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The character of the vegetation was the same as that about Santiago, but the general aspect indicated a decided increase of dryness in the climate, so that at the present season there was very little remaining to be gleaned by the botanical collector. As usually happens, however, careful search did not go quite unrewarded. I found several species not before seen, and even where there were no specimens fit for preservation something was to be learned. My next object was to ascend the neighbouring hill, or cerro, which immediately overlooks the town of Santa Rosa. A new proprietor had bought a tract of land on the left bank of the river, and erected very substantial fences rather troublesome to a trespasser. My socalled guide dropped behind as I began to ascend the hill-only five or six hundred feet in height-finally turned back, and, having deposited my goods at the hotel, claimed and received an ill-earned fee. The stony slopes were utterly parched, yet I found a few botanical novelties. A small shrubby composite with prickly leaves, but with the habit and inflorescence of a Baccharis, was still in tolerable condition. I took it for the female plant of some species of that characteristic South American diœcious genus; but I afterwards ascertained that it belonged to a completely different group, namely, the Mutisiacea, being the Proustia baccharoides of Don.

The view from the summit of the Cerro towards the Andean range was not equal to that from San Felipe, but on the opposite side the outlook towards the plain was interesting. The contrast between the zone of cultivation in the low lands accessible to

irrigation and the higher ground, burnt by the summer to a uniform yellow-brown tint, was striking to the eye. The town of Santa Rosa, laid out on the flat at the foot of the hill, was a curious feature in the prospect. It was designed on the regular plan which seems to have recommended itself to all the European settlers in the American continent, but which I have nowhere seen so exactly carried out as at this place. A chess-board supplied the model, with one row of squares cut off to avoid some rough ground. Fifty-six squares-quadras-exactly equal in size, are divided by broad roads, and the whole is surrounded by a wall about half a mile in length each way. The quadra in the centre forms the plaza; the others were to be occupied by houses and gardens. To make the town, as planned by its founders, a perfect model, it wants nothing but houses and people to live in them.. It was, perhaps, imagined that, being on the main line of communication across the Andes, this might become a place of some importance; but the traffic is very limited, and, such as it is, it is carried on by trains of horses and mules that travel to and fro between Valparaiso and Mendoza. The area of land fit for cultivation in the valley above San Felipe is small, and the resort of retail traders doubtless very limited. The result is that Santa Rosa is a town without houses. Many of the quadras are occupied by a single house and annexed garden, and only round or close to the plaza is such a thing as a row of adjoining buildings to be seen.

The morning of May 25 was noteworthy as producing the solitary instance of punctuality in a native

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of South America that I encountered in the course of my journey. The virtuous driver of the carriage which I had engaged to take me to the Resguardo was actually at the door of the hotel at the appointed hour, soon after sunrise; but it availed little for my object. Not a soul was stirring in the hotel; and though I made no small disturbance, it was long before I could induce the lazy waiter to make his appearance. I had not thought of providing my breakfast overnight, and could not start without food for a long day's expedition.

At length we started on the road by the left bank which I had followed on the previous evening, and, the weather being again nearly perfect, I thoroughly enjoyed a very charming excursion, which carried me farther into the heart of the Cordillera than I had yet reached. As very often happens, however, the nearer one gets to the great peaks the less one is able to see of them. The general outline of the slopes in the inner valleys of high mountain countries is usually convex, because the torrents have deepened the trench between opposite slopes more quickly than subaërial action has worn away the flanks; and it is only exceptionally that the summits of the ridges can be seen from the intervening valley. Among mountains where the main lines of valley are, so to say, structural -ie. depending on inequalities produced during the original elevation of the mountain mass—the case is somewhat different. Such valleys are usually nearly straight, as we see so commonly in the European Alps, and the peaks lying about the head of the valley are therefore often in view; but in the Andes,

as in many parts of the Rocky Mountains, it would appear that the valleys are exclusively due to erosive action, and, their direction being determined by merely local conditions, they are extremely sinuous, and rarely follow the same direction for any considerable distance.

The road up the Aconcagua valley seemed to me at the time to be about the worst over which I ever travelled in a carriage, but I had not then made acquaintance with the mountain tracks, which they are pleased to call roads, in the United States. Looking back in the light of subsequent experience, I suppose that the Chilian roads should rank among the best in the American continent, although this one was so uneven that in awkward places, where it overhung the river, the carriage was often tilted so much. to one side that I was thankful not to have with me a nervous companion.

About half-way to the Resguardo the road crosses the river by a stone bridge, where it rushes in a narrow channel between high rocky banks. Seeing botanical inducements, I descended to examine the banks on either side, and in crossing the bridge noticed, what I might otherwise have overlooked, that the crown of the arch was rapidly giving way. There was a large hole in the centre, and the structure was sustained only by the still solid masonry on each side, where the wear and tear had been less constant. I have often admired the calm good sense displayed by the horses in all parts of America, and was interested in observing the prudent way in which our steeds selected the safest spots on either side of the

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hole without any appearance of the nervousness which seems hereditary in English horses, partly due, I suppose, to the unnatural conditions in which they live. With every confidence in animal sagacity, but none whatever in the stability of the bridge, I thought it judicious on my return in the evening to recross it on foot.

I found two or three curious plants not before seen on the rocks here, and again found the singular Zygophyllaceous shrub Porliera hygrometrica, which is not uncommon in this part of Chili. The numerous stiff spiny branches diverging at right angles must produce flowers during a great part of the year, as I observed at this season both nearly ripe fruit and flowers in various stages of development. The small pinnate leaves, somewhat resembling in form those of the sensitive plant, have something of the same quality. But in this case the effective stimulus seems to be that of light, causing them to expand in sunshine and to close when the sky is covered. If at all, they must be very slightly affected by contact, as I failed to observe it. If I am correct, the appropriate specific name would be photometrica rather than hygrometrica.

In the hedges and among the bushes a pretty climbing plant (Eccremocarpus scaber) seemed to be common on the right bank of the stream, producing flower and ripe fruit at the same time. It belongs to the trumpetflower tribe (Bignoniacea), though not rivalling in size or brilliancy of colour the true Bignonias which I afterwards saw in Brazil.

Having passed on the left the opening of a narrow