APRIL 29th. -- In the morning we passed round thenorthern end of Mauritius, or the Isle of France.From this point of view the aspect of the islandequalled the expectations raised by the many well-knowndescriptions of its beautiful scenery. The sloping plain ofthe Pamplemousses, interspersed with houses, and colouredby the large fields of sugar-cane of a bright green, composedthe foreground. The brilliancy of the green was the moreremarkable because it is a colour which generally is conspicuousonly from a very short distance. Towards the centreof the island groups of wooded mountains rose out ofthis highly cultivated plain; their summits, as so commonlyhappens with ancient volcanic rocks, being jagged into thesharpest points. Masses of white clouds were collectedaround these pinnacles, as if for the sake of pleasing thestranger's eye. The whole island, with its sloping borderand central mountains, was adorned with an air of perfectelegance: the scenery, if I may use such an expression, appearedto the sight harmonious.

I spent the greater part of the next day in walking aboutthe town and visiting different people. The town is ofconsiderable size, and is said to contain 20,000 inhabitants;the streets are very clean and regular. Although the island hasbeen so many years under the English Government, the generalcharacter of the place is quite French: Englishmenspeak to their servants in French, and the shops are allFrench; indeed, I should think that Calais or Boulogne wasmuch more Anglified. There is a very pretty little theatre,in which operas are excellently performed. We were alsosurprised at seeing large booksellers' shops, with well-storedshelves; -- music and reading bespeak our approach to theold world of civilization; for in truth both Australia andAmerica are new worlds.

The various races of men walking in the streets afford themost interesting spectacle in Port Louis. Convicts fromIndia are banished here for life; at present there are about800, and they are employed in various public works. Beforeseeing these people, I had no idea that the inhabitants ofIndia were such noble-looking figures. Their skin is extremelydark, and many of the older men had large mustachesand beards of a snow-white colour; this, together withthe fire of their expression, gave them quite an imposingaspect. The greater number had been banished for murderand the worst crimes; others for causes which can scarcelybe considered as moral faults, such as for not obeying, fromsuperstitious motives, the English laws. These men aregenerally quiet and well-conducted; from their outwardconduct, their cleanliness, and faithful observance of theirstrange religious rites, it was impossible to look at themwith the same eyes as on our wretched convicts in NewSouth Wales.

May 1st. -- Sunday. I took a quiet walk along the seacoastto the north of the town. The plain in this part is quiteuncultivated; it consists of a field of black lava, smoothedover with coarse grass and bushes, the latter being chieflyMimosas. The scenery may be described as intermediate incharacter between that of the Galapagos and of Tahiti; butthis will convey a definite idea to very few persons. It is avery pleasant country, but it has not the charms of Tahiti, orthe grandeur of Brazil. The next day I ascended La Pouce,a mountain so called from a thumb-like projection, whichrises close behind the town to a height of 2,600 feet. Thecentre of the island consists of a great platform, surroundedby old broken basaltic mountains, with their strata dippingseawards. The central platform, formed of comparativelyrecent streams of lava, is of an oval shape, thirteengeographical miles across, in the line of its shorter axis. Theexterior bounding mountains come into that class of structurescalled Craters of Elevation, which are supposed to havebeen formed not like ordinary craters, but by a great andsudden upheaval. There appears to me to be insuperableobjections to this view: on the other hand, I can hardlybelieve, in this and in some other cases, that these marginalcrateriform mountains are merely the basal remnants ofimmense volcanos, of which the summits either have beenblown off, or swallowed up in subterranean abysses.

From our elevated position we enjoyed an excellent view over theisland. The country on this side appears pretty well cultivated,being divided into fields and studded with farm-houses.I was, however, assured that of the whole land, notmore than half is yet in a productive state; if such be thecase, considering the present large export of sugar, thisisland, at some future period when thickly peopled, will beof great value. Since England has taken possession of it, aperiod of only twenty-five years, the export of sugar is saidto have increased seventy-five fold. One great cause of itsprosperity is the excellent state of the roads. In theneighbouring Isle of Bourbon, which remains under the Frenchgovernment, the roads are still in the same miserable stateas they were here only a few years ago. Although theFrench residents must have largely profited by the increasedprosperity of their island, yet the English government is farfrom popular.

3rd. -- In the evening Captain Lloyd, the Surveyor-general,so well known from his examination of the Isthmus of Panama,invited Mr. Stokes and myself to his country-house,which is situated on the edge of Wilheim Plains, and aboutsix miles from the Port. We stayed at this delightful placetwo days; standing nearly 800 feet above the sea, the air wascool and fresh, and on every side there were delightful walks.Close by, a grand ravine has been worn to a depth of about500 feet through the slightly inclined streams of lava, whichhave flowed from the central platform.

