of the

380 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

world where the daily range of temperature near the coast is
very slight, we may with small risk of error use the mean
temperature of the season at the lower station as the element
of comparison, and, in places near the equator, the mean
annual temperature. For this reason, observations in the Andes
of Ecuador, Peru, and Bolivia present great advantages, and I
think it may be useful to discuss the results so far as they are
now available.

It is scarcely necessary to examine critically the results of
the earlier explorations. Humboldt has given in the ‘ Recueil
des Observations Astronomiques,” etc., and in the “ Memoires de
la Société d’Arcueil,” vol. iii. p. 579, and elsewhere, the observa-
tions made by himself in Mexico, Colombia, and Peru, and also
those of Caldas and Boussingault, and has derived from them
a table which, with more or less modification, has been adopted
in many physical treatises. It exhibits the mean differences of
temperature found in successive zones differing in height by
500 toises, the interval corresponding to 974°6 metres, or very
nearly 3000 English feet.

Number = metres eh hen it
Height in toises. | Mean temperature. Tall of 3° Gee fall of 1° C. between
the-seaclevel, successive zones of
500 toises.
Sea-level 27°S = a
500 21°8 | 171 171
1000 184 216 | 287
1500 14°3 221 238
2000 70 190 133
2500 1'5 187 177

The first remark to be made about this table is that the
observations on which it is founded are not properly comparable,
being partly single observations made during an ascent, and
partly the mean of numerous observations made at certain
places, such as Mexico, Quito, etc. It may further be remarked
that many of the heights determined by Humboldt have been
considerably modified by the results obtained by more recent
travellers, and cannot now be regarded as correct. The influence
of plateaux is, however, very apparent, as nearly all the observa-

APPENDIX. 381

tions from which the estimated temperatures for Iooo and 1500
toises were derived were made at places situated on open
elevated valleys or plateaux. At the utmost, the results can be
regarded merely as rough approximations to the truth.

By far the most important available observations in the
Andes are those of Mr. Whymper, made during his remarkable
explorations in 1880 ; but, unfortunately, the details have not yet
been given to the world, and, in endeavouring to make use of
them, I have been forced to content myself with the brief
summary published in the Proceedings of the Royal Geographical
Society for 1881. Mr. Whymper was able to secure a register
of the temperatures observed at Guayaquil during his stay in
Ecuador, which will doubtless be published along with the
record of his own observations ; but it does not appear that he
was able to obtain observations at Quito during his ascents to
the higher peaks ; and it seems that, in comparing the tempera-
tures for the purpose of reducing his barometrical observations,
he was forced to assume for Quito a mean temperature of 57°9
Fahr., or 14°4 C., obtained from a series of thermometric obser-
vations made during his stay at that place. There is reason to
believe that the daily range of the thermometer at Quito is very
moderate; and at the equator the differences of season are
comparatively slight ; nevertheless, the absence of simultaneous
observations at that place diminishes the value of the results
shown in the following table, in which Mr. Whymper’s results
are reduced to metrical measure.

I have adopted the heights determined by Mr. Whymper as
those deserving most confidence. They agree very well with
those published by MM. Reiss and Stubel, so that the limits
of error from this cause are inconsiderable. I have also
adopted the height assigned to Quito—9350 feet, or 2848 metres.
Where Mr. Whymper remained long enough on any summit to
observe notable variations in the reading of the thermometer,
I have taken the mean of the observed temperatures ; but I
have entered separately the results of the ascents of Chimborazo,
one being made in January, the other in July, and in a separate
line I have entered the mean results of the two.

In the following table I have entered in the first column the
names of the peaks ascended by Mr. Whymper ; in the second,
the height of each as given by him; in the third, the observed

382 NOTES OF A NATURALIST,

temperature in degrees Centigrade ; in the fourth, the difference
between the observed temperature and 27° C.—that assumed for
Guayaquil ; in the fifth, the average number of metres corre-
sponding to a fall of 1° C. in rising from the sea-level to the
higher station ; in the sixth, the difference between the observed
temperatures and that assumed for Quito—14°4°; and in the
seventh, the average number of metres corresponding to a fall
of 1° C. in rising from Quito to the higher station. It is obvious
that the more rapid the fall the less will be the number in
columns 5 and 7.

1, [Seal gs | Seg

g | ¢ |28 | Be] 23 | B28

oe | 82 |ag| seq] 8S | ESS

Name of mountain. 28 a Bek 24%] gu | BSE

me | 22 | S28) e5e! Se | gee

38 | O8 | 5s | 832) 53 | fas

i 2 es pees] es | sal

a™ | Se5| ag | 25%
1 | Chimborazo (Jan.) 6253 | — 61 | 3371 | 189 | 20°5 | 166
2 | Chimborazo (July) 6253 | — 8:06 | 35°06] 178 | 22°46] 151

3 | Mean of (1) and (2) | 6253 | — 7°08 | 34°08 | 183°5 | 21°48 | 158°5

4 | Cotopaxi ... «=» | 5959 | — 84 13574 | 168 | 22°8 | 13675
5 | Antisana ... «» | 5870 | +11'r | 15°9 | 369 3°3 | 916
6 | Cayambe ... ee | 5852 | + 2°5 | 24°5 | 239 | 1I'9 | 252
7 | Cahihuairazo ss | 5035 | + 4°44 | 22°56] 223 9°96 | 220

8 | Cotocachi ... ws | 4965 | + 2°2 | 24°38 | 202 |12°2 | 173°5
9 | Pichincha ... 485i | + 7°77 | 19°23] 255 6°63} 302
1o | Corazon .., --- | 4837 | + 4°44 | 22°56] 214 | 9°96] 200
11 | Sara Urcu ... «» | 4718 | +10'0 | 17°00] 284 | 4°4 | 425

It will at once be seen that the temperatures observed on
Antisana, Pichincha, and Sara Urcu were altogether exceptional,
probably due to rapid condensation of vapour ; and these may
best be excluded from any discussion of the general results.
The temperatures noted in the second ascent of Chimborazo
were probably below the mean, or at least below the mean for
the hours at which most of the other observations were made.
But, as opinions may differ on that point, I have also given below
the results of comparison with the mean for the two ascents of
Chimborazo. For a similar reason I regard the figures for
Cotopaxi, where Mr. Whymper remained for twenty-six hours
on the summit, as giving too low a temperature, while that

APPENDIX. 383

observed on Cayambe is certainly too high. The mean result
for these two summits is probably a near approximation to the
average for that height.

In attempting to draw conclusions from the above table, we
must first remark that, in consequence of its position on a
plateau, the temperature of Quito is considerably higher than it
would probably be if the higher peaks descended with an
uniform slope to the sea-level. The difference between the
means for that place and Guayaquil is only 12°6° C. ; whereas,
on the supposition of an uniform decrease in ascending from
the sea-level, it should be 14'2°, and still greater if we supposed
that the rate of fall of temperature gradually diminishes as the
elevation increases. Omitting altogether the results for numbers
5, 9, and 11 in the above table, we perceive that the observa-
tions fall into three groups : (1) those for Chimborazo, at 6253
metres ; (2) those for Cotopaxi and Cayambe, with a mean
height of 5905 metres ; (3) those for Cahihuairazo, Cotocachi,
and Corazon, whose mean height is 4950 metres. To these it
may be well to compare the mean of the results for the entire
series, and also the rate of decrease between the sea-level and
Quito. I shall designate observations included hereunder by
numbers corresponding to the lines in the preceding table.
The number of metres of ascent corresponding to a fall of 1° C.
gives the most convenient measure of the rate of decrease.

a | $8 | 38 | 82) 38

@ | S$] 48 | so | 46

a ge | &é ge | 86

§ se | g& 8s ga

2 | 82] 85 | #8 | go

As | 4. | ag | 4%

Quito ies oes ... | 2848 |12°6 | 226 ° to)
Mean of 1, 4, 6, 7, 8, and 10 | §483°5 | 27°19 | 201°5 | 14°59 | 180°6
4» 3s 4,6, 7, 8, and 10 | 5483°5 | 27°35 | 200°5 | 14°75 | 178°7

>» 7, 8, and Io .» | 4946 | 23°37 | 212 10°77 195

» 4and6 ... .» | 5905 | 29°95] 197 17°35 176

We see from this table that, in ascending from the coast to
the highest peaks of Ecuador, the average fall of the ther-e

384 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

mometer was, in round numbers, 1° C. for every 200 metres of
ascent, while in ascending from the sea-level to the plateau of
Quito the fall was proportionately less, being at the rate of 1° C.
for 226 metres. On the other hand, the fall of temperature was
more rapid in ascending from Quito to the higher peaks. On
an average of all the ascents, we may reckon the rate of 1° for
180 metres. But it is remarkable that, taking the average of
the three peaks which rise about 2000 metres above the level
of Quito, the temperature fell only at the rate of 1° for 195
metres, while in ascending to peaks higher by nearly 1000
metres, the rate of fall was 1° for 176 metres, and if we take
the still higher summit of Chimborazo we may reckon the rate
of fall at about 1° for 160 metres.

