Various
Chambers's Edinburgh Journal, No. 461
EXTRACTS FROM THE DIARY OF A TRAVELLER IN CHILI
So little is known of Chili, a country of considerable extent in South America, with a frontage to the Pacific, that latterly a distinguished man of science, Dr Ried of Ratisbon, went on an expedition to explore its physical character. From the notes which were sent by this enlightened traveller to the secretary of the Zoological-mineralogical Society of the above-named city, we are enabled to draw the following account of the wild interior of the Chilian territory:—
The land along the coast is unusually high, the mountains on the sea-board rising about 3000 feet above the water, for the greater part at an angle of 60 to 70 degrees. In their height, there is hardly any perceptible difference; the summits form long tracts of table-land, very uneven, however, and broken up in all directions by chasms, and the dried-up beds of cataracts and rapid rivers. For 400 leagues along the coast, all is one dreary waste. The entrance to this table-land is by the dry bed of a mountain torrent. Such channels, in which not a drop of moisture has been found within the memory of tradition, are everywhere to be seen actually ground away, and polished like the finest marble by the action of water. At the foot of the mountains, traces of the sea are discernible 100 or 150 feet higher up than at present. Huge masses of rock, too, bear traces of having been violently rent, where now there is never a storm.
The best entrance to the desert is from Cobija, where the ascent at once begins, and continues for a distance of about three leagues, including the dried-up bed of a torrent, formed in the steep surface of rock. About fifteen leagues from the coast, and parallel with it, a chain of higher mountains rises to a height of between 7000 and 8000 feet. From the summit of these—and it is no easy task to climb so far—one is enabled to form a slight idea of the desert of Atacama. To the east, you see the majestic Cordilleras, their bright peaks glittering in the distance through a golden mist; while on the north, south, and west, there is an unrelieved expanse without sign of life or hope, but everywhere silence: and what a silence! It is not the stillness of a summer night in the country, nor of a church, nor of a sickroom: it is the silence of death! As you gaze on the scene before you, you are oppressed—almost overwhelmed by its dreary sadness. No insect hum is heard; not even a bird is seen in the still air; the earth, and the atmosphere above it, is one vast region of death. The only link which connects the traveller with humanity, is a long row of the skeletons of mules and horses, which have here left their bones for a guide across the desert. The dead animals lie like mummies, dried and shrivelled; hair, eyes, muscles, all are there. Their appearance presents a remarkable peculiarity. One might suppose, that having been overtaken by death under similar circumstances, the last struggle over, their inanimate bodies would be marked by no characteristic and distinctive difference. But the case is otherwise. Both mule and horse have sunk from hunger, thirst, and exhaustion; yet the position of the two animals in their lifeless state is invariably unlike. The horse lies outstretched, the hoof in a straight line with the knee, the teeth half-closed—a picture of exhaustion and resignation. The mule, on the contrary, has always the limbs drawn up, as if from cramp; the knees are bent, and the hoofs drawn inward towards the body; the head is thrown back, the mouth awry, and the teeth firmly clenched. As they often lie side by side, this difference is striking. Whence it arises, it is difficult to say; but it would seem to denote, that the sufferings of the mule are more intense, and its tenacity of life greater, than those of the horse.
After traversing a distance of twenty-seven leagues, we arrive at the river. Travellers who are inured to fatigue, always make the journey in one ride. Dr Ried accomplished the whole distance without once dismounting. The stream is called Loa, and has its source in the snows of the mountain-tops. In the neighbourhood of a small Indian village called Chiuchiu, it is fed by a little volcanic stream, which contains a large quantity of salt in a state of dissolution, besides copper, arsenic, sulphur, and other matters. The quantity of the water is increased by this supply, but its quality by no means improved; yet the abominable mixture tastes on that spot like the choicest champagne! The stream is not perceived till you stand on the very edge. Its bed is between 300 and 400 yards broad, and is about 200 or 300 feet below the average surface of the table-land. The body of water which forms this river is very inconsiderable, and becomes more and more so as it nears the sea. Here Dr Reid saw some mosquitoes, as well as a small lizard; but the presence of the quick, bright-eyed creature in that dreary waste, rather added to the sense of loneliness. Its very name, too (Musca domestica), seemed a mockery, dwelling as it did in that vast solitude. In the water, no trace of life was to be found. 'From the stream, which has its source in the clouds,' writes Dr Ried to his friend, 'I took a bottleful, which I send you to analyse, and in order that you may say you have seen water from Atacama. I advise you, however, not to drink it.'
