ACROSS UNKNOWN SOUTH AMERICA 
vertical block of rock. Those buttresses were of brown 
and bright yellow rock. The range had a general direction 
from southeast to northwest. 
Great deposits of white sand and ashes were noticeable 
on the surface. In cuts and in the bed of a streamlet 
were strata of consolidated ashes in distinct layers one 
inch thick. The foot of the gigantic rocky mass was at 
an elevation of 1,700 feet. We were on a slanting plane 
forming a conical basin in continuation of the crater. To 
the north, where the basin opened, was a great stretch of 
cobalt blue in the distance, which looked just like a glimpse 
of the ocean. But it was not; it was the far-away 
plateau we had seen for some days. 
We were now entering a region of the most impressive 
and weird scenery I had ever seen, except, indeed, in 
the Himalaya Mountains. Directly in front of us towered 
the Morro Plumao, a most striking, giant block of rock 
several hundred feet high, standing quite alone, and 
resembling a church surmounting a mediaeval castle — 
not unlike St. Michael’s Mount, only with land around 
instead of water. Even quite close to it the illusion was 
perfect. This wonderful, natural structure of dark red 
rock was in perfectly horizontal strata, each ten feet thick, 
separated and clearly defined by whitish lines, which aided 
to give the illusion of a wonderful work of masonry. 
“ Church-rock,” as I called it — or “ Spray-rock ” 
(Plumao ), as my men named it — stood majestically in 
solitary grandeur in the middle of a great subsidence of 
the soil. That great subsidence was in turn bordered by 
immense, vertical cliffs of the same rock of which 
“ Church-rock ” was formed. Indeed, it was clear that 
the soil had given way, leaving only that great rock 
standing. Even my men, for the first time since they had 
been with me, were deeply impressed by that wonderful 
spectacle; so much so that they all took off their hats, as 
Brazilians always do in passing churches. 
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