ACROSS UNKNOWN SOUTH AMERICA 
Beneath a cirro-cumulus — or mackerel sky — wonder¬ 
fully beautiful because of its perfection of design, we 
were gradually rising over the domed elevation we had 
previously observed, upon which we found masses of tiny 
pebbles — what are known to geologists by the Italian 
name of “ puzzolana ” or sconce reduced to a granular 
condition. Farther on, travelling over other undulations, 
we sank into thick deposits of grey and yellow volcanic 
scoriae, such as tine sand, cinders, and lapilli. At the 
highest point (elevation 1,270 feet) we travelled over 
deep sediments of sand and ashes mixed together. All 
those undulations, as a matter of fact, were above great 
buried flows of red lava, which were invariably exposed 
to sight in the depressions, particularly in the beds of 
rivers. 
Being a great lover of good water, to my mind the 
elixir of life, the great secret of health and strength, I 
was always enraptured by the deliciousness of the water 
in the streams we met. It was so crystalline and limpid 
that one could not resist the temptation to drink it, 
even when not thirsty. I always carried slung to my 
saddle an enamelled tin cup attached to a string, so as 
to be able to procure myself a drink at all the streams 
without getting off my mount. 
Twelve kilometres from our last camp we came to a 
watercourse flowing into a big stream at the bottom of 
the valley. Its bed was in overlapping terraces of 
polished red lava. 
The green country before us, in great sweeping 
undulations, reminded one much, in its regularity, of the 
great waves of the ocean — what sailors call “ long seas.” 
Where the stream had cut through and left the underlying 
dome of lava exposed, one could easily judge of the thick 
deposits of sand, ashes, and pulverized rock which formed 
the strata above it. 
We travelled over more red volcanic sand for some 
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