5th. -- Captain Lloyd took us to the Riviere Noire, which isseveral miles to the southward, that I might examine somerocks of elevated coral. We passed through pleasant gardens,and fine fields of sugar-cane growing amidst hugeblocks of lava. The roads were bordered by hedges ofMimosa, and near many of the houses there were avenuesof the mango. Some of the views, where the peaked hillsand the cultivated farms were seen together, were exceedinglypicturesque; and we were constantly tempted toexclaim, "How pleasant it would be to pass one's life insuch quiet abodes!" Captain Lloyd possessed an elephant,and he sent it half way with us, that we might enjoy a ridein true Indian fashion. The circumstance which surprisedme most was its quite noiseless step. This elephantis the only one at present on the island; but it is said otherswill be sent for.

May 9th. -- We sailed from Port Louis, and, calling at theCape of Good Hope, on the 8th of July, we arrived off St.Helena. This island, the forbidding aspect of which hasbeen so often described, rises abruptly like a huge blackcastle from the ocean. Near the town, as if to completenature's defence, small forts and guns fill up every gap inthe rugged rocks. The town runs up a flat and narrowvalley; the houses look respectable, and are interspersedwith a very few green trees. When approaching the anchoragethere was one striking view: an irregular castle perchedon the summit of a lofty hill, and surrounded by a few scatteredfir-trees, boldly projected against the sky.

The next day I obtained lodgings within a stone's throwof Napoleon's tomb;

Near the coast the rough lava is quite bare: in the centraland higher parts, feldspathic rocks by their decompositionhave produced a clayey soil, which, where not covered byvegetation, is stained in broad bands of many bright colours.At this season, the land moistened by constant showers,produces a singularly bright green pasture, which lower andlower down, gradually fades away and at last disappears. Inlatitude 16 degs., and at the trifling elevation of 1500 feet,it is surprising to behold a vegetation possessing a characterdecidedly British. The hills are crowned with irregularplantations of Scotch firs; and the sloping banks are thicklyscattered over with thickets of gorse, covered with its brightyellow flowers. Weeping-willows are common on the banksof the rivulets, and the hedges are made of the blackberry,producing its well-known fruit. When we consider that thenumber of plants now found on the island is 746, and thatout of these fifty-two alone are indigenous species, the resthaving been imported, and most of them from England,we see the reason of the British character of the vegetation.Many of these English plants appear to flourish better thanin their native country; some also from the opposite quarterof Australia succeed remarkably well. The many importedspecies must have destroyed some of the native kinds; andit is only on the highest and steepest ridges that theindigenous Flora is now predominant.

The English, or rather Welsh character of the scenery, iskept up by the numerous cottages and small white houses;some buried at the bottom of the deepest valleys, and othersmounted on the crests of the lofty hills. Some of the viewsare striking, for instance that from near Sir W. Doveton'shouse, where the bold peak called Lot is seen over a darkwood of firs, the whole being backed by the red water-wornmountains of the southern coast. On viewing the islandfrom an eminence, the first circumstance which strikes one,is the number of the roads and forts: the labour bestowedon the public works, if one forgets its character as a prison,seems out of all proportion to its extent or value. Thereis so little level or useful land, that it seems surprising howso many people, about 5000, can subsist here. The lowerorders, or the emancipated slaves, are I believe extremelypoor: they complain of the want of work. From the reductionin the number of public servants owing to the islandhaving been given up by the East Indian Company, and theconsequent emigration of many of the richer people, thepoverty probably will increase. The chief food of the workingclass is rice with a little salt meat; as neither of thesearticles are the products of the island, but must be purchasedwith money, the low wages tell heavily on the poor people.Now that the people are blessed with freedom, a right whichI believe they value fully, it seems probable that their numberswill quickly increase: if so, what is to become of thelittle state of St. Helena?

My guide was an elderly man, who had been a goatherdwhen a boy, and knew every step amongst the rocks. Hewas of a race many times crossed, and although with adusky skin, he had not the disagreeable expression of amulatto. He was a very civil, quiet old man, and suchappears the character of the greater number of the lowerclasses. It was strange to my ears to hear a man, nearlywhite and respectably dressed, talking with indifference ofthe times when he was a slave. With my companion, whocarried our dinners and a horn of water, which is quitenecessary, as all the water in the lower valleys is saline, Ievery day took long walks.

Beneath the upper and central green circle, the wild valleysare quite desolate and untenanted. Here, to the geologist,there were scenes of high interest, showing successivechanges and complicated disturbances. According to myviews, St. Helena has existed as an island from a veryremote epoch: some obscure proofs, however, of the elevationof the land are still extant. I believe that the centraland highest peaks form parts of the rim of a great crater,the southern half of which has been entirely removed by thewaves of the sea: there is, moreover, an external wall ofblack basaltic rocks, like the coast-mountains of Mauritius,which are older than the central volcanic streams. On thehigher parts of the island, considerable numbers of a shell,long thought to be a marine species occur imbedded in the soil.

