_bees from british guiana_ by t. d. a. cockerell bulletin of the american museum of natural history vol. xxxviii, art. xx, pp. 685-690 _new york, december 21, 1918_ 59.57.99(88) #article xx.#--bees from british guiana by t. d. a. cockerell. in connection with the work of the tropical research station of the new york zoological society, conducted by mr. william beebe, collections of insects, including bees, were made. the present report deals with a series of bees from the bartica district, and mr. john tee van, in forwarding them, states that "almost all of these bees were procured about a clump of several species of nightshades (_solanum_), which were flowering in thinned-out jungle." i give an artificial key, which will enable one who is not a specialist in bees to separate readily each species from the rest. it will, of course, remain necessary to compare any species with a fuller account to make sure that it is not some form unrepresented in the present collection. the types of the new species and varieties from british guiana are deposited in the american museum of natural history. species marked p. are from the penal settlement; those marked k. occur at kalacoon. the body, or some part of it, brilliant green 1. no part of the body brilliant green 11. 1. thorax dark, with more or less purple tints, not bright green 2. thorax bright or clear green, at least in part 4. 2. small bee, less than 10 mm. long _augochlora callichlorura_, new species. large, robust bees, greatly exceeding 10 mm. 3. 3. abdomen with the first two segments dark; tongue not extending to end of abdomen _eufriesia pulchra_ (smith). abdomen all bright green, with brassy tints; tongue extending backward far beyond tip of abdomen _euglossa brullei_ lepeletier. 4. hind margins of abdominal segments broadly black. _augochlora nigromarginata_ (spinola).--p. hind margins of abdominal segments green 5. hind margins of abdominal segments red or whitish; very robust bees 10. 5. small bee, less than 10 mm. long, the clypeus with a transverse apical ivory-colored band _ceratina læta_ spinola. larger, very robust bees 6. 6. tongue extending beyond abdomen posteriorly 7. tongue not extending beyond abdomen 8. 7. scutellum with a patch of black tomentum _euglossa ignita_ smith; female. scutellum without a patch of black tomentum _euglossa ignita_ smith; male. 8. robust bees, about 10 mm. long or a little over; scutellum with, a patch of black tomentum _euglossa cordata_ (linnæus).--p. much larger bees, a little over 20 mm. long 9. 9. scutellum with an obtuse median keel; posterior angles of scutellum rounded _exærele smaragdina_ (guérin). scutellum depressed in middle, without any keel; posterior angles of scutellum rather prominent _exærele dentata_ (linné). 10. scutellum with a patch of light fulvous tomentum; scape red. _euglossa decorata ruficauda_, new variety; female--k. scutellum with a patch of black tomentum; scape dark, with a pale yellow mark _euglossa singularis_ mocsáry.--p. scutellum without a patch of tomentum; scape pale yellow in front. _euglossa decorata ruficauda_, new variety; male. 11. very large bees, anterior wing at least 23 mm. long; integument partly or wholly ferruginous 12. anterior wing less than 20 mm. long 13. 12. abdomen with broad black bands. _xylocopa frontalis nitens_ (lepeletier); male[a]--p. abdomen without black bands _xylocopa fimbriala_ (fabricius). 13. wasp-like bee, with fusiform abdomen, reddish wings and red legs; three complete submarginal cells, first recurrent nervure meeting second transversocubital _rhathymus beebei_, new species otherwise formed, the abdomen broad at base 14. 14. surface of eyes with fine short hair; first abdominal segment red, the others black; female abdomen sharply pointed. _cælioxys ardescens_ cockerell. (hym. 6 and 138.) eyes not hairy; female abdomen not sharply pointed 15. 15. anterior wings with three complete submarginal cells 16. anterior wings with submarginal cells incomplete or wanting; stingless social bees 29. 16. small bee, about 8 mm. long; wings beyond middle milky-white, the extreme apex dusky _tetrapedia lacteipennis_ vachal.--p. larger bees; the wings not thus colored 17. 17. abdomen clear ferruginous; large robust bees 18. abdomen not ferruginous; or only partly so 19. 18. hind legs with black hair _centris personata_ smith; male.--p. hind legs with pale hair _centris personata_ smith; female.--p. 19. integument with at least some bluish, purplish or greenish tints; abdomen not banded; form very robust 20. integument not at all metallic (very slightly in _eulæma nigrita_, variety) 21. 20. larger; anterior wing at least 17 mm. long; head and thorax with black hair; fourth and fifth abdominal segments purple _eulæma nigrita_ lepeletier. much smaller; cheeks densely covered with white hair; clypeus black in female, yellow in male _xylocopa barbata_ (fabricius). 21. thorax and abdomen hairy; hair of thorax yellow, with a transverse black band, of abdomen black, with a transverse yellow band. _bombus incarum_ franklin. not thus colored 22. 22. clypeus with two longitudinal keels 23. clypeus with a single, median longitudinal keel, sharp and extending its whole length; black bee, with black hair. _eulæma nigrita_ lepeletier, variety; female.[b] clypeus without any distinct keels 25. 23. scutellum with two large yellow marks. _epicharis maculata barticana_, new variety.--k. scutellum with the integument all dark 24. 24. second abdominal segment with a yellow mark on each side. _epicharis affinis_ smith.--p. abdomen with the integument all black _epicharis rustica_ (olivier).--p. 25. less than 12 mm. long; wings not deep fuliginous 26. over 18 mm. long; wings deep fuliginous 27. 26. hair bands of abdomen broad; male with long antennæ and yellow clypeus. _florilegus barticanus_, new species. hair bands of abdomen linear; integument of clypeus black. _melitoma fulvifrons_ (smith). 27. hair of mesothorax and scutellum dark brown; apical part of abdomen with integument red _centris fusciventris_ mocsáry.--p. hair of mesothorax and scutellum red 28. 28. face with yellow markings; anterior wing about 14 mm. long. _centris lineolata_ lepeletier. face without yellow markings; anterior wing about 20 mm. long. _centris atriventris_ mocsáry.--p. 29. robust bees, not less than 9 mm. long 30. small, fly-like bees, not nearly 9 mm. long 32. 30. thorax with ferruginous hair; integument of scutellum yellow. _melipona fasciata barticensis_ cockerell, ined.--p. thorax with dorsal hair not ferruginous 31. 31. abdomen more or less reddish, at least the first segment dorsally pale red. _melipona intermixta_ cockerell, ined.--p. abdomen black, with narrow yellowish-white tegumentary bands; a tuft of dark red hair before each tegula. _melipona interrupta_ (latreille).--k. 32. legs mainly red; clypeus yellow _trigona longipes_ smith.--k. legs and clypeus black _trigona_ sp. (specimens imperfect).--p. [a] the female of _x. nitens_ is black, with dark wings. it was not in the material sent. the female of _x. fimbriala_ is also black. [b] a little purple can be seen at sides of abdomen, but it is easily overlooked. notes and descriptions #melipona interrupta# (latreille).--in the specimen sent, the bands on second and following segments are notched above in middle, with only an obscure linear interruption. #melipona fasciata barticensis# cockerell.--one specimen has five linear red bands on abdomen, but in another the bands are very indistinct, almost obsolete. #melipona intermixta# cockerell.--the ground color of the first three abdominal tergites varies; in the lighter forms that of the first is pale fulvous with the shoulders blackish, of the second and third clear ferruginous. #euglossa singularis# mocsáry.--judging from the brief description, it appears that #e. meliponoides# ducke is probably the same species. #euglossa decorata# smith, var. #ruficauda#, new variety both sexes with abdomen ferruginous, apically more or less dusky, but the whole effect lighter and redder than typical; scutellum green with the hind margin red. tuft on female scutellum light fulvous. the female, from kalacoon, (hym. 212) is the type of the variety. #euglossa ignita# smith, var. #chlorosoma#, new variety green, without coppery tints, but variably suffused with purple. it is smaller than _e. piliventris_, with shorter mouth-parts, and the labrum pallid with a pair of dusky spots. a male in the u. s. nat. museum from bartica, which i reported as _e. piliventris_, belongs here. female _e. piliventris_ has long yellow hairs on the anterior margin of hind basitarsus, but in _chlorosoma_ the hair in this situation is black. the type of the variety is a female labelled hym. 140. a female from kalacoon has brassy and coppery tints on the apical part of abdomen, and must be referred to _e. ignita_ proper. the type locality of _ignita_ is jamaica. #ceratina læta# spinola. this was described from the female. the specimen sent is a male, and differs from the female in being smaller, and having a transverse band on anterior margin of clypeus, triangular marks on lower corners of face, and a large patch (emarginate above) on labrum all ivory-white. this is very like _c. viridula_ smith, which ducke considers a synonym of _læta_, but the base of the metathorax seems to differ, and the nervures are piceous. for the present, therefore, i retain _c. viridula_ as a distinct species. the female of _c. viridula_, collected by busck in the panama canal zone, is also distinguishable from that sex of _c. læta_. #epicharis maculata# var. #barticana#, new variety [female].