tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62550561201674601252021-12-14T06:06:04.537+00:00Charles Darwin's Beagle DiaryThe Beagle Diary was later used to write Darwin's famous book 'Voyage of the Beagle' (1839). The narrative of the surveying voyages of His Majesty's Ships Adventure and Beagle between the years 1826 and 1836. Darwin describes each day of the voyage, some in intimate detail, during the Beagle's circumnavigation of the globe.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger1152125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6255056120167460125.post-77969649842397651402011-11-06T18:17:00.013+00:002012-04-22T16:07:47.565+01:007th November 1836<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A3MnSMQJM-0/TrbO70fkpdI/AAAAAAAAJZ0/d71EQ9eK6VQ/s1600/map-woolwich.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="260" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A3MnSMQJM-0/TrbO70fkpdI/AAAAAAAAJZ0/d71EQ9eK6VQ/s400/map-woolwich.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><b>Woolwich</b><br />She moved down to Woolwich.<br />(Darwin's final Diary entry)<br /><br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Captain Fitzroy’s Journal</span></b><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">After the chronometer rates were ascertained, the Beagle dropped down to Woolwich.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">(Fitzroy's final Journal entry)</span><br /><br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Syms Covington Journal</span></b><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Also were towed to Woolwich.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">(Covington's final Journal entry)</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><b>As perhaps is fitting, the final words in our adventure with HMS Beagle, should be from Captain Fitzroy. More or less everything available to me has now been posted on this site, however, I will be leaving it for research purposes for the forseeable future. Comments on individual entries are, of course, still very welcome. I will seek to answer questions within a day or so.</b></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mkvzuj-6r28/TrbPGeyUZ8I/AAAAAAAAJZ8/6fXJeaikiXo/s1600/HMSBeagle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="202" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mkvzuj-6r28/TrbPGeyUZ8I/AAAAAAAAJZ8/6fXJeaikiXo/s320/HMSBeagle.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Greenwich was the last station at which observations were made; and, singularly enough, Mr. Usborne and his companions came on board as we anchored there. Independent of the gratification of meeting them again, after so wide a separation, it may be supposed how my mind was relieved by his safe return from a very successful expedition, in which he had surveyed the whole coast of Peru, from Atacama to Guayaquil, without loss or accident. Although his own life was seriously risked on two or three occasions, by shots fired under misapprehension; I must not omit to mention that hostilities were suspended for a whole day, at Arica, between the land-forces and an attacking squadron, in order that Mr. Usborne might carry on his operations. Throughout the survey of the Peruvian coast, the cordial assistance of Mr. Wilson, Charge d'affaires at Lima, was found to be of paramount consequence.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">I would now speak of the steady support and unvarying help which I received from the officers of the Beagle: but where all did so much, and all contributed so materially to the gatherings of the voyage, it is unnecessary to particularise, farther than by saying that Mr. Stokes's services hold the first place in my own estimation.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">In this long voyage, rather exceeding that of Vancouver, fatal disease was unknown, except in the lamented case of the purser, and in that mentioned at Rio de Janeiro; neither of which had the least reference to the particular service on which the Beagle was employed: and it is perhaps remarkable, that while the Beagle was in commission, between February 1829 and November 1836, no serious illness, brought on or contracted while on service, happened on board; neither did any accident of consequence occur in the ship; nor did any man ever fall overboard during all that time.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">The freedom from illness must be attributed, under Providence, to active employment, good clothing, and wholesome food, in healthy, though sometimes disagreeable climates: and our immunity from accident during exposure to a variety of risks, especially in boats, I attribute, referring to visible causes, to the care, attention, and vigilance of the excellent officers whose able assistance was not valued by me more than their sincere friendship.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MsEHY5jO_ME/TrbQ5t6cMRI/AAAAAAAAJaE/gLkkkfDhbgk/s1600/Voyage_02+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="315" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MsEHY5jO_ME/TrbQ5t6cMRI/AAAAAAAAJaE/gLkkkfDhbgk/s640/Voyage_02+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">The Beagle was paid off on the 17th of November. The Beagle was put into commission on the 4th of July 1831; thus having completed the unusually long period of five years and one hundred and thirty six days.</span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">---oOo---</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6255056120167460125.post-45088016832886226422011-10-30T21:35:00.003+00:002011-10-30T21:39:05.417+00:0028th October 1836<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AHHXm5frF7Q/Tq3D1Ow1ahI/AAAAAAAAJSw/WTZupANUTg8/s1600/greenwich.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AHHXm5frF7Q/Tq3D1Ow1ahI/AAAAAAAAJSw/WTZupANUTg8/s400/greenwich.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><b><br /></b><br /><b>Greenwich</b><br />Got up the river to Greenwich on the 28th.<br /><br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Captain Fitzroy’s Journal</span></b><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">On the 28th our anchor was let go at Greenwich.