Chapter VIII

Excursion to Colonia del Sacramiento—Value of an Estancia—Cattle, how

counted—Singular Breed of Oxen—Perforated Pebbles—Shepherd-dogs—Horses

broken-in, Gauchos Riding—Character of Inhabitants—Rio Plata—Flocks of

Butterflies—Aëronaut Spiders—Phosphorescence of the Sea—Port

Desire—Guanaco—Port St. Julian—Geology of Patagonia—Fossil gigantic

Animal—Types of Organisation constant—Change in the Zoology of

America—Causes of Extinction.

BANDA ORIENTAL AND PATAGONIA.

Having been delayed for nearly a fortnight in the city, I was glad to

escape on board a packet bound for Monte Video. A town in a state of

blockade must always be a disagreeable place of residence; in this case

moreover there were constant apprehensions from robbers within. The

sentinels were the worst of all; for, from their office and from having

arms in their hands, they robbed with a degree of authority which other

men could not imitate.

Our passage was a very long and tedious one. The Plata looks like a

noble estuary on the map; but is in truth a poor affair. A wide expanse

of muddy water has neither grandeur nor beauty. At one time of the day,

the two shores, both of which are extremely low, could just be

distinguished from the deck. On arriving at Monte Video I found that

the _Beagle_ would not sail for some time, so I prepared for a short

excursion in this part of Banda Oriental. Everything which I have said

about the country near Maldonado is applicable to Monte Video; but the

land, with the one exception of the Green Mount, 450 feet high, from

which it takes its name, is far more level. Very little of the

undulating grassy plain is enclosed; but near the town there are a few

hedge-banks, covered with agaves, cacti, and fennel.

_November_ 14_th._—We left Monte Video in the afternoon. I intended to

proceed to Colonia del Sacramiento, situated on the northern bank of

the Plata and opposite to Buenos Ayres, and thence, following up the

Uruguay, to the village of Mercedes on the Rio Negro (one of the many

rivers of this name in South America), and from this point to return

direct to Monte Video. We slept at the house of my guide at Canelones.

In the morning we rose early, in the hopes of being able to ride a good

distance; but it was a vain attempt, for all the rivers were flooded.

We passed in boats the streams of Canelones, St. Lucia, and San José,

and thus lost much time. On a former excursion I crossed the Lucia near

its mouth, and I was surprised to observe how easily our horses,

although not used to swim, passed over a width of at least six hundred

yards. On mentioning this at Monte Video, I was told that a vessel

containing some mountebanks and their horses, being wrecked in the

Plata, one horse swam seven miles to the shore. In the course of the

day I was amused by the dexterity with which a Gaucho forced a restive

horse to swim a river. He stripped off his clothes, and jumping on its

back, rode into the water till it was out of its depth; then slipping

off over the crupper, he caught hold of the tail, and as often as the

horse turned round the man frightened it back by splashing water in its

face. As soon as the horse touched the bottom on the other side, the

man pulled himself on, and was firmly seated, bridle in hand, before

the horse gained the bank. A naked man on a naked

horse is a fine spectacle; I had no idea how well the two animals

suited each other. The tail of a horse is a very useful appendage; I

have passed a river in a boat with four people in it, which was ferried

across in the same way as the Gaucho. If a man and horse have to cross

a broad river, the best plan is for the man to catch hold of the pommel

or mane, and help himself with the other arm.

We slept and stayed the following day at the post of Cufre. In the

evening the postman or letter-carrier arrived. He was a day after his

time, owing to the Rio Rozario being flooded. It would not, however, be

of much consequence; for, although he had passed through some of the

principal towns in Banda Oriental, his luggage consisted of two

letters! The view from the house was pleasing; an undulating green

surface, with distant glimpses of the Plata. I find that I look at this

province with very different eyes from what I did upon my first

arrival. I recollect I then thought it singularly level; but now, after

galloping over the Pampas, my only surprise is, what could have induced

me ever to have called it level. The country is a series of

undulations, in themselves perhaps not absolutely great, but, as

compared to the plains of St. Fé, real mountains. From these

inequalities there is an abundance of small rivulets, and the turf is

green and luxuriant.

_November_ 17_th._—We crossed the Rozario, which was deep and rapid,

and passing the village of Colla, arrived at mid-day at Colonia del

Sacramiento. The distance is twenty leagues, through a country covered

with fine grass, but poorly stocked with cattle or inhabitants. I was

invited to sleep at Colonia, and to accompany on the following day a

gentleman to his estancia, where there were some limestone rocks. The

town is built on a stony promontory something in the same manner as at

Monte Video. It is strongly fortified, but both fortifications and town

suffered much in the Brazilian war. It is very ancient; and the

irregularity of the streets, and the surrounding groves of old orange

and peach trees, gave it a pretty appearance. The church is a curious

ruin; it was used as a powder-magazine, and was struck by lightning in

one of the ten thousand thunderstorms of the Rio Plata. Two-thirds of

the building were blown away to the very foundation; and the rest

stands a shattered and curious monument of the

united powers of lightning and gunpowder. In the evening I wandered

about the half-demolished walls of the town. It was the chief seat of

the Brazilian war—a war most injurious to this country, not so much in

its immediate effects, as in being the origin of a multitude of

generals and all other grades of officers. More generals are numbered

(but not paid) in the United Provinces of La Plata than in the United

Kingdom of Great Britain. These gentlemen have learned to like power,

and do not object to a little skirmishing. Hence there are many always

on the watch to create disturbance and to overturn a government which

as yet has never rested on any stable foundation. I noticed, however,

both here and in other places, a very general interest in the ensuing

election for the President; and this appears a good sign for the

prosperity of this little country. The inhabitants do not require much

education in their representatives; I heard some men discussing the

merits of those for Colonia; and it was said that, “although they were

not men of business, they could all sign their names:” with this they

seemed to think every reasonable man ought to be satisfied.

18_th._—Rode with my host to his estancia, at the Arroyo de San Juan.

In the evening we took a ride round the estate: it contained two square

leagues and a half, and was situated in what is called a rincon; that

is, one side was fronted by the Plata, and the two others guarded by

impassable brooks. There was an excellent port for little vessels, and

an abundance of small wood, which is valuable as supplying fuel to

Buenos Ayres. I was curious to know the value of so complete an

estancia. Of cattle there were 3000, and it would well support three or

four times that number; of mares 800, together with 150 broken-in

horses, and 600 sheep. There was plenty of water and limestone, a rough

house, excellent corrals, and a peach orchard. For all this he had been

offered £2000, and he only wanted £500 additional, and probably would

sell it for less. The chief trouble with an estancia is driving the

cattle twice a week to a central spot, in order to make them tame, and

to count them. This latter operation would be thought difficult, where

there are ten or fifteen thousand head together. It is managed on the

principle that the cattle invariably divide themselves into little

troops of from forty to one hundred. Each troop is recognised by a few

peculiarly

marked animals, and its number is known: so that, one being lost out of

ten thousand, it is perceived by its absence from one of the tropillas.

During a stormy night the cattle all mingle together; but the next

morning the tropillas separate as before; so that each animal must know

its fellow out of ten thousand others.

On two occasions I met with in this province some oxen of a very

curious breed, called nãta or niata. They appear externally to hold

nearly the same relation to other cattle, which bull or pug dogs do to

other dogs. Their forehead is very short and broad, with the nasal end

turned up, and the upper lip much drawn back; their lower jaws project

beyond the upper, and have a corresponding upward curve; hence their

teeth are always exposed. Their nostrils are seated high up and are

very open; their eyes project outwards. When walking they carry their

heads low, on a short neck; and their hinder legs are rather longer

compared with the front legs than is usual. Their bare teeth, their

short heads, and upturned nostrils give them the most ludicrous

self-confident air of defiance imaginable.

Since my return, I have procured a skeleton head, through the kindness

of my friend Captain Sulivan, R.N., which is now deposited in the

College of Surgeons.[1] Don F. Muniz, of Luxan, has kindly collected

for me all the information which he could respecting this breed. From

his account it seems that about eighty or ninety years ago, they were

rare and kept as curiosities at Buenos Ayres. The breed is universally

believed to have originated amongst the Indians southward of the Plata;

and that it was with them the commonest kind. Even to this day, those

reared in the provinces near the Plata show their less civilised

origin, in being fiercer than common cattle, and in the cow easily

deserting her first calf, if visited too often or molested. It is a

singular fact that an almost similar structure to the abnormal[2] one

of the niata breed, characterises, as I am informed by Dr. Falconer,

that great extinct ruminant of India, the Sivatherium. The breed is

very _ true_; and a niata bull and cow invariably produce niata calves.