In the desert, it never rains. At the foot of the Cordilleras—and only at the foot—rain falls to a distance of about ten leagues westward, but never further; in Atacama, to a distance of about ten leagues from the mountains; in Chili, to far beyond the coast. Perhaps, however, the most extraordinary phenomenon of this strange land, is the sudden change of temperature which takes place over the whole desert. The heat at noon is oppressive—from 96 to 120 degrees Fahrenheit; and this continues till four p.m., when it begins to diminish. From ten a.m. till about sunset, there is a strong westerly wind, blowing from the sea towards the Cordilleras. It is always fierce, but sometimes so powerful, that it is impossible to advance against it. When the sun is down, the wind likewise subsides, and till nine or ten o'clock in the evening there is a perfect calm.
Sunset in these regions is a magnificent spectacle. The play of colours in the heavens is quite indescribable. When the moon rises, the same thing occurs. Opposite the orb, a huge pile of vapour rises in shadowy forms, on which the light is thrown, producing the most wonderful effects. In these chromatic displays, red is the colour that predominates. Towards midnight, the wind begins to blow from the east, at first gently, but icy cold, for it comes from the regions of perpetual frost and snow. The radiation of heat from such an extensive and almost glowing surface is naturally very great and rapid, and after midnight it begins to freeze. An hour before sunrise, all stagnant water is frozen over; and the thermometer falls sometimes to 28 degrees Fahrenheit—on an average it is at 32 degrees—to rise again at noon to 90 degrees.
THINGS TALKED OF IN LONDON
October 1852.
The death of the great Duke has for a time kept other subjects of conversation in abeyance; but by slow degrees the old hero slides into the past, and the tongues and pens of thousands are busily recalling the words, works, and exploits by which he won for himself 'imperishable renown.' His life presents itself to us in different aspects, wherein the lowliest as well as the loftiest may find something exemplary; and all may learn a lesson in that virtue of virtues—persevering straightforwardness. By and by, we shall have a magnificent funeral; and then, as new events follow, we shall find whether new men are to come capable of meeting them; whether there are to be heroes after Agamemnon as well as before.
The remains of the Great Exhibition building are fast disappearing from Hyde Park, under the busy hands of the troops of workmen engaged in the business of taking down and removal. Heavily-laden wagons are continually departing from each entrance, and every hour the prodigious mass of materials is diminished. The spectacle is a striking one in many respects, and would be a melancholy one were it not for the certainty of restoration. Already the grass is beginning to grow on the ground, worn bare by millions of feet; and before many months are over, the greensward will again cover the site of the world's Temple of Industry.
Among the objects of most interest to be comprised in the new Palace, are galleries of Classic and Mediæval Art, a Nineveh and Egyptian Court, Etruscan Restorations, Hall of the Alhambra, Court of Inventions, besides complete illustrations of the races of Man, to be arranged by Dr Latham, which will afford valuable aid to the student of ethnology; and of natural history and geology, all to be superintended by able professors. Seeing that there is talk of enlarging the British Museum, which is not half large enough for its purpose, might not some of its long-hidden contents be transferred, under proper regulations, to the Palace at Sydenham?
The present year has been as remarkable for storms as the last was for fine weather, and in parts of the world widely separated—the continent of Europe and the United States of America, as well as our own country. Meteorologists say, that the frequent atmospheric disturbances will furnish us with valuable facts for theoretical and practical use. In many places, the storms have been followed by destructive floods, particularly in France, the effects of which, it is said, are greatly aggravated by the spirit of modern improvement, leading to the cutting down of trees and forests; so that the more the land is cleared, the fiercer become the floods. It would be interesting to test this fact by what takes place under similar circumstances in America, where forest is in excess. The subject has been brought before the Geological Society by Mr Prestwich, as regards the Holmfirth flood, with a view to collect data as to the power of moving water, the height of the flood, the time in which the water ran off, together with exact measurements of the fall of the ground, and the amount of denudation. All these are questions of great scientific value in geology, because arguing from the effects produced by so small a body of water comparatively, we may arrive at satisfactory conclusions concerning the great floods of other ages. In the instance here referred to, from 40,000 to 50,000 tons were carried from the dam by the sudden rush, the greater part of which was deposited within the first 300 feet. Lower down, from one to two feet of deposit was laid over the meadows; rocks, weighing from five to twenty tons, were transported to a considerable distance; and at seven miles from the outbreak, near Huddersfield, a stratum of sand was laid over the fields. The mention of these facts may be of service to those who have had opportunities for observation elsewhere.