</span><br /><br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Syms Covington Journal</span></b><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">The following morning were towed to Greenwich the 28th.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6255056120167460125.post-29114508519017974842011-10-27T08:23:00.002+01:002011-10-27T08:23:35.523+01:0026th October 1836<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b>Syms Covington Journal</b></span><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Anchored off The Nore near to Chatham. &nbsp;Anchored off Gravesend, was towed by steamer the same evening FOR about an hour and a half.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6255056120167460125.post-86405881153329005952011-10-24T07:34:00.003+01:002011-10-24T07:35:01.576+01:0024th October 1836<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Syms Covington Journal</span></b><br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Deal</span></b><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Visitors came to see the ship the following morning. Sailed about 12 o'clock the same day, and came to our anchor about three or four hours afterwards. When near the flats, we were obliged to bring too in consequence of thick weather.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6255056120167460125.post-89810332717442002642011-10-23T07:46:00.000+01:002011-10-23T07:46:31.153+01:0023rd October 1836<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uw-uuvRSmgE/TqO4QLpPkhI/AAAAAAAAJP4/B_HlMgepgFk/s1600/deal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uw-uuvRSmgE/TqO4QLpPkhI/AAAAAAAAJP4/B_HlMgepgFk/s320/deal.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Syms Covington Journal</span></b><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Anchored off Deal.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6255056120167460125.post-85367328606360224382011-10-23T07:44:00.004+01:002011-10-23T07:48:01.195+01:0022nd October 1836<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aZmQEwwU87U/TqO4mnuMu8I/AAAAAAAAJQA/Zi6PCsGj5dM/s1600/Dungeness.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="185" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aZmQEwwU87U/TqO4mnuMu8I/AAAAAAAAJQA/Zi6PCsGj5dM/s320/Dungeness.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Syms Covington Journal</span></b><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Anchored off Dungeness.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6255056120167460125.post-426827666903915222011-10-21T17:48:00.000+01:002011-10-21T17:48:07.210+01:0021st October 1836<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Syms Covington Journal</span></b><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Sailed from Dover the 21st 11 o'clock am</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6255056120167460125.post-65878154220629369322011-10-21T17:47:00.002+01:002011-10-21T17:47:31.481+01:0020th October 1836<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Syms Covington Journal</span></b><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Aanchored 20th 8 o'clock Dover</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6255056120167460125.post-75270155870721021572011-10-18T07:42:00.000+01:002011-10-18T07:42:00.491+01:0018th October 1836<b>Plymouth to Greenwich</b><br />Sailed for the Thames, calling on her way at Portsmouth &amp; Deal….Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6255056120167460125.post-37180588197573661252011-10-12T08:06:00.008+01:002011-10-12T19:38:08.828+01:00Catching Up<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4sPrj55wDqQ/TpU8aiJ-9JI/AAAAAAAAJLA/MgbZuFCbqKA/s1600/barn+pool.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4sPrj55wDqQ/TpU8aiJ-9JI/AAAAAAAAJLA/MgbZuFCbqKA/s1600/barn+pool.JPG" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">[Barn Pool, where the Beagle lay before sailing. &nbsp;One of the safest anchorages in the Hamoze, it lies across the Tamar opposite the King William Yard, Devonport]</span></b></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">As I am sure many will realise, with our daily dose of Darwin (Plus </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Fitzroy </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">and </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Covington</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">) now nearly come to its inevitable end I am missing their wonderful descriptions of the world of 1831-36. &nbsp;But all is not lost. &nbsp;The whole thing will remain here for new readers to 'catch up'... and I have decided myself to wind back to October 1832, with the Beagle in South America, and follow again their exploits day-by-day.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">Additionally, for those who want to accompany me, James Cook's Endeavour voyage has now been running for a couple of months (click on the link &nbsp;on the top right of this page). &nbsp;With Cook, we are certainly in another age.... 63 years before the start of the Darwin voyage, the Endeavour having left Plymouth Sound in 1768 (Darwin 1831).</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6255056120167460125.post-88619103391594392232011-10-06T06:39:00.002+01:002011-10-09T14:28:54.044+01:006th October 1836<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">CHARLES DARWIN TO J.S. HENSLOW.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">Shrewsbury, Thursday, October 6, 1836.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">My dear Henslow,</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">I am sure you will congratulate me on the delight of once again being home. The "Beagle" arrived at Falmouth on Sunday evening, and I reached Shrewsbury yesterday morning. I am exceedingly anxious to see you, and as it will be necessary in four or five days to return to London to get my goods and chattels out of the "Beagle", it appears to me my best plan to pass through Cambridge. I want your advice on many points; indeed I am in the clouds, and neither know what to do or where to go. My chief puzzle is about the geological specimens -- who will have the charity to help me in describing their mineralogical nature? Will you be kind enough to write to me one line by RETURN OF POST, saying whether you are now at Cambridge? I am doubtful till I hear from Captain Fitz-Roy whether I shall not be obliged to start before the answer can arrive, but pray try the chance. My dear Henslow, I do long to see you; you have been the kindest friend to me that ever man possessed. I can write no more, for I am giddy with joy and confusion.