TORRENTS OF THE CORDILLERA. 65 



The sound spoke eloquently to the geologist; the 

 thousands and thousands of stones, which, striking 

 against each other, made the one dull, uniform 

 sound, were all hurrying in one direction. It was 

 like thinking on time, where the minute that now 

 glides past is iiTecoverable. So was it with these 

 stones ; the ocean is their eternity, and each note 

 of that wild music told of one more step towards 

 their destiny. 



It is not possible for the mind to comprehend, 

 except by a slow process, any effect which is pro- 

 duced by a cause repeated so often, that the mul- 

 tiplier itself conveys an idea not more definite 

 than the savage implies when he points to the 

 hairs of his head. As often as I have seen beds 

 of mud, sand, and shingle accumulated to the 

 thickness of many thousand feet, I have felt in- 

 clined to exclaim that causes, such as the present 

 rivers and the present beaches, could never have 

 ground down and produced such masses. But, on 

 the other hand, when listening to the rattling noise 

 of these torrents, and calling to mind that whole 

 races of animals have passed away from the face 

 of the earth, and that dunng this whole period, 

 night and day, these stones have gone rattling on- 

 wards in their course, I have thought to myself, 

 can any mountains, any continent, withstand such 

 waste ] 



In this part of the valley the mountains on each 

 side were from 3000 to 6000 or 8000 feet high, 

 with rounded outlines and steep bare flanks. The 

 general colour of the rock was dullish purple, and 

 the stratification very distinct. If the scenery was 

 not beautiful, it was remarkable and grand. We 

 met during the day several herds of cattle, which 

 men were driving down from the higher valleys in 

 the Cordillera. This sign of the approaching win- 

 II. 5 