A niata bull with a common cow, or the reverse cross, produces

offspring having an intermediate character, but with the niata

characters strongly displayed: according to Señor Muniz, there is the

clearest evidence, contrary to the common belief of agriculturists in

analogous cases, that the niata cow when crossed with a common bull

transmits her peculiarities more strongly than the niata bull when

crossed with a common cow. When the pasture is tolerably long, the

niata cattle feed with the tongue and palate as well as common cattle;

but during the great droughts, when so many animals perish, the niata

breed is under a great disadvantage, and would be exterminated if not

attended to; for the common cattle, like horses, are able just to keep

alive, by browsing with their lips on twigs of trees and reeds; this

the niatas cannot so well do, as their lips do not join, and hence they

are found to perish before the common cattle. This strikes me as a good

illustration of how little we are able to judge from the ordinary

habits of life, on what circumstances, occurring only at long

intervals, the rarity or extinction of a species may be determined.

[1] Mr. Waterhouse has drawn up a detailed description of this head,

which I hope he will publish in some Journal.

[2] A nearly similar abnormal, but I do not know whether hereditary,

structure has been observed in the carp, and likewise in the crocodile

of the Ganges: _Histoire des Anomalies_, par M. Isid. Geoffroy St.

Hilaire, tome i, p. 244.

_November_ 19_th._—Passing the valley of Las Vacas, we slept at a house

of a North American, who worked a lime-kiln on the Arroyo de las

Vivoras. In the morning we rode to a projecting headland on the banks

of the river, called Punta Gorda. On the way we tried to find a jaguar.

There were plenty of fresh tracks, and we visited the trees on which

they are said to sharpen their claws; but we did not succeed in

disturbing one. From this point the Rio Uruguay presented to our view a

noble volume of water. From the clearness and rapidity of the stream,

its appearance was far superior to that of its neighbour the Parana. On

the opposite coast, several branches from the latter river entered the

Uruguay. As the sun was shining, the two colours of the waters could be

seen quite distinct.

In the evening we proceeded on our road towards Mercedes on the Rio

Negro. At night we asked permission to sleep at an estancia at which we

happened to arrive. It was a very large estate, being ten leagues

square, and the owner is one of the greatest landowners in the country.

His nephew had charge of it, and with him there was a captain in the

army, who the other day ran away from Buenos Ayres. Considering

their station, their conversation was rather amusing. They expressed,

as was usual, unbounded astonishment at the globe being round, and

could scarcely credit that a hole would, if deep enough, come out on

the other side. They had, however, heard of a country where there were

six months of light and six of darkness, and where the inhabitants were

very tall and thin! They were curious about the price and condition of

horses and cattle in England. Upon finding out we did not catch our

animals with the lazo, they cried out, “Ah, then, you use nothing but

the bolas:” the idea of an enclosed country was quite new to them. The

captain at last said, he had one question to ask me, which he should be

very much obliged if I would answer with all truth. I trembled to think

how deeply scientific it would be: it was, “Whether the ladies of

Buenos Ayres were not the handsomest in the world.” I replied, like a

renegade, “Charmingly so.” He added, “I have one other question: Do

ladies in any other part of the world wear such large combs?” I

solemnly assured him that they did not. They were absolutely delighted.

The captain exclaimed, “Look there! a man who has seen half the world

says it is the case; we always thought so, but now we know it.” My

excellent judgment in combs and beauty procured me a most hospitable

reception; the captain forced me to take his bed, and he would sleep on

his recado.

21_st._—Started at sunrise, and rode slowly during the whole day. The

geological nature of this part of the province was different from the

rest, and closely resembled that of the Pampas. In consequence, there

were immense beds of the thistle, as well as of the cardoon: the whole

country, indeed, may be called one great bed of these plants. The two

sorts grow separate, each plant in company with its own kind. The

cardoon is as high as a horse’s back, but the Pampas thistle is often

higher than the crown of the rider’s head. To leave the road for a yard

is out of the question; and the road itself is partly, and in some

cases entirely, closed. Pasture, of course, there is none; if cattle or

horses once enter the bed, they are for the time completely lost. Hence

it is very hazardous to attempt to drive cattle at this season of the

year; for when jaded enough to face the thistles, they rush among them,

and are seen no more. In these districts there are very few

estancias, and these few are situated in the neighbourhood of damp

valleys, where fortunately neither of these overwhelming plants can

exist. As night came on before we arrived at our journey’s end, we

slept at a miserable little hovel inhabited by the poorest people. The

extreme though rather formal courtesy of our host and hostess,

considering their grade of life, was quite delightful.

_November_ 22_nd._—Arrived at an estancia on the Berquelo belonging to

a very hospitable Englishman, to whom I had a letter of introduction

from my friend Mr. Lumb. I stayed here three days. One morning I rode

with my host to the Sierra del Pedro Flaco, about twenty miles up the

Rio Negro. Nearly the whole country was covered with good though coarse

grass, which was as high as a horse’s belly; yet there were square

leagues without a single head of cattle. The province of Banda

Oriental, if well stocked, would support an astonishing number of

animals, at present the annual export of hides from Monte Video amounts

to three hundred thousand; and the home consumption, from waste, is

very considerable. An estanciero told me that he often had to send

large herds of cattle a long journey to a salting establishment, and

that the tired beasts were frequently obliged to be killed and skinned;

but that he could never persuade the Gauchos to eat of them, and every

evening a fresh beast was slaughtered for their suppers! The view of

the Rio Negro from the Sierra was more picturesque than any other which

I saw in this province. The river, broad, deep, and rapid, wound at the

foot of a rocky precipitous cliff: a belt of wood followed its course,

and the horizon terminated in the distant undulations of the

turf-plain.

When in this neighbourhood, I several times heard of the Sierra de las

Cuentas: a hill distant many miles to the northward. The name signifies

hill of beads. I was assured that vast numbers of little round stones,

of various colours, each with a small cylindrical hole, are found

there. Formerly the Indians used to collect them, for the purpose of

making necklaces and bracelets—a taste, I may observe, which is common

to all savage nations, as well as to the most polished. I did not know

what to understand from this story, but upon mentioning it at the Cape

of Good Hope to Dr. Andrew Smith, he told me that he recollected

finding on the

south-eastern coast of Africa, about one hundred miles to the eastward

of St. John’s river, some quartz crystals with their edges blunted from

attrition, and mixed with gravel on the sea-beach. Each crystal was

about five lines in diameter, and from an inch to an inch and a half in

length. Many of them had a small canal extending from one extremity to

the other, perfectly cylindrical, and of a size that readily admitted a

coarse thread or a piece of fine catgut. Their colour was red or dull

white. The natives were acquainted with this structure in crystals. I

have mentioned these circumstances because, although no crystallised

body is at present known to assume this form, it may lead some future

traveller to investigate the real nature of such stones.

While staying at this estancia, I was amused with what I saw and heard

of the shepherd-dogs of the country.[3] When riding, it is a common

thing to meet a large flock of sheep guarded by one or two dogs, at the

distance of some miles from any house or man. I often wondered how so

firm a friendship had been established. The method of education

consists in separating the puppy, while very young, from the bitch, and

in accustoming it to its future companions. An ewe is held three or

four times a day for the little thing to suck, and a nest of wool is

made for it in the sheep-pen; at no time is it allowed to associate

with other dogs, or with the children of the family. The puppy is,

moreover, generally castrated; so that, when grown up, it can scarcely

have any feelings in common with the rest of its kind. From this

education it has no wish to leave the flock, and just as another dog

will defend its master, man, so will these the sheep. It is amusing to

observe, when approaching a flock, how the dog immediately advances

barking, and the sheep all close in his rear, as if round the oldest

ram. These dogs are also easily taught to bring home the flock at a

certain hour in the evening. Their most troublesome fault, when young,

is their desire of playing with the sheep; for in their sport they

sometimes gallop their poor subjects most unmercifully.

[3] M. A. d’Orbigny has given nearly a similar account of these dogs,

tome i, p. 175.