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">Farewell for the present,</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">Yours most truly obliged,</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">CHARLES DARWIN.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">---oOo---</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">CHARLES DARWIN TO R. FITZ-ROY.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">Shrewsbury, Thursday morning, October 6, 1836.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">My dear Fitz-Roy,</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">I arrived here yesterday morning at breakfast time, and, thank God, found all my dear good sisters and father quite well. My father appears more cheerful and very little older than when I left. My sisters assure me I do not look the least different, and I am able to return the compliment. Indeed, all England appears changed excepting the good old town of Shrewsbury and its inhabitants, which, for all I can see to the contrary, may go on as they now are to Doomsday. I wish with all my heart I was writing to you amongst your friends instead of at that horrid Plymouth. But the day will soon come, and you will be as happy as I now am. I do assure you I am a very great man at home; the five years' voyage has certainly raised me a hundred per cent. I fear such greatness must experience a fall.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">I am thoroughly ashamed of myself in what a dead-and-half-alive state I spent the few last days on board; my only excuse is that certainly I was not quite well. The first day in the mail tired me, but as I drew nearer to Shrewsbury everything looked more beautiful and cheerful. In passing Gloucestershire and Worcestershire I wished much for you to admire the fields, woods, and orchards. The stupid people on the coach did not seem to think the fields one bit greener than usual; but I am sure we should have thoroughly agreed that the wide world does not contain so happy a prospect as the rich cultivated land of England.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">I hope you will not forget to send me a note telling me how you go on. I do indeed hope all your vexations and trouble with respect to our voyage, which we now know HAS an end, have come to a close. If you do not receive much satisfaction for all the mental and bodily energy you have expended in His Majesty's service, you will be most hardly treated. I put my radical sisters into an uproar at some of the prudent (if they were not honest Whigs, I would say shabby) proceedings of our Government. By the way, I must tell you for the honour and glory of the family that my father has a large engraving of King George IV. put up in his sitting-room. But I am no renegade, and by the time we meet my politics will be as firmly fixed and as wisely founded as ever they were.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">I thought when I began this letter I would convince you what a steady and sober frame of mind I was in. But I find I am writing most precious nonsense. Two or three of our labourers yesterday immediately set to work and got most excessively drunk in honour of the arrival of Master Charles. Who then shall gainsay if Master Charles himself chooses to make himself a fool. Good-bye. God bless you! I hope you are as happy, but much wiser, than your most sincere but unworthy philosopher,</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">CHAS. DARWIN.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6255056120167460125.post-51380211799406040202011-10-05T07:10:00.002+01:002011-10-09T14:28:30.511+01:005th October 1836<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">LETTER TO JOSIAH WEDGWOOD.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">[Shrewsbury, October 5th, 1836.]</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">My dear Uncle</span><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">The "Beagle" arrived at Falmouth on Sunday evening, and I reached home late last night. My head is quite confused with so much delight, but I cannot allow my sisters to tell you first how happy I am to see all my dear friends again. I am obliged to return in three or four days to London, where the "Beagle" will be paid off, and then I shall pay Shrewsbury a longer visit. I am most anxious once again to see Maer, and all its inhabitants, so that in the course of two or three weeks, I hope in person to thank you, as being my first Lord of the Admiralty.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">CHAS. DARWIN.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6255056120167460125.post-9277962621776554222011-10-03T07:48:00.002+01:002011-10-09T14:28:13.745+01:003rd October 1836<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kynpLQe2ACw/TolayIQ8lwI/AAAAAAAAJI0/Bwwnw66rGsQ/s1600/plymouth-sound.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kynpLQe2ACw/TolayIQ8lwI/AAAAAAAAJI0/Bwwnw66rGsQ/s200/plymouth-sound.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Captain Fitzroy’s Journal</span></b><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">From Falmouth we went to Plymouth.</span><br /><br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Syms Covington Journal</span></b><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Left Falmouth October 3rd pm, anchored in Plymouth.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6255056120167460125.post-9912518198451550172011-10-02T07:51:00.003+01:002011-10-12T08:17:07.385+01:002nd October 1836<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-t4WHHORU1qc/TolZ5Ax8EvI/AAAAAAAAJIw/kRqZ31G2T-A/s1600/Map_375.