It proved to be a Cochlogena, or land-shell of a verypeculiar form;

The history of the changes, which the elevated plains ofLongwood and Deadwood have undergone, as given in GeneralBeatson's account of the island, is extremely curious.Both plains, it is said in former times were covered withwood, and were therefore called the Great Wood. So lateas the year 1716 there were many trees, but in 1724 the oldtrees had mostly fallen; and as goats and hogs had beensuffered to range about, all the young trees had been killed.It appears also from the official records, that the trees wereunexpectedly, some years afterwards, succeeded by a wiregrass which spread over the whole surface.

St. Helena, situated so remote from any continent, in themidst of a great ocean, and possessing a unique Flora, excitesour curiosity. The eight land-shells, though now extinct,and one living Succinea, are peculiar species found nowhereelse. Mr. Cuming, however, informs me that an EnglishHelix is common here, its eggs no doubt having been importedin some of the many introduced plants. Mr. Cumingcollected on the coast sixteen species of sea-shells, of whichseven, as far as he knows, are confined to this island. Birdsand insects,

In my walks I passed more than once over the grassy plainbounded by deep valleys, on which Longwood stands.Viewed from a short distance, it appears like a respectablegentleman's country-seat. In front there are a few cultivatedfields, and beyond them the smooth hill of colouredrocks called the Flagstaff, and the rugged square black massof the Barn. On the whole the view was rather bleak anduninteresting. The only inconvenience I suffered during mywalks was from the impetuous winds. One day I noticeda curious circumstance; standing on the edge of a plain,terminated by a great cliff of about a thousand feet in depth,I saw at the distance of a few yards right to windward, sometern, struggling against a very strong breeze, whilst, whereI stood, the air was quite calm. Approaching close to thebrink, where the current seemed to be deflected upwardsfrom the face of the cliff, I stretched out my arm, andimmediately felt the full force of the wind: an invisiblebarrier, two yards in width, separated perfectly calm airfrom a strong blast.

I so much enjoyed my rambles among the rocks and mountainsof St. Helena, that I felt almost sorry on the morningof the 14th to descend to the town. Before noon I was onboard, and the Beagle made sail.

On the 19th of July we reached Ascension. Those whohave beheld a volcanic island, situated under an arid climate,will at once be able to picture to themselves the appearanceof Ascension. They will imagine smooth conical hills of abright red colour, with their summits generally truncated,rising separately out of a level surface of black rugged lava.A principal mound in the centre of the island, seems thefather of the lesser cones. It is called Green Hill: itsname being taken from the faintest tinge of that colour,which at this time of the year is barely perceptible from theanchorage. To complete the desolate scene, the black rockson the coast are lashed by a wild and turbulent sea.

The settlement is near the beach; it consists of severalhouses and barracks placed irregularly, but well built ofwhite freestone. The only inhabitants are marines, and somenegroes liberated from slave-ships, who are paid and victualledby government. There is not a private person on theisland. Many of the marines appeared well contented with theirsituation; they think it better to serve their one-and-twentyyears on shore, let it be what it may, than in a ship; in thischoice, if I were a marine, I should most heartily agree.

The next morning I ascended Green Hill, 2840 feet high,and thence walked across the island to the windward point.A good cart-road leads from the coast-settlement to thehouses, gardens, and fields, placed near the summit of thecentral mountain. On the roadside there are milestones, andlikewise cisterns, where each thirsty passer-by can drinksome good water. Similar care is displayed in each part of theestablishment, and especially in the management of thesprings, so that a single drop of water may not be lost: indeedthe whole island may be compared to a huge ship keptin first-rate order. I could not help, when admiring theactive industry, which had created such effects out of suchmeans, at the same time regretting that it had been wasted onso poor and trifling an end. M. Lesson has remarked withjustice, that the English nation would have thought of makingthe island of Ascension a productive spot, any otherpeople would have held it as a mere fortress in the ocean.