The shepherd-dog comes to the house every day for some

meat, and as soon as it is given him, he skulks away as if ashamed of

himself. On these occasions the house-dogs are very tyrannical, and the

least of them will attack and pursue the stranger. The minute, however,

the latter has reached the flock, he turns round and begins to bark,

and then all the house-dogs take very quickly to their heels. In a

similar manner a whole pack of the hungry wild dogs will scarcely ever

(and I was told by some never) venture to attack a flock guarded by

even one of these faithful shepherds. The whole account appears to me a

curious instance of the pliability of the affections in the dog; and

yet, whether wild or however educated, he has a feeling of respect or

fear for those that are fulfilling their instinct of association. For

we can understand on no principle the wild dogs being driven away by

the single one with its flock, except that they consider, from some

confused notion, that the one thus associated gains power, as if in

company with its own kind. F. Cuvier has observed that all animals that

readily enter into domestication consider man as a member of their own

society, and thus fulfil their instinct of association. In the above

case the shepherd-dog ranks the sheep as its fellow-brethren, and thus

gains confidence; and the wild dogs, though knowing that the individual

sheep are not dogs, but are good to eat, yet partly consent to this

view when seeing them in a flock with a shepherd-dog at their head.

One evening a “domidor” (a subduer of horses) came for the purpose of

breaking-in some colts. I will describe the preparatory steps, for I

believe they have not been mentioned by other travellers. A troop of

wild young horses is driven into the corral, or large enclosure of

stakes, and the door is shut. We will suppose that one man alone has to

catch and mount a horse, which as yet had never felt bridle or saddle.

I conceive, except by a Gaucho, such a feat would be utterly

impracticable. The Gaucho picks out a full-grown colt; and as the beast

rushes round the circus, he throws his lazo so as to catch both the

front legs. Instantly the horse rolls over with a heavy shock, and

whilst struggling on the ground, the Gaucho, holding the lazo tight,

makes a circle, so as to catch one of the hind legs just beneath the

fetlock, and draws it close to the two front legs: he then hitches the

lazo, so that the

three are bound together. Then sitting on the horse’s neck, he fixes a

strong bridle, without a bit, to the lower jaw: this he does by passing

a narrow thong through the eye-holes at the end of the reins, and

several times round both jaw and tongue. The two front legs are now

tied closely together with a strong leathern thong, fastened by a

slip-knot. The lazo, which bound the three together, being then loosed,

the horse rises with difficulty. The Gaucho, now holding fast the

bridle fixed to the lower jaw, leads the horse outside the corral. If a

second man is present (otherwise the trouble is much greater) he holds

the animal’s head, whilst the first puts on the horsecloths and saddle,

and girths the whole together. During this operation, the horse, from

dread and astonishment at thus being bound round the waist, throws

himself over and over again on the ground, and, till beaten, is

unwilling to rise. At last, when the saddling is finished, the poor

animal can hardly breathe from fear, and is white with foam and sweat.

The man now prepares to mount by pressing heavily on the stirrup, so

that the horse may not lose its balance; and at the moment that he

throws his leg over the animal’s back, he pulls the slip-knot binding

the front legs, and the beast is free. Some “domidors” pull the knot

while the animal is lying on the ground, and, standing over the saddle,

allow him to rise beneath them. The horse, wild with dread, gives a few

most violent bounds, and then starts off at full gallop: when quite

exhausted, the man, by patience, brings him back to the corral, where,

reeking hot and scarcely alive, the poor beast is let free. Those

animals which will not gallop away, but obstinately throw themselves on

the ground, are by far the most troublesome. This process is

tremendously severe, but in two or three trials the horse is tamed. It

is not, however, for some weeks that the animal is ridden with the iron

bit and solid ring, for it must learn to associate the will of its

rider with the feel of the rein, before the most powerful bridle can be

of any service.

Animals are so abundant in these countries, that humanity and

self-interest are not closely united; therefore I fear it is that the

former is here scarcely known. One day, riding in the Pampas with a

very respectable “Estanciero,” my horse, being tired, lagged behind.

The man often shouted to me to spur him. When I remonstrated that it

was a pity, for the horse

was quite exhausted, he cried out, “Why not?—never mind—spur him—it is

_my_ horse.” I had then some difficulty in making him comprehend that

it was for the horse’s sake, and not on his account, that I did not

choose to use my spurs. He exclaimed, with a look of great surprise,

“Ah, Don Carlos, que cosa!” It was clear that such an idea had never

before entered his head.

The Gauchos are well known to be perfect riders. The idea of being

thrown, let the horse do what it likes; never enters their head. Their

criterion of a good rider is, a man who can manage an untamed colt, or

who, if his horse falls, alights on his own feet, or can perform other

such exploits. I have heard of a man betting that he would throw his

horse down twenty times, and that nineteen times he would not fall

himself. I recollect seeing a Gaucho riding a very stubborn horse,

which three times successively reared so high as to fall backwards with

great violence. The man judged with uncommon coolness the proper moment

for slipping off, not an instant before or after the right time; and as

soon as the horse got up, the man jumped on his back, and at last they

started at a gallop. The Gaucho never appears to exert any muscular

force. I was one day watching a good rider, as we were galloping along

at a rapid pace, and thought to myself, “Surely if the horse starts,

you appear so careless on your seat, you must fall.” At this moment a

male ostrich sprang from its nest right beneath the horse’s nose: the

young colt bounded on one side like a stag; but as for the man, all

that could be said was, that he started and took fright with his horse.

In Chile and Peru more pains are taken with the mouth of the horse than

in La Plata, and this is evidently a consequence of the more intricate

nature of the country. In Chile a horse is not considered perfectly

broken till he can be brought up standing, in the midst of his full

speed, on any particular spot,—for instance, on a cloak thrown on the

ground: or, again, he will charge a wall, and rearing, scrape the

surface with his hoofs. I have seen an animal bounding with spirit, yet

merely reined by a forefinger and thumb, taken at full gallop across a

courtyard, and then made to wheel round the post of a veranda with

great speed, but at so equal a distance, that the rider, with

outstretched arm, all the while kept one finger rubbing the post.

Then making a demi-volte in the air, with the other arm outstretched in

a like manner, he wheeled round, with astonishing force, in an opposite

direction.

Such a horse is well broken; and although this at first may appear

useless, it is far otherwise. It is only carrying that which is daily

necessary into perfection. When a bullock is checked and caught by the

lazo, it will sometimes gallop round and round in a circle, and the

horse being alarmed at the great strain, if not well broken, will not

readily turn like the pivot of a wheel. In consequence many men have

been killed; for if the lazo once takes a twist round a man’s body, it

will instantly, from the power of the two opposed animals, almost cut

him in twain. On the same principle the races are managed; the course

is only two or three hundred yards long, the wish being to have horses

that can make a rapid dash. The racehorses are trained not only to

stand with their hoofs touching a line, but to draw all four feet

together, so as at the first spring to bring into play the full action

of the hind-quarters. In Chile I was told an anecdote, which I believe

was true; and it offers a good illustration of the use of a well-broken

animal. A respectable man riding one day met two others, one of whom

was mounted on a horse, which he knew to have been stolen from himself.

He challenged them; they answered him by drawing their sabres and

giving chase. The man, on his good and fleet beast, kept just ahead: as

he passed a thick bush he wheeled round it, and brought up his horse to

a dead check. The pursuers were obliged to shoot on one side and ahead.

Then instantly dashing on, right behind them, he buried his knife in

the back of one, wounded the other, recovered his horse from the dying

robber, and rode home. For these feats of horsemanship two things are

necessary: a most severe bit, like the Mameluke, the power of which,

though seldom used, the horse knows full well; and large blunt spurs,

that can be applied either as a mere touch, or as an instrument of

extreme pain. I conceive that with English spurs, the slightest touch

of which pricks the skin, it would be impossible to break in a horse

after the South American fashion.

At an estancia near Las Vacas large numbers of mares are weekly

slaughtered for the sake of their hides, although worth only five paper

dollars, or about half a crown apiece. It seems

at first strange that it can answer to kill mares for such a trifle;

but as it is thought ridiculous in this country ever to break in or

ride a mare, they are of no value except for breeding. The only thing

for which I ever saw mares used, was to tread out wheat from the ear,

for which purpose they were driven round a circular enclosure, where

the wheat-sheaves were strewed. The man employed for slaughtering the

mares happened to be celebrated for his dexterity with the lazo.

Standing at the distance of twelve yards from the mouth of the corral,

he has laid a wager that he would catch by the legs every animal,

without missing one, as it rushed past him. There was another man who

said he would enter the corral on foot, catch a mare, fasten her front

legs together, drive her out, throw her down, kill, skin, and stake the

hide for drying (which latter is a tedious job); and he engaged that he

would perform this whole operation on twenty-two animals in one day. Or

he would kill and take the skin off fifty in the same time. This would

have been a prodigious task, for it is considered a good day’s work to

skin and stake the hides of fifteen or sixteen animals.