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-t4WHHORU1qc/TolZ5Ax8EvI/AAAAAAAAJIw/kRqZ31G2T-A/s1600/Map_375.jpg" /></a><b>Falmouth</b><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">After a tolerably short passage, but with some very heavy weather, we came to an anchor at Falmouth. To my surprise and shame I confess the first sight of the shores of England inspired me with no warmer feelings, than if it had been a miserable Portugeese settlement. The same night (and a dreadfully stormy one it was) I started by the Mail for Shrewsbury.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Captain Fitzroy’s Journal</span></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Anchored at Falmouth, on the 2d of October, after an absence of four years and nine months from England.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Syms Covington Journal</span></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Anchored in Falmouth pm Sunday October 1st, 1838.</span></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">[Today... in 1836 of course, Darwin's journey is complete. As you will see, he immediately left the Beagle and travelled up to Shrewsbury; but I will continue following the Beagle until the records cease. However, for us intrepid travellers, <b>James Cook's Circumnavigation Journal</b> may be followed each day -- click on the link on the top right of this page. We are just a month or so into our voyage with the Endeavour in 1768.]</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6255056120167460125.post-47241781257332206262011-10-01T06:48:00.008+01:002011-10-09T14:27:51.238+01:001st October 1836<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QCEVvjpsEWQ/ToaqJeRCjtI/AAAAAAAAJIM/40ZoA6WNHEI/s1600/TruroFalmouthAerial.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="507" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QCEVvjpsEWQ/ToaqJeRCjtI/AAAAAAAAJIM/40ZoA6WNHEI/s640/TruroFalmouthAerial.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><b><br /></b><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">[Tonight... in 1838 of course, Darwin's journey is complete. &nbsp;As you will see, he immediately leaves the Beagle and travels up to Shrewsbury; but I will continue following the Beagle until the records cease. &nbsp;However, for us intrepid travellers, James Cook's Circumnavigation Journal may be followed each day -- click on the link on the top right of this page. We are just a month or so into our voyage with the Endeavour in 1768 &nbsp;It is interesting that is this penultimate diary entry, Darwin is thinking of... Captain James Cook!]</span></b></span></b></div><b><br /></b><br /><b>Azores to Falmouth</b><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">From seeing the present state, it is impossible not to look forward with high expectation to the future progress of nearly an entire hemisphere. The march of improvement, consequent on the introduction of Christianity through the South Sea, probably stands by itself on the records of the world. It is the more striking when we remember that but <b>seventy years since, Cook, </b>whose most excellent judgment none will dispute, could foresee no prospect of such change. Yet these changes have now been effected by the philanthropic spirit of the English nation.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In the same quarter of the globe Australia is rising, or indeed may be said to have risen, into a grand centre of civilization, which, at some not very remote period, will rule the empress of the Southern hemisphere. It is impossible for an Englishman to behold these distant colonies, without a high pride and satisfaction. To hoist the British flag seems to draw as a certain consequence wealth, prosperity and civilization.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In conclusion, — it appears to me that nothing can be more improving to a young naturalist, than a journey in distant countries. It both sharpens and partly also allays that want and craving, which as Sir J. Herschel remarks, a man experiences, although every corporeal sense is fully satisfied. The excitement from the novelty of objects, and the chance of success stimulates him on to activity. Moreover as a number of isolated facts soon become uninteresting, the habit of comparison leads to generalization; on the other hand, as the traveller stays but a short space of time in each place, his description must generally consist of mere sketches instead of detailed observation. Hence arises, as I have found to my cost, a constant tendency to fill up the wide gaps of knowledge by inaccurate &amp; superficial hypotheses.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But I have too deeply enjoyed the voyage not to recommend to any naturalist to take all chances, and to start on travels by land if possible, if otherwise on a long voyage. He may feel assured he will meet with no difficulties or dangers (excepting in rare cases) nearly so bad as he before hand imagined. — In a moral point of view, the effect ought to be, to teach him good humoured patience, unselfishness, the habit of acting for himself, and of making the best of everything, or contentment: in short, he should partake of the characteristic qualities of the greater number of sailors. — Travelling ought also to teach him to distrust others; but at the same time he will discover how many truly good natured people there are, with whom he never before had, nor ever again will have any further communication, yet who are ready to offer him the most disinterested assistance.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6255056120167460125.post-10632627709000327522011-09-30T07:54:00.007+01:002011-10-09T14:27:36.042+01:0030th September 1836<div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hriNcMlU2oQ/ToVnm5tO-yI/AAAAAAAAJIA/LleENystQrc/s1600/BeagleChannelGlacier.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hriNcMlU2oQ/ToVnm5tO-yI/AAAAAAAAJIA/LleENystQrc/s640/BeagleChannelGlacier.