316 The Zoologist — August, 1866 



the very driest portions of those depauperated isles are the lower 

 districts towards the coast ; and they supply a marvellous illustration 

 of how animal and vegetable life may be alike suspended in accordance 

 with external contingencies, for almost an indefinite time, without 

 running even a risk of ultimate destruction. 



But the real delight of "alpine collecting" is not to be measured 

 by any such considerations as those to which I have appealed. 

 There are wonders enough at every step to assure the lowland natu- 

 ralist that he is in a strange place, where every object of sight and 

 sense must be noted — not merely with truthfulness and care, but with 

 something bordering upon reverence. To be in close proximity with 

 regions almost unknown is in itself a privilege not to be trifled with ; 

 but to have toiled there, through a weary way, with the sole purpose of 

 scrutinizing Nature in her wildest moods, and of turning one's in- 

 formation to account, leaves on the mind a feeling of responsibility 

 which none can understand but those by whom it has been ex- 

 perienced. This feeling perhaps is more or less impressed upon us in 

 every unexplored country, while conducting our researches, but it is 

 seldom so conspicuous as when great altitude invests the latter with 

 an additional charm ; for then it is that we seem to have reached at 

 last the very climax from whence we may look down upon a new 

 creation, and ensure anomalies at every turn. It was with some such 

 previsions as these that I first pitched my tent on the extreme summit 

 of Madeira (the glorious Ruivo, more than 6000 feet above the sea), 

 and afterwards (at an altitude of at least 9000 feet) trod for the first 

 time the snow-fields of Teneriffe. It may be perhaps that an undue 

 prejudice in favour of the Canaries, after having ransacked assiduously 

 the neighbouring archipelago, had inclined me to look for a richer 

 harvest in Teneriffe than elsewhere; and certainly the great elevation 

 of that island, the volcanic cone of which is more than 12,000 feet 

 above the sea-level, would seem (thus far at least) to give it the place 

 of honour throughout all the Atlantic, signalizing it emphaticelly as 

 one of " creation's laudmarks." But, whether this be the case or no, 

 I cannot plead guilty to a shadow of disappointment (but altogether 

 the reverse) when 1 was fortunate enough, day after day, to find myself 

 far above the cloud-line, under a canopy of transceudant blue, in all 

 the stillness and glitter of an alpine paradise. It was in May of 1859 

 that 1 became acquainted with those upland wilds ; and the snow was 

 then rapidly disappearing, except on the monstrous cone, which rose 

 up straight in front of me — robed in a garment of unspotted white. 