Near this coast nothing grows; further inland, an occasionalgreen castor-oil plant, and a few grasshoppers, truefriends of the desert, may be met with. Some grass is scatteredover the surface of the central elevated region, and thewhole much resembles the worse parts of the Welsh mountains.But scanty as the pasture appears, about six hundredsheep, many goats, a few cows and horses, all thrive well onit. Of native animals, land-crabs and rats swarm in numbers.Whether the rat is really indigenous, may well be doubted;there are two varieties as described by Mr. Waterhouse;one is of a black colour, with fine glossy fur, andlives on the grassy summit, the other is brown-coloured andless glossy, with longer hairs, and lives near the settlementon the coast. Both these varieties are one-third smaller thanthe common black rat (M. rattus); and they differ from itboth in the colour and character of their fur, but in noother essential respect. I can hardly doubt that these rats(like the common mouse, which has also run wild) havebeen imported, and, as at the Galapagos, have varied fromthe effect of the new conditions to which they have beenexposed: hence the variety on the summit of the islanddiffers from that on the coast. Of native birds there arenone; but the guinea-fowl, imported from the Cape deVerd Islands, is abundant, and the common fowl has likewiserun wild. Some cats, which were originally turned outto destroy the rats and mice, have increased, so as to becomea great plague. The island is entirely without trees,in which, and in every other respect, it is very far inferiorto St. Helena.

One of my excursions took me towards the S. W. extremityof the island. The day was clear and hot, and I saw theisland, not smiling with beauty, but staring with nakedhideousness. The lava streams are covered with hummocks, andare rugged to a degree which, geologically speaking, is notof easy explanation. The intervening spaces are concealedwith layers of pumice, ashes and volcanic tuff. Whilst passingthis end of the island at sea, I could not imagine whatthe white patches were with which the whole plain wasmottled; I now found that they were seafowl, sleeping in suchfull confidence, that even in midday a man could walk upand seize hold of them. These birds were the only livingcreatures I saw during the whole day. On the beach a greatsurf, although the breeze was light, came tumbling overthe broken lava rocks.

The geology of this island is in many respects interesting.In several places I noticed volcanic bombs, that is, masses oflava which have been shot through the air whilst fluid, andhave consequently assumed a spherical or pear-shape. Notonly their external form, but, in several cases, their internalstructure shows in a very curious manner that they have revolvedin their aerial course. The internal structure of oneof these bombs, when broken, is represented very accuratelyin the woodcut. The central part is coarsely cellular, thecells decreasing in size towards the exterior; where thereis a shell-like case about the third of an inch in thickness,of compact stone, which again is overlaid by the outsidecrust of finely cellular lava. I think there can be littledoubt, first that the external crust cooled rapidly in the statein which we now see it; secondly, that the still fluid lavawithin, was packed by the centrifugal force, generated by

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the revolving of the bomb, against the external cooledcrust, and so produced the solid shell of stone; and lastly,that the centrifugal force, by relieving the pressure in themore central parts of the bomb, allowed the heated vapoursto expand their cells, thus forming the coarse cellular massof the centre.

A hill, formed of the older series of volcanic rocks, andwhich has been incorrectly considered as the crater of avolcano, is remarkable from its broad, slightly hollowed, andcircular summit having been filled up with many successivelayers of ashes and fine scoriae. These saucer-shaped layerscrop out on the margin, forming perfect rings of many differentcolours, giving to the summit a most fantastic appearance;one of these rings is white and broad, and resemblesa course round which horses have been exercised; hence thehill has been called the Devil's Riding School. I brought awayspecimens of one of the tufaceous layers of a pinkish colour andit is a most extraordinary fact, that Professor Ehrenberg

On leaving Ascension, we sailed for Bahia, on the coastof Brazil, in order to complete the chronometrical measurementof the world. We arrived there on August 1st, andstayed four days, during which I took several long walks.I was glad to find my enjoyment in tropical scenery had notdecreased from the want of novelty, even in the slightestdegree. The elements of the scenery are so simple, that theyare worth mentioning, as a proof on what trifling circumstancesexquisite natural beauty depends.

The country may be described as a level plain of aboutthree hundred feet in elevation, which in all parts has beenworn into flat-bottomed valleys. This structure is remarkablein a granitic land, but is nearly universal in all thosesofter formations of which plains are usually composed.The whole surface is covered by various kinds of statelytrees, interspersed with patches of cultivated ground, outof which houses, convents, and chapels arise. It must beremembered that within the tropics, the wild luxuriance ofnature is not lost even in the vicinity of large cities: forthe natural vegetation of the hedges and hill-sides overpowersin picturesque effect the artificial labour of man.Hence, there are only a few spots where the bright redsoil affords a strong contrast with the universal clothingof green. From the edges of the plain there are distantviews either of the ocean, or of the great Bay with itslow-wooded shores, and on which numerous boats and canoesshow their white sails. Excepting from these points, thescene is extremely limited; following the level pathways,on each hand, only glimpses into the wooded valleys belowcan be obtained. The houses I may add, and especially thesacred edifices, are built in a peculiar and rather fantasticstyle of architecture. They are all whitewashed; so thatwhen illumined by the brilliant sun of midday, and as seenagainst the pale blue sky of the horizon, they stand out morelike shadows than real buildings.

