CHAP. x.] CAPE HORN. 211 
After a little more trouble we gained the peat, and then the bare 
slate rock. 
A ridge connected this hill with another, distant some miles, 
and more lofty, so that patches of snow were lying on it. As 
the day was not far advanced, I determined to walk there and 
collect plants along the road. It would have been very hard 
work, had it not been for a well-beaten and straight path made 
by the guanacos; for these animals, like sheep, always follow 
the same line. When we reached the hill we found it the high- 
est in the immediate neighbourhood, and the waters flowed to 
the sea in opposite directions. We obtained a wide view over 
the surrounding country: to the north a swampy moorland ex- 
tended, but to the south we had a scene of savage magnificence, 
well becoming Tierra del Fuego. There wasa degree of myste- 
rious grandeur in mountain behind mountain, with the deep in- 
tervening valleys, all covered by one thick, dusky mass of forest. 
The atmosphere, likewise, in this climate, where gale succeeds 
gale, with rain, hail, and sleet, seems blacker than anywhere 
else. In the Strait of Magellan, looking due southward from 
Port Famine, the distant channels between the mountains ap- 
peared from their gloominess to lead beyond the confines of this 
world. 
December 21st. —-The Beagle got under way: and on the 
succeeding day, favoured to an uncommon degree by a fine 
easterly breeze, we closed in with the Barnevelts, and running 
past Cape Deceit with its stony peaks, about three o’clock 
doubled the weather-beaten Cape Horn. The evening was calm 
and bright, and we enjoyed a fine view of the surrounding isles. 
Cape Horn, however, demanded his tribute, and before night 
sent usa gale of wind directly in our teeth. We stood out to 
sea, and on the second day again made the land, when we saw 
on our weather-bow this notorious promontory in its proper form 
—veiled in a mist, and its dim outline surrounded by a storm of 
wind and water. Great black clouds were rolling across the 
heavens, and squalls of rain, with hail, swept by us with such 
extreme violence, that the Captain determined to run into Wig- 
wam Cove. This is a snug little harbour, not far from Cape 
Horn; and here, at Christmas-eve, we anchored in smooth water. 
The only thing which reminded us of the gale outside, was every 