--base of mandibles with a large cuneiform yellow mark; a broad black band down each side of labrum; yellow spots on prothorax large; scutellum with a pair of large transversely oval yellow areas, separated by a narrow black band; band on second abdominal segment with a posterior median projection. kalacoon, 1916. (hym. 217.) #rhathymus beebei#, new species [female].--length about 22 mm., anterior wing 18 mm.; head clear ferruginous, with red hair, lower part of face more pallid, with a creamy tint; apical half of mandibles black; clypeus prominent, minutely roughened, with a smooth median line; mesothorax black, with a median ridge, the surface on each side of this strongly punctured, but shining between the punctures; rest of thorax ferruginous, and all of thorax with ferruginous hair; scutellum not bigibbous, but with an elevated transverse ridge; pleura with a blackish area below the wings; lower part of mesopleura with a shining tubercle; tegulæ clear ferruginous, finely punctured; wings strongly reddened; legs clear ferruginous; abdomen fusiform, shining; first two segments dull reddish, pallid posterolaterally, the others reddish black, with the hind margins redder; apical plate very large, concave. bartica district (hym. 19). very distinct by the transverse straight ridge on scutellum; nearest perhaps to the considerably smaller _r. unicolor_ smith, but that has dark fuscous wings. the antennæ are unfortunately missing. #augochlora callichlorura#, new species [female].--length a little over 7 mm.; first two abdominal segments rather weakly vibrissate on hind margin with orange hairs; hind spur of hind leg with long spines. head and thorax very dark purplish, nearly black, but a blue-green spot at upper end of clypeus, supraclypeal area brilliant purple, and base of metathorax strongly tinged with purple; anterior and middle legs dark, with weak purple tints, but hind femora, tibiæ and basal half of basitarsi all brilliant green on outer side; abdomen short and broad, shining, very brilliant emerald green. head broad, eyes strongly converging below; clypeus with extremely large punctures; front dull and granular; ocelli ordinary; cheeks with thin white hair; mesothorax and scutellum shining, but well punctured; base of metathorax with strong short plicæ; angles of prothorax not prominent; tegulæ rufotestaceous; wings grayish translucent, stigma and nervures dusky pale brown; first recurrent nervure meeting second transversocubital; abdomen with thin pale hair, hind margins of segments not darkened. bartica district. unique by the combination of purplish head and thorax and green abdomen, the general effect recalling _a. atropos_ smith. #florilegus barticanus#, new species. [male].--length about 11 mm.; black, except as follows: first abdominal segment strongly greenish; clypeus and labrum entirely yellow; mandibles fulvous apically (but base black); antennæ, except the first two joints, ferruginous beneath; hind tarsi, and apex of hind tibiæ, dusky red; hair of head and thorax ferruginous, paler below, no admixture of dark hairs; eyes reddish; mesothorax shining, but distinctly punctured; tegulæ clear ferruginous; wings dusky hyaline, nervures reddish fuscous; legs with pale hair, conspicuously plumose on hind tibiæ; abdomen with four broad dense ochraceous hair-bands, that on fourth segment broadly excavated in middle posteriorly, on fifth broadly interrupted; sixth segment with a small patch of fulvous hair on each side; apical part of abdomen dorsally, except for the bands and patches, with very dark fuscous hair. bartica district (hym. 11). related to _f. lanieri_ guér. from cuba and _f. condigna_ cresson from the united states. in the coloration of the legs it is intermediate between these two. #tetrapedia lacteipennis# vachal.--it should be added to vachal's description, that the dorsal abdominal segments 2 to 4 have yellow bands. the bartica collection contains a _megalopta_ from hoorie, but it is unfortunately broken. i have _megalopta panamensis_ cockerell from maroni, french guiana (queensland museum, 42). i add the description of a new species from french guiana, the type of which is in my collection. #augochlora maroniana#, new species [female].--length slightly over 8 mm.; head, thorax and legs bright green; abdomen yellowish green strongly suffused with coppery, the first two segments with apical fringes of orange hair; face rather narrow; antennæ black; lower middle of clypeus black; mesothorax and scutellum rough with dense punctatures, the scutellum with two copper-red spots; area of metathorax with very feeble plicæ; tegulæ black with pallid margin, the basal side broadly green; wings dusky; second s. m. square; first r. n. meeting second t. c; stigma dusky reddish; legs with mainly pale hair, hind tibiæ with dark hair on outer side basally; hind spur with about six long spines; basal half of basitarsi green on outer side; abdomen shining, with pale ochreus hair. maroni, french guiana (queensland mus., 43). related to _a. cupreola_ (ckll.), but with the vibrissate fringes on abdomen nearly twice as long, and deep orange-fulvous, and the mesothorax much more densely punctured. also related to _a. diversipennis_ (lep.), but with the face much narrower, and the area of metathorax much less distinctly plicate. from _a. calypso_ sm. it is known by the wings not being yellowish, the inner orbits not edged with blue, and the tarsi not ferruginous. publications of the american museum of natural history memoirs volume i. zoology and palæontology. volumes ii-viii. anthropology. volume ix. zoology and palæontology. volumes x-xiv. anthropology. volumes ii, iv, v, vii, viii, x-xiv, and an ethnographical album form volumes i-vii of the memoirs of the jesup north pacific expedition. memoirs--new series volumes i and ii. zoology and palæontology. bulletin volumes i-xxiv, xxv, parts 1 and 2, and xxvi-xxxix. anthropological papers volumes i-ix, x, parts 1-6; xi, xii, parts 1-5; xiii; xiv, parts 1 and 2; xv, part 1; xvi, parts 1-3; xvii, parts 1-4; xviii, parts 1 and 2; and xix, part 1. monographs a review of the primates. by d. g. elliot. 3 volumes. hitherto unpublished plates of tertiary mammals and permian vertebrates. by e. d. cope and w. d. matthew. the american museum journal volumes i-xviii. the journal is a popular record of the progress of the american museum of natural history, issued monthly from october to may. handbooks. numbers 1-6. guide leaflets. numbers 1-48. annual reports. first (1869) to forty-ninth (1917). a more detailed list, with prices, of these publications may be had upon application to the librarian of the museum. inducements to the colored people of the united states to emigrate to british guiana, compiled from statements and documents furnished by mr. edward carbery, agent of the "immigration society of british guiana," and a proprietor in that colony. by a friend to the colored people. boston: printed for distribution. kidder and wright, congress street. 