Notes of a naturalist in South America

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 probably 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 character, the forest is composed of coniferous trees, which have a very different aspect, and at the corresponding 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 Peñas, 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 inconstant in winter than at other seasons. A short experience makes it easy to understand the extreme difficulty of navigation in the Straits for sailing ships, and the expediency of preferring the less inviting course of rounding Cape Horn.

BORYA BAY.

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 expressive name must, indeed, be abandoned, for, if I am not mistaken, the Land of Desolation 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 least 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 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 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 10th, with a complete change of weather, had fallen only eight-hundredths of an inch.

MOUNT SARMIENTO.

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 height of seven thousand feet.[33 - I 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.] 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 rocks elsewhere in the world can retain slopes so 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.

CHANGE OF SCENERY.

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 coastline 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.

ISOLATION OF SANDY POINT.

The weather was thick as we passed Port Famine, 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 Government has thought it expedient to hoist their flag in order to assert the rights of sovereignty of the Confederation 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 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.

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 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 Rhamses, 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 accommodation for strangers at Sandy Point is extremely limited, 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 accommodation 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 plaza, not yet quite surrounded by houses. The buildings are small, and nearly all built of wood painted outside.

ARRIVAL AT SANDY POINT.

The next piece of information received was unfavourable 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 medical officer of the settlement, which I now proceeded 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 kindness 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 considerable 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 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.

STORY OF THE MUTINY.

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 undertook 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 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 learned that it belonged to the stranger who occupied the solitary room available for visitors to Sandy Point.

I speedily made the acquaintance of Signor Vinciguerra, 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 carried to my temporary home. As the sun set before four o’clock, it was already dark before I was installed 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 indigenous 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 guanaco 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.

PATAGONIAN LADIES.

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 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 direction 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 impracticable; it had been allowed to fall to decay, and, being supported on trestles, the gaps were inconveniently 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 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.

VEGETATION OF SANDY POINT.

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 Compositæ, both evergreen shrubs, were abundantly clothed with fruit, and among other characteristic forms I collected two species of Acæna, a genus widely spread through the southern hemisphere, allied to, but very distinct from, our common Alchemilla. 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 cosmopolitan 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 landlocked basin nearly fifty miles long and half as wide, 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 difficulty 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 exhausted 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, Myzodendron punctulatum, the structure of which plant and its allies was long ago admirably illustrated by Sir Joseph Hooker.[34 - “Flora Antarctica,” vol. ii. p. 289.]

THE GOVERNOR’S FAMILY.

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 principal inhabitants. One of the favourable features by which a stranger is impressed in Chili is the comparative 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. Vicuña Mackenna was concerned, and had with that gentleman undergone a term of exile, but was subsequently appointed by his political opponents to the government 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 Sampayo, an elderly lady, with the remains of remarkable 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 knowledge 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 appealed to, generally answered by a single monosyllable of assent or negation. A superficial observer would have set this down as evidence of a surly or misanthropic 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.

A WET DAY.

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, 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 destructive effect of ardent spirits. They commonly expend nearly everything they gain in drink, but after recovering 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 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.

HABITS OF RHEA DARWINII.

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 Darwinii), 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 intermediate in flavour between hare and grouse.

Dr. Fenton had commenced the trial of an experiment 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 produces 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 examine 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. 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 lævigatum of botanists). Along with these were several representatives of the antarctic flora – a Colobanthus, three species of Acæna, a Gunnera, an Ourisia, and several others. Of bushes the most conspicuous are the berberries, 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 Leña 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.

BOTANICAL EXCURSION.

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 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 constantly 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 vegetables 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 enjoyed the hospitality of the governor, and once more found myself in the agreeable society of Signor Vinciguerra. One of the many laudable characteristics of Chilian society, in striking contrast with their kinsmen 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 contemptuous 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 conduct 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.

ZEAL FOR EDUCATION.

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.