178 



FALL OF TREES. 



down by these huge vines, which hang like hempen cables. While the 

 climate and soil encourage the forest trees, the creeping parasites seem 

 determined to drag them downward. There is a constant cracking 

 noise of snapping branches, accompanied by a thundering roar, when 

 large trunks are brought down. Great logs cross our track, and we 

 dare not look aloft, for fear of seeing increased danger. A creeper runs 

 up the trunk of a large tree, and out on a limb, descends to another 

 large tree, and turns itself round the butt as if done by hand ; then it 

 wound its way up to perform the same effort again, while the branches 

 or roots were all pulling like so many braces, until the limb was broken 

 from the tree. As it drops to the ground, there is a thick moss ready 

 to grasp it, and the log is soon covered out of sight and rots. 



Some of the larger trees have been torn up by the roots, and have 

 fallen to the eastward, as if done by a sudden gust of wind rebounding 

 from the side of the mountain. All the easterly winds that strike the 

 broad side of the Andes do not glide upwards, but the current is some- 

 times divided. The lower half turns under, sweeping down over the 

 forests with such force back towards the east as to break down the 

 trees and place them in the position referred to. The winds cannot 

 rebound horizontally, for they would meet each other and produce a 

 calm. Their only means of escape is either close down on the surface 

 of the warm earth, or up into the more rarified regions. When the 

 heavy gales, which sometimes blow in the rainy season from the east- 

 ward, strike these lofty Andes with a force that uproots the forest trees, 

 destroys the crops, and sets the ocean in a rage, they accumulate here, 

 and must burst their way oat. They would split the mariner's he^vy 

 canvass sails and blow through; but here the gigantic strength of the 

 mountains resists them with a composure that makes the forest the suf- 

 ferer. These heights of the eastern side of the Andes are among the 

 most terrific portions of the earth. They seem to correspond to the 

 rocky shores of the ocean, where the waves beat heavily against their 

 banks. The trees, bushes, vines, creepers, and mosses are heaped up 

 just here, like we find sea-weed hanging on the rocks of the sea-coast. 

 The fisherman paddles his canoe into the calm ocean beyond the troubled 

 breakers that strike against the land. Here we find no inhabitants. 

 There never were any. We discover no ruins or marks of bygone ages. 

 These primitive forests are not inhabited by the savage of the present 

 day. Here are no birds among the trees, except the wild turkey; he 

 walks, through the bushes and feeds on berries. There are very few of 

 this family, much to our regret. Few wild animals roam about. 



While descending the mountains to the east of Cuzco, we found what 