1840. inducements. i. situation, extent, geographical features, climate, soil and productions of british guiana. guiana is a vast tract of territory situated on the north-east coast of south america, between the mouths of those celebrated rivers, the oronoco and the amazons. british guiana includes a portion of this coast, extending some two hundred miles from east to west, bounded on the east by the river corentyn which separates it from dutch guiana, or surinam, and on the west by the morocco creek, or the tract of country adjacent to it, belonging to the republic of venezuela. british guiana extends inland from the coast some two hundred miles, in a southerly direction, to a chain of high mountains, by which it is bounded on the south, and which separates it from brazil. it thus includes an area of upwards of forty thousand square miles, being about equal in extent to the state of new york. the whole country slopes gradually down from the mountains to the sea. the back country is hilly and much diversified in surface; the land along the sea-coast is flat, level, and extremely fertile. the colony is watered by three large rivers, the essequebo, the demarara, and the berbice. these rivers descend from the mountains, and run parallel to each other at nearly equal distances. they are navigable for many miles, and together with numerous smaller rivers and creeks, they not only afford great facilities for internal navigation, but also for irrigating the land, a thing of great importance in that climate. british guiana never suffers from those violent storms and hurricanes with which other tropical regions are visited. along the whole coast, vessels can ride at anchor in perfect safety, at all seasons of the year. the whole shore is a bed of deep soft mud, and can be approached by vessels without danger. the latitude of the coast, along which the settlements are situated, is about seven degrees, north. the longitude of georgetown, the capital, is about fifty-seven degrees west from greenwich. its direction from the city of new york is considerably east of south. the distance is about two thousand miles, or twenty days' sail, very nearly the same distance as new orleans. situated under the tropic, guiana enjoys a perpetual summer. the thermometer generally ranges from 78° to 84°. the trade winds, which blow constantly from the coast, render the climate comfortable and salubrious. the year is divided into four seasons, two rainy and two dry. the short rainy season usually commences about december, and lasts four weeks: the long rainy season begins in june, and lasts till the middle of august. but as regards these seasons there is a good deal of variation. in the rainy season, the rain falls violently during the forenoon, but the afternoons are clear and pleasant. during the dry season occasional showers occur. the only portion of this fertile country which has yet been settled and cultivated, is a narrow strip extending along the coast, and a little distance up the mouths of the principal rivers, together with some islands at the entrance of the essequebo. the plantations are generally about half a mile wide, fronting on the sea, and extending back two, three, four or five miles. this series of adjoining plantations forms the only cultivated part of the country, which thus resembles a long string of villages half a mile apart. the soil of the plantations, which is very deep and rich, is divided by canals into separate fields. the same fields are cultivated in constant succession, and no manure is ever used. the canals not only serve to drain and irrigate the land, but also to convey the canes, when cut, to the sugar-house. sugar and coffee are principally cultivated. there are a few cotton plantations, and some devoted to the cultivation of the plantain, which, with a rich variety of other vegetables, such as the sweet potato, the banana, yams, the casava, &c., furnish a large part of the food of the inhabitants. there are also large cattle farms. cattle are abundant, and beef is cheap. the uncultivated tracts abound with a vast variety of useful plants and trees. many of the trees furnish excellent timber. there are in the colony several steam mills employed in the manufacture of lumber. ii. form of government, administration of justice, civil divisions, population, social equality. british guiana is a colony, conquered some forty years since from the dutch, belonging to great britain. it is what is called a crown colony, and all its laws are made, or revised in england. the governor, whose authority is very extensive, is appointed by the british queen. he is assisted in his administration by a council of nine persons, called the court of policy, four of whom are high executive officers appointed by the crown. the other five are chosen by the inhabitants. no law made by the court of policy can remain in force unless it be approved in england by the queen in council. justice is administered by a supreme court consisting of three judges, who are always lawyers of high standing, sent out from great britain. in the criminal trials which come before this court, the judges are assisted by three assessors, who answer to our jurymen, being persons chosen by lot from among the inhabitants,--who have an equal vote with the judges. no prisoner can be found guilty, except by at least four votes out of the six. the colony is divided into three counties, demarara, berbice and essequebo. each of these counties is again divided into parishes, and the parishes are subdivided into judicial districts, each under the superintendence of a stipendiary magistrate, appointed and paid by the crown. these stipendiary magistrates are persons of education and character, sent out from great britain, and who, having no interest or connections in the colony, and being frequently removed from one district to another, may be expected to be impartial, and not likely to be warped in their judgment by personal considerations. these magistrates are under the sole control of the governor, by whom they can be suspended from office. they have exclusive jurisdiction, as will presently appear, of all controversies, as to contracts and labor, arising between employers and laborers. the whole population of the three counties may be estimated at one hundred thousand, of whom six or eight thousand are white, and all the remainder, colored. the english language is now spoken by all, and is the only language used in the colony. those distinctions which prevail to so great a degree in the united states, between the free colored and the white population, and which render the position of the colored man in the united states so mortifying and uncomfortable, are wholly unknown in british guiana. in this respect all are equal: colonial offices and dignities are held without distinction by white and colored. colored men are indiscriminately drawn to sit as assessors on the bench of the supreme court. the colored classes in british guiana are wealthy, influential, and highly respectable. many of them are magistrates, proprietors, merchants with large establishments, and managers of estates receiving liberal salaries. the collector of customs at one of the principal ports, is a person of color, and many others hold public stations. it is evident from these facts that color is no obstacle to advancement or distinction. it is difficult and almost impossible for a citizen of the united states, educated in the midst of distinctions and prejudices, to realize the state of things so entirely different which prevails in british guiana. iii. special laws for the protection of laborers and emigrants. the greater part of the laboring population of british guiana were formerly slaves. they have been lately set free by the justice and bounty of the british government, which is very jealous of their rights, and which has enacted many special laws for their protection. a leading measure of this kind is, the appointment of the stipendiary magistrates above described. these stipendiary magistrates have exclusive jurisdiction over all controversies between employers and laborers touching wages and contracts. it is provided by the fourth chapter of the orders in council of sept. 7th, 1838, which are the supreme law in british guiana, that any laborer, on complaint preferred, and proof made before any stipendiary magistrate, that his employer has not paid his wages, or delivered him the articles agreed upon between them as a part of his wages, or that the articles delivered were not of the quality or quantity agreed upon, or that through the negligence of the master the contract has not been properly performed, or that the laborer has been ill used,--upon complaint preferred for any of these reasons, and proof made, the stipendiary magistrate may, by summary process, order the payment of the wages, the delivering of the stipulated articles, or compensation to be made for any negligence or ill usage on the part of the employer; and if the order be not complied with, the magistrate has power to issue his warrant for the seizure and sale of the goods of the employer, or so much as may be necessary; or if no goods are to be found, the magistrate may commit the employer to prison for any time not exceeding one month, unless compensation be sooner made; and the magistrate may dissolve the contract if he see fit. to prevent contracts being made with emigrants, disadvantageous to them or unfair in any respect, previous to their arrival in the colony, it is provided in the same orders in council, chapter third, that no contract of service made out of the colony shall be of any force or effect in it; that no contract of labor shall remain in force for more than four weeks, unless it be reduced to writing; and that no written contract of service shall be binding, unless signed by the name or mark of the persons contracting in the presence of a stipendiary magistrate; nor unless the magistrate