The apparent increase in the rate of decline of temperature in
the higher region is still more clearly shown if we compare the
mean of the three peaks whose average height is 4946 metres,
with that of the two whose average height is 5905. For a
difference in the mean height of 959 metres, we find an average
fall of 6°58° C., or a fall of 1° for 145 metres. Taking the first
ascent of Chimborazo as giving the most probable results, we
find that between this peak and the mean of the three lower
summits, with a difference in height of 1307 metres, the difference
of temperature is 9°73°, or a fall of 1° for 134 metres. Again,
comparing Chimborazo with the mean of Cotopaxi and Cayambe,
we find, for a difference of height of 348 metres, a difference of
temperature of 3°15°, or a fall of 1° for 110 metres.

I am fully aware that these observations are not numerous
enough to lead to any safe general conclusions; the com-
paratively high temperatures found at the height of about 5000
metres may be due to exceptional local conditions, such, for
instance, as the ordinary formation of clouds at about that
level; but, so far as they go, the observations tend to negative
the supposition that in the tropics the rate of decrease of
temperature diminishes as we ascend to the higher regions of
the atmosphere.

MM. Reiss and Stubel made numerous observations in the
Andes of Ecuador and Peru, during a prolonged visit to that
region. Lists of heights obtained by reduction from their
observations have appeared in various German scientific
periodicals, and more fully in the American Journal of Science,

-

APPENDIX. 385

vol. ii. pp. 268, 269 ; but, so far as I can ascertain, the record of
their observations of the barometer and thermometer has never
been given to the world.

In “ Copernicus,” vol. iii. p. 193, e¢ seg., Mr. Ralph Copeland
has published a summary of the results of a series of meteoro-
logical observations made by him at various stations on the
line of railway connecting Mollendo on the Pacific coast with
Puno in Bolivia, near the lake of Titicaca, and also at La Paz
and at Tacna. Two series of observations were made at
Vincocaya, the summit station of the railway, 4377 metres above
the sea. All the other stations are either on elevated plateaux,
or on open slopes inclining gently towards the coast. The
temperatures are partly derived from numerous observations
and partly by taking the mean of the maxima and minima, with
corrections for each station, the reasons for which are assigned
by Mr. Copeland. In most of these I am inclined to concur,
but there are two from which I am forced to dissent. In re-
ducing Mr. Copeland’s tables to metrical measure, I have there-
fore ventured to make some corrections, which do not, however,
much alter the results.

I give below the heights above the sea, in metres, with the
corrected mean temperature for each place, and the dates for
each set of observations.

Mean
Places. Latitude. Height.| Dates of observation. | temperature,
corrected.
Mollendo ... ... | 17°22’ 54” 20 July 2 16°7° C,
Tacna ss. 18° 1’ 21” | 560 July 7-10 14°2°
Arequipa Hotel, 16° 25/ 20” | 2346 Feb. 2-8! 16'2°
Arequipa railway :
station ... .. 2300 June 29-30 9°0)
Vincocaya, I. ... | 15° 53’ 56” | 4377 | Feb. 28-March 4] 2°83°
,il.... _— June 6-27 —2°2°
Puno, I. ... ... | 15°50" 2" | 3840 | March 20-April4| 9°2°
= Weenee dats — | April 15-June 2 7°8°
“La Paz... «ee | 16°27’ 0” | 3645 Feb. 12-25 10°7°

Without entering into minute details, or discussing the small
corrections for changes in the sun’s declination to be allowed
for latitude and for the dates of observation, we perceive that

2C

386 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

*

on the western slope of the Cordillera the rate of decrease of
temperature in this region is much below the ordinary average.
Estimating the mean temperature of Mollendo at 22° at the
beginning of February, we find between Mollendo and Arequipa
a difference of 5°8° C., or a fall in summer of 1° for an ascent of
401 metres ; while in mid-winter we obtain a difference of 7°7°,
showing that an ascent of 364 metres is necessary to cause
a fall of 1°. This abnormal condition is, no doubt, mainly due
to the exceptionally low temperature of the coast-zone. Between
Arequipa and Vincocaya we may reckon the fall of temperature
on the ist of March at 14'2° for an ascent of 2031 metres,
giving the proportion of 1° to 143 metres; but in winter the
decrease is less rapid, as we have at the end of June a difference
of about 11°5° for an ascent of 2077 metres, or about 181 metres
for a fall of 1°.

A remarkable contrast is shown when we compare the
temperature at Vincocaya with that of places on the plateau
surrounding the great lake of Titicaca. From Mr. Copeland’s
observations we may estimate the mean annual temperature of
Vincocaya at 1° C., that of Puno at 8°5°, and that of La Paz at
88°. These figures would give a mean difference of 7°5° for a
difference in height of 537 metres between Vincocaya and Puno,
or a decrease of 1° for 72 metres. Between Vincocaya and La
Paz we have a difference of 7°8° for a difference in height of
732 metres, or a fall of 1° for 94 metres. The mean of the two
comparisons gives a fall of 1° for 83 metres, or about twice as
rapid a change as the average of the comparison between
Arequipa and Vincocaya. I am not disposed to attribute this
remarkable difference of atmospheric conditions exclusively to
the influence of plateaux in raising the mean temperature.

In my own slight experience in the Peruvian Andes, in
ascending from Chicla, at about 3700 metres, to Casapalta, at
about 4200 metres, I observed so complete and rapid a change
in the character and aspect of the vegetation as to satisfy me
that the difference in the annual mean temperature must be
even greater than that observed by Mr. Copeland for a some-
what greater difference of height between Vincocaya and
Puno. It may be that, in this comparatively dry region of the
Andes, the higher stations receive more frequent, though not
copious, falls of rain or snow, the evaporation of which main-

APPENDIX. 387

tains a constant low temperature in the surface and the sur-
rounding air.

In comparing observations in Peru, Bolivia, or Chili with
those made in the Andes of Ecuador, it must not be forgotten
that the climatal conditions are essentially different. Owing to
the fact that in the latter the range of the Andes is much narrower,
and on one side the main valleys descend in a nearly due
easterly direction, the hot, vapour-laden, easterly winds reach
the plateaux still charged with moisture, and at all seasons
rain is frequent and abundant. Farther south, the winds from
the Atlantic have deposited the greater part of their moisture
before they arrive at the western side of the main range, and the
annual rainfall must be comparatively trifling.

I have sought in vain in the records of mountain observations
in other parts of the world for materials from which any pro-
bable inference may be drawn as to a law regulating the ratio
of decrease of temperature with increasing height above the
sea-level. There is reason to admit that isolated peaks of no
great height show a more rapid decrease as compared with the
plain than do considerable mountain masses. Of mountains
exceeding the height of 3000 metres in the tropics, the most
rapid rate of decrease is that recorded for Pangerango in Java,
being 1° for 178°5 metres.

The greater mountain masses in or near the tropics show
nearly the same rate of decrement, by comparison with the
sea-level, that I have been led to infer from the observations
in Ecuador. The average rate for the Himalayas is about 1°
for 194 metres of ascent, and for the less lofty peaks of Mexico
Humboldt’s observations show a decrease of 1° for 188 metres.
The great irregularities due to local conditions make it impos-
sible to derive any positive conclusions as to the comparative
rate of decrease in successive zones of elevation.

In Europe and North America comparisons between the
temperatures at mountain summits and the sea-level give rates
of decrease varying between 1° for 160 metres, and 1° for 170
metres ; but it must be remarked that the averages are mainly
founded on observations made in summer, and it is certain
that the rate of decrease is much slower in winter. Where the
difference of height is not very great, it not uncommonly
happens that in winter the phenomenon is reversed, and that

388 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

we experience an increase of temperature in ascending above
the plain. The same result on a small scale may often be
remarked on clear cold nights, when the temperature rises for a
distance of some hundred feet in ascending isolated eminences,
the effect being due to the cooling effect of radiation from the
surface.

It seems most probable that in the winter of the temperate
and polar zones the distribution of temperature in the atmo-
sphere is subject to conditions widely different from those
prevailing in summer; and, if that be true, we should have
intermediate conditions in the spring and autumn; so that
even if we could arrive at comparatively accurate results for
one season of the year, these would not be applicable at other
periods.

The general result to which I have arrived is that to ascertain
the distribution of temperature in the atmosphere in successive
zones of elevation is a problem of extreme complexity, towards
which the existing materials do not furnish even an approximate
solution. I hold, however, that it ought to be possible to obtain
much more definite knowledge than we now possess by means of
properly conducted observations in various parts of the world.

Foremost of these I would suggest the importance of well-
conducted balloon ascents within the tropics. In selecting
stations for such ascents we are somewhat restricted by local
considerations, especially the extension of forests in many
regions, such as the greater part of tropical Brazil. In British
India there would be no difficulty in selecting suitable stations,
and there would be additional value in comparing the results
obtained from ascents in Bengal, and in the very different
climate of the North-west Provinces. Elsewhere in the tropics
we might expect valuable results from ascents in Queensland,
and from the anos of Venezuela. It seems not impossible
that, with a considerably smaller outlay, useful results may here-
after be obtained by means of improved self-recording instru-
ments sent up in captive balloons ; but in most countries such
a record would be liable to interruption owing to storms.

