Along the shores of the Pacific, I never ceased during my many and long excursions to feel astonished at seeing every valley, ravine, and even little inequality of surface, both in the hard granitic and soft tertiary districts, retaining the exact outline, which they had when the sea left their surfaces coated with organic remains. When these remains shall have decayed, there will be scarcely any difference in appearance between this line of coast-land and most other countries, which we are accustomed to believe have assumed their present features chiefly through the agency of the weather and fresh-water streams. In the old granitic districts, no doubt it would be rash to attribute all the modifications of outline exclusively to the sea-action; for who can say how often this lately submerged coast may not previously have existed as land, worn by running streams and washed by rain? This source of doubt, however, does not apply to the districts superficially formed of the modern tertiary deposits. The valleys worn by the sea, through the softer formations, both on the Atlantic and Pacific sides of the continent, are generally broad, winding, and flat-bottomed: the only district of this nature now penetrated by arms of the sea, is the island of Chiloe. Finally, the conclusion at which I have arrived, with respect to the relative powers of rain and sea water on the land, is, that the latter is far the most efficient agent, and that its chief tendency is to widen the valleys; whilst torrents and rivers tend to deepen them, and to remove the wreck of the sea’s destroying action. As the waves have more power, the more open and exposed the space may be, so will they always tend to widen more and more the mouths of valleys compared with their upper parts: hence, doubtless, it is, that most valleys expand at their mouths,—that part, at which the rivers flowing in them, generally have the least wearing power.