shall certify that it was made voluntarily, and with a full understanding of its meaning and effect; nor can any written contract of service remain in force for more than one year. it is evident from these statements with what careful safeguards against fraud and oppression the benevolence of british law has surrounded the laborer and the emigrant. there is an emigration agent in british guiana, who is a stipendiary magistrate, and whose duty it is to furnish emigrants, arriving in the colony, with every information, and to prevent any imposition from being practiced upon them. it will appear, from an examination of the above provisions, that all those colored persons from the united states who may emigrate to guiana, will go out perfectly free and unshackled. on their arrival in the colony, they will be perfectly their own masters, at full liberty to choose any kind of employment which the colony offers; and should they be dissatisfied, or disappointed, no obstacle will exist to their return. iv. taxes, military duty, religious instruction, education. the revenue of british guiana is chiefly derived from a tax on the produce raised in the colony, and duties levied on the imposts. parish taxes are unknown, and the laborer is exempt from every species of taxation, unless his income amount to five hundred dollars. the militia laws were abrogated, and the colonial militia disbanded soon after the emancipation took place, so that the poor man is not compelled to contribute any portion of his time to the public service. there are episcopalian, presbyterian and catholic church establishments supported at an expense to the colony of upwards of $113,000 per annum, as will appear by reference to the royal gazette of may 7th, 1839, published in georgetown, containing an official estimate of the taxes to be raised for that year. there are beside numerous methodist and other dissenting religious teachers, supported in part by charitable societies in england, and in part by voluntary contributions in the colony. the laboring population of georgetown and its vicinity have erected several handsome chapels at their own expense. there are numerous sunday, infant and day schools, for the gratuitous diffusion of knowledge and moral education among the people. on most of the principal estates a school-house is erected, and a teacher provided, where the children of the laborers are entitled to receive instruction free of expense. great attention is paid throughout the colony to the education of the rising generation. v. demand for labor, kinds of labor, wages. british guiana possesses a superabundance of the most fertile land. the planters are wealthy, and well provided with the most complete machinery for the manufacture of sugar. the only deficiency is a lack of labor. the harvest is abundant, but the laborers are few. for example,--on a coffee plantation, called _dankbaarheid_, in the county of berbice, belonging to mr. carbery, it was estimated by the owner and other competent persons in september last, that the crop of coffee on the trees exceeded one hundred thousand pounds weight. of this crop, through deficiency of labor, only forty thousand pounds weight were gathered. sixty thousand pounds of coffee on that single plantation, worth, in the british market, sixty thousand sterling shillings, or about fifteen thousand dollars, perished for lack of hands to gather it. it is the same to a greater or less extent, on every other plantation. indeed this deficiency of labor is more peculiarly felt on the sugar estates, upon many of which it is not uncommon for ripe canes, which if manufactured would have produced the value of several thousand pounds sterling, to perish in the field for want of hands to gather it. there is indeed a great opening for industry of every kind. all sorts of mechanics are sure of steady employment at wages from one to two dollars per day, according to their skill. seamstresses and domestics are much needed and will find full employment. any emigrant who can command a small capital, can open a shop, or set up various kinds of business to good advantage. georgetown, the capital, situated at the mouth of the river demarara, is a place of about twelve thousand inhabitants, and furnishes abundant employment in all those branches of business usually carried on in a commercial town. new amsterdam, at the mouth of the berbice, has about four thousand inhabitants, and there are besides several villages, containing each some hundreds of inhabitants. the greatest demand however for labor is, on the plantations. agricultural laborers are always sure of abundant employment and high wages. the labor of agriculture is of various kinds, and may be performed by any man accustomed to work, with little or no previous instruction. it consists principally in cutting up weeds with the hoe, cutting down sugar-cane, and throwing it into boats on the canals, to be transported to the sugar-house; tending the sugar boiling; packing away the sugar; boating it to market; picking and curing coffee, which is very light work; tending cattle; cutting timber; and a great variety of other labor, almost all of the simplest kind. every laborer on a plantation has a comfortable house, with a plot of ground annexed, capable of raising a much greater quantity of provisions and poultry than the laborer can consume. for this he pays nothing. he is also provided with medical attendance, medicine, and a support at the expense of the estate, gratis, whenever he is sick. fuel is abundant, and close at hand. it is needed only for cooking, and the laborer has but to help himself. clothing, which in that climate is very light, may be amply provided, at one-third the expense incurred for that article in the united states. so many of the wants of the laborer are thus supplied, free of expense to him, or at a very trifling rate, that if he choose to do so, he can lay by a great part of his wages. the labor on a plantation is divided into tasks which a laborer of any activity can easily perform in four hours. the lowest rate of wages ever paid, is thirty-three and a third cents a task, and very frequently, much more is given. for cutting cane, attending in the boiling house, boating sugar, and several other kinds of labor, higher wages are always paid. the people employed in making sugar, in addition to their wages, are supplied with food at the expense of the estate. this is in addition to the laborer's house, provision ground, fuel, medical attendance, gratuitous schooling for his children, and a variety of other perquisites. the wages are paid weekly in cash. i have now before me an original journal, for the month of october, 1839, of the plantation _thomas_, adjoining georgetown, owned by mr. carbery. this journal is a printed form, with blanks filled up in writing, containing an account for each day of the month, of the number of laborers on the estate; the number actively employed, and in what way; the number, sick, absent, or otherwise prevented from working; the work done each day; with all the articles bought, sold or shipped, and all the money paid on account of the plantation during each day in the month,--in fact a complete history of all the business of the estate for that time. similar journals are kept on every estate by the head manager, and are transmitted monthly to the proprietor. this excellent custom was derived from the early dutch settlers. on the plantation, _thomas_, there are three hundred and twenty-five acres of canes in cultivation. it appears by the journal above referred to, that during the month of october, the number of persons employed on the estate, varied from 163 to 176, of which latter number 89 were men, 68 women, 14 boys, and 5 girls. of these, however, only 106, on an average, were daily at work on the estate. to these laborers there was paid during the month of october, in weekly payments, $1229 16, or an average of $11 60, to each laborer, exclusive of house rent, provision grounds, fuel, medical attendance, and many gratuities beside. it is to be considered that this average amount of wages was earned by men, women, boys and girls, including many old people and invalids, who did but very little, and whose pay was therefore small. it therefore must be obvious that the more active and industrious of the laborers, earned from fifteen to twenty dollars, a month. this single case, which is taken at random, will serve to show how abundantly the laborer is rewarded. the laborers in this case did not probably work on an average more than five hours per day. they were employed in weeding and cutting cane, and making sugar, and a portion of them as boatmen, watchmen, and mechanics. though they are all included under the class of agricultural laborers, only about sixty out of the hundred and six were actually at work in the