_November_ 26_th._—I set out on my return in a direct line for Monte

Video. Having heard of some giant’s bones at a neighbouring farmhouse

on the Sarandis, a small stream entering the Rio Negro, I rode there

accompanied by my host, and purchased for the value of eighteenpence

the head of the Toxodon.[4] When found it was quite perfect; but the

boys knocked out some of the teeth with stones, and then set up the

head as a mark to throw at. By a most fortunate chance I found a

perfect tooth, which exactly fitted one of the sockets in this skull,

embedded by itself on the banks of the Rio Tercero, at the distance of

about 180 miles from this place. I found remains of this extraordinary

animal at two other places, so that it must formerly have been common.

I found here, also, some large portions of the armour of a gigantic

armadillo-like animal, and part of the great head of a Mylodon. The

bones of this head are so fresh, that they contain, according to the

analysis by Mr. T. Reeks, seven per cent of animal matter; and when

placed in a spirit-lamp, they burn with a small flame.

The number of the remains embedded in the grand estuary deposit which

forms the Pampas and covers the granitic rocks of Banda Oriental, must

be extraordinarily great. I believe a straight line drawn in any

direction through the Pampas would cut through some skeleton or bones.

Besides those which I found during my short excursions, I heard of many

others, and the origin of such names as “the stream of the animal,”

“the hill of the giant,” is obvious. At other times I heard of the

marvellous property of certain rivers, which had the power of changing

small bones into large; or, as some maintained, the bones themselves

grew. As far as I am aware, not one of these animals perished, as was

formerly supposed, in the marshes or muddy river-beds of the present

land, but their bones have been exposed by the streams intersecting the

subaqueous deposit in which they were originally embedded. We may

conclude that the whole area of the Pampas is one wide sepulchre of

these extinct gigantic quadrupeds.

[4] I must express my obligation to Mr. Keane, at whose house I was

staying on the Berquelo, and to Mr. Lumb at Buenos Ayres, for without

their assistance these valuable remains would never have reached

England.

By the middle of the day, on the 28th, we arrived at Monte Video,

having been two days and a half on the road. The country for the whole

way was of a very uniform character, some parts being rather more rocky

and hilly than near the Plata. Not far from Monte Video we passed

through the village of Las Pietras, so named from some large rounded

masses of syenite. Its appearance was rather pretty. In this country a

few fig-trees round a group of houses, and a site elevated a hundred

feet above the general level, ought always to be called picturesque.

During the last six months I have had an opportunity of seeing a little

of the character of the inhabitants of these provinces. The Gauchos, or

countrymen, are very superior to those who reside in the towns. The

Gaucho is invariably most obliging, polite, and hospitable: I did not

meet with even one instance of rudeness or inhospitality. He is modest,

both respecting himself and country, but at the same time a spirited,

bold fellow. On the other hand, many robberies are committed, and there

is much bloodshed: the habit of constantly wearing the knife is the

chief cause of the latter. It is lamentable to hear how many lives are

lost in trifling quarrels. In fighting, each party tries to mark the

face of his adversary by slashing

his nose or eyes; as is often attested by deep and horrid-looking

scars. Robberies are a natural consequence of universal gambling, much

drinking, and extreme indolence. At Mercedes I asked two men why they

did not work. One gravely said the days were too long; the other that

he was too poor. The number of horses and the profusion of food are the

destruction of all industry. Moreover, there are so many feast-days;

and again, nothing can succeed without it be begun when the moon is on

the increase; so that half the month is lost from these two causes.

Police and justice are quite inefficient. If a man who is poor commits

murder and is taken, he will be imprisoned, and perhaps even shot; but

if he is rich and has friends, he may rely on it no very severe

consequence will ensue. It is curious that the most respectable

inhabitants of the country invariably assist a murderer to escape: they

seem to think that the individual sins against the government, and not

against the people. A traveller has no protection besides his firearms;

and the constant habit of carrying them is the main check to more

frequent robberies.

The character of the higher and more educated classes who reside in the

towns, partakes, but perhaps in a lesser degree, of the good parts of

the Gaucho, but is, I fear, stained by many vices of which he is free.

Sensuality, mockery of all religion, and the grossest corruption, are

far from uncommon. Nearly every public officer can be bribed. The head

man in the post-office sold forged government franks. The governor and

prime minister openly combined to plunder the State. Justice, where

gold came into play, was hardly expected by any one. I knew an

Englishman who went to the Chief Justice (he told me that, not then

understanding the ways of the place, he trembled as he entered the

room), and said, “Sir, I have come to offer you two hundred (paper)

dollars (value about five pounds sterling) if you will arrest before a

certain time a man who has cheated me. I know it is against the law,

but my lawyer (naming him) recommended me to take this step.” The Chief

Justice smiled acquiescence, thanked him, and the man before night was

safe in prison. With this entire want of principle in many of the

leading men, with the country full of ill-paid turbulent officers, the

people yet hope that a democratic form of government can succeed!

On first entering society in these countries, two or three features

strike one as particularly remarkable. The polite and dignified manners

pervading every rank of life, the excellent taste displayed by the

women in their dresses, and the equality amongst all ranks. At the Rio

Colorado some men who kept the humblest shops used to dine with General

Rosas. A son of a major at Bahia Blanca gained his livelihood by making

paper cigars, and he wished to accompany me, as guide or servant, to

Buenos Ayres, but his father objected on the score of the danger alone.

Many officers in the army can neither read nor write, yet all meet in

society as equals. In Entre Rios, the Sala consisted of only six

representatives. One of them kept a common shop, and evidently was not

degraded by the office. All this is what would be expected in a new

country; nevertheless the absence of gentlemen by profession appears to

an Englishman something strange.

When speaking of these countries, the manner in which they have been

brought up by their unnatural parent, Spain, should always be borne in

mind. On the whole, perhaps, more credit is due for what has been done,

than blame for that which may be deficient. It is impossible to doubt

but that the extreme liberalism of these countries must ultimately lead

to good results. The very general toleration of foreign religions, the

regard paid to the means of education, the freedom of the press, the

facilities offered to all foreigners, and especially, as I am bound to

add, to every one professing the humblest pretensions to science,

should be recollected with gratitude by those who have visited Spanish

South America.

_December_ 6_th._—The _Beagle_ sailed from the Rio Plata, never again

to enter its muddy stream. Our course was directed to Port Desire, on

the coast of Patagonia. Before proceeding any farther, I will here put

together a few observations made at sea.

Several times when the ship has been some miles off the mouth of the

Plata, and at other times when off the shores of Northern Patagonia, we

have been surrounded by insects. One evening, when we were about ten

miles from the Bay of San Blas, vast numbers of butterflies, in bands

or flocks of countless myriads, extended as far as the eye could range.

Even by the

aid of a telescope it was not possible to see a space free from

butterflies. The seamen cried out “it was snowing butterflies,” and

such in fact was the appearance. More species than one were present,

but the main part belonged to a kind very similar to, but not identical

with, the common English Colias edusa. Some moths and hymenoptera

accompanied the butterflies; and a fine beetle (Calosoma) flew on

board. Other instances are known of this beetle having been caught far

out at sea; and this is the more remarkable, as the greater number of

the Carabidæ seldom or never take wing. The day had been fine and

calm, and the one previous to it equally so, with light and variable

airs. Hence we cannot suppose that the insects were blown off the land,

but we must conclude that they voluntarily took flight. The great bands

of the Colias seem at first to afford an instance like those on record

of the migrations of another butterfly, Vanessa cardui;[5] but the

presence of other insects makes the case distinct, and even less

intelligible. Before sunset a strong breeze sprung up from the north,

and this must have caused tens of thousands of the butterflies and

other insects to have perished.

[5] Lyell’s _Principles of Geology_, vol. iii, p. 63.