The next desideratum is to obtain for a series of years simul-
taneous observations at successive stations, at vertical intervals
of 500 or 6oo metres, situated on the flanks and at the
summits of high mountains to be chosen for the purpose. Some

APPENDIX. 389

of these might with advantage be chosen on islands, and among
these the following may be suggested :—the Peak of Teneriffe,
Mauna Kea in the Sandwich Islands, Fusiyama in Japan, the
Piton de Neige in the island of Réunion, and Etna in Sicily. It
would add much to the value of these observations if in each
case there were a double series of stations, one series being on
the windward, the other on the leeward side of the mountain.
It would also be important to obtain observations at similar
series of stations in continental regions, removed from the im-
mediate influence of the sea. Pike’s Peak in Colorado, which
already possesses an observing station at the summit, and
Mount Whitney in California, which Mr. Langley has selected
as eminently suited for an observatory, both offer many advan-
tages for the desired purpose. Another desirable station might
easily be found in the Caucasus, or in Armenia, and one or
more could be selected on the southern declivity of the Hima-
layes. In South America, where railways have been carried
to such great heights, it may be hoped that regular observations
may at some future time be secured at the successive railway
stations. It would be worthy of the enlightened governments
of Chili and Argentaria to make a commencement, by providing
for such a series being obtained at the stations on the railway
now in course of construction over the Uspallata Pass.

For the realization of most of these desires, as well as many
others affecting the progress of human knowledge, and the
general welfare of our race, we must be content to await the
advent of a happier era, when the fruits of industry, and
the efforts of rulers, shall no longer be mainly devoted to the
maintenance and development of the arts of destruction.

While awaiting such additional knowledge as may hereafter
be obtained, it is necessary in the mean time to form some
provisional hypothesis on which to base the formule for deter-
mining the difference of heights of two stations, by barometric
observations, and for ascertaining the amount of atmospheric
refraction; and the subject might with advantage be discussed
at a congress of scientific men. I have no authority to decide
on a question of such difficulty, nor do I pretend to be
thoroughly versed in the somewhat voluminous literature of
the subject. I may remark, however, that in one of the
fullest and most elaborate works by recent writers, Dr. Riihl-

390 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

mann * has proposed a formula for the reduction of barometric
observations which implicitly assumes that the rate of decrement
of temperature in ascending mountains is uniform, inasmuch
as he takes the mean of the temperatures observed at the
higher and lower stations as the value of the mean tempera-
ture of the column of air between the two stations. It would
appear that his adoption of the hypothesis of an uniform rate of
decrease is merely due to the apparent impossibility of discover-
ing a more satisfactory hypothesis. Following on a line of
inquiry first suggested by the late M. Plantamour and M.
Charles Martins, Dr. RithImann has analyzed a series of two-
hourly observations of temperature made during six years at
the hospice of the Great St. Bernard. and at the Geneva
Observatory. Treating the mean temperature of the column
of air between the levels of those places as the unknown
quantity, and neglecting, as unimportant, the corrections for the
tension of aqueous vapour and for gravity, he has deduced the
“true temperature,” as he styles it, of the intermediate column
from the equation of condition between the pressures, the
heights, and the temperatures of the two stations, for the average
of the two-hourly periods of observation for each month. He
has shown that, while on the average of the entire year the
mean “true temperature” of the intermediate column of air
agrees pretty well with the mean of the yearly observations at
the two extreme stations, the means for the separate hours and
those for the separate months usually differ widely from the so-
called “true temperatures” for the corresponding periods.

From this investigation Dr. Rithlmann has shown that during
the warm hours of the day, and the summer months, the “true
mean temperature” is lower than the mean of the observed
temperatures at the two extreme stations, while at night, and
during winter, it exceeds that mean to a rather greater extent.
It may be objected that the cause of the apparent discrepancy
lies in the fact that, in thermometric observations, we obtain,
not the true temperature of the surrounding air, but that of the
thermometer, and that, however carefully screened, the thermo-
meter cannot be completely freed from the effects of radiation

* See ‘‘Die Barometrischen Hohenmessungen und ihre Bedeutung
fiir die Physik der Atmosphire,” Leipzig, 1870, by R. Rithlmann.

APPENDIX. 391

to and from surrounding objects. This remark applies especially
to the observations at the St. Bernard, which lies at a consider-
able distance from Geneva, and where the temperature is
unduly depressed by surrounding masses of snow. I do not,
however, attach much importance to these sources of error;
and I have no doubt that under the most favourable conditions
the discrepancy shown by Rithlmann will be found to a greater
or less extent, but I differ from that writer in the inference that
he has drawn from the facts.

If I have not misunderstood his remarks, Dr. Rithlmann
concludes that the true temperature of the successive strata of
air in the zone between the base and the summit of a mountain
is but slightly affected by the diurnal changes that are exhibited
in the range of the thermometer, and to a moderate extent only
by the changes of season as shown by the range of the monthly
means. He has not adverted to the fact that the differences
disclosed in his tables may be the result of changes in the rate
of decrement of temperature in ascending from the lower to the
higher station. He shows that, on the mean of the July obser-
vations, the mean temperature of the air between the levels of
Geneva and the St. Bernard is lower than the mean difference
of the temperatures observed at those places by 1°57° C. But
this is not inconsistent with the supposition that the thermo-
meters have recorded the true air temperature at each station,
but that the rate of decrement of temperature in ascending, at
that season, diminishes rapidly in the successive vertical zones.
In the same manner the fact that the true mean temperature in
January is higher than the mean of the observed thermometers
by 1°83° C., might be accounted for by supposing that in winter
the rate of decrement is smaller in the lower strata, and increases
in ascending above the surface. It is equally true that, in both
cases, the facts may be consistent with such an irregular dis-
tribution of the atmosphere in successive layers, or strata, of
very unequal temperature as was apparent in most of Mr.
Glaisher’s balloon ascents. What is completely proved is that
it is only under exceptional conditions that the hypothesis of an
uniform rate of decrement of temperature, directly proportional
to height above the sea-level, is approximately correct for
observations in the temperate zone, where there is a considerable
diurnal and annual range of the thermometer.

392 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

My own impression, as the result of such study as I have been
able to give to the subject, is that, in the present state of our
knowledge, the reduction of barometric observations for the
height of mountains made by day, and in summer, in temperate
latitudes, may best be effected by the formula proposed by
M. de St. Robert ; while for observations made at other seasons,
and in the tropics, I should prefer the formula proposed by
Mr. Riihlmann.

Before closing these remarks, I may refer to an ingenious
suggestion made by M. de St. Robert in a paper published in the
journal Les Mondes in Paris, in 1864, the substance of which is
to be found in the Atté del? Academia delle Scienze di Torino
for 1866, p. 193. Impressed with the difficulty of approximating
in practice to acorrect knowledge of the distribution of tempera-
ture in the air between the summit of a mountain and a lower
station, the author sought to escape from it by seeking a phe-
nomenon, susceptible of observation, which should give a direct
measure of the mean density of the air in the space between the
two stations. He pointed out that the velocity of sound supplies
such a measure, and that, given the barometric pressures at the
higher and lower stations, the angle of elevation of the former,
measured by a theodolite and corrected for refraction, and the
exact time required for sound to traverse the interval between
them, the height is given with a near approximation to accuracy
by a simple formula. The error arising from air currents, which
increase or diminish the velocity of transmission, would be
readily eliminated by discharging a fire-arm simultaneously at
both stations, observing the interval between the light reaching
the eye and the report becoming audible, and taking the mean
of the intervals observed at both stations.

M. de St. Robert does not disguise the practical difficulty of
measuring the time interval with the requisite accuracy, but
he thinks that it may be obtained within a fifth of a second.
The error in the result is inversely proportionate to the time
required to traverse the distance, and where the stations are as
distant as is compatible with the sound being audible, its amount
for an error of a fifth of a second is inconsiderable.

This suggestion has not received the attention which it seems
to deserve. It possesses the advantage that the observations
may readily be repeated with little trouble or cost, and that the

APPENDIX. 303

risk of error may be much diminished by taking the mean of
the observed intervals of time. A comparison between observa-
tions between stations whose height is known, made under
different conditions, by day and night, and in different states of
weather, might, I think, contribute to diminish our ignorance as
to the variable conditions of the atmosphere at different heights
above the surface.

APPENDIX B.

REMARKS ON MR. CROLL’S THEORY OF SECULAR CHANGES OF
THE EARTH’S CLIMATE.

MOST scientific readers are familiar with the theory respecting
the influence of changes in the eccentricity of the earth’s orbit
on the climate of the globe, which has been sustained with
remarkable ability by Mr. James Croll. The views originally
advanced in various scientific periodicals were presented to the
public in a connected form in the volume entitled “ Climate and
Time,” wherein the author has brought a wide knowledge of the
principles of physics, and of the whole field of geological science,
to the support of his theory. Even those who have not given
especial attention to the subject are also acquainted with the
conclusions which Sir Charles Lyell drew from the discussion
of Mr. Croll’s arguments, and which are contained in the
thirteenth chapter of the tenth edition of his “ Principles of
Geology,” and also with the more recent examination of the
subject which is to be found in Mr. Alfred Wallace’s important
work, “Island Life.”