fields. many more are classed in the journal, "as jobbing and at work about the buildings," that is, engaged in making sugar, and in a great variety of other work necessary on such an estate. to show with what rapidity the laborers grow rich and rise in the world, i give the following extract from the _berbice advertiser_ of nov. 1839. "astonishing fact. some negroes on the east coast, not a dozen in all, have bought _northbroke_ (a plantation) for $10,000, of which they paid down $8,000 last week, the remaining $2,000, is to be paid this week." "what happiness," the editor justly observes, "could our colony disseminate through the human species, did but fresh importations of labor render the cultivation of the great staples compatible with the formation of black villages and towns." it ought to be mentioned that the people who clubbed together to buy this estate had only been free since august, 1838. it may be well to observe here that land in the colony is abundant and cheap; and every laborer who is industrious, and will lay by his wages, has it in his power to become a proprietor within a short period. that there is no danger of overstocking british guiana with emigrants will appear by the following extract from an address of mr. john scoble, delivered at albany tuesday evening, aug. 1st, 1839. he spoke of "british guiana, a colony on the coast of south america, and one which some think will ere long rival in its wealth and population the state of new york. it is capable of sustaining a population of _forty millions_, though the actual number of the inhabitants is now only one hundred thousand." vi. offers made to such free colored persons of the united states, as may choose to emigrate to british guiana. mr. carbery arrived at baltimore in september last. he came to the united states partly for pleasure, and partly for the benefits of a change of climate. he had been but a few days at baltimore, when his attention was attracted by the large number of free colored persons in that city; the difficulty they seemed to have in gaining a livelihood; and the discomforts of various kinds to which they are subjected. knowing the great want of laborers in british guiana, and the strong disposition, existing there, to encourage immigration, it immediately occurred to him, that by the transfer of a certain portion of the free colored people of the united states to guiana, not only might a great benefit be done to that colony, but what all must regard as of still greater importance, a boon of vast value might be conferred upon the free colored people themselves. much impressed by these considerations, mr. carbery procured a meeting of several of the free colored people of baltimore, at which he proposed to them to select two of their own number, in whom they had confidence, whom he would send to british guiana, free of expense, in order to give them an opportunity to examine the country, to judge for themselves, and to report to their brethren, what the prospects for immigrants really are. the free colored people of baltimore, upon this suggestion and offer, organized a committee of emigration, of which mr. green was appointed chairman, and selected messrs peck and price, two of their number, as delegates to visit guiana. these delegates sailed, free of expense, in the barque don juan, from boston, on the 21st of december last. the result of their mission is not yet known, the agents not having returned,--nor indeed has mr. carbery yet heard of their arrival in the colony. the news however of their arrival and reception is daily expected. in the mean time certain letters which mr. carbery had previously written to his friends in guiana, giving an account of the numbers and the condition of the free colored people in the united states, had excited great attention and sympathy there. a public meeting was held in georgetown the capital; an "immigration society" was established, and a very large sum of money was at once subscribed to form a fund for paying the expenses of all such immigrants as may choose to go to that colony. of this sum, a considerable amount has been already remitted to mr. carbery, who is appointed agent of the society for the united states, to be applied towards the outfit of emigrants,--the society undertaking to pay the charter or passage money on the arrival of the vessels, and to make all necessary arrangements for the entertainment and comfort of the immigrants, until such time, as they may select some regular employment. mr. carbery is assured that should the colored people of the united states or any part of them, be induced to accept the offer he now makes, any amount necessary to carry his proposals into effect, will be furnished as it may be needed. as the agent of the above society mr. carbery offers to transport, from the united states to british guiana, free of any expense to themselves, together with their baggage, all such sober and industrious free colored people as shall see fit to embrace this opportunity, so rare and extraordinary, of at once relieving themselves from the great disabilities and disadvantages under which they now labor, and of securing not only a comfortable subsistence, and perhaps wealth, but what is of far greater importance, both for themselves and their children,--a full participation in all the rights, privileges and immunities of freemen, and a standing and consideration in society, which at present is wholly beyond their reach. _mr. carbery is also authorized by the society to guarantee to all emigrants, who may accept his offers, maintenance at the colonial expense, and comfortable and commodious lodgings, until they shall succeed in obtaining such employment as they may prefer._ transferred to a country which opens a vast field to labor, and to all sorts of enterprise, relieved from a weight of prejudice which now rests so heavily upon them, the free colored people of the united states would have an opportunity which they do not now enjoy, of proving, that when allowed to share the same moral and social advantages, they are able successfully to compete with the white man. it is indeed difficult to realize the effect often produced upon a man's conduct and character, when he is removed from the withering effect of the distinction of caste, and raised to an equality of political and social privileges. persons, who if they remain in the united states, will be confined all their lives to menial and obscure stations, by emigrating to british guiana, which they may do in twenty days, and without spending a cent, will alter the whole course and prospect of their lives. with industry, application, and sobriety, they will have a moral certainty of rising to a comfortable competency if not to wealth, and of filling with pleasure to themselves and benefit to the community, a respectable station in society. surely these considerations ought to have great weight with all,--but more especially with the young, who are just coming forward, and with those fathers and mothers who have families of children growing up about them. there is now opened to the free colored people of the united states, a city of refuge in guiana, of which it is to be hoped they will not fail to avail themselves; and mr. carbery has reason to anticipate, should the free colored people of the united states, and those persons upon whose advice and opinions they most confidently rely, be led to take the same view of the matter which he does, that his visit to the united states may result in great good to a large body of his fellow men, who at present are cut off from many of the chief benefits of society, and by the unfortunate operation of circumstances over which they have no control, are subjected to influences which crush their energies, break their spirits, and prevent them from rising to affluence or consideration. relieved from these impediments, transferred to a country where they will be secured in the enjoyment of equal social and political rights, they will become new creatures, and many of them will display talents and capacity of which they are not now suspected. mr. carbery, however, has no desire to induce any colored person, to emigrate to guiana, who is not well satisfied, and whose friends are not also satisfied, that it will be for his benefit to go. deeply impressed as he is with the manifold advantages which the free colored people of the united states may derive from closing with his proposals, he submits them to the candid consideration of those concerned, expressly desiring that before being adopted by any body, they may be subjected to the closest scrutiny, and most rigorous investigation. vii. directions to persons wishing to emigrate. mr. carbery is now in boston, but intends to proceed immediately to new york, philadelphia, and baltimore, for the purpose of establishing committees