would make the now roaming Indians bring the less perishable part of
their dead to their ancient burial-ground on the coast.
January 9th, 1834.--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, crystallized 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 of its
160