within the memory of tradition, are
everywhere to be seen actually ground away, and polished like the
finest marble by the action of water. At the foot of the mountains,
traces of the sea are discernible 100 or 150 feet higher up than at
present. Huge masses of rock, too, bear traces of having been
violently rent, where now there is never a storm.

The best entrance to the desert is from Cobija, where the ascent at
once begins, and continues for a distance of about three leagues,
including the dried-up bed of a torrent, formed in the steep surface
of rock. About fifteen leagues from the coast, and parallel with it,
a chain of higher mountains rises to a height of between 7000 and 8000
feet. From the summit of these--and it is no easy task to climb so
far--one is enabled to form a slight idea of the desert of Atacama. To
the east, you see the majestic Cordilleras, their bright peaks
glittering in the distance through a golden mist; while on the north,
south, and west, there is an unrelieved expanse without sign of life
or hope, but everywhere silence: and what a silence! It is not the
stillness of a summer night in the country, nor of a church, nor of a
sickroom: it is the silence of death! As you gaze on the scene before
you, you are oppressed--almost overwhelmed by its dreary sadness. No
insect hum is heard; not even a bird is seen in the still air; the
earth, and the atmosphere above it, is one vast region of death. The
only link which connects the traveller with humanity, is a long row of
the skeletons of mules and horses, which have here left their bones
for a guide across the desert. The dead animals lie like mummies,
dried and shrivelled; hair, eyes, muscles, all are there. Their
appearance presents a remarkable peculiarity. One might suppose, that
having been overtaken by death under similar circumstances, the last
struggle over, their inanimate bodies would be marked by no
characteristic and distinctive difference. But the case is otherwise.
Both mule and horse have sunk from hunger, thirst, and exhaustion; yet
the position of the two animals in their lifeless state is invariably
unlike. The horse lies outstretched, the hoof in a straight line with
the knee, the teeth half-closed--a picture of exhaustion and
resignation. The mule, on the contrary, has always the limbs drawn up,
as if from cramp; the knees are bent, and the hoofs drawn inward
towards the body; the head is thrown back, the mouth awry, and the
tee