GALAPAGOS ARCHIPELAGO.

September 15th.—The Beagle arrived at the southernmost of the Galapagos islands. This archipelago consists of ten principal islands, of which five much exceed the others in size. They are situated under the equatorial line, and between five and six hundred miles to the westward of the coast of America. The constitution of the whole is volcanic. With the exception of some ejected fragments of granite, which have been most curiously glazed and altered by the heat, every part consists of lava, or of sandstone resulting from the attrition of such materials. The higher islands, (which attain an elevation of three, and even four thousand feet) generally have one or more principal craters towards their centre, and on their flanks smaller orifices. I have no exact data from which to calculate, but I do not hesitate to affirm, that there must be, in all the islands of the archipelago, at least two thousand craters. These are of two kinds; one, as in ordinary cases, consisting of scoriae and lava, the other of finely-stratified volcanic sandstone. The latter in most instances have a form beautifully symmetrical: their origin is due to the ejection of mud,—that is, fine volcanic ashes and water,—without any lava.

Considering that these islands are placed directly under the equator, the climate is far from being excessively hot; a circumstance which, perhaps, is chiefly owing to the singularly low temperature of the surrounding sea.

MALDONADO.

July 5th, 1832.—In the morning we got under way, and stood out of the splendid harbour of Rio de Janeiro. In our passage to the Plata, we saw nothing particular, excepting on one day a great shoal of porpoises, many hundreds in number. The whole sea was in places furrowed by them; and a most extraordinary spectacle was presented, as hundreds, proceeding together by jumps, in which their whole bodies were exposed, thus cut the water. When the ship was running nine knots, these animals could cross and recross the bows with the greatest ease, and then dash away right ahead. As soon as we entered the estuary of the Plata, the weather was very unsettled. One dark night we were surrounded by numerous seals and penguins, which made such strange noises, that the officer on watch reported he could hear the cattle bellowing on shore. On a second night we witnessed a splendid scene of natural fireworks; the mast-head and yard-arm ends shone with St. Elmo's light; and the form of the vane could almost be traced, as if it had been rubbed with phosphorus. The sea was so highly luminous, that the tracks of the penguins were marked by a fiery wake, and lastly, the darkness of the sky was momentarily illuminated by the most vivid lightning.

STRAIT OF MAGELLAN.

In the end of May, 1834, we entered for the second time the eastern mouth of the Strait of Magellan. Having beat our way against wind and wave we anchored at Gregory Bay, and had an interview with the so-called gigantic Patagonians; of whom Captain FitzRoy has given so good an account. The country on both sides of the strait, in this part, consists of level plains, like those of the rest of Patagonia. Cape Negro, a little past the second narrow, may be considered as the point where the land begins to assume the marked features of Tierra del Fuego. On the east coast, south of the Strait, broken park-like scenery in a like manner connects these two countries, which are opposed to each other in almost every point. It is truly surprising to find in a space of twenty miles such a change in the landscape. If we take rather a greater distance, as between Port Famine and Gregory Bay, that is about sixty miles, the difference is still more wonderful. At the former place we have rounded mountains concealed by impervious forests, which are drenched with the rain, brought by an endless succession of gales; while at Cape Gregory there is a clear and bright blue sky over the dry and sterile plains. The atmospheric currents, although rapid, turbulent, and unconfined by any apparent limits, yet seem to follow, like a river in its bed, a regularly determined course.

TIERRA DEL FUEGO.

December 17th, 1832.—Having now finished with Patagonia, I will describe our first arrival in Tierra del Fuego. A little after noon we doubled Cape St. Diego, and entered the famous strait of Le Maire. We kept close to the Fuegian shore, but the outline of the rugged, inhospitable Staten land was visible amidst the clouds. In the afternoon we anchored in the bay of Good Success. While entering we were saluted in a manner becoming the inhabitants of this savage land. A group of Fuegians partly concealed by the entangled forest, were perched on a wild point overhanging the sea; and as we passed by, they sprang up, and waving their tattered cloaks sent forth a loud and sonorous shout. The savages followed the ship, and just before dark we saw their fire, and again heard their wild cry. The harbour consists of a fine piece of water half surrounded by low rounded mountains of clay-slate, which are covered to the water's edge by one dense gloomy forest. A single glance at the landscape was sufficient to show me, how widely different it was from any thing I had ever beheld. At night it blew a gale of wind, and heavy squalls from the mountains swept past us. It would have been a bad time out at sea, and we, as well as others, may call this Good Success Bay.

SANTA CRUZ—PATAGONIA.

April 13th.—The Beagle anchored within the mouth of the Santa Cruz. This river is situated about sixty miles south of Port St. Julian. During the last voyage, Captain Stokes proceeded thirty miles up, but then, from the want of provisions, was obliged to return. Excepting what was discovered at that time, scarcely any thing was known about this large river. Captain FitzRoy now determined to follow its course as far as time would allow. On the 18th, three whale-boats started, carrying three weeks' provisions; and the party consisted of twenty-five souls—a force which would have been sufficient to have defied a host of Indians. With a strong flood-tide, and a fine day, we made a good run, soon drank some of the fresh water, and were at night nearly above the tidal influence.

The river here assumed a size and appearance, which, even at the highest point we ultimately reached, was scarcely diminished. It was generally from three to four hundred yards broad, and in the middle about seventeen feet deep. The rapidity of the current, which in its whole course runs at the rate of from four to six knots an hour, is perhaps its most remarkable feature. The water is of a fine blue colour, but with a slight milky tinge, and not so transparent as at first sight would have been expected. It flows over a bed of pebbles, like those which compose the beach and surrounding plains.