of emigration in each of those cities, whence persons desirous of emigrating may obtain all necessary information. the address of those committees will be published in the principal newspapers, and due notice will be given of the intended sailing of vessels with emigrants. persons with families desiring to emigrate will meet with particular encouragement, but no person of good character will be refused a free passage. boston, feb. 1st, 1840. appendix. no. i. copy of a letter from mr. edward carbery, to mr. greene, chairman of the baltimore committee of emigration. _tremont house, boston, dec. 11, 1839._ dear sir, being fully aware that you take a great interest in any subject connected with the welfare of the class to which you belong, i venture to trouble you with this communication the object of which is to bring to your notice the proceedings at a public meeting of the inhabitants of british guiana, which took place in georgetown, on the tenth of october last, and a full report of which is contained in the guiana chronicle of the following day. i regret it is not in my power to forward you the paper containing the report, as i only borrowed it from a gentleman in this city who received it a few days ago. the extracts in question, go far to corroborate the statements i made to you and your friends relative to the advantages which the free-colored people of this country would derive from emigration to british guiana, and they will at least prove that these statements were not exaggerated. the respectability of the parties in question, no less than the publicity of the whole proceedings entitle their statements to the fullest confidence. the high sheriff having taken the chair, said,--"i cannot better open the proceedings on this occasion at which you have done me the honor to call me to the chair, than by referring to the requisition on which i judged it proper and necessary to convene this public meeting, and thus directing your attention to the object for which we are assembled,--to wit: in the words of the requisition 'for the purpose of giving expression to the general feeling in favor of immediate measures being taken for the promotion of immigration to this colony, and for taking into consideration by what means this important object can most speedily be carried into effect.'" the hon. peter rose, a member of the colonial legislature, and proprietor of a sugar plantation called _lima_, moved the first resolution, which was as follows. "that a consideration of the present state of the colony, with its limited number of agricultural laborers, leads this meeting to the irresistible conclusion that unless immediate immigration on a large scale takes place, the exportable produce of the colony already diminished to an alarming extent, will yet further decrease." mr. rose then proceeded to address the meeting, and in the course of his speech, when alluding to the causes of the decreased production of british guiana and the rate of wages, he observed-"eight or nine dollars per month, is the common rate, but it is the custom to estimate the day's labor by the old tariff, 7 1-2 hours, and it is well known that an industrious man can in that time perform considerably more than double the quantity of labor laid down by that tariff. i have myself paid to a man cutting canes, 1 1-2 dollars for work that did not occupy him more than eight hours. when we take it into consideration that the laborer is provided with a house and medical attendance, it is clear that he can support himself for a week by one day's labor, and with this in our knowledge, can we wonder that his labor and industry are unsteady?" mr. rose, in another part of his speech, speaking of the decrease that had taken place in the number of laborers on most estates since the emancipation, observed, "of those who have left estates, some have purchased land, paying for it sometimes as much as £200 sterling." the hon. d. c. cameron, also a member of the colonial legislature and proprietor of several estates, moved the second resolution which was of similar import to the first, and the following is an extract from the able and temperate address he delivered. "but i have pleasure in bearing my humble testimony that the cause of decrease in our crops has not proceeded from that which was most dreaded, the insubordination of the freemen of 1838, but from causes which operate in every country where the soil is rich and the laborers few. many of our peasantry have already amassed funds which have enabled them to purchase land of their own, and are industriously improving it for their own benefit. they are no longer hired servants; they are owners of houses and lands which yield them sufficient to supply their wants, and as yet their ambition extends no further. but the misfortune is, that although they maintain themselves and families by their industry in this way, they are unprofitable to the colony. they produce no taxable articles either for this or the home market. i for one do not complain of this system;--but on the contrary, believe it will be beneficial to society in the end, and wait its progress. hence the necessity for immigration to fill up the blank occasioned by the independence and comfort of our former servants. in this colony, sir, every laboring man of ordinary capacity may, in a few years, become proprietor of land sufficient to supply all his wants, by laboring upon it for thirty hours in the week. i am persuaded that it is only necessary to make the capabilities of our magnificent colony known, to insure us a large influx of emigrants." many other speeches were also made declaratory of the anxiety of the proprietory body to encourage immigration. but as this communication has already exceeded the ordinary limits of a letter, i will not trespass longer on your patience, nor will i detain you by making any observations on the foregoing extracts. i offer them to you and your friends as evidence in support of the declaration i publicly made at baltimore, that the free colored people of america will derive great and substantial advantages by emigrating to british guiana. i am, dear sir, your most obedient servant, edward carbery. mr. greene, chairman, &c. _baltimore._ no. ii. on the fourteenth page of the preceding pamphlet is an extract from the _birbice advertiser_, giving an account of the purchase of _northbroke_ by a number of emancipated laborers. the _guiana chronicle_ of monday, dec. 9th, just received, contains additional particulars of that purchase, which appears to have been made not by a dozen persons as stated in the _birbice_ paper, but by about _seventy_. the following are extracts from an address presented by the purchasers to the governor of the colony. _to his excellency_ henry light, _esquire, governor and commander-in-chief in and over the colony of british guiana_. may it please your excellency, sir,- * * * * * * on the 7th day of this month we jointly purchased, from the executors of the late hugh rogers, esquire, for the sum of ten thousand dollars, his plantation called "northbroke," containing about 500 acres of land; and as we have been enabled to pay the purchase money principally from out of our savings since we obtained our freedom, we cannot refrain from expressing how thankful, how grateful we are, how indebted we ever shall be, to all those noble-minded individuals who were mainly instrumental in procuring and giving us that freedom. * * * * * * * we know that to the individual act of her majesty, we owe the happiness of having you here, as our ruler and governor, in her name. your excellency is too exalted in station to listen to praise and commendation, and _we_ too humble to offer them; but we may be allowed to state, with thankfulness, that every act of your excellency's administration, with reference to us, and to the body to which we belong, has been marked with kindness, benevolence, liberality and justice. and we humbly pray the almighty ruler of all men, that your excellency may be long spared to us, to afford us your protection. * * * * * * * we know the blessings of freedom, and we endeavor to deserve them. we are peaceable in disposition--industrious by habit--loyal and faithful by nature--gratitude to our sovereign, and to your excellency, will make us doubly vigilant and circumspect. we further respectfully represent to your excellency, that it is not our intention to settle down upon our plantation, and lead a life of idleness. our views and wishes are to have the land divided into equal portions among us. individually rent our cottages upon our respective plots of ground, and thereon, in our leisure hours, cultivate our vegetables and provisions; but our firm determination, as a body, is to continue to labor daily, as now, upon the several plantations where we are employed. * * * * * * * we further