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.

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.

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.

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.

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.35

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 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 maintaining 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 association 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 household. Profound silence prevailed throughout the 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 (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 contrast 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 of 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 surmised 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 fortnight, and although I should have gladly seen something 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 boatmen 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 Iberia, 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 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 on a 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 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 contracted 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 seamen 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 remarkable 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,36 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 hemisphere was, until recently, prevalent among physical geographers, and has been assumed as an undoubted fact by Dr. Croll. He accounts for it by the predominance 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 knowledge, yet too limited, has extended in the southern 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	51° 41'	about 43·00°
Punta Arenas	53° 25'	43·52°
Ushuaja	54° 53'	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 32·4° Fahr.; and at Hopedale, in Labrador, lat. 55° 35', the mean is certainly not higher than 26° Fahr. Even in the island of Anticosti, at the mouth of the St. Lawrence, lat. 49° 24' north, the main yearly temperature is only 35·8°, or more than 70 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 Illiluk 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 descend 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.

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 Iberia 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 constantly 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 depÔt for their toys and games, they next took possession 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 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.	Thermometer (Fahr.).
June 16	Sunset	52° 30'	30·06 in.	37·5°
” 17	Noon	50°	29·68 ”	48·5°
	Sunset		29·70 ”	48·0°
” 18	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 ”	48·0°
” 20	10 a.m.	38° 20'	29·88 ”
	Sunset		29·83 ”	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.37 As far as I could 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 approaching 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 ParanÀ 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 quadras of nearly equal size. The main streets run parallel to 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, enjoying 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 patios 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 development 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 the Paraguay river steamers that carry him over seventeen hundred miles of waterway to CuyabÀ, 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 considerable 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 the winters are slightly colder and the summer months somewhat hotter.

The town is surrounded by country houses belonging to the merchants and other residents, each with a quinta (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. But a 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 (campo), 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 offspring.

At the hospitable table of the British minister, Mr. Monson, I met among other guests Mr. E——, one of the principal English merchants, whose kindness placed me under several obligations. On the following 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 Noticias 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 Alert was to verify the announcements first made by him. I have not seen any reference to Signor Bossi in the interesting volume, “The Cruise of the Alert,” by Dr. Coppinger; but it appears certain that many of the observations recorded in the Santiago Noticias 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—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 fortunate 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 Argentaria38 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 Monte Video to about sixteen at Buenos Ayres, is almost everywhere shallow and beset by sand or mudbanks, 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 ParanÀ.39 Just at this point, signals and 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, ammunition, 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 unusually dry seasons, that tidal water enters the channels of the ParanÀ 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 boughs, but several others appeared 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 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 ParanÀ covers a space of over twenty-one degrees of latitude, we must admit the probability 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 territory 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 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 uninhabited. 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. 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 communication 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, ParanÀ 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 Paisandu, a name known to most English readers only by the ox-tongues prepared at the neighbouring saladeros. 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. Elsewhere the inhabitants would make provision by constructing 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. I found a 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 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 addition 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 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 Cambridge 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 palÆontologists, 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 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 Eucalyptus 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 language of this region, to go for an excursion to the camp as early as possible in the morning. In company 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 surrounding the town, soon reached a rather wide stream running between muddy banks. I now understood why all the vehicles here are hung upon such extremely 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 saladero 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 evergreen, and here and there with shrubs under ten feet in height; but there was nothing deserving to be called 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 Duvaua 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 Buddleia, an Oxalis, and a Verbena (V. phlogifolia), nearly allied to the ornamental 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 feel 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 morning 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 Confederation has been so rapid since public tranquillity 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 imports, 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 establishment 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 quadras of equal dimensions. The streets are narrow and ill-paved, most of them traversed by tramcars, 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 products and manufactures of the states40 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. 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 development. Many of the largest and most valuable trees belong to the family of LeguminosÆ, 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 inhabited 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 by 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 festa, 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 costly carpets of the most gaudy colours. The behaviour 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 informed 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 outskirts of Leghorn, so frequent were the familiar sounds 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, I 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. Cultivated at Kew, in a house kept at the mean temperature of about 78° Fahr., it has attained gigantic proportions, 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 Neva, 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 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 neglected, 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 resources that must render this one of the most important nations of the earth. The law, which, as I 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 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 ParanÀ 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 appears41 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 testimony to the fact that they form a valuable element in the population. With the exception of a small proportion from the Neapolitan provinces, it is admitted 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 establishment of independence may serve as a warning against renewed attempts at revolution; but assuredly the foreign element, which rapidly tends to become predominant, 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 in 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 complaints 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, 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 connected by railway with the capital, and promises to become an important trading port.

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