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><b><br /></b><br /><b><br /></b><br /><b><br /></b><br /><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><b>Azores to Falmouth</b><br />Amongst the other most remarkable spectacles, which we have beheld, may be ranked, — the stars of the Southern hemisphere, the water-spout — the glacier leading its blue stream of ice in a bold precipice overhanging the sea — a lagoon island, raised by the coral forming animalcule — an active volcano — the overwhelming effects of a violent earthquake. — These latter phenomena perhaps possess for me a higher interest, from their intimate connection with the geological structure of the world. The earthquake must however be to everyone a most impressive event; the solid earth, considered from our earliest childhood as the very type of solidity, has oscillated like a thin crust beneath our feet; and in seeing the most beautiful and laboured works of man in a moment overthrown, we feel the insignificance of his boasted power.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It has been said that the love of the chase is an inherent delight in man, — a relic of an instinctive passion. If so, I am sure the pleasure of living in the open air, with the sky for a roof, and the ground for a table, is part of the same feeling. It is the savage returning to his wild and native habits. I always look back to our boat cruizes &amp; my land journeys, when through unfrequented countries, with a kind of extreme delight, which no scenes of civilization could create. I do not doubt every traveller must remember the glowing sense of happiness, from the simple consciousness of breathing in a foreign clime, where the civilized man has seldom or never trod.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">There are several other sources of enjoyment in a long voyage, which are perhaps of a more reasonable nature. The map of the world ceases to be a blank; it becomes a picture full of the most varied and animated figures. Each part assumes its true dimensions: large continents are not looked at in the light of islands, or islands considered as mere specks, which in truth are larger than many kingdoms of Europe. Africa, or North &amp; South America, are well-sounding names and easily pronounced, but it is not till having sailed for some weeks along small portions of their coasts, that one is thoroughly astonished.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6255056120167460125.post-6252151043635905032011-09-29T08:27:00.002+01:002011-10-09T14:27:23.960+01:0029th September 1836<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-e2MSEU_98Fk/ToQd3nPCMwI/AAAAAAAAJHc/0UZHligXzhQ/s1600/pass2b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-e2MSEU_98Fk/ToQd3nPCMwI/AAAAAAAAJHc/0UZHligXzhQ/s640/pass2b.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Azores to Falmouth</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Among the scenes which are deeply impressed on my mind, none exceed in sublimity the primeval forests, undefaced by the hand of man, whether those of Brazil, where the powers of life are predominant, or those of Tierra del Fuego, where death &amp; decay prevail. Both are temples filled with the varied productions of the God of Nature: — No one can stand unmoved in these solitudes, without feeling that there is more in man than the mere breath of his body. — In calling up images of the past, I find the plains of Patagonia most frequently cross before my eyes. Yet these plains are pronounced by all most wretched &amp; useless. They are only characterized by negative possessions; — without habitations, without water, without trees, without mountains, they support merely a few dwarf plants. Why then, and the case is not peculiar to myself, do these arid wastes take so firm possession of the memory? Why have not the still more level, greener &amp; fertile Pampas, which are serviceable to mankind, produced an equal impression? I can scarcely analyse these feelings. — But it must be partly owing to the free scope given to the imagination. They are boundless, for they are scarcely practicable &amp; hence unknown: they bear the stamp of having thus lasted for ages, &amp; there appears no limit to their duration through future time. If, as the ancients supposed, the flat earth was surrounded by an impassable breadth of water, or by deserts heated to an intolerable excess, who would not look at these last boundaries to man's knowledge with deep, but ill defined sensations. — Lastly of natural scenery, the views from lofty mountains, though certainly in one sense not beautiful, are very memorable. I remember looking down from the crest of the highest Cordillera; the mind, undisturbed by minute details, was filled by the stupendous dimensions of the surrounding masses.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Of individual objects, perhaps no one is more sure to create astonishment, than the first sight, in his native haunt, of a real barbarian, — of man in his lowest and most savage state. One's mind hurries back over past centuries, &amp; then asks could our progenitors be such as these? Men, — whose very signs &amp; expressions are less intelligible to us than those of the domesticated animals; who do not possess the instinct of those animals, nor yet appear to boast of human reason, or at least of arts consequent on that reason. I do not believe it is possible to describe or paint the difference of savage and civilized man. It is the difference between a wild and tame animal: and part of the interest in beholding a savage is the same which would lead every one to desire to see the lion in his desert, the tiger tearing his prey in the jungle, the rhinoceros on the wide plain, or the hippopotamus wallowing in the mud of some African river.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Syms Covington Journal</span></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">The ship ran at times ten knots and six tenths. The following morning it blew a heavy gale, so that the ship was hove too under a close reefed maintopsail and storm staysail at same time. We were about 500 miles from the Lands End. The sea went down greatly in course of the day.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6255056120167460125.post-9422895342582108522011-09-28T06:16:00.004+01:002011-10-09T14:27:09.038+01:0028th September 1836<div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p2gHbWahGPU/ToKtoW5NP0I/AAAAAAAAJHM/KGFJFbiDnhg/s1600/amazon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="422" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p2gHbWahGPU/ToKtoW5NP0I/AAAAAAAAJHM/KGFJFbiDnhg/s640/amazon.