On another occasion, when seventeen miles off Cape Corrientes, I had a

net overboard to catch pelagic animals. Upon drawing it up, to my

surprise I found a considerable number of beetles in it, and although

in the open sea, they did not appear much injured by the salt water. I

lost some of the specimens, but those which I preserved belonged to the

genera Colymbetes, Hydroporus, Hydrobius (two species), Notaphus,

Cynucus, Adimonia, and Scarabæus. At first I thought that these

insects had been blown from the shore; but upon reflecting that out of

the eight species four were aquatic, and two others partly so in their

habits, it appeared to me most probable that they were floated into the

sea by a small stream which drains a lake near Cape Corrientes. On any

supposition it is an interesting circumstance to find live insects

swimming in the open ocean seventeen miles from the nearest point of

land. There are several accounts of insects having been blown off the

Patagonian shore. Captain Cook observed it, as did more lately Captain

King of the _Adventure_. The cause probably is due to the want of

shelter, both of trees and hills, so that an

insect on the wing with an offshore breeze, would be very apt to be

blown out to sea. The most remarkable instance I have known of an

insect being caught far from the land, was that of a large grasshopper

(Acrydium), which flew on board, when the “Beagle” was to windward of

the Cape de Verd Islands, and when the nearest point of land, not

directly opposed to the trade-wind, was Cape Blanco on the coast of

Africa, 370 miles distant.[6]

[6] The flies which frequently accompany a ship for some days on its

passage from harbour to harbour, wandering from the vessel, are soon

lost, and all disappear.

On several occasions, when the _Beagle_ has been within the mouth of

the Plata, the rigging has been coated with the web of the Gossamer

Spider. One day (November 1st, 1832) I paid particular attention to

this subject. The weather had been fine and clear, and in the morning

the air was full of patches of the flocculent web, as on an autumnal

day in England. The ship was sixty miles distant from the land, in the

direction of a steady though light breeze. Vast numbers of a small

spider, about one-tenth of an inch in length, and of a dusky red

colour, were attached to the webs. There must have been, I should

suppose, some thousands on the ship. The little spider, when first

coming in contact with the rigging, was always seated on a single

thread, and not on the flocculent mass. This latter seems merely to be

produced by the entanglement of the single threads. The spiders were

all of one species, but of both sexes, together with young ones. These

latter were distinguished by their smaller size and more dusky colour.

I will not give the description of this spider, but merely state that

it does not appear to me to be included in any of Latreille’s genera.

The little aëronaut as soon as it arrived on board was very active,

running about, sometimes letting itself fall, and then reascending the

same thread; sometimes employing itself in making a small and very

irregular mesh in the corners between the ropes. It could run with

facility on the surface of water. When disturbed it lifted up its front

legs, in the attitude of attention. On its first arrival it appeared

very thirsty, and with exserted maxillæ drank eagerly of drops of

water; this same circumstance has been observed by Strack: may it not

be in consequence of the little insect having passed through a dry and

rarefied atmosphere? Its stock of web seemed inexhaustible. While

watching some that were suspended by a single thread, I several times

observed that the slightest breath of air bore them away out of sight,

in a horizontal line. On another occasion (25th) under similar

circumstances, I repeatedly observed the same kind of small spider,

either when placed or having crawled on some little eminence, elevate

its abdomen, send forth a thread, and then sail away horizontally, but

with a rapidity which was quite unaccountable. I thought I could

perceive that the spider, before performing the above preparatory

steps, connected its legs together with the most delicate threads, but

I am not sure whether this observation was correct.

One day, at St. Fé, I had a better opportunity of observing some

similar facts. A spider which was about three-tenths of an inch in

length, and which in its general appearance resembled a Citigrade

(therefore quite different from the gossamer), while standing on the

summit of a post, darted forth four or five threads from its spinners.

These, glittering in the sunshine, might be compared to diverging rays

of light; they were not, however, straight, but in undulations like

films of silk blown by the wind. They were more than a yard in length,

and diverged in an ascending direction from the orifices. The spider

then suddenly let go its hold of the post, and was quickly borne out of

sight. The day was hot and apparently quite calm; yet under such

circumstances, the atmosphere can never be so tranquil as not to affect

a vane so delicate as the thread of a spider’s web. If during a warm

day we look either at the shadow of any object cast on a bank, or over

a level plain at a distant landmark, the effect of an ascending current

of heated air is almost always evident: such upward currents, it has

been remarked, are also shown by the ascent of soap-bubbles, which will

not rise in an indoors room. Hence I think there is not much difficulty

in understanding the ascent of the fine lines projected from a spider’s

spinners, and afterwards of the spider itself; the divergence of the

lines has been attempted to be explained, I believe by Mr. Murray, by

their similar electrical condition. The circumstance of spiders of the

same species, but of different sexes and ages, being found on several

occasions at the distance of many leagues from the land, attached in

vast numbers to the lines, renders it probable that the habit of

sailing through the air is as characteristic of

this tribe, as that of diving is of the Argyroneta. We may then reject

Latreille’s supposition, that the gossamer owes its origin

indifferently to the young of several genera of spiders: although, as

we have seen, the young of other spiders do possess the power of

performing aërial voyages.[7]

[7] Mr. Blackwall, in his _Researches in Zoology_, has many excellent

observations on the habits of spiders.

During our different passages south of the Plata, I often towed astern

a net made of bunting, and thus caught many curious animals. Of

Crustacea there were many strange and undescribed genera. One, which in

some respects is allied to the Notopods (or those crabs which have

their posterior legs placed almost on their backs, for the purpose of

adhering to the under side of rocks), is very remarkable from the

structure of its hind pair of legs. The penultimate joint, instead of

terminating in a simple claw, ends in three bristle-like appendages of

dissimilar lengths—the longest equalling that of the entire leg. These

claws are very thin, and are serrated with the finest teeth, directed

backwards: their curved extremities are flattened, and on this part

five most minute cups are placed which seem to act in the same manner

as the suckers on the arms of the cuttle-fish. As the animal lives in

the open sea, and probably wants a place of rest, I suppose this

beautiful and most anomalous structure is adapted to take hold of

floating marine animals.

In deep water, far from the land, the number of living creatures is

extremely small: south of the latitude 35°, I never succeeded in

catching anything besides some beroe, and a few species of minute

entomostracous crustacea. In shoaler water, at the distance of a few

miles from the coast, very many kinds of crustacea and some other

animals are numerous, but only during the night. Between latitudes 56°

and 57° south of Cape Horn, the net was put astern several times; it

never, however, brought up anything besides a few of two extremely

minute species of Entomostraca. Yet whales and seals, petrels and

albatross, are exceedingly abundant throughout this part of the ocean.

It has always been a mystery to me on what the albatross, which lives

far from the shore, can subsist; I presume that, like the condor, it is

able to fast long; and that one good feast on the carcass of a putrid

whale lasts for a long

time. The central and intertropical parts of the Atlantic swarm with

Pteropoda, Crustacea, and Radiata, and with their devourers the

flying-fish, and again with their devourers the bonitos and albicores;

I presume that the numerous lower pelagic animals feed on the

Infusoria, which are now known, from the researches of Ehrenberg, to

abound in the open ocean: but on what, in the clear blue water, do

these Infusoria subsist?

While sailing a little south of the Plata on one very dark night, the

sea presented a wonderful and most beautiful spectacle. There was a

fresh breeze, and every part of the surface, which during the day is

seen as foam, now glowed with a pale light. The vessel drove before her

bows two billows of liquid phosphorus, and in her wake she was followed

by a milky train. As far as the eye reached, the crest of every wave

was bright, and the sky above the horizon, from the reflected glare of

these livid flames, was not so utterly obscure as over the vault of the

heavens.

As we proceed farther southward the sea is seldom phosphorescent; and

off Cape Horn I do not recollect more than once having seen it so, and

then it was far from being brilliant. This circumstance probably has a

close connection with the scarcity of organic beings in that part of

the ocean. After the elaborate paper[8] by Ehrenberg, on the

phosphorescence of the sea, it is almost superfluous on my part to make

any observations on the subject. I may however add, that the same torn

and irregular particles of gelatinous matter, described by Ehrenberg,

seem in the southern as well as in the northern hemisphere to be the

common cause of this phenomenon. The particles were so minute as easily

to pass through fine gauze; yet many were distinctly visible by the

naked eye. The water when placed in a tumbler and agitated gave out

sparks, but a small portion in a watch-glass scarcely ever was

luminous. Ehrenberg states that these particles all retain a certain

degree of irritability. My observations, some of which were made

directly after taking up the water, gave a different result. I may also

mention, that having used the net during one night, I allowed it to

become partially dry, and having occasion twelve hours afterwards to

employ it again, I found

the whole surface sparkled as brightly as when first taken out of the

water. It does not appear probable in this case that the particles

could have remained so long alive. On one occasion having kept a

jelly-fish of the genus Dianæa till it was dead, the water in which it

was placed became luminous. When the waves scintillate with bright

green sparks, I believe it is generally owing to minute crustacea. But

there can be no doubt that very many other pelagic animals, when alive,

are phosphorescent.