respectfully represent to your excellency, that it is our intention to establish upon our plantation, a school-house and church, (and there is a new, large building on the estate, well adapted to these purposes); in the former, our children will be taught to read their bible, and learn their several duties to society at large, whilst in the latter, as each revolving sabbath appears, we shall assemble together, and there offer up to the almighty, our humble thanks for the great and wonderful benefits which, under divine providence, have been conferred upon us. praying your excellency's favorable consideration and patronage, we have the honor to be, sir, your excellency's most obedient humble servants. (signed) john sertima, william lewis, thomas badlie, james m'crae, frank baillie, samuel burton, romeo isaac, daniell isaac, thomas colin, martin, martin menarmy, simon hanover, simon scott, thomas hercules, john lewis, wm. gamell reaves, jas. handy, john wheeler, vollove robert, john mileel, michael james, simson tate, sampson cooper, isaac chapman, primus samuel, cupidore hopkinson, quashie porter, cornwall porter, cæsar solomon, hall porter, quammie adam, hamlet cato, simon spencer, melville porter, quashie bard, quacco hamilton, medlin hamilton, john lion, cross sumner, marlborough sam, pollodore bentick, ceciro hercules, jillis cumming, gambry james, moses hopkinson, bill williams, blackwell lancaster, scipio samuel, pat murphy, ned mackay, william negaeley, alexand porter, william smart, catherine loud, kenneth jarrich, hannah porter, sammy knight, hannah porter, adam grant, maria grant, collin m'crea, john tiddell, simon king, bellender hopkinson. signed in my presence, this 30th day of november, 1839. (signed) c. h. strutt, stip. magistrate. witness to the several signatures, (signed) mary strutt. true copy, c. r. whinfield, act. gov. secretary. generously made available by internet archive (https://archive.org) note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see 43051-h.htm or 43051-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/43051/43051-h/43051-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/43051/43051-h.zip) images of the original pages are available through internet archive. see https://archive.org/details/upmazarunifordia00lavarich up the mazaruni for diamonds by william j. lavarre veteran scout boston marshall jones company 1919 copyright · 1919 by marshall jones company the·plimpton·press norwood·mass·u·s·a _to my mother and father_ _foreword_ lavarre is adventuring in the right spirit. his diamond hunting is instructive as well as interesting. he has brought back from the field information which will help others who intend to traverse similar trails. though younger than most explorers he has carefully endeavored to prepare himself for the field by study and travel. he believes in the theory of hard work and preparedness, the essentials of the successful explorer. in these days when there is so much endeavor which seems to be for the acclaim of the crowds and the deification of self, it is refreshing to meet one who seems to be in it for the love of the work and the good which he may open up for others in the field of exploration. william j. lavarre was born in richmond, va., august 4, 1898. his love for the outdoors was demonstrated early, for he camped in the open at the age of ten and as a boy scout a few years later won a contest for leadership of the honor patrol of the new york city organization of the boy scouts of america. he also won sixteen merit badges in the same scout order. he was one of twenty-four scouts chosen from the east to build a trail in maine for the forestry department of the united states in 1914. he has specialized in geology and mineralogy and shown considerable skill in the use of the camera. he is now in the field as scientific assistant and photographer of the rice amazon expedition. his diamond hunting trip was a success. we look forward to his return from the amazon with an interesting experience and a successful exploration. anthony fiala august 11, 1919. contents page chapter i "are you game to try it?" 1 chapter ii "in the land o' mazaruni" 7 chapter iii a fire boat and a native wedding 14 chapter iv jungle days begin 18 chapter v getting acquainted with the natives 22 chapter vi life on the river 29 chapter vii mutiny among the crew 34 chapter viii the glorious fourth 39 chapter ix baboon for dinner 43 chapter x in the indian country 48 chapter xi "uncivilized," but courteous, quiet and clean 56 chapter xii a visit to a native home 62 chapter xiii the snake that disappeared 68 chapter xiv difficulties of jungle travel 72 chapter xv hospitality of the jungle folk 82 chapter xvi cassava cakes and blow-pipes 93 chapter xvii on the march again 101 chapter xviii arrival at the diamond fields 107 chapter xix how the natives hunt and fish 113 chapter xx picking up jungle lore 121 chapter xxi the first diamond! 128 chapter xxii how the precious stones are found 133 chapter xxiii good-bye to the jungle 137 illustrations sketch map _frontispiece_ "jimmy" _facing page_ 4 we worked steadily up the dangerous river 20 a jungle "hotel" 20 once in a while a boat shot past us 46 at times a portage must be made 46 the first jungle indians we saw 52 an indian fisherman 52 "bringing home the bacon" 60 they seemed glad to pose for us 84 jungle huntsmen 84 at fourteen an indian girl must be able to cook cassava 94 a primitive sugar cane press 94 two quick puffs, a flutter, and the bird drops to earth 98 my jungle friends 104 usually our hunters were successful 116 the toucan makes an interesting pet 118 abraham, felling a woodskin tree 122 preparing woodskin bark for canoe 124 finished woodskin canoe with ends open 124 our jungle home 128 an interior view of our "logie" 132 a long tom diamond washer 134 jiggers separating diamonds from gravel 134 up the mazaruni for diamonds chapter i "_are you game to try it?_" "here's a queer looking letter," i said to myself one day early in the spring of 1917. i could hardly make out the postmark. it was something of a surprise to receive a letter from british guiana, as i finally deciphered it, but the contents were even more surprising. the letter was from my friend dudley p. lewis. "i need a partner in a diamond mining venture," he wrote. "are you game to try it out with me? it will be a long trip full of adventures and dangers, but there are diamonds here to be had for the digging." he wrote much more. i became enthusiastic on the moment and was determined to go if possible. i had little trouble in arranging this and wrote him that i would come. on the tenth of may i sailed from new york on the steamship _saga_ to barbados, where lewis met me. he was delighted and quite as enthusiastic as i. he had been in georgetown, british guiana, for a while on other business and had learned about the diamond fields away up the famous, and treacherous, mazaruni river. from barbados we sailed away to south america on the steamer _parima_. i was surprised to find georgetown such a large city, 60,000 inhabitants, and, as the buildings were all one and two stories, one can imagine how it spread out. "can we start to-morrow?" i asked, after we had reached our hotel. lewis laughed. "hardly," he said. "this isn't like a trip back home where you can toss some clothes and clean collars in a bag, buy your ticket, catch your train and be off." i had not given much thought to exactly how we were to travel. but i soon learned that to journey up a great river for hundreds of miles with a score of natives, taking all the food for a six months' stay, was a matter that could not be arranged in a moment. the starting out place for the trip was twenty miles from georgetown at a town upriver called bartica. but as bartica has only twenty inhabitants we bought everything in georgetown. there we busied ourselves with the preparations. it seemed as though there were a million details to look after, and i got an idea of what an explorer is up against, as we had to outfit ourselves about the same as an exploring party would. "we must get lead guns, beads, mirrors and other trinkets," said lewis. "what's the big idea?" i asked. "are we to open a five and ten cent store for the native indians up there?" "not exactly," laughed lewis, "but we must have something to trade with. what use is a silver or gold coin to a native back hundreds of miles in the jungle? he'd rather have a twenty-five cent kitchen knife than a fifty dollar gold piece." the "lead guns" are not lead, as i learned, but the very cheapest sort of cheap guns, manufactured in england solely for trading with semi-civilized and uncivilized people. no live american boy would take one as a gift, but i found that the natives treasured them above everything else they possessed. we were fortunate in finding