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><b>Azores to Falmouth</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Let us now look at the brighter side of the past time. The pleasure derived from beholding the scenery and general aspect of the various countries we have visited, has decidedly been the most constant and highest source of enjoyment. It is probable that the picturesque beauty of many parts of Europe far exceeds anything we have beheld. But there is a growing pleasure in comparing the character of scenery in different countries, which to a certain degree is distinct from merely admiring their beauty. It more depends on an acquaintance with the individual parts of each view: I am strongly induced to believe that as in Music, the person who understands every note will, if he also has true taste, more thoroughily enjoy the whole; so he who examines each part of [a] fine view may also thoroughily comprehend the full and combined effect. Hence a traveller should be a botanist, for in all views plants form the chief embellishment. Group masses of naked rocks, even in the wildest forms; for a time they may afford a sublime spectacle, but they will soon grow monotomous; paint them with bright and varied colours, they will become fantastick; clothe them with vegetation, they must form, at least a decent, if not a most beautiful picture.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">When I said that the scenery of Europe was probably superior to anything which we have beheld, I must except, as a class by itself, that of the intertropical regions. The two can not be compared together; but I have already too often enlarged on the grandeur of these latter climates. As the force of impression frequently depends on preconceived ideas, I may add that all mine were taken from the vivid descriptions in the Personal Narrative which far exceed in merit anything I have ever read on the subject. Yet with these high wrought ideas, my feelings were very remote from partaking of a tinge of disappointment on first landing on the coast of Brazil.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6255056120167460125.post-1578874128916054102011-09-27T07:17:00.003+01:002011-10-09T14:26:55.055+01:0027th September 1836<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SEsZoBPFo54/ToFqaxbH-KI/AAAAAAAAJG4/j4WU9eIUN8A/s1600/heavy_seas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SEsZoBPFo54/ToFqaxbH-KI/AAAAAAAAJG4/j4WU9eIUN8A/s1600/heavy_seas.jpg" /></a></div><b>Azores to Falmouth</b><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">If a person suffers much from sea sickness, let him weigh it heavily in the balance: I speak from experience, it is no trifling evil cured in a week. If he takes pleasure in naval tactics, it will afford him full scope for his taste; but even the greater number of sailors, as it appears to me, have little real liking for the sea itself. &nbsp;It must be borne in mind how large a proportion of the time during a long voyage is spent on the water, as compared to the days in harbour. And what are the boasted glories of the illimitable ocean? A tedious waste, a desert of water as the Arabian calls it. No doubt there are some delightful scenes; a moonlight night, with the clear heavens, the dark glittering sea, the white sails filled by the soft air of a gently blowing trade wind, a dead calm, the heaving surface polished like a mirror, and all quite still excepting the occasional flapping of the sails.<br /><br />It is well once to behold a squall, with its rising arch, and coming fury, or the heavy gale and mountainous waves. I confess however my imagination had painted something more grand, more terrific in the full grown storm. It is a finer sight on the canvass of Vandervelde, and infinitely finer when beheld on shore, when the waving trees, the wild flight of the birds, the dark shadows &amp; bright lights, the rushing torrents all proclaim the strife of the unloosed elements. At sea, the albatross and petrel fly as if the storm was their proper sphere, the water rises and sinks as if performing its usual task, the ship alone and its inhabitants seem the object of wrath. On a forlorn &amp; weather-beaten coast the scene is indeed different, but the feelings partake more of horror than of wild delight.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6255056120167460125.post-8413564648170156562011-09-26T07:34:00.003+01:002011-10-09T14:26:41.362+01:0026th September 1836<b>Azores to Falmouth</b><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Our voyage having come to an end, I will take a short retrospect of the advantages and disadvantages the pain &amp; pleasure of our five years' wandering. If a person should ask my advice before undertaking a long voyage, my answer would depend upon his possessing a decided taste for some branch of knowledge, which could by such means be acquired. No doubt it is a high satisfaction to behold various countries, and the many races of Mankind, but the pleasures gained at the time do not counterbalance the evils. It is necessary to look forward to a harvest, however distant it may be, when some fruit will be reaped, some good effected. Many of the losses which must be experienced are obvious, such as that of the society of all old friends, and of the sight of those places with which every dearest remembrance is so intimately connected. These losses however, are at the time partly relieved by the exhaustless delight of anticipating the long wished for day of return. If, as poets say, life is a dream, I am sure in a long voyage these are the visions which best pass away the long night. Other losses, although not at first felt, after a period tell heavily, those are the want of room, of seclusion, of rest — the jading feeling of constant hurry — the privation of small luxuries, the comforts of civilization, domestic society, and lastly even of music &amp; the other pleasures of imagination. When such trifles are mentioned, it is evident that the real grievances (excepting from accidents) of a sea life are at an end. The short space of sixty years has made a most astonishing difference in the facility of distant navigation. Even in the time of Cook, a man who left his comfortable fire side for such expeditions, did undergo privations: a yatch with every luxury of life might now circumnavigate the globe. Besides the vast improvements in ships &amp; naval resources, the whole Western shores of America are thrown open; and Australia is become a metropolis of a rising continent. How different are the circumstances to a man shipwrecked at the present day in the Pacific, to what they would have been in the time of Cook: since his voyage a hemisphere has been added to the civilized world.