Such are the elements of the scenery, but it is a hopelessattempt to paint the general effect. Learned naturalistsdescribe these scenes of the tropics by naming a multitude ofobjects, and mentioning some characteristic feature of each.To a learned traveller this possibly may communicate somedefinite ideas: but who else from seeing a plant in an herbariumcan imagine its appearance when growing in its nativesoil? Who from seeing choice plants in a hothouse, canmagnify some into the dimensions of forest trees, and crowdothers into an entangled jungle? Who when examining inthe cabinet of the entomologist the gay exotic butterflies,and singular cicadas, will associate with these lifelessobjects, the ceaseless harsh music of the latter, and thelazy flight of the former, -- the sure accompaniments of thestill, glowing noonday of the tropics? It is when the sun hasattained its greatest height, that such scenes should beviewed: then the dense splendid foliage of the mango hidesthe ground with its darkest shade, whilst the upper branchesare rendered from the profusion of light of the most brilliantgreen. In the temperate zones the case is different -- thevegetation there is not so dark or so rich, and hence therays of the declining sun, tinged of a red, purple, or brightyellow color, add most to the beauties of those climes.

When quietly walking along the shady pathways, and admiringeach successive view, I wished to find language toexpress my ideas. Epithet after epithet was found too weakto convey to those who have not visited the intertropicalregions, the sensation of delight which the mind experiences.I have said that the plants in a hothouse fail to communicatea just idea of the vegetation, yet I must recur to it. The landis one great wild, untidy, luxuriant hothouse, made byNature for herself, but taken possession of by man, who hasstudded it with gay houses and formal gardens. How greatwould be the desire in every admirer of nature to behold,if such were possible, the scenery of another planet! yetto every person in Europe, it may be truly said, that atthe distance of only a few degrees from his native soil, theglories of another world are opened to him. In my lastwalk I stopped again and again to gaze on these beauties, andendeavoured to fix in my mind for ever, an impression whichat the time I knew sooner or later must fail. The form of theorange-tree, the cocoa-nut, the palm, the mango, the tree-fern,the banana, will remain clear and separate; but thethousand beauties which unite these into one perfect scenemust fade away: yet they will leave, like a tale heard inchildhood, a picture full of indistinct, but most beautifulfigures.

August 6th. -- In the afternoon we stood out to sea, withthe intention of making a direct course to the Cape de VerdIslands. Unfavourable winds, however, delayed us, and onthe 12th we ran into Pernambuco, -- a large city on thecoast of Brazil, in latitude 8 degs. south. We anchored outsidethe reef; but in a short time a pilot came on board andtook us into the inner harbour, where we lay close to thetown.

Pernambuco is built on some narrow and low sand-banks,which are separated from each other by shoal channels ofsalt water. The three parts of the town are connected togetherby two long bridges built on wooden piles. The town is inall parts disgusting, the streets being narrow, ill-paved,and filthy; the houses, tall and gloomy. The seasonof heavy rains had hardly come to an end, and hence thesurrounding country, which is scarcely raised above thelevel of the sea, was flooded with water; and I failed inall my attempts to take walks.

The flat swampy land on which Pernambuco stands is surrounded,at the distance of a few miles, by a semicircle oflow hills, or rather by the edge of a country elevated perhapstwo hundred feet above the sea. The old city ofOlinda stands on one extremity of this range. One day Itook a canoe, and proceeded up one of the channels to visitit; I found the old town from its situation both sweeter andcleaner than that of Pernambuco. I must here commemoratewhat happened for the first time during our nearly fiveyears' wandering, namely, having met with a want of politeness.I was refused in a sullen manner at two differenthouses, and obtained with difficulty from a third, permissionto pass through their gardens to an uncultivated hill,for the purpose of viewing the country. I feel glad thatthis happened in the land of the Brazilians, for I bearthem no good will -- a land also of slavery, and thereforeof moral debasement. A Spaniard would have felt ashamedat the very thought of refusing such a request, or ofbehaving to a stranger with rudeness. The channel by whichwe went to and returned from Olinda, was bordered on eachside by mangroves, which sprang like a miniature forest outof the greasy mud-banks. The bright green colour of thesebushes always reminded me of the rank grass in a church-yard:both are nourished by putrid exhalations; the one speaks ofdeath past, and the other too often of death to come.

The most curious object which I saw in this neighbourhood,was the reef that forms the harbour. I doubt whetherin the whole world any other natural structure has so artificialan appearance.

