From time to time I left my bunk and paced the poop that I might better see the wide panorama under the varying shades of the night. There were marvellous changes in colour and in the general aspect of the land, with imperceptible changes of light. This I had noticed earlier in the day and it continued throughout the night; but of this I can hope to give only a crude outline, for the delicate shades of colour and the infinitesimal grades of light cannot be spread out with black and white under a quill. As the sun sank behind the hazy outline of the Cordilleras Mountains, over the Patagonian pampas, the grassy surface everywhere assumed a bright yellow tint, in harmony with the gold which is now scraped from the ground. The sandy cliffs which walled the shores were inky black on the north, and bright gray or brown on the south. The water retained its dark green hue until the semi-luminous, semi-liquid, purple of the long twilight flooded the whole scene. Then followed the short blackness of the night which again blended into an exquisite purple morning. As the sun rose over the cliff of Cape Virgins, the vast treeless plains were marked into sharp figures of brown and yellow and red. Hence these regions, like tastefully dressed women, have a special dress for every part of the day, and this garb changes the appearance of landmarks in such a manner that at times they are difficult of recognition. I will not force the parallel--but thus in one of the elements of beauty in this Strait, lies one of its greatest dangers to navigation. We tipped our anchor in the morning and advanced to the mouth of the second narrows, where we anchored at 4 P.M., December 1st. Here we learned from the latest budget of the French coast-pilot that there was a French settlement, and from the _Belgica_ a number of farm-houses were visible, which seemed to confirm the information. We accordingly prepared to pay the occupants a visit, and also to search the surrounding territory for specimens. Landing in the bend of Gregory Bay with a corps of scientific collectors, hunters and sailors, all of an adventurous turn of mind, we soon spread over the grassy pampas in every direction. Three of us who went to visit the farm-houses soon discovered that the coast-pilot’s information was not up to date. The Frenchmen in question had disappeared about ten years previous, and the entire region, practically everything within sight, belongs to a very wealthy Chilean sheep farmer, by the name of Menendez.