142 Idle Days in Patagonta. 
the dreadful cavern will be a slight depression in 
the soil. 
Satisfied with the result, I resume my solitary 
ramble, and by-and-by coming upon a fine Escan- 
dalosa bush I resolve to add incendiarism to my 
list of misdeeds. It might appear strange that a 
bush should be called Escandalosa, which means 
simply Scandalous, or, to prevent mistakes, which 
simply means Scandalous; but this is one of those 
quaint names the Argentine peasants have bestowed 
on some of their curious plants—dry love, the devil’s 
snuff-box, bashful weed, and many others. The 
Escandalosa is a wide-spreading shrub, three to five 
feet high, thickly clothed with prickly leaves, and 
covered all the year round with large pale-yellow 
immortal flowers; and the curious thing about the 
plant is that when touched with fire it blazes up like 
a pile of wood shavings, and is immediately consumed 
to ashes with a marvellous noise of hissing and crack- 
ling. And thus the bush I have found burns itself 
up on my placing a lighted match at its roots. 
I enjoy the spectacle amazingly while it lasts, the 
brilliant tongues of white flame darting and leaping 
through the dark foliage making a very pretty show; 
but presently, contemplating the heap of white 
ashes at my feet where the green miracle, covered 
with its everlasting flowers, flourished a moment 
ago, I began to feel heartily ashamed of myself. 
For how have I spent my day? I remember with 
remorse the practical joke perpetrated on the simple- 
minded coots, also the consternation caused to a 