On the 19th of August we finally left the shores of Brazil.I thank God, I shall never again visit a slave-country. Tothis day, if I hear a distant scream, it recalls with painfulvividness my feelings, when passing a house near Pernambuco,I heard the most pitiable moans, and could not butsuspect that some poor slave was being tortured, yet knewthat I was as powerless as a child even to remonstrate. Isuspected that these moans were from a tortured slave, for Iwas told that this was the case in another instance. NearRio de Janeiro I lived opposite to an old lady, who keptscrews to crush the fingers of her female slaves. I havestayed in a house where a young household mulatto, dailyand hourly, was reviled, beaten, and persecuted enough tobreak the spirit of the lowest animal. I have seen a littleboy, six or seven years old, struck thrice with a horse-whip(before I could interfere) on his naked head, for havinghanded me a glass of water not quite clean; I saw hisfather tremble at a mere glance from his master's eye.These latter cruelties were witnessed by me in a Spanishcolony, in which it has always been said, that slaves arebetter treated than by the Portuguese, English, or otherEuropean nations. I have seen at Rio de Janeiro a powerfulnegro afraid to ward off a blow directed, as he thought, at hisface. I was present when a kind-hearted man was on thepoint of separating forever the men, women, and littlechildren of a large number of families who had long livedtogether. I will not even allude to the many heart-sickeningatrocities which I authentically heard of; -- nor would I havementioned the above revolting details, had I not met withseveral people, so blinded by the constitutional gaiety of thenegro as to speak of slavery as a tolerable evil. Such peoplehave generally visited at the houses of the upper classes, wherethe domestic slaves are usually well treated, and they havenot, like myself, lived amongst the lower classes. Suchinquirers will ask slaves about their condition; they forgetthat the slave must indeed be dull, who does not calculateon the chance of his answer reaching his master's ears.

It is argued that self-interest will prevent excessive cruelty;as if self-interest protected our domestic animals, whichare far less likely than degraded slaves, to stir up the rageof their savage masters. It is an argument long since protestedagainst with noble feeling, and strikingly exemplified,by the ever-illustrious Humboldt. It is often attempted topalliate slavery by comparing the state of slaves with ourpoorer countrymen: if the misery of our poor be causednot by the laws of nature, but by our institutions, great isour sin; but how this bears on slavery, I cannot see; as wellmight the use of the thumb-screw be defended in oneland, by showing that men in another land suffered fromsome dreadful disease. Those who look tenderly at the slaveowner, and with a cold heart at the slave, never seem to putthemselves into the position of the latter; what a cheerlessprospect, with not even a hope of change! picture to yourselfthe chance, ever hanging over you, of your wife andyour little children -- those objects which nature urges eventhe slave to call his own -- being torn from you and soldlike beasts to the first bidder! And these deeds are doneand palliated by men, who profess to love their neighboursas themselves, who believe in God, and pray that his Will bedone on earth! It makes one's blood boil, yet heart tremble,to think that we Englishmen and our American descendants,with their boastful cry of liberty, have been and are soguilty: but it is a consolation to reflect, that we at leasthave made a greater sacrifice, than ever made by any nation,to expiate our sin.

On the last day of August we anchored for the second timeat Porto Praya in the Cape de Verd archipelago; thence weproceeded to the Azores, where we stayed six days. On the2nd of October we made the shore, of England; and at FalmouthI left the Beagle, having lived on board the good littlevessel nearly five years.

Our Voyage having come to an end, I will take a shortretrospect of the advantages and disadvantages, the painsand pleasures, of our circumnavigation of the world. If aperson asked my advice, before undertaking a long voyage,my answer would depend upon his possessing a decided tastefor some branch of knowledge, which could by this means beadvanced. No doubt it is a high satisfaction to behold variouscountries and the many races of mankind, but the pleasuresgained at the time do not counterbalance the evils. It isnecessary to look forward to a harvest, however distantthat may be, when some fruit will be reaped, some goodeffected.

Many of the losses which must be experienced are obvious;such as that of the society of every old friend, and of thesight of those places with which every dearest remembranceis so intimately connected. These losses, however, are atthe time partly relieved by the exhaustless delight ofanticipating the long wished-for day of return. If, as poetssay, life is a dream, I am sure in a voyage these are thevisions which best serve to pass away the long night. Otherlosses, although not at first felt, tell heavily after a period:these are the want of room, of seclusion, of rest; the jadingfeeling of constant hurry; the privation of small luxuries, theloss of domestic society and even of music and the otherpleasures of imagination. When such trifles are mentioned, it isevident that the real grievances, excepting from accidents, ofa sea-life are at an end. The short space of sixty years hasmade an astonishing difference in the facility of distantnavigation. Even in the time of Cook, a man who lefthis fireside for such expeditions underwent severe privations.A yacht now, with every luxury of life, can circumnavigatethe globe. Besides the vast improvements in ships andnaval resources, the whole western shores of America arethrown open, and Australia has become the capital of arising continent. How different are the circumstances to aman shipwrecked at the present day in the Pacific, to whatthey were in the time of Cook! Since his voyage a hemispherehas been added to the civilized world.

