THE BUFFADERO. 53 
coast of the Pacific. On sailing into the bay one hears a dis- 
tant noise, which might be taken for the spouting of a gigantic 
whale, or the dying groans of a bull struck by the sharp steel 
of the matador, or the rolling of thunder. Anxious to know 
the cause, “It is the Buffadero,” answer the boatmen, pointing 
to a fantastically-shaped rock towards which they are rowing. 
On approaching, a truly magnificent spectacle reveals itself; for 
a colossal fountain springs from an aperture in the rock to a 
hight of 150 feet, and after having dissolved in myriads of gems, 
returns to the foaming element which gave it birth. This 
beautiful sight renews itself as often as the breakers rush 
against the rock, and must be of unequalled splendour wken a 
tornado sweeps across the ocean and rolls its giant billows into 
the hoilowed bosom of the cliff. 