The Society have also had their attention called to disturbances of another sort—earthquakes; of which not a few have occurred of late in many parts of the world, our own island among them. The shocks appear to have been most severely felt in the south-west—Cornwall, for instance, and the neighbourhood of Bristol, where they extended over an area of more than thirty miles. The effects have now been accurately described: one of the shocks lasted two seconds; the other, from ten to twelve seconds, accompanied by a rumbling noise. The line of disturbance was from north to south, striking the Mendips, and traversing parts of the shires of Somerset and Gloucester. 'The chief focus of oscillation was at Cheddar, where the hill is said to have waved to and fro during several seconds; and in the alluvial flat or marsh below Cheddar, some houses had the plaster of the ceilings cracked; while in others, the clocks struck, doors slammed, bells rung, &c.' With such commotions taking place in the solid earth, geologists will not fail of sources of interest in their favourite study. There is yet another geological fact worth mentioning—the finding of footprints in what is called Potsdam sandstone, near Montreal, in Canada. This sandstone is the 'lowest member of the lowest Silurian rocks;' and the discovery is good evidence that there were living creatures walking on the land at the very oldest periods hitherto revealed by geology—thus carrying back the appearance of organic life to a time more remote than had been supposed. Professor Owen, who has examined the slabs and casts, says, that no idea of the creature that made the tracks can be formed from any animal at present existing, for instead of the prints being in successive pairs, an odd one is found to intervene. He considers it to have had three legs on each side, and to have been neither tortoise-like nor vertebrate; and after naming it Protichnites, adds: 'I incline to adopt, as the most probable hypothesis, that the creatures which have left their tracks and impressions on the most ancient of known sea-shores, belonged to an articulate and probably crustaceous genus.' The fact is an important one in a scientific point of view, and presents a new standpoint for inquirers.
There is advancement, too, in other quarters. Faraday has been diligently pursuing his investigations into the phenomena of electricity and magnetism through greater part of the dead season, and will be prepared erelong to make the results public. And Professor Stokes's researches and experiments on light, which have been laid before the British Association and the Royal Society, are regarded by competent judges as the most remarkable and fruitful that have been made for many years. Another means of advance will perhaps be found in the new process for 'illuminating' glass, by which lenses of all sizes, from spectacles to telescopes, may be made so much brighter and more transparent, as to increase their power and utility to an extraordinary degree. We are shortly to have further particulars concerning this improvement, which, if it be such as described, and applicable to microscopes, will perhaps enable Ehrenberg to verify the opinions he has lately formed concerning the atmosphere—namely, that it is not less full of organic and inorganic life than the ocean, or any other part of creation.
Mr Westwood has read a paper before the Zoological Society, 'On the Destructive Species of certain Insects known in Africa,' in which he shows the probability of their having been the insects of the fourth plague recorded in the Pentateuch. Some of them are the Oestridæ; and one kind known in Africa as Tsetse, is so fierce and venomous, that a few of them are sufficient to sting a horse to death: they are the same as the Zimb, of which Bruce gives such a striking account. Their presence appears to be mainly determined by the nature of the soil, for they are seldom found away from the black earth peculiar to the Valley of the Nile. Among the carvings on the ancient tombs, this insect is supposed to be represented. With regard to another species of insect, Dr Macgowan states, that the insect-wax of China, of which 400,000 pounds are produced annually, is not, as has long been believed, a 'saliva or excrement,' but 'that the insect undergoes what may be styled a ceraceous degeneration, its whole body being permeated by the peculiar produce in the same manner as the Coccus cacti is by carmine.'
The Agricultural Society have announced that they will give 'L.1000 and a gold medal for the discovery of a manure equal in fertilising properties to the Peruvian guano, and of which an unlimited supply can be furnished to the English farmer at a rate not exceeding L.5 per ton.' Also, 'fifty sovereigns for the best account of the geographical distribution of guano, with suggestions for the discovery of any new source of supply, accompanied by specimens.' To be adjudged in 1854. They offer, likewise, fifty sovereigns for the best essays on farming in the counties of Hereford, Surrey, and Derby; and thirty sovereigns for the best essays on the 'management of heavy lands;' 'of light lands;' on 'beans and peas;' 'on hereditary diseases and defects in pigs and sheep.' These to be decided in 1853. It is something to see agriculture thus trying to stand on its own legs.
