THE VOYAGE OF THE BEAGLE 517 



such ordinances than I ever heard of even in England. The 

 poor people formerly used to burn a plant, which grows on the 

 coast-rocks, and export the soda from its ashes; but a per- 

 emptory order came out prohibiting this practice, and giving 

 as a reason that the partridges would have nowhere to build. 



In my walks I passed more than once over the grassy plain 

 bounded by deep valleys, on which Longwood stands. 

 Viewed from a short distance, it appears like a respectable 

 gentleman's country-seat. In front there are a few culti- 

 vated fields, and beyond them the smooth hill of coloured 

 rocks called the Flagstaff, and the rugged square black mass 

 of the Barn. On the whole the view was rather bleak and 

 uninteresting. The only inconvenience I suffered during my 

 walks was from the impetuous winds. One day I noticed 

 a curious circumstance ; standing on the edge of a plain, ter- 

 minated by a great cliff of about a thousand feet in depth, 

 I saw at the distance of a few yards right to windward, some 

 tern, struggling against a very strong breeze, whilst, where 

 I stood, the air was quite calm. Approaching close to the 

 brink, where the current seemed to be deflected upwards 

 from the face of the cliff, I stretched out my arm, and 

 immediately felt the full force of the wind: an invisible 

 barrier, two yards in width, separated perfectly calm air 

 from a strong blast. 



I so much enjoyed my rambles among the rocks and moun- 

 tains of St. Helena, that I felt almost sorry on the morning 

 of the I4th to descend to the town. Before noon I was on 

 board, and the Beagle made sail. 



On the igth of July we reached Ascension. Those who 

 have beheld a volcanic island, situated under an arid climate, 

 will at once be able to picture to themselves the appearance 

 of Ascension. They will imagine smooth conical hills of a 

 bright red colour, with their summits generally truncated, 

 rising separately out of a level surface of black rugged lava. 

 A principal mound in the centre of the island, seems the 

 father of the lesser cones. It is called Green Hill: its 

 name being taken from the faintest tinge of that colour, 

 which at this time of the year is barely perceptible from the 

 anchorage. To complete the desolate scene, the black rocks 

 on the coast are lashed by a wild and turbulent sea. 