I need not say that a theory so important in. its bearing on
some of the most obscure problems of geology has been dis-
cussed, in more or less detail, by many other writers. To most
of the objections presented to his theory, Mr. Croll has replied
with his usual ability ; and I believe that at present the prevail-
ing tendency among geologists is towards a partial acceptance
of his views, subject to the limitations assigned by Mr. Wallace.

394 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

The latter author holds, in common with Sir Charles Lyell, that
geographical causes, arising from the varying distribution of
land and sea, have mainly controlled the distribution of tempera-
ture over the earth’s surface ; but he is disposed to go farther
than Lyell in admitting the influence of periods of high eccen-
tricity in causing those great accumulations of snow and ice
which were requisite to produce the phenomena of a glacial
period, whenever a sufficient area of elevated land in high
latitudes coincided with the period of high eccentricity.

It would probably be of little avail, even if I were to under-
take the task, that I should attempt any thorough discussion of
this vast and difficult problem ; and it would certainly require
far more space than can here be given to it. I may, however,
venture to make a few remarks upon some points which have
not, to the best of my knowledge, been much noticed in the
discussion.

In reading Mr. Croll’s work, which charmed many an hour
during the voyage to and from South America, I found it very
difficult to discover any flaw in the chain of close reasoning by
which he supports his conclusions. Most of the facts on which
he relies are warranted by observation, and have been accepted
as well established by writers of the highest authority ; and his
inferences as to the results of altered conditions appeared to be
in strict conformity with admitted physical principles. Never-
theless, when I reflected on the anomalies which are found at
the present time in respect to the climate of many spots in the
world, and the complexity of the causes which determine its
actual condition, I felt a doubt whether, in his attempt to trace
the result of possible changes, Mr. Croll may not have over-
looked some of the elements of the problem.

Let me briefly state the leading propositions of Mr. Croll’s
theory in order to make intelligible the succeeding remarks.

Estimating approximately the mean distance of the earth
from the sun at ninety-one and a half millions of miles, and the
eccentricity * of the sun’s place in the orbit at one and a half
million, it follows that at one period of the year, which happens
to be about the winter solstice of the northern hemisphere, the
earth receives from the sun a quantity of heat greater than that

* Tuse the term ‘‘ eccentricity” in the popular sense, to express the
distance of the focus from the centre of the ellipse.

APPENDIX. 395

which reaches it in the opposite part of its orbit, in the propor-
tion of 93? to 90%, or about as 1000 to 936. Midsummer of the
southern hemisphere is the season when the earth is nearest to
the sun; the winter of the southern and the summer of the
northern hemisphere: occur when the earth is farthest from the
source of heat. The conclusion seems inevitable—the southern
hemisphere must have hotter summers and colder winters than
our hemisphere, where the heat of summer is tempered by the
greater distance, and the cold of winter mitigated by the com-
parative nearness, of the sun.

The next point to be considered is the effect of ocean-currents,
and especially of the Gulf-stream, in modifying the climatal
conditions of some parts of the earth. Following in the track
of the late Captain Maury and Principal Forbes, Mr. Croll has
especially insisted on the importance of the great current which,
issuing from the Gulf of Mexico, and flowing northward between
Florida and the Bahamas, extends across the Atlantic towards
the western shores of Europe. He calculates that by this
current alone an amount of heat equal to that received on the
entire surface of the earth in a zone thirty-two miles in breadth
on each side of the equator is carried from the tropics to the
cooler regions of the northern hemisphere. Mr. Croll has, I
think, victoriously replied to several of the objections opposed
to this portion of his argument. His estimate of the volume of
water transferred by the Gulf-stream from the tropics to the
northern part of the Atlantic, which he reckons at the annual
amount of about 166,000 cubic miles, is, I think, in no degree
exaggerated ; and I also think that he is warranted in estimating
the mean initial temperature at about 65° Fahr. I am, however,
persuaded that in assuming 40° Fahr. as the temperature to
which, on an average, this vast body of water is reduced before
it returns to the equatorial zone, Mr. Croll has gone beyond the
probable limit. A large part of the stream is diverted eastward
about the latitude of the Azores, and is never cooled much
below 55° Fahr. before the waters enter the return current on
the eastern side of the Atlantic basin ; and I believe that, if we
allow the water of the Gulf-stream to undergo an average loss
of temperature of 20° Fahr., we shall be more likely to exaggerate
than to underrate the amount of cooling.

In insisting on the importance of the Gulf-stream in modify-

396 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

ing the climate of Europe and the adjacent parts of the arctic
zone, Mr. Croll agrees with many preceding writers ; but, so far
as I know, he was the first to suggest that in consequence of the
greater persistency of the south-east trade-winds, which ordinarily
extend up to, and, at some seasons, even north of, the equator,
the warm waters of the Northern Atlantic derive a large share of
the heat which is carried to the temperate and arctic zones from
the southern hemisphere. Applying the same reasoning to the
currents of the Pacific Ocean, Mr. Croll arrives at the general
conclusion (“Climate and Time,” p. 94) that “the amount of
heat transferred from the southern hemisphere to the northern
is equal to all the heat falling within fifty-two miles on each side
of the equator.”

I do not believe that the facts on which Mr. Croll bases this
essential portion of his theory are sufficiently established. With
regard to the Atlantic, I have expressed in the text (p. 344) an
opinion, derived from conversations with practical seamen, that
in the Atlantic the trade-winds of the northern are stronger
than those of the southern hemisphere. That opinion, I am
disposed, on further examination, to regard as incorrect. I
believe that the north-east trade-winds often blow with greater
force ; but, taking the average of the entire year, I now think
there can be no doubt that the south-east trade-winds extend
over a wider area in the equatorial zone. However this may
be, our knowledge of the currents of the Atlantic does not, I
think, authorize us to conclude that the portion of heated water
carried from the southern to the northern hemisphere is nearly
so large as Mr. Croll has estimated. If the heat of the Gulf-
stream were mainly supplied, as Mr. Croll contends, from that
source, there should be a marked difference in the volume and
temperature of the current, between the season when the north-
east trade-winds approach the equator and that in which the
south-east trades prevail to the north of the line, for which there
is no evidence.

As regards the currents and winds of the Pacific, in spite of
one considerable exception, to which I shall further allude, I
think that the balance of evidence points to a greater prevalence
of the south-east trade-winds, and to the probable transference
of some portion of the equatorial waters from the southern to
the northern hemisphere.

APPENDIX. 307

For the present discussion it is best to accept Mr. Croll’s
estimate, and to compare the amount of heat which he supposes
to be transferred from one hemisphere to the other with the
total amount which is received annually from the sun on each
hemisphere. For this purpose I have taken the known areas
of the torrid, temperate, and frigid zones respectively, and,
following Mr. Croll, I have adopted Mr. Meech’s estimate of
the average amount of heat, per unit of surface, received from
the sun in each zone, irrespective of absorption by the atmo-
sphere. To estimate the proportion of heat which actually
reaches the surface, I have adopted Pouillet’s measure of the
proportion of solar radiation cut off at vertical incidence, which
is 24 percent. I assume 28 per cent. to be the average loss in
the torrid zone, 50 per cent. in the temperate zone, and 75 per
cent. in the frigid zone.* The resulting figures, showing the
proportional amount of heat annually received on the surface of
each zone, and on the entire hemisphere, are as follows :—

Torrid zone ... ia re ie 3370
Temperate zone veg via aie 2304,
Frigid zone... oe ae se 112
Whole hemisphere ss . mae 5786

Calculating, on the same basis, the amount received on a
zone one mile wide at the equator, allowing a loss of 25 per
cent. from atmospheric absorption, and multiplying the result by
104, I obtain the number 2331, or rather more than one twenty-
fifth part of the entire heat annually received from the sun by
each hemisphere.

To trace the results of such a transfer of heat from one
hemisphere to the other, I shall adopt a mode of reasoning,
sanctioned by the great authority of Sir John Herschel, to
which Mr. Croll frequently resorts. It is by solar heat that the
surface of the earth is raised above the temperature of space,
which is assumed to be 239 degrees below the zero of Fahrenheit’s
scale. Adopting Ferrel’s estimate, I take the mean temperature
of the northern hemisphere at 59'5° Fahr., or 2982 degrees above
the temperature of space. To maintain this temperature, it

* Viewed in the light of Mr. Langley’s recent researches on solar
radiation, all these numerical determinations are probably far from the
truth ; but the errors do not much affect the present argument.

398 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

receives one-half of the amount of solar radiation which reaches
the earth, and in addition, on Mr. Croll’s hypothesis, one twenty-
fifth part of that which reaches the southern hemisphere. It
follows that the heat available to raise the southern hemisphere
above the temperature of space stands to that which is received
by the northern hemisphere in the ratio of 24 : 26, and that the
mean temperature of the southern hemisphere should be
298°5 x 42, or 275°5° above the temperature of space ; so that,
in ordinary language, the mean temperature of the southern
hemisphere should be 36'5° Fahr. If the fact corresponded with
this result of theory, it would not be necessary to invoke in-
creased eccentricity of the earth’s orbit to account for the
extreme cold of one hemisphere, seeing that the actual con-
ditions would suffice to completely alter their relative tempera-
tures.

It occurs to me, however, that, on further consideration, Mr.
Croll would reduce his estimate of the volume of heated water
transferred from the southern to the northern hemisphere ; but
even if that estimate were reduced by one-half, we ought to
find in the southern hemisphere a mean temperature of 47°8°
Fahr., or nearly 12 degrees lower than that of our hemisphere.

