56 Idle Days in Patagonia. 



by degrees until it disappeared. I have frequently 

 read and heard of such a phenomenon, and many 

 persons have assured me that they have witnessed 

 it " with their own eyes." But what they have 

 witnessed one does not know. I have often seen 

 the surface of water, of the ocean, or a lake, or river, 

 flushed with a rosy colour at sunset ; but to see, 

 some time after sunset, the waters of a river changed 

 to blood and crimson fire, this appearance lasting 

 until the twilight drew on, and the earth and trees 

 looked black by contrast, has been my lot once only 

 on this occasion ; and I imagine that if any river 

 on the globe was known to take such an appearance 

 frequently, it would become as celebrated, and draw 

 pilgrims as far to see it, as Chimborazo and the 

 Falls of Niagara. 



Between the town and the sea, a distance of about 

 twenty miles, the valley is mostly on the south side 

 of the river ; on the north side the current comes 

 very near, and in many places washes the upland. 

 I visited the sea by both ways, and rode for some 

 distance along the coast on both sides of the river. 

 North of the river the beach was shingle and sand, 

 backed by low sand dunes extending away into in- 

 finitude ; but on the south side, outside the valley, a 

 sheer stupendous precipice faced the ocean. A slight 

 adventure I had with a condor, the only bird of that 

 species I met with in Patagonia, will give some idea of 

 the height of this sheer wall of rock. I was riding 

 with a friend along the cliff when the majestic bird ap- 

 peared, and swooping downwards hovered at a height 

 of forty feet above our heads. My companion raised 



