ce apart, into the water, and at length got
back to dry land with my miscellaneous load, and stood on the beach a
picture of an antiquary in distress, doubtless illustrating the proverb
to the Indian, who now came to my relief, if he had ever met with it in
the course of his reading, that no man can be a hero to his valet de
chambre. In honour of the event I determined to make an essay in
dissection, and to carry the bird home with me as a memorial of this
place.

By this time Doctor Cabot joined me, and it was necessary to return. We
had procured but one bird each, and had been disappointed of the grand
spectacle of clouds of beautiful plumage, but the account of our host
was no doubt true to the letter, for the season was late, and the
brilliant birds we were seeking had wended their way north; but even of
these, with the knowledge we had acquired of localities, two canoes,
and good setters, in another day we could have procured any number we
wanted. For mere sporting, such a ground is not often seen, and the
idea of a shooting lodge, or rather hut, on the shores of Punta de
Arenas for a few months in the season, with a party large enough to
consume the game, presented itself almost as attractively as that of
exploring ruined cities. On our return, each of us made a single shot,
from which we picked up between thirty and forty birds, leaving others
crippled and hopping on the beach. We got back to the hut; and tumbled
them all into a dry pot (the feathers being, of course, taken off), and
sat down ourselves to the business of dissection. With a finishing
touch from Doctor Cabot, I prepared a miserable specimen of a beautiful
bird, looking upon it, nevertheless, with great satisfaction as the
memorial of a remarkable place and an interesting adventure. In the
mean time, the birds on the fire were getting on swimmingly, in a
literal sense, giving decided evidence touching the richness of their
feeding-grounds. We had only tortillas as an accompaniment, but neither
we nor the birds had any reason to complain.

At four o'clock we took leave of our young host, and at dark reached
the port, and rode across the sandy plaza. The door which had opened to
us with so much alacrity was now shut, but not by the hand of
inhospitality. Mr. Catherwood and the owner had left for the village,
and the house was locked up. Some of the villagers, however, came to
us, and conducted us to the quartel, which was garrisoned by two women,
wh