If a person suffer much from sea-sickness, let him weighit heavily in the balance. I speak from experience: it is notrifling evil, cured in a week. If, on the other hand, he takepleasure in naval tactics, he will assuredly have full scopefor his taste. But it must be borne in mind, how large aproportion of the time, during a long voyage, is spent onthe water, as compared with the days in harbour. And whatare the boasted glories of the illimitable ocean. A tediouswaste, a desert of water, as the Arabian calls it. No doubtthere are some delightful scenes. A moonlight night, withthe clear heavens and the dark glittering sea, and the whitesails filled by the soft air of a gently blowing trade-wind, adead calm, with the heaving surface polished like a mirror,and all still except the occasional flapping of the canvas.It is well once to behold a squall with its rising arch andcoming fury, or the heavy gale of wind and mountainouswaves. I confess, however, my imagination had paintedsomething more grand, more terrific in the full-grown storm.It is an incomparably finer spectacle when beheld on shore,where the waving trees, the wild flight of the birds, thedark shadows and bright lights, the rushing of the torrentsall proclaim the strife of the unloosed elements. At seathe albatross and little petrel fly as if the storm were theirproper sphere, the water rises and sinks as if fulfilling itsusual task, the ship alone and its inhabitants seem the objectsof wrath. On a forlorn and weather-beaten coast, the sceneis indeed different, but the feelings partake more of horrorthan of wild delight.

Let us now look at the brighter side of the past time. Thepleasure derived from beholding the scenery and the generalaspect of the various countries we have visited, has decidedlybeen the most constant and highest source of enjoyment. Itis probable that the picturesque beauty of many parts ofEurope exceeds anything which we beheld. But there is agrowing pleasure in comparing the character of the sceneryin different countries, which to a certain degree is distinctfrom merely admiring its beauty. It depends chiefly on anacquaintance with the individual parts of each view. I amstrongly induced to believe that as in music, the person whounderstands every note will, if he also possesses a propertaste, more thoroughly enjoy the whole, so he who examineseach part of a fine view, may also thoroughly comprehendthe full and combined effect. Hence, a traveller should bea botanist, for in all views plants form the chiefembellishment. Group masses of naked rock, even in the wildestforms, and they may for a time afford a sublime spectacle,but they will soon grow monotonous. Paint them with brightand varied colours, as in Northern Chile, they will becomefantastic; clothe them with vegetation, they must form adecent, if not a beautiful picture.

When I say that the scenery of parts of Europe is probablysuperior to anything which we beheld, I except, as a class byitself, that of the intertropical zones. The two classes cannotbe compared together; but I have already often enlarged onthe grandeur of those regions. As the force of impressionsgenerally depends on preconceived ideas, I may add, thatmine were taken from the vivid descriptions in the PersonalNarrative of Humboldt, which far exceed in merit anythingelse which I have read. Yet with these high-wrought ideas,my feelings were far from partaking of a tinge of disappointmenton my first and final landing on the shores of Brazil.

Among the scenes which are deeply impressed on my mind,none exceed in sublimity the primeval forests undefaced bythe hand of man; whether those of Brazil, where the powersof Life are predominant, or those of Tierra del Fuego,where Death and decay prevail. Both are temples filled withthe varied productions of the God of Nature: -- no one canstand in these solitudes unmoved, and not feel that there ismore in man than the mere breath of his body. In callingup images of the past, I find that the plains of Patagoniafrequently cross before my eyes; yet these plains are pronouncedby all wretched and useless. They can be describedonly by negative characters; without habitations, withoutwater, without trees, without mountains, they support merelya few dwarf plants. Why, then, and the case is not peculiarto myself, have these arid wastes taken so firm a hold onmy memory? Why have not the still more level, the greenerand more fertile Pampas, which are serviceable to mankind,produced an equal impression? I can scarcely analyze thesefeelings: but it must be partly owing to the free scope givento the imagination. The plains of Patagonia are boundless,for they are scarcely passable, and hence unknown: theybear the stamp of having lasted, as they are now, for ages,and there appears no limit to their duration through futuretime. If, as the ancients supposed, the flat earth wassurrounded by an impassable breadth of water, or by desertsheated to an intolerable excess, who would not look at theselast boundaries to man's knowledge with deep but ill-definedsensations?

Lastly, of natural scenery, the views from lofty mountains,through certainly in one sense not beautiful, are verymemorable. When looking down from the highest crest of theCordillera, the mind, undisturbed by minute details, wasfilled with the stupendous dimensions of the surrounding masses.

