We passed some huts inhabited by mestizos. Each hut stands in the center of an enclosure containing banana trees, papaw trees, sugar cane and maize. The small extent of cultivated land might surprise us until we recall that an acre planted with bananas produces nearly twenty times as much food as the same space sown with cereals. In Europe our wheat, barley and rye cover vast spaces of land; in general arable lands border each other wherever inhabitants live on wheat. It is different in the torrid zone where man obtains food from plants that yield more abundant harvests more quickly. In these favored climates the immense fertility of the soil corresponds to the heat and humidity. A large population can be fed from a small plot of land covered with banana, cassava, yams and maize. The isolation of huts dispersed in the forest indicates to the traveler how fertile nature is.

According to tradition, during the quake of 1766 the earth moved in simple horizontal waves; only on the fatal day of the 14th of December did the earth rise up. More than four fifths of the city was completely destroyed, and the shock, accompanied by a loud subterranean noise, resembled the explosion of a mine placed deep in the ground. Fortunately the main shocks were preceded by light undulations thanks to which most of the inhabitants were able to reach the streets, and only a few who hid in the church died. It is generally believed in Cumana that the worst earthquakes are preceded by weak oscillations in the ground, and by a humming that does not escape the notice of those used to this phenomenon. In those desperate moments you heard people everywhere shouting 'Misericordia! Tiembla! Tiembla! ('Mercy! The earth is trembling!') The most faint- hearted attentively observe the dogs, goats and pigs. These last, with their acute sense of smell, and skill in poking around in the earth, give warnings of approaching dangers with frightened screams.

Above the region of Spartium nubigenum we passed through narrow defiles and small, old ravines cut by rainwater to a higher plateau and then on to the place where we intended to spend the night, some 1, toises above the coast. This place is called Estancia de los Ingleses (English Halt) because most of the travelers who have scaled the peak have been English. Two protruding rocks form a kind of cave, which offers shelter from the wind. This point, higher than the summit of Canigou, can be reached on mule: many a curious traveler hoping to reach the crater's edge from Orotava have had to wait here. Despite it being summer and there being a blue African sky above us that night we froze; the thermometer dropped to 5°C. Our guides lit a bonfire with dried retama branches. Without a tent or coats, we had to lie down on calcinated scree, and the flames and smoke that the wind drove ceaselessly towards us made it an extremely uncomfortable night. We had never spent a night so high up and I had no idea that we would soon live in cities higher than the summit of this volcano The further the temperature plummeted, the thicker the clouds round the peak grew. A strong north wind dissipated them; at intervals the moon appeared, its white disk shining against a blue backdrop. With the volcano in sight, that night scene was truly majestic. Suddenly the peak would disappear completely in the mist, then it would reappear worryingly close, casting its shadow over the clouds below us like some monstrous pyramid.

Towards sunset we reached the port of Orotava where we received the unexpected news that the Pizarro was not to sail until the 24th or 25th. Had we been warned of this delay we would have prolonged our stay on the peak, or made another journey to the volcano of Chahorra. The following day we visited the outskirts of Orotava and enjoyed the pleasant company that Cologan's house offered. We noticed that Tenerife had attractions not only for those who busy themselves with natural history; we found in Orotava several people who had a taste for literature and music, bringing their European sophistication with them to these distant islands. In this respect, with the exception of Havana, the Canary Islands bore no resemblance to any other Spanish colonies.

In this part of the cavern the rivulet deposits blackish earth, a mixture of silex, clay and vegetable detritus. We walked in thick mud to a place where, to our shock, we discovered underground vegetation. The seeds that the birds bring into the grotto to feed to their chicks germinate wherever they fall on to earth covering the calcareous Incrustations. Blanched stalks with rudimentary leaves rose to some 2 feet. It was impossible to identify the plants as the absence of light had completely transformed their form, color and aspect. These traces of plant life in the dark struck the Indians, usually so stupid and difficult to impress. They examined the plants in a silence inspired by a place they fear. You could have said these pale, deformed, underground plants seemed like ghosts banished from the earth's surface. For me, however, they recalled one of the happiest days of my youth when during a long stay at the Freiberg mines I began my research into the effects of blanching plants.

The city, dominated by the fort, lies at the foot of a hill without greenery. Not one bell-tower nor one dome attract the traveler from afar; just a few tamarind trees and coconut and date palms stand out above the flat-roofed houses. The surrounding plains, especially near the sea, appear sad, dusty and arid, while fresh, luxuriant vegetation marks out the winding river that divides the city from its outskirts and the European settlers from the copper-colored Indians. The isolated, bare and white San Antonio mountain, with its fort, reflects a great mass of light and heat: it is made of breccia, whose strata contain fossil marine life. Far away towards the south you can make out a dark curtain of mountains. They are the high calcareous New Andalusian alps, topped with sandstone and other recent geological formations. Majestic forests cover this inland mountain chain linked along a forested valley with the salty, clayey and bare ground around Cumana. In the gulf and on its shores you can see flocks of fishing herons and gannets, awkward, heavy birds, which, like swans, sail along the water with their wings raised. Nearer the inhabited areas, you can count thousands of gallinazo vultures, veritable flying jackals, ceaselessly picking at carcasses. A gulf whose depths contain hot thermal springs divides the secondary from the primary and schistose rocks of the Araya peninsula. The two coasts are bathed by a calm blue sea lightly rippled by a constant breeze. A dry, pure sky, only lightly clouded at sunset, lies above the sea, over a peninsula devoid of trees and above the Cumana plains, while one sees storms building up and bursting into fertile downpours around the inland mountain peaks.