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6255056120167460125.post-90499490723588912332011-09-25T07:46:00.001+01:002011-10-09T14:26:30.352+01:0025th September 1836<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GJsu_GNaCp8/Tn7OIVDDQ1I/AAAAAAAAJGc/VK3_spLp-OE/s1600/stm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GJsu_GNaCp8/Tn7OIVDDQ1I/AAAAAAAAJGc/VK3_spLp-OE/s320/stm.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><b>St. Michael's Island, Azores</b><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">By the following morning, we were off the city, &amp; a boat was sent on shore.— The Isld of St Michaels is considerably larger &amp; three times more populous &amp; enjoys a more extensive trade than Terceira. — The chief export is the fruit, for which a fleet of vessels annually arrives. Although several hundred vessels are loaded with oranges, these trees on neither island appear in any great numbers. No one would guess that this was the great market for the numberless oranges imposed into England. St Michaels has much the same open, semi-green, cultivated patchwork appearance as Terceira. The town is more scatted; the houses &amp; churches there &amp; throughout the country are white washed &amp; look from a distance neat and pretty. The land behind the town is less elevated than at Terceira, but yet rises considerably; it is thickly studded or rather made up of small mammiformed hills, each of which has sometime been an active Volcano. — In an hours time the boat returned without any letters, and then getting a good offing from the land, we steered, thanks to God, a direct course for England.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6255056120167460125.post-15462456462390904452011-09-23T17:59:00.001+01:002011-10-09T14:26:18.450+01:0024th September 1836<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Tctu7zruruI/Tny69biVeqI/AAAAAAAAJGQ/AXJCcewfv9Y/s1600/St._Michael_Azores_1845.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Tctu7zruruI/Tny69biVeqI/AAAAAAAAJGQ/AXJCcewfv9Y/s320/St._Michael_Azores_1845.jpg" width="176" /></a><b>Terceira, Azores</b><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">In the morning, we were off the Western end of St Michaels; to the capital of which we were bound in quest of letters. A contrary wind detained us the whole day,</div><br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Syms Covington Journal</span></b><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Sent a boat ashore, to the island of St. Michael; during which time the ship kept in the offing. This island, like the latter, is well cultivated, and thickly studded with houses. </span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6255056120167460125.post-3038004931420476742011-09-23T07:26:00.001+01:002011-10-09T14:26:04.758+01:0023rd September 1836<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mJSVZGxfEnw/TnwmgnnQLkI/AAAAAAAAJF8/2tertsAYwcI/s1600/vin.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mJSVZGxfEnw/TnwmgnnQLkI/AAAAAAAAJF8/2tertsAYwcI/s320/vin.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><b>Terceira, Azores</b><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Another day I set out early in the morning to visit the town of Praya seated on the NE and of the island. — The distance is about fifteen miles; the road ran the great part of the way not far from the coast. The country is all cultivated &amp; scattered with houses &amp; small villages. I noticed in several places, from the long traffic of the bullock waggons, that the solid lava, which formed in parts the road, was worn into ruts of the depth of twelve inches. This circumstance has been noticed with surprise, in the ancient pavement of Pompeii, as not occurring in any of the present towns of Italy. At this place the wheels have a tire surmounted by singularly large iron knobs, perhaps the old Roman wheels were thus furnished. The country during our morning's ride, was not interesting, excepting always the pleasant sight of a happy peasantry. The harvest was lately over, &amp; near to the houses the fine yellow heads of Indian corn, were bound, for the sake of drying, in large bundles to the stems of the poplar trees. These seen from a distance, appeared weighed down by some beautiful fruit,—the very emblem of fertility.—One part of the road crossed a broad stream of lava, which from its rocky &amp; black surface, showed itself to be of comparatively recent origin; indeed the crater whence it had flowed could be distinguished. The industrious inhabitants, have turned this space into vineyards, but for this purpose it was necessary to clear away the loose fragments &amp; pile them into a multitude of walls, which enclosed little patches of ground a few yards square; thus covering the country with a network of black lines.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The town of Praya is a quiet forlorn little place; Many years since a large city was here overwhelmed by an earthquake. It is asserted the land subsided, and a wall of a convent now bathed by the sea is shown as a proof: the fact is probable, but the proof not convincing. I returned home by another road, which first leads along the Northern shore, &amp; then crosses the central part of the Island.