Of individual objects, perhaps nothing is more certain tocreate astonishment than the first sight in his native haunt ofa barbarian -- of man in his lowest and most savage state.One's mind hurries back over past centuries, and then asks,could our progenitors have been men like these? -- men,whose very signs and expressions are less intelligible to usthan those of the domesticated animals; men, who do notpossess the instinct of those animals, nor yet appear to boastof human reason, or at least of arts consequent on thatreason. I do not believe it is possible to describe or paintthe difference between savage and civilized man. It isthe difference between a wild and tame animal: and partof the interest in beholding a savage, is the same whichwould lead every one to desire to see the lion in his desert,the tiger tearing his prey in the jungle, or the rhinoceroswandering over the wild plains of Africa.

Among the other most remarkable spectacles which wehave beheld, may be ranked, the Southern Cross, the cloudof Magellan, and the other constellations of the southernhemisphere -- the water-spout -- the glacier leading its bluestream of ice, over-hanging the sea in a bold precipice -- alagoon-island raised by the reef-building corals -- an activevolcano -- and the overwhelming effects of a violent earthquake.These latter phenomena, perhaps, possess for me apeculiar interest, from their intimate connection with thegeological structure of the world. The earthquake, however,must be to every one a most impressive event: the earth,considered from our earliest childhood as the type of solidity,has oscillated like a thin crust beneath our feet; andin seeing the laboured works of man in a moment overthrown,we feel the insignificance of his boasted power.

It has been said, that the love of the chase is an inherentdelight in man -- a relic of an instinctive passion. If so, Iam sure the pleasure of living in the open air, with the skyfor a roof and the ground for a table, is part of the samefeeling, it is the savage returning to his wild and nativehabits. I always look back to our boat cruises, and my landjourneys, when through unfrequented countries, with an extremedelight, which no scenes of civilization could havecreated. I do not doubt that every traveller must rememberthe glowing sense of happiness which he experienced, whenhe first breathed in a foreign clime, where the civilized manhad seldom or never trod.

There are several other sources of enjoyment in a longvoyage, which are of a more reasonable nature. The mapof the world ceases to be a blank; it becomes a picture fullof the most varied and animated figures. Each part assumesits proper dimensions: continents are not looked at in thelight of islands, or islands considered as mere specks, whichare, in truth, larger than many kingdoms of Europe. Africa,or North and South America, are well-sounding names, andeasily pronounced; but it is not until having sailed forweeks along small portions of their shores, that one isthoroughly convinced what vast spaces on our immense worldthese names imply.

From seeing the present state, it is impossible not to lookforward with high expectations to the future progress ofnearly an entire hemisphere. The march of improvement,consequent on the introduction of Christianity throughoutthe South Sea, probably stands by itself in the records ofhistory. It is the more striking when we remember that onlysixty years since, Cook, whose excellent judgment none willdispute, could foresee no prospect of a change. Yet thesechanges have now been effected by the philanthropic spiritof the British nation.

In the same quarter of the globe Australia is rising, orindeed may be said to have risen, into a grand centre ofcivilization, which, at some not very remote period, will ruleas empress over the southern hemisphere. It is impossiblefor an Englishman to behold these distant colonies, withouta high pride and satisfaction. To hoist the British flag,seems to draw with it as a certain consequence, wealth,prosperity, and civilization.

In conclusion, it appears to me that nothing can be moreimproving to a young naturalist, than a journey in distantcountries. It both sharpens, and partly allays that want andcraving, which, as Sir J. Herschel remarks, a man experiencesalthough every corporeal sense be fully satisfied. Theexcitement from the novelty of objects, and the chance ofsuccess, stimulate him to increased activity. Moreover, as anumber of isolated facts soon become uninteresting, thehabit of comparison leads to generalization. On the otherhand, as the traveller stays but a short time in each place,his descriptions must generally consist of mere sketches,instead of detailed observations. Hence arises, as I have foundto my cost, a constant tendency to fill up the wide gaps ofknowledge, by inaccurate and superficial hypotheses.

But I have too deeply enjoyed the voyage, not to recommendany naturalist, although he must not expect to be sofortunate in his companions as I have been, to take allchances, and to start, on travels by land if possible, ifotherwise, on a long voyage. He may feel assured, he will meetwith no difficulties or dangers, excepting in rare cases, nearlyso bad as he beforehand anticipates. In a moral point ofview, the effect ought to be, to teach him good-humouredpatience, freedom from selfishness, the habit of acting forhimself, and of making the best of every occurrence. Inshort, he ought to partake of the characteristic qualities ofmost sailors. Travelling ought also to teach him distrust; butat the same time he will discover, how many truly kind-heartedpeople there are, with whom he never before had, or ever againwill have any further communication, who yet are ready to offerhim the most disinterested assistance.