We have already seen that, so far as climate depends on the
relative position of the earth and the sun, we ought to find in
the southern hemisphere climates of a more extreme character,
with hotter summers and colder winters, than those to which
we are accustomed. If it be true that through the agency of
ocean-currents a considerable amount of heat is transferred to
the northern hemisphere, that circumstance might serve to
account for the fact that the summers of the southern are not
generally hotter than those of the northern hemisphere ; but it
would, at the same time, tend to aggravate the severity of the
southern winters.

At the time of the publication of Mr. Croll’s earlier memoirs,
there existed a general belief that the southern hemisphere was
in fact notably cooler than our portion of the globe, and he
naturally referred to the supposed fact as harmonizing with the
general conclusions drawn by him from theory. But, imperfect
as our knowledge of the southern hemisphere still is, a good
deal of information has been obtained of late years. The only
stations south of the fiftieth degree of latitude from which we

APPENDIX. 399

possess continuous observations are those mentioned in the
text (p. 273); but we also know with sufficient accuracy the
climates of two widely separated islands lying about 50° south ;
and from these we derive results widely different from those
to which we were led by theoretical considerations. The fol-
lowing table gives approximately the mean temperatures, on
Fahrenheit’s scale, for the year and for the hottest and coldest
months of the places referred to in the southern hemisphere,
and the means for corresponding latitudes in the northern
hemisphere :—

6 | : | 3g 3 H
=] vo
3 e.| 2 $ o o../ 3
so} 5 pl b 4.) ap] 42
2 |s¢| se] % | #2] 23/25
3 ue £3 3 ‘Eb
S| 8a) a8") 2 | g5) oe | oe
a eo | é g a sa1ag
5 3 : : ‘
Be le a2 la lem
Kerguelen Land oes wes | 49° 277 | 44°3° | 35°3° | 39°6° | 63°3° | 22°0° | 42°o°
Auckland Island ne 50° 30! | 50°2° | 35°6° | 44°6° | 62°3° | 19°0° | 412°
* Falklands (Stanley) I. 51° 41’ | 49°6° | 36°5° | 43°0° | 61°6° | 7°19 | 39°8°
Falklands IT... aes 52° 5’ | 55°9° | 37°4° | 47°30 | 61°3° | 16*4° | 39°3°
Falklands, mean of I. and II. 52°7° | 37°0° | 452° | 61°5° | 16°7° | 39°6°
Punta Arenas see ee | 53° 257 | 52°42 | 34°7° | 43°0° | 60°6° | 14°29 | 37°7°
t Ushuaia ... i va was | 4° 55" | 53°2° | 928? | gr*g? | 5q°6" | x26? | 36°2?

If we compare the mean results of these five stations with
those for corresponding latitudes in the northern hemisphere, we
find that the summers are cooler and the winters very much
milder, and that in the latitudes between 50° and 55° the mean
annual temperature is notably higher. In Kerguelen Land
alone the mean annual temperature is lower than the normal
for the same latitude north of the equator; but that island is
evidently exposed to exceptional conditions.

* The observations at Stanley Harbour, which are those adopted by
Dr. Hann (A/imatologie, p. 697), show temperatures notably lower than
those recorded for a place in the islands lying farther south, which are
given in the Zeztschrift der Gi sterreichischen Gesellschaft fiir Meteorologie,
vol. v. p. 369. The mean of the two is probably nearly correct.

t These figures are derived from the tables given in the Azales de la
Oficina Meteorologica Argentina, by B. Gould, vol. iii. The figures show
a considerable amount of annual variation. The monthly means of the
six months from February to July, 1879, exceed those of the same
period in 1878 by more than 2° Fahr.

400 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

The differences between the mean results given above are
shown by the following table, in which the signs show the
excess or deficiency of the southern as compared with the
northern hemisphere :—

Warmest month. Coldest month. Annual mean.

— 11° Fahr. + 181° Fahr. + 4'2° Fahr.

Dr. Hann has carefully discussed the question as to the com-
parative mean temperatures of the two hemispheres in a paper
published in the proceedings of the Vienna Academy, the
substance of which is given in his KZmatologze, pp. 89, ef seg.;
and it is difficult to refuse assent to his conclusion that so far
as the available evidence goes, it shows that the mean tempera-
ture of both hemispheres is equal.

I find, then, that the same train of reasoning by which Mr.
Croll has sought to explain the occurrence of glacial periods by
changes in the eccentricity of the earth’s orbit, and the pre-
cession of the equinoxes, leads us to conclusions respecting the
climatal condition of the different parts of the earth, at the
present amount of eccentricity, which are altogether opposed to
the results of observation ; and I am driven to the conclusion
that the causes which he has adduced have not the predominant
influence which he has attributed to them, and that there must
be other agencies to which he has not assigned their due
importance, but which are adequate to counteract the efficiency
of those which, as observation proves, fail to achieve the effects
anticipated from them.

I am far from pretending to be able to analyze completely the
complex agencies which, by their mutual action, determine the
climate of different parts of the earth, but I may briefly refer to
two of them. Foremost of these is the relative distribution of
Jand and sea, for a due appreciation of which we are indebted
to the great work of Sir Charles Lyell. It is unnecessary here
to discuss how far his view of the probable amount of change
in past geological epochs may, in the present state of our
knowledge, be subject to limitation. Mr. Wallace, who is the
most strenuous supporter of the modern doctrine of the per-
manence of the present continents and ocean basins, recognizes
the theoretical correctness of Lyell’s views, and admits that
changes of level great enough to cause profound modifications

APPENDIX. 401

of climate have actually occurred. Notwithstanding recent
objections, it appears to me that Darwin’s hypothesis as to the
subsidence of a great tract inthe Southern Pacific is that which
best accounts for the existence of the countless coral islands in
that region ; nor is the probability of a nearly continuous barrier
of volcanic islands across the Atlantic to be completely dis-
missed. That such changes would have largely affected the
climate of the earth cannot, I think, be doubted.

If I may venture to express my own view on this difficult
subject, I must say that, although it has not been overlooked by
the able men who have discussed it, the paramount importance
of aqueous vapour as an agent for modifying climate has not
yet been fully recognized. Mr. Croll has constantly discussed
the phenomena of ocean-currents, as if their chief function were
to affect climate by heating or cooling the surrounding air,
which is thence diffused over the land surfaces, and he has
devoted little attention to the effects of evaporation from the
sea, and the subsequent condensation in some other region of
the vapour produced. When we remember that as much heat
is consumed in the conversion of one cubic mile of water into
vapour as would raise the temperature of nearly ninety-seven
cubic miles of water by 10° Fahr., we get some measure of the
vast power of vapour as a vehicle of heat. Admitting, as I am
disposed to do, that 166,000 cubic miles of water are annually
conveyed northward by the Gulf-stream, and suffer an average
loss of 20° Fahr. before returning to the torrid zone, I must
point out that the entire heat requisite to maintain this great
volume of water at the higher temperature would be consumed
in the conversion of 3433 cubic miles of water into vapour.
In point of fact, I believe that more than one-half of the
quantity specified is expended in evaporation, and that the
cooling of the waters of the Gulf-stream is mainly due to this
agency. To follow the vapour thus produced, to ascertain
where it is condensed, and where the heat disengaged in the
act of condensation becomes available to raise the temperature
of the air, is a task which is beyond our present resources ; but
it is one which must be performed before we can reason with
any confidence as to the ultimate distribution of the heat carried
by the Gulf-stream or any other ocean-current. Whatever
part of the vapour produced by evaporation from the Gulf-

2D

402. NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

stream goes to supply the rainfall of Western Europe, or to form
snow in the arctic regions, acts as a vehicle to transfer heat
from the tropics to the temperate and frigid zones. But it is
more than probable that a large part of the vapour in question
is carried back to the torrid zone, and that some of it is even
restored to the southern hemisphere. The south-eastern branch
of the Gulf-stream flows, at least partially, into the area of the
north-east trade-winds. These winds reach the lower region as
cold and very dry winds. As they advance towards the equator,
and are gradually warmed, their capacity for aqueous vapour
constantly increases, and there can be no doubt that in both
hemispheres the trade-winds bear with them a large share of
the vapour which goes to supply the heavy rainfall of the
tropics.

In the Pacific region we have direct evidence to this effect, in
the fact that in Hawaii, and elsewhere, the side of the islands
exposed to the trade-winds is that of heavy rainfall, and is
generally covered with forest. No sufficient data exist for
estimating the amount of vapour thus carried back to the
tropics from high latitudes on both sides of the equator, nor the
amount of heat set free by its condensation ; but we may form
some conception of its probable amount by considering that at
the moderate estimate of a mean annual rainfall of seventy-two
inches for the portion of the globe between the tropics, this
amounts to a yearly fall of 88,737 cubic miles, and that we can
scarcely reckon the share of this great volume of water supplied
by evaporation from the same part of the globe at more than
one-half. Still less is it possible to calculate the amount of
vapour annually transferred from the northern to the southern
hemisphere, which goes to neutralize the apparent effect of the
diversion of portions of the equatorial waters to the north side
of the line. In the Atlantic basin it is probable that the larger
part of the rainfall in the region including and surrounding the
Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean Sea is supplied by vapour
carried from the temperate zone by the north-east trade-winds.
There is some reason to believe that a portion of the rainfall
of the great basin of the Amazons, south of the line, is also
supplied from the same source. Several travellers report that
during the rainy season the prevailing winds are from the west
and north-west, the latter being especially predominant at

APPENDIX. "403

Iquitos, about 4° S. latitude, and 1600 miles from the mouth of
the river.