— This North Eastern extremity is particularly well cultivated, &amp; produces a large quantity of fine what. The square, open fields, &amp; small villages with white washed churches, gave to the view as seen from the heights, an aspect resembling the less picturesque parts of central England. — We soon reached the region of clouds, which during our whole visit have hung very low &amp; concealed the tops of the mountains. For a couple of hours we crossed the elevated central part, which is not inhabited &amp; bears a desolate appearance. When we descended from the clouds to the city, I heard the good news that observations had been obtained, &amp; that we should go to sea the same evening.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The anchorage is exposed to the whole swell of the Southern ocean, &amp; hence during the present boisterous time of year is very disagreeable &amp; far from safe.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6255056120167460125.post-12525893807539755432011-09-22T07:39:00.001+01:002011-10-09T14:25:51.053+01:0022nd September 1836<b>Terceira, Azores</b><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">I staid the greater part of the day on board.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6255056120167460125.post-50861890718496536912011-09-21T07:39:00.001+01:002011-10-09T14:25:39.682+01:0021st September 1836<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6YH_77_OZYc/TnmGi-2ZsRI/AAAAAAAAJFg/7I4j38fPudw/s1600/58210787.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="422" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6YH_77_OZYc/TnmGi-2ZsRI/AAAAAAAAJFg/7I4j38fPudw/s640/58210787.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><b>Terceira, Azores</b><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">The next day the Consul kindly lent me his horse &amp; furnished me with guides to proceed to a spot, in the centre of the island, which was described as an active crater. — Ascending in deep lanes, bordered on each side by high stone walls, for the three first miles, we passed many houses and gardens. We then entered on a very irregular plain country, consisting of more recent streams of hummocky basaltic lava. The rocks are covered in some parts by a thick brushwood about three feet high, and in others by heath, fern, &amp; short pasture: a few broken down old stone walls completed the resemblance with the mountains of Wales. I saw, moreover, some old English friends amongst the insects, and of birds, the starling, water wagtail, chaffinch and blackbird. There are no houses in this elevated and central part, and the ground is only used for the pasture of cattle and goats. On every side, besides the ridges of more ancient lavas, there were cones of various dimensions, which yet partly retained their crater-formed summits, and where broken down showed a pile of cinders such as those from an iron foundry. — When we reached the so called crater, I found it a slight depression, or rather a short valley abutting against a higher range, and without any exit. The bottom was traversed by several large fissures, out of which, in nearly a dozen places, small jets of steam issued, as from the cracks in the boiler of a steam engine.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The steam close to the irregular orifices, is far too hot for the hand to endure it; — it has but little smell, yet from everything made of iron being blackened, and from a peculiar rough sensation communicated to the skin, the vapour cannot be pure, and I imagine it contains some muriatic add gas. — The effect on the surrounding trachytic lavas is singular, the solid stone being entirely converted either into pure, snow white, porcelain clay, or into a kind of bright red or the two colours marbled together: the steam issued through the moist and hot clay. This phenomenon has thus gone on for many years; it is said that flames once issued from the cracks. During rain, the water from each bank, must flow into these cracks; &amp; it is probable that this same water, trickling down to the neighbourhood of some heated subterranean lava, causes this phenomenon. — Throughout the island, the powers below have been unusually active during the last year; several small earthquakes have been caused, and during a few days a jet of steam issued from a bold precipice overhanging the sea, not far from the town of Angra.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I enjoyed my day's ride, though I did not see much worth seeing: it was pleasant to meet such a number of fine peasantry; I do not recollect ever having beheld a set of handsomer young men, with more good humoured pleasant expressions.1 The men and boys are all dressed in a plain jacket &amp; trowsers, without shoes or stockings; their heads are barely covered by a little blue cloth cap with two ears and a border of red; this they lift in the most courteous manner to each passing stranger. Their clothes although very ragged, appeared singularly clean, as well as their persons; I am told, that in almost every cottage, a visitor will sleep in snow white sheets &amp; will dine off a clean napkin. Each man carries in his hand a walking staff about six feet high; by fixing a large knife at each extremity, they can make this into a formidable weapon. — Their ruddy complexions, bright eyes &amp; erect gait, made them a picture of a fine peasantry: how different from the Portugeese of Brazil! — The greater number, which we this day met, were employed in the mountains gathering sticks for fire-wood. — A whole family, from the father to the least boy, might be seen, each carrying his bundle on his head to sell in the town. Their burthens were very heavy; this hard labour &amp; the ragged state of their clothes too plainly bespoke poverty, yet I am told, it is not the want of food, but of all luxuries, a case parallel to that of Chiloe. — Hence, although the whole land is not cultivated, at the present time numbers emigrate to Brazil, where the contract to which they are bound, differs but little from slavery. It seems a great pity that so fine a population should be compelled [to] leave a land of plenty, where every article of food, meat, vegetables &amp; fruit, — is exceedingly cheap &amp; most abundant, but the labourer finds his labour of proportionally little value.–</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0