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JOURNAL. 



18th. — One of my young friends from the Doris, some of whom 

 have been with me daily, has brought me some excellent partridges of 

 his own shooting. They are somewhat larger than the partridges in 

 England, but I think quite as good, when properly dressed, or rather 

 plucked ; but the cooks here have a habit of scalding the feathers 

 off, which hurts the flavour of the bird. There are several kinds of 

 birds here good to eat, but neither quail nor pheasant. They have 

 plenty of enemies : from the condor, through every variety of the 

 eagle, vulture, hawk, and owl, down to the ugly, dull, green parrot 

 of Chile, which never looks tolerably well, except on the wing, and 

 then the under part, of purple and yellow, is handsome. The face 

 is peculiarly ugly : his parrot's beak being set in so close as to be to 

 other parrots what the pug dog is to a greyhound. They are great foes 

 to the little singing birds, whose notes as well as plumage resemble 

 those of the linnet, and which abound in this neighbourhood. We 

 have also a kind of blackbird with a soft, sweet, but very low note ; 

 a saucy thing that repeats two notes only, not unlike the mockbird, 

 and that never moves out of the way ; swallows and humming-birds 

 are plenty ; and the boys tell me they have seen marvellous storks 

 and cranes in the marshes, which I shall take occasion to visit after 

 the rains. I know not if we are to believe that the aboriginal Chi- 

 lenos possessed the domestic fowl. At present they are abundant 

 and excellent, as well as ducks, both native and foreign, and geese. 

 Pigeons are not very common ; but they thrive well, and are made 

 pets of: — in short, this delightful climate seems favourable to the 

 production of all that is necessary for the use and sustenance of man. 



Monday, May 20th. — This is but a sad day. The Doris sailed early, 

 and I feel again alone in the world ; in her are gone the only relation, 

 the only acquaintance I have in this wide country. In parting between 

 friends, those who go have always less to feel than those who re- 

 main. The former have the exertion of moving, the charms of 

 novelty, or at least variety of situation, and the advantage that new 

 objects do not awaken associations connected with the subjects of 

 our regret. Whereas the stationary person sees in each object a 