Among minor matters, the wire-lace recently invented at Nottingham has been talked about, and is said to be as tasteful and rich as it is novel, for it admits of being electroplated. Shall we wear metal clothing by and by, as well as live in metal houses? Dr Payerne has been making experiments in submarine steam navigation at Cherbourg, and with such success as to be able to sink his vessel at any moment, to live in it under water, and to propel it in any given direction. Are we to be invaded by a fleet of these artful contrivances, or is it a preparation for the escape of the future emperor from St Helena? There are one or two interesting facts from Australia, although not about gold: the bodies of Dr Leichardt and some of his exploring party, are said to have been discovered near Moreton Bay, where they had been murdered by the natives; and Sir Thomas Mitchell, the well-known surveyor-general, has invented a steam-propeller on the principle of the boomerang, which, when applied to a boat, answered expectation. Further experiments are to be made; meanwhile, the inventor says, 'that the weapon of the earliest inhabitants of Australia has now led to the determination mathematically of the true form by which alone, on the screw principle, high speed on water can be obtained.' The Ericsson caloric ship is launched; but if a new projector is to be believed, the maker may save himself all further trouble, for Mr Burn proposes to build square ships, with the bottoms constructed as double inclined planes, which shall cross from England to America in forty-eight hours! When this scheme is realised, travelling and flying will become synonymous terms. We are to have another electric telegraph across the Channel: it is underground as well as submarine, the wires being laid in wooden tubes under the old turnpike-road from London to Dover, independent of the railway, thus reopening a shorter as well as a competing route. The possibility of an electric telegraph from England to America is again talked about, and will doubtless be talked about until it is accomplished, in the same way that the French, by dint of trying, seem determined to succeed at last in aërial navigation, the latest exploit of that kind having been the turning round of a cylindrical balloon in the air at Paris by means of a small steam-engine, carried up by the apparatus. Meanwhile, Denmark is going to link her states together by wires, which will stretch from Copenhagen to Elsinore and Hamburg, and include Schleswig, Zealand, and Holstein. Loke would stand no chance now in the old Scandinavian land against the thought-flasher. The Swedish exploring expedition is making satisfactory progress in the southern hemisphere, and Captain von Krusenstern is fitting out a vessel at his own cost to explore the coast of Siberia—an enterprise which the Russians have often attempted with but partial success. The Americans, too, are thinking of another expedition, to make such observations and discoveries as may be useful or possible round Java, in the China Sea, as it is called, the Kurile Islands, and Behring Strait. Their state of California is still resorted to by the Chinese, who now number 50,000 in their new country, and conduct themselves as orderly and industrious citizens. There is some talk of introducing tea-culture, for the sake of giving them employment, as their presence at the diggings is scarcely tolerated. We are soon to know more than at present of the geography and people of Borneo, for Madame Ida Pfeiffer has travelled further into that country than any other European, and is preparing a narrative of her adventures. Nearer home, Lieutenant Van de Velde, of the Dutch navy, has been exploring the Holy Land, in a very complete manner, and in some parts heretofore unvisited; and when our Geographical Society meets, we shall doubtless be informed of the chief results of his twelvemonth's toilsome and at times dangerous travel. If Captain Allen's scheme, as laid before the British Association, could be carried out, we should be able to approach the region by another sea as well as the Mediterranean; for he proposes to cut a channel from the head of the Gulf of Akabah to the Valley of the Dead Sea, and allow the water to pour through until the vast basin be filled to the depth of some hundreds of feet, and of course the hollows of the surrounding country, whereby, as the projector states, we should get a new navigable route towards India. He omits to say whether the Arabs would want compensation for loss of territory.
The French consul at Mosul has been making further researches in the Ninevitish ruins, and has discovered, among other curiosities, the wine-cellar of the Assyrian kings, with large jars, in which the royal beverage was once contained, ranged along the sides. They are now filled with dust and rubbish, but on emptying them, a dried purple deposit was found at the bottom of each, thus testifying to their former use. If this deposit is in sufficient quantity to be submitted to chemical analysis, we might learn something respecting the nature of really old wine. Apropos of this matter, Dr Buist says, that while we are digging up antiquities in Mesopotamia, we are neglecting those, not less valuable, which we have at home, particularly the Runic stones found in Scotland. Two hundred of these are known to exist between Edinburgh and Caithness, but some have been used as gate-posts to a church-yard, or, as near Glammis, rubbing-posts for cattle. Sueno's pillar, in Morayshire, is the finest. The remarkable fact concerning these stones, is the similarity, in numerous instances complete, of the sculptures graven on them to those at Nineveh, as though the hyperborean and the Oriental had a common origin. 'Surely,' adds Dr Buist, 'coincidences such as these can neither be fanciful nor accidental; they carry us far back beyond the ages of those we call the aborigines of Britain, as the pyramids and sculptured stones of Yucatan precede the days of the Red Men whom Cortes found peopling America.'