In tropical Australia the rainy season falls during the pre-
valence of the north-west monsoon, and we cannot doubt that
this is mainly supplied by vapour carried from the northern
hemisphere. Another region wherein the same phenomenon is
exhibited on a large scale is the central portion of Polynesia,
extending from the Feejee to the Society Islands over a space
of at least twenty degrees of longitude. Over that wide area,
as far as about twenty degrees south of the line, the regular
south-east trade-wind prevails only in the winter of the southern
hemisphere, while during the rest of the year, especially in
summer, north and north-east winds have the predominance.
Taking the mean of three stations in the Feejee Islands, of
which the returns are given by Dr. Hann, I find in round
numbers the very large amount of 150 inches for the mean
annual rainfall, of which 105 fall during the seven months from
October to April, while the five colder months from May to
September supply only forty-five inches of rain. There can be
little doubt that the larger part of the 105 inches falling during
the warm season is derived from the northern hemisphere.

I by no means seek to account fully for the apparent con-
tradiction between the results of theory, as developed by Dr.
Croll, and the actual distribution of heat over the earth as
proved by observation; but I venture to think that I have
shown reason to doubt the possibility of drawing absolute
conclusions as to the results of astronomical changes until we
shall have fuller knowledge than we now possess of all the
agencies that regulate climates.

Before concluding these remarks, I will notice one other
branch of the argument in regard to which I am unable to
concur with Mr. Croll. As we have seen, the essential point in
his theory as to the »odus oferandi of changes of eccentricity,
and the relative position of the poles, on the distribution of
temperature, is that the currents of the equatorial zone are
driven towards the pole which has the summer in aphelion, and
that the cause of this shifting of the currents depends on the
greater strength of the trade-winds in the hemisphere which
has the winter in aphelion ; the strength of the trade-winds in
turn depending on the amount of difference of temperature

404 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

between the equatorial and the colder zones. Taking the
surface of the earth generally, the trade-winds of the southern
are probably stronger than those of the northern hemisphere,
and, if it were true that the south temperate and frigid zones were
colder than those of the other hemisphere, it would be allowable
to argue that the greater difference of temperature as compared
with the equatorial zone was the cause of the greater strength
of the trade-winds. But we now certainly know that the
southern hemisphere between latitudes 45° and 55° is con-
siderably warmer than the corresponding zone of the northern
hemisphere, and we have good grounds for believing that the
mean temperature of the whole hemisphere south of latitude 45°
is higher, and certainly not lower, than that of the same portion
of the northern hemisphere. We are therefore not justified in
explaining the greater strength of the southern trade-winds by
a greater inequality of temperature between the equator and
the pole.

In my opinion the cause of this predominance of the southern
trade-winds is to be sought in the fact that the southern is
mainly a water hemisphere, while the northern is in great part
a land hemisphere. In the south, the great currents of the
atmosphere flow with scarcely any interruption, except that
caused by Australia, where, in fact, the trade-winds are irregular,
and lose their force. Inthe northern hemisphere the various
winds originating in the unequal heating of the land surface
interfere with the normal force of the trade-winds, and weaken
their effect. ,

In connection with this branch of the subject, I may remark
that the belief in the greater cold of the southern hemisphere
mainly rests on the fact that all the land hitherto seen in
high latitudes has been mountainous, and is covered by great
accumulations of snow and ice. But this does not in itself ”
justify the conclusion that the mean temperature is extremely
ow. It is true that the fogs which ordinarily rest on a snow-
covered surface much diminish the effect of solar radiation
during the summer in high latitudes, but this is compensated
by the great amount of heat liberated in the condensation of
vapour. The only part of the earth which is now believed to
be covered with an ice-sheet is Greenland, but the mean of the
observations in that country shows a temperature higher by at

APPENDIX. 408

least 10° Fahr. than that of Northern Asia, where the amount of
snowfall is very slight, and rapidly disappears during the short
arctic summer. If there be, as some persons believe, a large
tract of continental land surrounding the south pole, I should
expect to find that the great accumulations of snow and ice are
confined to the coast regions. In that case the mean tempera-
ture of the region within the antarctic circle would probably be
lower than it would be in the supposition, which appears to me
more probable, that the lands hitherto seen belong to scattered
mountainous islands. If, from any combination of causes, one
pole of the earth has ever been brought to a mean temperature
much lower than that now experienced, I should expect to find
that the phenomena of glaciation would be exhibited towards
the equatorial limit of the cold zone, rather than in the portions
near the pole. The formation of land-ice depends on the
condensation of vapour, and before air-currents could reach the
centre of an area of extreme cold the contained vapour would
have been condensed. This consideration alone suffices, to my
mind, to make the supposition of a polar ice-cap in the highest
degree improbable.

Mr. Wallace (“Island Life,” p. 142) cites, as conclusive evidence
of the effect of winter in aphelion in producing glaciation, the
facts, to which attention was first directed by Darwin, as to the
depression of the line of perpetual snow, and the consequent
extension of great glaciers, on the west coast of Southern Chili.
I have adverted to this subject in the text (p. 229), and I may
further remark that if winter in aphelion be the cause of the
depression of the snow-line in latitude 41° S., it can scarcely
fail to produce some similar effect in latitude 34° S. Yet we
find on the southern limit the snow-line much lower, and at the
northern much higher, than it has ever been observed in
corresponding latitudes in the northern hemisphere, the line
being depressed by more than 80co feet within a distance of
only seven degrees of latitude. The explanation, as I have
ventured to maintain, is altogether to be found in the extra-
ordinary rainfall of Southern Chili ; and to the same cause we
must attribute the fact that, in spite of the greater distance of
the sun, the winter temperature is higher than in most places in
corresponding latitudes in the northern hemisphere. At Ancud
in Chiloe, in latitude 41° 46’, the temperature of the coldest

\

406 NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

month is lower by less than three and a half degrees of Fahrenheit
than it is at Coimbra in Portugal, one and a half degree nearer
the equator, in the region which receives the full warming effect
of the Gulf-stream.

I should have expressed myself ill in the preceding pages if I
should be supposed to deny that, in his writings on this subject,
Mr. Croll has made an important contribution to the physics of
geology. He has, in my humble opinion, been the first to
recognize the full importance of one of the agencies which,
under possible conditions, may have profoundly affected the
climate of the globe during past epochs, although I do not
believe that, in the present state of our knowledge, we can
safely draw those positive inferences at which he has arrived.
Even those who are unable to accept any portion of his theory
as to the causes of past changes of climate must feel indebted
to his writings for numerous valuable suggestions, and for the
removal of many popular opinions which his acute criticism has
shown to be untenable.

INDEX.

A

Acacia Cavenia, 157

Aconcagua, 192

valley, vegetation of, 195

Adesmia, 182

Agassiz, Professor Alexander, 342

Ajulla, Promontory of, 51

Albatross, 215

Alligators, 41

Alpine zone in Andes, 91

Amancais, 71

Amatapi, Sierra, 52

Ancud, 145

Andean Flora, Alpine zone, 104

, divisions of the, 104

——., European genera common to,
IOI

Andean railways, 63

Andes, 49

—, Alpine zone in, 91

, cactoid plant in, 92

——, Chilian, view of, 183

, climate of Peruvian, 99

—., Composite in, 102

, cosmopolitan weeds in, 101

Aneroid barometers, 353, 354

Angol, 213

Antarctic beech, 256

— Flora, range of, 219

Anthopterus Wardit, 34

Anticosti, 273

Apoquinto, baths of, 188

Araucanian Indians, 212

, language of, 213

Araucaria Brasiliensis, 311

Argentaria, climate of, 300

» emigration to, 298, 299

——,, forests of, 295

» progress of agriculture, 298

» frontier of Chili and, 258

Arica, vegetation of, 121

Armeria maritima, var. andina,
263

Artichoke, wild, 168

Atacama, desert of, 124, 131

Atlantic, colour of, 7

» Summer temperature of, 362

——, temperature of, 5

, winds of, 345

Ayacucho steamship, 118

Azores, 5

B

Baccharis, 157

Bahia Blanca, 298, 357, 358

Bahia de Todos Santos, 346

Baillonia spartioides, 202

Balmacedo, Don F., 191

Banda Oriental, 281

, vegetation of, 293

Barbadoes, absence of venomous
snakes in, 14

, black population of, 11

harbour police, 9

planters, 13

, productiveness of, 8

Barometer, high, 4

, tables for, 4

Beagle Channel, 273

Belem, Tower of, 363

408

INDEX.