[8] An abstract is given in No. IV of the _ Magazine of Zoology and

Botany._

On two occasions I have observed the sea luminous at considerable

depths beneath the surface. Near the mouth of the Plata some circular

and oval patches, from two to four yards in diameter, and with defined

outlines, shone with a steady but pale light; while the surrounding

water only gave out a few sparks. The appearance resembled the

reflection of the moon, or some luminous body; for the edges were

sinuous from the undulations of the surface. The ship, which drew

thirteen feet water, passed over, without disturbing these patches.

Therefore we must suppose that some animals were congregated together

at a greater depth than the bottom of the vessel.

Near Fernando Noronha the sea gave out light in flashes. The appearance

was very similar to that which might be expected from a large fish

moving rapidly through a luminous fluid. To this cause the sailors

attributed it; at the time, however, I entertained some doubts, on

account of the frequency and rapidity of the flashes. I have already

remarked that the phenomenon is very much more common in warm than in

cold countries; and I have sometimes imagined that a disturbed

electrical condition of the atmosphere was most favourable to its

production. Certainly I think the sea is most luminous after a few days

of more calm weather than ordinary, during which time it has swarmed

with various animals. Observing that the water charged with gelatinous

particles is in an impure state, and that the luminous appearance in

all common cases is produced by the agitation of the fluid in contact

with the atmosphere, I am inclined to consider that the phosphorescence

is the result of the decomposition of the organic particles, by which

process (one is tempted almost to call it a kind of respiration) the

ocean becomes purified.

_December_ 23_rd._—We arrived at Port Desire, situated in lat. 47°, on

the coast of Patagonia. The creek runs for about twenty miles inland,

with an irregular width. The _ Beagle_ anchored a few miles within the

entrance, in front of the ruins of an old Spanish settlement.

The same evening I went on shore. The first landing in any new country

is very interesting, and especially when, as in this case, the whole

aspect bears the stamp of a marked and individual character. At the

height of between two and three hundred feet above some masses of

porphyry a wide plain extends, which is truly characteristic of

Patagonia. The surface is quite level, and is composed of well-rounded

shingle mixed with a whitish earth. Here and there scattered tufts of

brown wiry grass are supported, and still more rarely, some low thorny

bushes. The weather is dry and pleasant, and the fine blue sky is but

seldom obscured. When standing in the middle of one of these desert

plains and looking towards the interior, the view is generally bounded

by the escarpment of another plain, rather higher, but equally level

and desolate; and in every other direction the horizon is indistinct

from the trembling mirage which seems to rise from the heated surface.

In such a country the fate of the Spanish settlement was soon decided;

the dryness of the climate during the greater part of the year, and the

occasional hostile attacks of the wandering Indians, compelled the

colonists to desert their half-finished buildings. The style, however,

in which they were commenced shows the strong and liberal hand of Spain

in the old time. The result of all the attempts to colonise this side

of America south of 41° has been miserable. Port Famine expresses by

its name the lingering and extreme sufferings of several hundred

wretched people, of whom one alone survived to relate their

misfortunes. At St. Joseph’s Bay, on the coast of Patagonia, a small

settlement was made; but during one Sunday the Indians made an attack

and massacred the whole party, excepting two men, who remained captives

during many years. At the Rio Negro I conversed with one of these men,

now in extreme old age.

The zoology of Patagonia is as limited as its Flora.[9] On

the arid plains a few black beetles (Heteromera) might be seen slowly

crawling about, and occasionally a lizard darted from side to side. Of

birds we have three carrion hawks, and in the valleys a few finches and

insect-feeders. An ibis (Theristicus melanops—a species said to be

found in central Africa) is not uncommon on the most desert parts: in

their stomachs I found grasshoppers, cicadæ, small lizards, and even

scorpions.[10] At one time of the year these birds go in flocks, at

another in pairs, their cry is very loud and singular, like the

neighing of the guanaco.

[9] I found here a species of cactus, described by Professor Henslow,

under the name of _Opuntia Darwinii (Magazine of Zoology and Botany)_,

vol. i, p. 466, which was remarkable for the irritability of the

stamens, when I inserted either a piece of stick or the end of my

finger in the flower. The segments of the perianth also closed on the

pistil, but more slowly than the stamens. Plants of this family,

generally considered as tropical, occur in North America (_Lewis and

Clarke’s Travels_, p. 221), in the same high latitude as here, namely,

in both cases, in 47°.

[10] These insects were not uncommon beneath stones. I found one

cannibal scorpion quietly devouring another.

[Illustration]

The guanaco, or wild llama, is the characteristic quadruped of the

plains of Patagonia; it is the South American representative of the

camel of the East. It is an elegant animal in a state of nature, with a

long slender neck and fine legs. It is very common over the whole of

the temperate parts of the continent, as far south as the islands near

Cape Horn. It generally lives in small herds of from half a dozen to

thirty in each; but on the banks of the St. Cruz we saw one herd which

must have contained at least five hundred.

They are generally wild and extremely wary. Mr. Stokes

told me that he one day saw through a glass a herd of these animals

which evidently had been frightened, and were running away at full

speed, although their distance was so great that he could not

distinguish them with his naked eye. The sportsman frequently receives

the first notice of their presence, by hearing from a long distance

their peculiar shrill neighing note of alarm. If he then looks

attentively, he will probably see the herd standing in a line on the

side of some distant hill. On approaching nearer, a few more squeals

are given, and off they set at an apparently slow, but really quick

canter, along some narrow beaten track to a neighbouring hill. If,

however, by chance he abruptly meets a single animal, or several

together, they will generally stand motionless and intently gaze at

him; then perhaps move on a few yards, turn round, and look again. What

is the cause of this difference in their shyness? Do they mistake a man

in the distance for their chief enemy the puma? Or does curiosity

overcome their timidity? That they are curious is certain; for if a

person lies on the ground, and plays strange antics, such as throwing

up his feet in the air, they will almost always approach by degrees to

reconnoitre him. It was an artifice that was repeatedly practised by

our sportsmen with success, and it had moreover the advantage of

allowing several shots to be fired, which were all taken as parts of

the performance. On the mountains of Tierra del Fuego, I have more than

once seen a guanaco, on being approached, not only neigh and squeal,

but prance and leap about in the most ridiculous manner, apparently in

defiance as a challenge. These animals are very easily domesticated,

and I have seen some thus kept in Northern Patagonia near a house,

though not under any restraint. They are in this state very bold, and

readily attack a man by striking him from behind with both knees. It is

asserted that the motive for these attacks is jealousy on account of

their females. The wild guanacos, however, have no idea of defence;

even a single dog will secure one of these large animals, till the

huntsman can come up. In many of their habits they are like sheep in a

flock. Thus when they see men approaching in several directions on

horseback, they soon become bewildered, and know not which way to run.

This greatly facilitates the Indian method of hunting, for they are

thus easily driven to a central point, and are encompassed.

The guanacos readily take to the water: several times at Port Valdes

they were seen swimming from island to island. Byron, in his voyage,

says he saw them drinking salt water. Some of our officers likewise saw

a herd apparently drinking the briny fluid from a salina near Cape

Blanco. I imagine in several parts of the country, if they do not drink

salt water, they drink none at all. In the middle of the day they

frequently roll in the dust, in saucer-shaped hollows. The males fight

together; two one day passed quite close to me, squealing and trying to

bite each other; and several were shot with their hides deeply scored.

Herds sometimes appear to set out on exploring parties: at Bahia

Blanca, where, within thirty miles of the coast, these animals are

extremely unfrequent, I one day saw the tracks of thirty or forty,

which had come in a direct line to a muddy salt-water creek. They then

must have perceived that they were approaching the sea, for they had

wheeled with the regularity of cavalry, and had returned back in as

straight a line as they had advanced. The guanacos have one singular

habit, which is to me quite inexplicable; namely, that on successive

days they drop their dung in the same defined heap. I saw one of these

heaps which was eight feet in diameter, and was composed of a large

quantity. This habit, according to M. A. d’Orbigny, is common to all

the species of the genus; it is very useful to the Peruvian Indians,

who use the dung for fuel, and are thus saved the trouble of collecting

it.

