SOUTHEAST WINDS. 



119 



path. They were feeding upon the fresher grass that springs up under 

 the shade of the cedars. The change from the barren, unproductive 

 places on the Puna to that of a vegetable growth is so sudden, that the 

 traveller is, at first sight, struck with' wonder and surprise, because 

 evidently no human power has been brought to work here. It is all the 

 result of original, natural laws. 



Man seems the most unnatural creature we meet with. He builds his 

 house in a desert, settles himself in a country he cannot cultivate ; while 

 other animals are seen in numbers the moment we come in sight of 

 vegetation, nor do they leave it for the barren places unless forced to go 

 by the more intelligent creature. 



The southeast winds that we meet here come across the South Atlantic 

 ocean ; passing over the lowlands, they strike against these mountains. 

 Rising from the vapors of the sea, they are wet ; but after travelling over 

 dry lands, their dampness is distributed on the soil, and there springs up 

 a growth of forest trees and wild flowers, which otherwise would be 

 burnt down by the fiery rays of the sun. 



By the time the winds reach these lofty mountains they are com- 

 paratively dry. The little dampness remaining in them, meeting with 

 the cold atmosphere of the mountain peaks, freezes and falls in the shape 

 of snow or hail. 



Being relieved of their load, they come down on the table lands now, 

 where we meet them after having performed their work, as on the west 

 of the Illimani ; there the plain is barren ; not a living bush is to be 

 seen. As the winds have no moisture to give to the soil, the soil has 

 no vegetation to give to animal life ; therefore, man appears to be strug- 

 gling against this law, by living all his life to the west of the Illimani, 

 where the winds are on a frolic, dancing over the plain, forming whirl- 

 winds, and shooting up to return from whence they came. 



These winds go back to the South Atlantic by an upper current 

 But, to return to the cedar bushes. We can only account for them by 

 supposing an opening in the Andes range to the southeast of us, through 

 which the winds come, before meeting with mountains high enough 

 to push them above the perpetual snow line. We cannot see far 

 enough to tell, but have to feel our way. Yesterday we had the 

 Illimani to the east of us, and by the reflection of a barren soil, the rays 

 of the sun scorched the skin off our faces. To-day, although the sky 

 is equally as clear, we do not feel it, the atmosphere is more moist, which 

 protects the skin from the influences of the sun. 



But there stands a more convincing proof of this natural law, and of 

 our supposition of an opening in the Andes to the southeast of us. The 