Berberis buxifolia, 263

— empetrifolia, 263

uicifolia, 263

Berberry, 225

Bentos, Fray, 287

Bio-Bio river, 213

Black-fish, 7

Blue Mountains, Jamaica, 17
Bombax pubescens, 328

Borya Bay, 241

Bossi, Signor Bartolomeo, 281
Botafogo, 322

Bove, Lieutenant, 252

Bramble in Chili, 150

Brazil, ancient mountains of, 317

, coffee-planting in, 341

—, geology of, 313, 314

—, glacial deposits in, 342

, rainfall in coast region of, 334
Brazilian physicians, their fees, 340
mnoEe suspension, in the Andes,

Buenaventura, 32
Buenos Ayres, 293-295, 299

Cc

Cabo Blanco, 43

San Lorenzo, 37
Santa Elena, 38
Cachapoal river, 178
Cactoid plant in Andes, 92
Caldera, 133

Callao, 61

——, quarantine at, 57
Canary Islands, 362

Cape Froward, 243
Parinas, 44

— pigeon (Daption capensis), 214
—— Pillar, 238

Verde Islands, 359
Capricorn, Tropic of, 132
Cardoon, 164

Casapalta, 91

Catamarans, 352
Cathartes atratus, 112
Caudivilla, 109
Cauquenes, Morro de, 182
, town of, 169
Cauquenes Baths, 172

, railway to, 163

Celery, wild, 221
Cereus Quisco, 151, 176
Cerro de Pasco, 72

del Roble, 151
Chacao, Canal de, 216
Chagres river, 22
Chafieral, 133

. Channels of Patagonia, 222, 223

Chicla, hotel at, 80

-——, scenery at, 84

, vegetation of, 98

see and Argentaria, frontier of,
25

and Peru, naval war of, 58

——, bramble in, 150

—, Central, flora of, 141

, climate of, 143-145

» rainfall in, 144

——., European plants in, 164

» physical geography of, 170

—, Southern, glaciers of, 229

, rainfall of, 229

Chilian elections, cumulative vote,
IgI

mines, 161

Chiliotrichium amelloides, 234

Chiloe, island of, 215

Chimborazo, 38

Chonos Archipelago, 216

Chosica, 73

Chuquiraga spinosa, 91

Churches in Lima, 62

Chusqguea, 152

Cigars, Guayaquil, 41

Cinnamon tree, 10

Claraz, M. Georges, 357, 358

Clarence Island, 243

Climate, effects of tropical, 39

Cuicus lanceolatus, 164

Cobeja, 131

Coffee-planting in Brazil, 341

Colletia spinosa, 177

Colomba, 214

Colon, 21, 22, 27

Commercial travellers, German, 309

Composite in Andes, 102

Concepcion del Uruguay, 288

Condor, 87, 93

Condors, captive, 185

Copiapd, 133

—, Rio de, 133

INDEX.

409

Coquimbo, vegetation of, 136, 138

Corbett, Mr., 328

Cordillera de la Costa, 218

Cordillera Grande, of Goyaz, 315

Cordillera Pelada, 218, 219

Cordillera in Peru, 49

Corrientes, 294, 300

Cosmos Line, German steamers of,
205

Cousifio, Madame, 207

Crab, red, 227

Croll, Dr. James, 271

, remarks on his theory of
secular changes of climate, 393

Cryptocarya Peumus, 160

Cuyaba, 279, 310

D

sei as (Taraxacum levigatum),
203

Daption capensis, 214.
Darwin, Mount, 267, 270
Dawson Island, 245
Desfontainea spinosa, 225
Desolation, Land of, 235, 241
Diomedea exulans, 215

— fuliginosa, 215

- Don, Royal Mail steamer, 2
Doterel, wreck of the, 267
Drimys Winteri, 147
Drummond-Hay, Mr., 148.
Dungeness, 271

Duvaua dependens, 293

E

Earthquake-waves, 122

Lccremocarpus scaber, 199

Ecuador, 36, 40

Eden harbour, 224

Education, Chilian zeal for, 265

Elections, Chilian, cumulative vote,
191

Encelia canescens, 134

Engler, Dr., 34, 106

English Narrows, 223

English the déngua franca of Ame-
rica, 88

Ensenada, 302

Entrerios, 288

Equator, cold current near, 356

» path of the sun, 37

Equatorial rains, 352

vegetation, 33

Erodium cicutarium, 165

Lscallonia, 181

Espiritu Santo, Cape, 271

Eucalyptus globulus, 160, 292

Evergreen beech (Fagus betuloides),
225

Existence, struggle for, 330

Eyre Sound, 228

F

Fagus betuloides, 225

obligua, 151

Falkland Islands, 247, 273
Fayrer, Sir Joseph, 349
Fenton, Dr., 250, 262, 269
Fernando Noronha, 354, 355
Feuillée, Father, 184

Flint, Mr., 153

Flowering plants, origin of, 318

| Flying-fish, 5

of Pacific, 53

Fogs on Peruvian coast, 54
francoa sonchtfolia, 210
French, Dr., 289, 291
Fruit-sellers, migratory, 42
Fuegians, 233, 242, 260, 261

G
Gallinazo, 87
, scavenger bird, 112
Galvesia limensts, 45
Gillies, Captain, 344
Glacial deposits in Brazil, 342

' Glaciers in South Patagonia, 239

of Southern Chili, 229
Glaziou, Dr., 324
Gleichenia, 226, 311
Glyptodon, 358

Gongo Seco, 316
Gordontown, Jamaica, 18

, cool climate of, 19
Graham, Mr. J. R., 67
Granite, disintegration of, 315
Grisebach, 34, 145
Gualtro, 168

410

INDEX.

Guanacos, 131, 253

Guano Islands, 53
Guayaquil cigars, 41
Guayaquil, city of, 40, 41

, Gulf-of, 38, 40
Guayas river, 38, 41, 42
Gynopleura lineartfolia, 157

H

Hale Cove, 220

Hann, Dr. Julius, 144, 305, 349

Hanover Island, 236

Hayti, island of, 15

, cannibalism in, 16

Haze, opacity of, 158

Heights above sea-level, fall of
temperature in ascending to, 369

Henderson’s Inlet, 231

Hess, Mr., 163

Lippeastrum equestre, 19

Hopedale, in Labrador, 273

Huanillos, 127

Humboldt current, 50

Humming-birds, 209

Hura crepitans, 10

Alymenophylla, 226

I

dberia steamship, 269

Ice-axe, 226

Ice, floating, 228

Tlliluk, 274

Immigrant plants, Darwin’s view of,
166

—, checks on their extension,

167

Indians, Araucanian, 212

, Patagonian, 260

Iquique, 121

, sea-fight at, 127

Isla de Santa Maria, 211

/slay steamship, 29

Itamariti, Falls of, 329

J
Jamaica, 16
——, black population of, 20
» vegetation of, 18
Jacmel harbour, 15

K

Kageneckia oblonga, 175
Kingston, Jamaica, 16

L

Lapageria rosea, 209.

La Plata, estuary of, 277, 283
Las Condes, 163

La Serena, 136, 145

Lavapie Promontory, 211
Liais, M., 342

Libocedrus, 235

Lichens, 221

Lima, 61

, a dinner-party at, 108

, ancient beaches near, I13
, meteorological observations at,

99
Liriodendron, 344
Lisbon, Rock of, 363
Liaillai, 150
Llama in Peru, 95
Loa river, 127
Lobelia gigantea, 184
Lobelia tupa, 184.
, poisonous species of, 76
Lobos de tierra, 53
de afuera, 53
Lomaria magellanica, 226
Lombardi, Signor M., 109
Lombardy poplar, 160
Loranthus, 176, 202
Lord Nelson Strait, 236
Lota, coal deposits of, 207
, parque of, 208
-Lynch, Don Patricio, 67
, his administration, 68

M

Maceio, 347

Magellan, Straits of, 238, 239, 367
, forests in the, 240

, variable climate in, 240, 254
Maipo river, 134

Maldonado, 304

Malesherbiacee, 157

Mango tree, 10

Mapocho river, 157 *

INDEX. 4il

Markham, Captain Albert, 135
Marrubium vulgare, 138
Matto Grosso, 279
Matucana, San Juan de, 76
Mayne Channel, 237
Maytenus magellanica, 263
Meiggs, Mr., 65

Mejillones, 132

Memory, lapses of, 26
Mendoza, 300

Mercator’s projection, 30
Messier’s Channel, 220, 231
Mist, clearing of, 333
Mitraria coccinea, 225
Molina, 175

Mollendo, 119

, a bad port, 120
Monkeys, domesticated, 332
Monson, Mr., 280

Montafia of Eastern Peru, 97
Monte Video, 277, 279
Morro de Cauquenes, 182
Mountain-sickness, 81
Mulinum, 189

Mutisia, 177

Mutisiacee, 102
Myzodendron punctulatum, 256

N

Napp, Mr. Richard, 300

Nation, Mr. W., 70, 108

Naval war of Chili and Peru, 58

New Granada, 32

Nicotiana glauca, 360

Nikolaiewsk, 273

North Atlantic, trade wind of, 361

Northern hemisphere, temperature
of, 273, 274

O

O'Higgins, General, 154

Olfactory nerve, fugitive impres-
sions, 190

Oreodoxa regia, 324

Organ Mountains, 325

Oroya railway, 64

, spiral tunnel of, 79

, viaducts of, 74

Ostrich, South American, 261

Oxalis lobata, 146

P

Pacific coast-steamers, 31

Pacific, colour of water of, 31

, first view of, 25

——, flying-fish of, 53

——,, high seas in Southern, 211

steamer, delay of, 269

Paisandu, 288, 289

Palms, avenue of, 323

Panama, 21

Bay, birds in, 29

Grand Hotel, 27

railway, 25

—— ship-canal, 23

, vegetation of, 24

Paraguay river-steamers, 279

Parana, 317

, basin of the, 352

river, 284

Paranagua, Bay of, 308

Paranahyba, 313

valley, 320

Parasites and climbers, 330

Patagonia, 300

Channels, scenery of, 222, 227

——, vegetation of, 225, 235

» women of, 253

Patagonian coast, winter climate, »
276

Patagonian Indians, 260

Payta, climate and vegetation of, 45

Peckett Harbour, 262, 270

Pedro, Dom, Emperor of Brazil,
337

Pelicans, black, 59

Pefias, Gulf of, 218

Pernambuco, 351

Pernettya, 225

Peru, 44

and Chili, naval war of, 58

——, climate of Northern, 47

, future of, 117

Peruvian coast, fogs on, 54

, low temperature of, 55

sugar-plantation, 110

Pessimism, 365, 366

Petrel, giant, 215

Petropolis, 326, 327, 335

, hermit of, 331

, winter climate of, 334

412

INDEX.