The guanacos appear to have favourite spots for lying down to die. On

the banks of the St. Cruz, in certain circumscribed spaces, which were

generally bushy and all near the river, the ground was actually white

with bones. On one such spot I counted between ten and twenty heads. I

particularly examined the bones; they did not appear, as some scattered

ones which I had seen, gnawed or broken, as if dragged together by

beasts of prey. The animals in most cases must have crawled, before

dying, beneath and amongst the bushes. Mr. Bynoe informs me that during

a former voyage he observed the same circumstance on the banks of the

Rio Gallegos. I do not at all understand the reason of this, but I may

observe, that the wounded guanacos at the St. Cruz invariably walked

towards the river. At St. Jago in the Cape de Verd Islands, I remember

having seen in a ravine a retired corner covered with bones of the

goat; we

at the time exclaimed that it was the burial-ground of all the goats in

the island. I mention these trifling circumstances, because in certain

cases they might explain the occurrence of a number of uninjured bones

in a cave, or buried under alluvial accumulations; and likewise the

cause why certain animals are more commonly embedded than others in

sedimentary deposits.

One day the yawl was sent under the command of Mr. Chaffers with three

days’ provisions to survey the upper part of the harbour. In the

morning we searched for some watering-places mentioned in an old

Spanish chart. We found one creek, at the head of which there was a

trickling rill (the first we had seen) of brackish water. Here the tide

compelled us to wait several hours; and in the interval I walked some

miles into the interior. The plain as usual consisted of gravel,

mingled with soil resembling chalk in appearance, but very different

from it in nature. From the softness of these materials it was worn

into many gulleys. There was not a tree, and, excepting the guanaco,

which stood on the hilltop a watchful sentinel over its herd, scarcely

an animal or a bird. All was stillness and desolation. Yet in passing

over these scenes, without one bright object near, an ill-defined but

strong sense of pleasure is vividly excited. One asked how many ages

the plain had thus lasted, and how many more it was doomed thus to

continue.

None can reply—all seems eternal now.

The wilderness has a mysterious tongue,

Which teaches awful doubt.[11]

[11] Shelley, _Lines on M. Blanc._

In the evening we sailed a few miles farther up, and then pitched the

tents for the night. By the middle of the next day the yawl was

aground, and from the shoalness of the water could not proceed any

higher. The water being found partly fresh, Mr. Chaffers took the

dingey and went up two or three miles farther, where she also grounded,

but in a fresh-water river. The water was muddy, and though the stream

was most insignificant in size, it would be difficult to account for

its origin, except from the melting snow on the Cordillera. At the spot

where we bivouacked, we were surrounded by bold cliffs and steep

pinnacles of porphyry. I do not think I ever saw a spot which appeared

more secluded from the rest of the world than this rocky crevice in the

wide plain.

The second day after our return to the anchorage, a party of officers

and myself went to ransack an old Indian grave, which I had found on

the summit of a neighbouring hill. Two immense stones, each probably

weighing at least a couple of tons, had been placed in front of a ledge

of rock about six feet high. At the bottom of the grave on the hard

rock there was a layer of earth about a foot deep, which must have been

brought up from the plain below. Above it a pavement of flat stones was

placed, on which others were piled, so as to fill up the space between

the ledge and the two great blocks. To complete the grave, the Indians

had contrived to detach from the ledge a huge fragment, and to throw it

over the pile so as to rest on the two blocks. We undermined the grave

on both sides, but could not find any relics, or even bones. The latter

probably had decayed long since (in which case the grave must have been

of extreme antiquity), for I found in another place some smaller heaps,

beneath which a very few crumbling fragments could yet be distinguished

as having belonged to a man. Falconer states, that where an Indian dies

he is buried, but that subsequently his bones are carefully taken up

and carried, let the distance be ever so great, to be deposited near

the sea-coast. This custom, I think, may be accounted for by

recollecting that, before the introduction of horses, these Indians

must have led nearly the same life as the Fuegians now do, and

therefore generally have resided in the neighbourhood of the sea. The

common prejudice of lying where one’s ancestors have lain, would make

the now roaming Indians bring the less perishable part of their dead to

their ancient burial-ground on the coast.

_January_ 9_th._—Before it was dark the _Beagle_ anchored in the fine

spacious harbour of Port St. Julian, situated about one hundred and ten

miles to the south of Port Desire. We remained here eight days. The

country is nearly similar to that of Port Desire, but perhaps rather

more sterile. One day a party accompanied Captain Fitz Roy on a long

walk round the head of the harbour. We were eleven hours without

tasting any water, and some of the party were quite exhausted. From the

summit of a hill (since well named Thirsty Hill) a fine lake was spied,

and two of the party proceeded with concerted signals to show whether

it was fresh water. What was our disappointment to find a snow-white

expanse of salt, crystallised in great

cubes! We attributed our extreme thirst to the dryness of the

atmosphere; but whatever the cause might be, we were exceedingly glad

late in the evening to get back to the boats. Although we could nowhere

find, during our whole visit, a single drop of fresh water, yet some

must exist; for by an odd chance I found on the surface of the salt

water, near the head of the bay, a Colymbetes not quite dead, which

must have lived in some not far distant pool. Three other insects (a

Cincindela, like _hybrida_, a Cymindis, and a Harpalus, which all live

on muddy flats occasionally overflowed by the sea), and one other found

dead on the plain, complete the list of the beetles. A good-sized fly

(Tabanus) was extremely numerous, and tormented us by its painful bite.

The common horsefly, which is so troublesome in the shady lanes of

England, belongs to this same genus. We here have the puzzle that so

frequently occurs in the case of musquitoes—on the blood of what

animals do these insects commonly feed? The guanaco is nearly the only

warm-blooded quadruped, and it is found in quite inconsiderable numbers

compared with the multitude of flies.

The geology of Patagonia is interesting. Differently from Europe, where

the tertiary formations appear to have accumulated in bays, here along

hundreds of miles of coast we have one great deposit, including many

tertiary shells, all apparently extinct. The most common shell is a

massive gigantic oyster, sometimes even a foot in diameter. These beds

are covered by others of a peculiar soft white stone, including much

gypsum, and resembling chalk, but really of a pumiceous nature. It is

highly remarkable, from being composed, to at least one-tenth part of

its bulk, of Infusoria: Professor Ehrenberg has already ascertained in

it thirty oceanic forms. This bed extends for 500 miles along the

coast, and probably for a considerably greater distance. At Port St.

Julian its thickness is more than 800 feet! These white beds are

everywhere capped by a mass of gravel, forming probably one of the

largest beds of shingle in the world: it certainly extends from near

the Rio Colorado to between 600 and 700 nautical miles southward, at

Santa Cruz (a river a little south of St. Julian) it reaches to the

foot of the Cordillera; half way up the river its thickness is more

than 200 feet; it probably everywhere extends to this great chain,

whence the well-rounded pebbles of porphyry have been derived: we may

consider its average breadth as 200 miles, and its average thickness as

about 50 feet. If this great bed of pebbles, without including the mud

necessarily derived from their attrition, was piled into a mound, it

would form a great mountain chain! When we consider that all these

pebbles, countless as the grains of sand in the desert, have been

derived from the slow falling of masses of rock on the old coast-lines

and banks of rivers, and that these fragments have been dashed into

smaller pieces, and that each of them has since been slowly rolled,

rounded, and far transported, the mind is stupefied in thinking over

the long, absolutely necessary, lapse of years. Yet all this gravel has

been transported, and probably rounded, subsequently to the deposition

of the white beds, and long subsequently to the underlying beds with

the tertiary shells.

Everything in this southern continent has been effected on a grand

scale: the land, from the Rio Plata to Tierra del Fuego, a distance of

1200 miles, has been raised in mass (and in Patagonia to a height of

between 300 and 400 feet), within the period of the now existing

sea-shells. The old and weathered shells left on the surface of the

upraised plain still partially retain their colours. The uprising

movement has been interrupted by at least eight long periods of rest,

during which the sea ate deeply back into the land, forming at

successive levels the long lines of cliffs or escarpments, which

separate the different plains as they rise like steps one behind the

other. The elevatory movement, and the eating-back power of the sea

during the periods of rest, have been equable over long lines of coast;

for I was astonished to find that the step-like plains stand at nearly

corresponding heights at far distant points. The lowest plain is 90

feet high; and the highest, which I ascended near the coast, is 950

feet; and of this only relics are left in the form of flat

gravel-capped hills. The upper plain of Santa Cruz slopes up to a

height of 3000 feet at the foot of the Cordillera. I have said that

within the period of existing sea-shells, Patagonia has been upraised

300 to 400 feet: I may add, that within the period when icebergs

transported boulders over the upper plain of Santa Cruz, the elevation

has been at least 1500 feet. Nor has Patagonia been

affected only by upward movements: the extinct tertiary shells from

Port St. Julian and Santa Cruz cannot have lived, according to

Professor E. Forbes, in a greater depth of water than from 40 to 250

feet; but they are now covered with sea-deposited strata from 800 to

1000 feet in thickness: hence the bed of the sea, on which these shells

once lived, must have sunk downwards several hundred feet, to allow of

the accumulation of the superincumbent strata. What a history of

geological changes does the simply-constructed coast of Patagonia

reveal!