CENTRAL CHILE.

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

CORAL FORMATIONS.

April 1st.—We arrived in view of the Keeling or Cocos Islands, situated in the Indian ocean, and about six hundred miles distant from the coast of Sumatra. This is one of the lagoon islands of coral formation, similar to those we passed in the Dangerous Archipelago. An excellent idea of the general appearance of these extraordinary rings of land, which rise out of the depths of the ocean, may be obtained from the characteristic sketch of Whitsunday Island, in Beechey's Voyage.

When the ship was in the channel at the entrance, Mr. Liesk, an English resident, came off in his boat. The history of the inhabitants of this place, in as few words as possible, is as follows. About nine years ago, a Mr. Hare, a very worthless character, brought from the East Indian archipelago a number of Malay slaves, which now, including children, amount to more than a hundred. Shortly afterwards, Captain Ross, who had before visited these islands in his merchant-ship, arrived from England, bringing with him his family and goods for settlement. Along with him came Mr. Liesk, who had been a mate in his vessel. The Malay slaves soon ran away from the island on which Mr. Hare was settled, and joined Captain Ross's party. Mr. Hare upon this was ultimately obliged to leave these islands.

I have stated in the preface to the Zoology of the Voyage of the Beagle, that it was in consequence of a wish expressed by Captain FitzRoy, of having some scientific person on board, accompanied by an offer from him, of giving up part of his own accommodations, that I volunteered my services, which received, through the kindness of the hydrographer, Captain Beaufort, the sanction of the Lords of the Admiralty. As I feel that the opportunities, which I enjoyed of studying the Natural History of the different countries we visited, have been wholly due to Captain Fitz-Roy, I hope I may here be permitted to express my gratitude to him; and to add that, during the five years we were together, I received from him the most cordial friendship and steady assistance. Both to Captain FitzRoy and to all the Officers of the Beagle, I shall ever feel most thankful for the undeviating kindness with which I was treated, during our long voyage.

The present volume contains in the form of a journal, a sketch of those observations in Geology and Natural History, which I thought would possess some general interest. As it was originally intended to have preceded any more detailed account, and as its publication has been unavoidably delayed, the briefness and imperfection of several parts, I hope, will be excused.

MAURITIUS TO ENGLAND.

April 29th.— In the morning we passed round the northern extremity of the Isle of France. From this point of view the aspect of the island equalled the expectations raised by the many well-known descriptions of its beautiful scenery. The sloping plain of the Pamplemousses, scattered over with houses, and coloured bright green from the large fields of sugar-cane, composed the foreground. The brilliancy of the green was the more remarkable, because it is a colour which generally is only conspicuous from a very short distance. Towards the centre of the island, groups of wooded mountains rose out of this highly-cultivated plain; their summits, as so commonly happens with ancient volcanic rocks, being jagged into the sharpest points. Masses of white clouds were collected around their pinnacles, as if for the sake of pleasing the stranger's eye. The whole island, with its sloping border and central mountains, was adorned with an air of perfect elegance: the scenery, if I may use such an expression, appeared to the senses harmonious.

I spent the greater part of the next day in walking about the town, and visiting different people. The town is of considerable size, and is said to contain 20,000 inhabitants; the streets are very clean and regular.

RIO NEGRO TO BAHIA BLANCA.

July 24th, 1833.—The Beagle sailed from Maldonado, and on August the 3d she arrived off the mouth of the Rio Negro. This is the principal river on the whole line of coast between the Straits of Magellan and the Plata. It enters the sea about three hundred miles south of the estuary of the latter. About fifty years since, under the old Spanish government, a small colony was established here; and it is still the most southern position (lat. 41°) on this eastern coast of America which is inhabited by civilized man.

The country near the mouth of the river is wretched in the extreme: on the south side a long line of perpendicular cliffs commences, which exposes a section of the geological nature of the country. The strata are of sandstone, and one layer was remarkable, from being composed of a firmly-cemented conglomerate of pumice pebbles, which must have travelled more than four hundred miles, from the Andes. The surface is every where covered up by a thick bed of gravel, which extends far and wide over the open plain. Water is extremely scarce, and, where found, is almost invariably brackish. The vegetation is scanty; and although there are bushes of many kinds, all are armed with formidable thorns, which seem to warn the stranger not to enter on these inhospitable regions.

BANDA ORIENTAL.

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 it 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 the Beagle would not sail for some time, so I prepared for a short excursion in this part of Banda Oriental. Every thing which I said about the country near Maldonado is applicable to this; the land, however, 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.

PASSAGE OF CORDILLERA.

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

On the 11th we anchored at Valparaiso; and two days afterwards I set out on an excursion to cross the Cordillera. I proceeded to Santiago, where Mr. Caldcleugh most kindly assisted me in every possible way, in making the little preparations which were necessary. In this immediate part of Chile there are two passes across the Andes to Mendoza, and the plains on the opposite side.

CHILOE AND CHONOS ISLANDS.

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

This island is about ninety miles long, with a breadth of rather less than thirty. The land is hilly, but not mountainous, and is every where covered by one great forest, excepting a few scattered green patches, which have been cleared round the thatched cottages. From a distance the view somewhat resembles Tierra del Fuego; but the woods, when seen nearer, are incomparably more beautiful. Many kinds of fine evergreen trees, and plants with a tropical character, here take the place of the gloomy beech of the southern shores. In winter the climate is detestable, and in summer it is only a little better. I should think there are few parts of the world, within the temperate regions, where so much rain falls. The winds are very boisterous, and the sky almost always clouded: to have a week of fine weather is something wonderful.