Peumo tree, 159, 17

Philippi, DE, 54 :

» Professor Federigo, 155, 219
Physicians, Brazilian, their fees, 340
Pierola, Dictator of Peru, 117
Pietrabona, Commander, 257
Pimento tree, 10

Pisagua, 123

—, white rocks at, 125
Pisco, 119

Plantago maritima, 263
LPleroma arboreum, 342
eranulosum, 336
Lodocarpus nubigena, 235
Poncho, 179

LPorliera hygrometrica, 199
Port Famine, 245, 250
Gallant, 241

Potato, wild, in Andes, 93
Prado, General, 36

Prosopis limensis, 46
Proustia Baccharoides, 195
Lfteris aguilina, 329

Puente Infernillo, 78

Puerto Bueno, 233

Punta Arenas, 145, 246, 273
Puya, 151

Q

Quadras in Santiago, 153
Quarantine at Callao, 57

at St. Vincent, 359
Quaresma, 336

Queen Adelaide Island, 236, 238
Quillaja saponaria, 175

Quillota, Valley of, 150

Quinta Normal at Santiago, 155

R

Railways, Andean, 63

—, Oroya, 64

, Spiral tunnel of, 79

» viaducts of, 74

Rancagua, 168

Reed, Mr. Edwin, 204

Reilly, Mr., 210

Resguardo del Rio Colorado, 200.
Rhamses, the, 205

Rhea Darwinii, habits of, 261

Rimac, valley of the, 71

» ancient terraces in, 75

——,, Composite in, 76

, effects of sea-breeze in, 98

Rio Claro, 171

Colorado, 276

—— Janeiro, Bay of, 321, 322,
32

Paralighs do Sul, 313
San Francisco, 314
Rocks, disintegration of, 115
» ice-action on, 228
Rumex acetosella, 263

S

Sagittaria Montevidensis, 297

Saladeros, 287

Salix Humboldtiana, 77

Salta, 294

Salto, 291

Sambucus Peruviana, tor

Sampayo, Don Francisco, 257

San Bartolomé, 73

Cristobal, Cerro, 156

Sand-box tree (Hara crepitans), 10

Sandy Point, 246, 250

, burnt forest at, 256

, mutiny of convicts at, 251

— , the hotel at, 249

, vegetation of, 255, 263

San Felipe, 192

Sanitary rules, neglect of, 87

San José, Promontory of, 276

volcano, 164

San Lorenzo, island of, 59

San Matias, Bay of, 276

San Paulo, 308-310

and Rio Janeiro railway, 312

, railway from Santos to, 307,
308

San Ramon, Salto de, 190

Santa Clara, 72

Santa Cruz settlement, 246

Santa Lucia, Rock of, 162

Santa Rosa de los Andes, 193,
196

Santiago, 145, 153, 156, 161

, railway to, 149

+ sunset at, 186

INDEX.

413

Santos, 305, 306

, tropical vegetation at, 307

Sao Joao da Barra, 312

Sao Salvador, 346

Sarmiento Channel, 231

Sarmiento, Mount, 243, 244, 267,
270

Scavenger bird, 112

Schinus molle, 77

Sea-sickness, 217

Seaweed, bands of, 6

Senecio, the genus, 268

Serra da Mantiqueira, 313, 314

Serra do Mar, 308, 314

Shannon, Captain, 269

Simpson, Captain, 207

Sitka, 274

Smyth’s Channel, 231, 237

Solanum mammnwsum, 33

Soroche, mountain-sickness, 81

Soto, Don Olegario, 171

South America, tropical, origin of
flora, 35

, rainless zone of, 48

South Brazil, plateau of, flora, 311

South Patagonia, glaciers in, 239

Southern Atlantic, climate of, 305

Southern Cross, 7, 253

Southern hemisphere, temperature
of, 272-274

Spanish-Americans, indolence of,
89 :

Species, groups of incomplete, 181

Staten Island, 252, 258

St. Antao Island, 359

Steamers, Pacific coast, 31

Straits of Magellan, 270

Sunstroke, causes of, 349, 350

Surco station, 75

Swinburne, Don Carlos, 154

T

Taford, Dr., 191

Tagus steamship, 344
Talca, 145

Taltal, 133

Tamar, Cape, 240

Tambo de Mora, 119
Tarapaca, 125

Taraxacum levigatum, 263

Telephone, use of, in South America,
290

Tierra del Fuego, 245, 267

Tijuca, 338

——., giant tree near, 343

» vegetation of, 341

Tillandsia, 307

Titicaca, Lake of, 63, 66

Tocantins river, 315

Tocopilla, 128, 133

» scenery of the moon, 129

Trade wind, north-east, 6

Trescott, Mr., 60

Tres Montes, Cape, 218

Trinidad, Gulf of, 23

Triumph, the ship, 135

Tropaolum tuberosum, 78

Trumpet-flower (Bignonza venusta),
307, 311

Tucuman, 294

Tumaco, 36

Tumbez, 43

Tupa Berterti, 184

secunda, 184

Tupungato, the Peak of, 153

U
Ucayali river, English settler at,

96
Unalaschka, 274
Uruguay, climate of, 279
, fossil remains in, 291
—, islands of the, 287
— Republic of, chronic disorder,
282, 284, 285
Ushuaia, mission station at, 260
Ushuaja, 273
Uspallata Pass, 200
Utricularia, 33

Vv
Valdivia, 145
Valparaiso, 138, 145
, danger of earthquakes at,
139
Vegetation, equatorial, 33
Verbena family, 201
Viaducts, Oroya railway, 74

414

INDEX.

SS Mackenna, Don Benjamin,

15

Villages, remains of ancient Peru-
vian, 73

Vifia del Mar, 149

Vincent, St., aspect of, 360

, quarantine at, 359

Vinciguerra, Signor, 252

Virgenes, Cape, 271

Volcano de Chana, 219

WwW

Wellington Island, 222

Willsen, Captain, 205

Winter’s bark (Drimys Winteri),
147

Yy

Yellow fever, treatment of, 339

NOTE ON THE MAP OF SOUTH AMERICA.

In the annexed map an attempt has been made to represent the
probable course of the isothermal lines—lines denoting equal
temperature—in the South American continent. The black
lines indicate the mean temperature for the entire year ; the red
lines that for January, the hottest month; and the green lines
that of July, the coldest month. The numbers placed over
each line in corresponding colours indicate the temperature in
degrees of the Centigrade scale. We possess a fair amount of
information as to the meteorology of the coasts of the continent ;
but of the interior our knowledge is miserably deficient, and is
nearly limited to several stations in Argentaria, and a few in the
basin of the Amazons. As a result, the course of the isothermal
lines in the interior is to a great extent conjectural. As in all
similar maps, no account has been taken of the relief of the
surface ; when a line crosses a mountain range, the tempera-
ture indicated is that which would be found, as is assumed,
if the height were reduced to the sea-level. No attempt has
been made to show the variations of temperature with the
season in the part of the continent near the equator. These
are very slight, and depend mainly on local conditions, the
mean temperature of the year varying from 25°5° to 28° C., or
from about 78° to 82° Fahr.; the hottest seasons near the
equator, apart from local conditions, being those of the equinoxes.

The chief interest of the map to the physical geographer
arises from the remarkable effect of the southern, or Humboldt,
current, in lowering the temperature of the western coast between
the fifth and the fortieth degrees of south latitude. This is,. of

416 NOTE ON THE MAP OF SOUTH AMERICA.

course, most apparent in the isothermal for January. Itwill beseen
that at that season the temperature of Northern Peru is about
the same as that of Buenos Ayres, lying thirty degrees farther
from the equator. In midwinter (July) the effect is far less
apparent, and in the south of the continent the isotherms for
that season nearly correspond with the parallels of latitude.
The lines indicating mean annual temperature naturally assume
a course intermediate between those for the extreme seasons,

PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BECCLES.

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