[Illustration]

At Port St. Julian,[12] in some red mud capping the gravel on the

90-feet plain, I found half the skeleton of the Macrauchenia

Patachonica, a remarkable quadruped, full as large as a camel. It

belongs to the same division of the Pachydermata with the rhinoceros,

tapir, and palæotherium; but in the structure of the bones of its long

neck it shows a clear relation to the camel, or rather to the guanaco

and llama. From recent sea-shells being found on two of the higher

step-formed plains, which must have been modelled and upraised before

the mud was deposited in which the Macrauchenia was intombed, it is

certain that this curious quadruped lived long after the sea was

inhabited by its present shells. I was at first much surprised how a

large quadruped could so lately have subsisted, in lat. 49° 15′, on

these wretched gravel plains with their stunted vegetation; but the

relationship of the Macrauchenia to the Guanaco, now an inhabitant of

the most sterile parts, partly explains this difficulty.

[12] I have lately heard that Captain Sulivan, R.N., has found

numerous fossil bones, embedded in regular strata, on the banks of the

R. Gallegos, in lat. 51° 4′. Some of the bones are large; others are

small, and appear to have belonged to an armadillo. This is a most

interesting and important discovery.

The relationship, though distant, between the Macrauchenia and the

Guanaco, between the Toxodon and the Capybara,—the closer relationship

between the many extinct Edentata and the living sloths, ant-eaters,

and armadillos, now so eminently characteristic of South American

zoology,—and the still closer relationship between the fossil and

living species of Ctenomys and Hydrochærus, are most interesting facts.

This relationship is shown wonderfully—as wonderfully as between the

fossil and extinct Marsupial animals of Australia—by the

great collection lately brought to Europe from the caves of Brazil by

MM. Lund and Clausen. In this collection there are extinct species of

all the thirty-two genera, excepting four, of the terrestrial

quadrupeds now inhabiting the provinces in which the caves occur; and

the extinct species are much more numerous than those now living: there

are fossil ant-eaters, armadillos, tapirs, peccaries, guanacos,

opossums, and numerous South American gnawers and monkeys, and other

animals. This wonderful relationship in the same continent between the

dead and the living, will, I do not doubt, hereafter throw more light

on the appearance of organic beings on our earth, and their

disappearance from it, than any other class of facts.

It is impossible to reflect on the changed state of the American

continent without the deepest astonishment. Formerly it must have

swarmed with great monsters: now we find mere pigmies, compared with

the antecedent allied races. If Buffon had known of the gigantic sloth

and armadillo-like animals, and of the lost Pachydermata, he might have

said with a greater semblance of truth that the creative force in

America had lost its power, rather than that it had never possessed

great vigour. The greater number, if not all, of these extinct

quadrupeds lived at a late period, and were the contemporaries of most

of the existing sea-shells. Since they lived, no very great change in

the form of the land can have taken place. What, then, has exterminated

so many species and whole genera? The mind at first is irresistibly

hurried into the belief of some great catastrophe; but thus to destroy

animals, both large and small, in Southern Patagonia, in Brazil, on the

Cordillera of Peru, in North America up to Behring’s Straits, we must

shake the entire framework of the globe. An examination, moreover, of

the geology of La Plata and Patagonia, leads to the belief that all the

features of the land result from slow and gradual changes. It appears

from the character of the fossils in Europe, Asia, Australia, and in

North and South America, that those conditions which favour the life of

the _larger_ quadrupeds were lately coextensive with the world: what

those conditions were, no one has yet even conjectured. It could hardly

have been a change of temperature, which at about the same time

destroyed the inhabitants of tropical, temperate, and arctic latitudes

on both sides of the globe. In North America we positively know from

Mr. Lyell that the large quadrupeds lived subsequently to that period,

when boulders were brought into latitudes at which icebergs now never

arrive: from conclusive but indirect reasons we may feel sure, that in

the southern hemisphere the Macrauchenia, also, lived long subsequently

to the ice-transporting boulder-period. Did man, after his first inroad

into South America, destroy, as has been suggested, the unwieldy

Megatherium and the other Edentata? We must at least look to some other

cause for the destruction of the little tucutuco at Bahia Blanca, and

of the many fossil mice and other small quadrupeds in Brazil. No one

will imagine that a drought, even far severer than those which cause

such losses in the provinces of La Plata, could destroy every

individual of every species from Southern Patagonia to Behring’s

Straits. What shall we say of the extinction of the horse? Did those

plains fail of pasture, which have since been overrun by thousands and

hundreds of thousands of the descendants of the stock introduced by the

Spaniards? Have the subsequently introduced species consumed the food

of the great antecedent races? Can we believe that the Capybara has

taken the food of the Toxodon, the Guanaco of the Macrauchenia, the

existing small Edentata of their numerous gigantic prototypes?

Certainly, no fact in the long history of the world is so startling as

the wide and repeated exterminations of its inhabitants.

Nevertheless, if we consider the subject under another point of view,

it will appear less perplexing. We do not steadily bear in mind how

profoundly ignorant we are of the conditions of existence of every

animal; nor do we always remember that some check is constantly

preventing the too rapid increase of every organised being left in a

state of nature. The supply of food, on an average, remains constant,

yet the tendency in every animal to increase by propagation is

geometrical; and its surprising effects have nowhere been more

astonishingly shown, than in the case of the European animals run wild

during the last few centuries in America. Every animal in a state of

nature regularly breeds; yet in a species long established, any _great_

increase in numbers is obviously impossible, and must be checked by

some means. We are, nevertheless, seldom able with certainty to tell in

any given

species, at what period of life, or at what period of the year, or

whether only at long intervals, the check falls; or, again, what is the

precise nature of the check. Hence probably it is that we feel so

little surprise at one, of two species closely allied in habits, being

rare and the other abundant in the same district; or, again, that one

should be abundant in one district, and another, filling the same place

in the economy of nature, should be abundant in a neighbouring

district, differing very little in its conditions. If asked how this

is, one immediately replies that it is determined by some slight

difference in climate, food, or the number of enemies: yet how rarely,

if ever, we can point out the precise cause and manner of action of the

check! We are therefore, driven to the conclusion that causes generally

quite inappreciable by us, determine whether a given species shall be

abundant or scanty in numbers.

In the cases where we can trace the extinction of a species through

man, either wholly or in one limited district, we know that it becomes

rarer and rarer, and is then lost: it would be difficult to point out

any just distinction[13] between a species destroyed by man or by the

increase of its natural enemies. The evidence of rarity preceding

extinction is more striking in the successive tertiary strata, as

remarked by several able observers; it has often been found that a

shell very common in a tertiary stratum is now most rare, and has even

long been thought to be extinct. If then, as appears probable, species

first become rare and then extinct—if the too rapid increase of every

species, even the most favoured, is steadily checked, as we must admit,

though how and when it is hard to say—and if we see, without the

smallest surprise, though unable to assign the precise reason, one

species abundant and another closely-allied species rare in the same

district—why should we feel such great astonishment at the rarity being

carried a step farther to extinction? An action going on, on every side

of us, and yet barely appreciable, might surely be carried a little

farther without exciting our observation. Who would feel any great

surprise at hearing that the Magalonyx was formerly rare compared with

the Megatherium, or that one of the fossil monkeys was few in number

compared with one of the now

living monkeys? and yet in this comparative rarity, we should have the

plainest evidence of less favourable conditions for their existence. To

admit that species generally become rare before they become extinct—to

feel no surprise at the comparative rarity of one species with another,

and yet to call in some extraordinary agent and to marvel greatly when

a species ceases to exist, appears to me much the same as to admit that

sickness in the individual is the prelude to death—to feel no surprise

at sickness—but when the sick man dies to wonder, and to believe that

he died through violence.

[13] See the excellent remarks on this subject by Mr. Lyell, in his

_Principles of Geology._

[Illustration]

[Illustration]