a dutch captain, a man who has navigated the turbulent waters of the mazaruni for twenty years. and he picked out a skilled "bowman," a native who stands at the bow of your boat, with an immense paddle, and fends it off rocks, gives steering directions and acts generally as a sort of life preserver for the boat. then there was "jimmy." he was a negro, rather undersized and as black as the inside of a lump of coal. he appointed himself our special guardian, a sort of valet, overseer and servant. he looked after our personal belongings, cooked our food, made our tea and devoted himself exclusively to us. twenty paddlemen were also engaged. sixteen of them were quite as black as our jimmy, and four of them were in varying shades from tobacco brown to light molasses candy tint. these latter were of mixed dutch and negro blood. "they are 'bovianders,'" said the captain. "queer tribal name," i commented. the captain laughed. "not exactly a tribal name," he explained. "they live up the river quite a distance and so it is said that they come from 'above yonder.' they have twisted that into 'boviander,' so that the word always means people who live up the river." [illustration: "jimmy"] while we were engaging our staff the captain was getting boats for us. he selected a great fifty-foot boat seemingly as heavy as a locomotive. it looked like a crude craft, made of great thick planks. i soon learned the necessity of such a heavy boat. we also had a small boat for emergency and for little side trips here and there. next came the "eats." we had to take enough food for ourselves, our twenty-two helpers and partly enough for the native indians that we were to employ later. when the big boat was finally loaded properly under the skillful direction of the captain, we had five tons of food aboard and this included no meat at all except salt fish. there was no need to take meat, for game and fresh fish were so plentiful that we were never without them. there was a queer, tent-shaped rig amidships of our big craft. beneath this was room enough for us to stay sheltered during the heat of the day. white men can seldom stand the midday heat in british guiana. packed all about us was the food. jimmy climbed to the top of the pile. the captain took his position aft. the sturdy boviander bowman took his place at the bow with his immense paddle, the twenty paddle men took their places in four groups of five, one group on each side, forward and aft of the cargo. then they shoved off and began their peculiar, noisy paddling. the little town of bartica fell away behind us as we slid out into the broad expanse of the old mazaruni. we were off at last, on our great diamond mining adventure! chapter ii "_in the land o' mazaruni_" eagerly i scanned the waters and either shore, determined that nothing should escape me, that i should see everything and enjoy all that there was to be enjoyed. the captain sat, complacently smoking, at the stern of the boat, the great steering paddle, tied to the stern with thongs, in his hands. he looked as bored as if crossing the street to buy an evening paper. how could he, when there was such glorious adventure, i wondered. but afterwards i realized that twenty years of navigating the river had somewhat dulled the novelty of it for him. with him it was work, and nothing more. to a boy used to paddling our own style of light canoes, the paddling methods of those black men seemed the most awkward in the world. yet they "got there," and i doubt if any crew of white men, without years of practice, could have propelled the heavy craft as easily as they. their method was to bend forward, holding the paddle horizontally and sliding it along the gunwale with a loud scraping noise, then suddenly lean over sidewise and dig the paddle viciously into the water, giving a sturdy backward tug with it, still scraping the paddle against the gunwales. at the end of this stroke they returned the paddle to the horizontal position with a loud thumping noise, sat up straight, then leaned forward and repeated the stroke. they kept perfect time. no varsity crew boys ever worked in unison at the oars any better, and they were forever singing. it didn't matter whether they were paddling twenty feet across a narrow inlet or making an all day pull upstream, they always had music with their paddling. they were crude songs, partly english that was scarcely understandable, partly native dialect and partly something else that may have been handed down to them from their ancestors who were captured in africa so many generations ago and brought over by the early dutch and english slave traders. if the water was smooth and open, with no current, our twenty paddle men would sing as softly as the whispering of a summer breeze. but if there was a current they would sing louder. and the more difficult the paddling, the louder they would sing. in boiling rapids where it took every ounce of their strength and they had to take quick, short strokes to keep going, their voices arose to an almost howling crescendo. soon bartica was lost to view around a point of land. for nearly six months we were to see no more civilization than indian villages here and there, hidden far back from the river bank. as we swung up into the broad river where the current became strong enough to cause the paddlers to use a little extra "elbow grease" they broke into a queer song which i heard so many times after that, that it still rings in my ears. i cannot translate it. i do not know what it means, but imagine that it is some sort of love song to some dusky "lena." this is the way it sounds: "_san, lena, chile, i do love yo'; me know so, hear so, yes! le, le, le, le, le, le, blow, ma booly boy, blow! califo 'ge 'ole! splenty o'gol's for a've been tol' i' th' lan' o' mazaruni!_" we came in sight of another boat. on the mazaruni every boat one sees that is going in the same direction is an "adversary" and every paddler believes that it is his duty to pass it. then you see some fancy paddle strokes, so weird and unusual and grotesque that they are difficult to describe. one would think that they were trying more to awe each other with their paddle gesticulations than with speed. how they race upstream, each determined to get and keep the lead! the captain told me that many lives were lost at rapids because the racing paddlers would give thought only to getting into the narrow passes first and were frequently crashed upon the rocks and overturned. not far from the little town is kalacoon, the biological station where at various times professor beebe and the other scientists take up their intimate studies of tropical life. this station is on a high hill where the mazaruni and essequibo rivers join. it was at this place that colonel roosevelt stopped when he visited the colony. from this point the vegetation on both sides of the river became so dense that it seemed almost like greenish-black solid walls. no huts or signs of human life were visible at first. but finally, with sharp eyes, we got so we could detect a slight opening, a log landing at the water's edge or a faint suggestion of a thatched hut in back of the shore row of trees. it would have been fearfully monotonous but for the fact that lewis and i devised a new sort of game--to see which one could detect the greater number of signs of human habitation. our natives, with sharper eyes, would verify our discoveries. all this was in the boviander section, where the natives come down from "'bove yonder." just before nightfall we reached the foot of the first falls and landed to make camp for the night. before the big boat touched land lewis and i had leaped ashore to stretch our legs. the blacks jumped out into the shoal water and swung the boat into place and made it fast. jimmy began taking ashore our shelters. suddenly he began a frantic search and in despair cried: "no cookum!" "you bet you 'cookum,'" i shouted, "i'm starved." "no cookum! no cookum!" repeated the distracted boy, mournfully. lewis investigated and came back with a long face. "we did a bright thing," he muttered. "what's wrong?" i asked. "left all of our cooking outfit down at the village!" "there's two things to do, go without them or go back and get them," i suggested. "can't go without 'em," said lewis. "then there's one thing to do," i laughed. i was not to be filled with gloom. the prospects of a great adventure were far too joyous. our landing was at the last settlement of the bovianders. these half dutch, half negro natives speak fairly understandable english. i scouted around amongst them, found a good canoe, took three black men and set out downriver. the two paddlers were sturdy boys and, going down with the current, they fairly made that old canoe whizz. it was midnight when we got back to the village. everyone was asleep except the dogs. they greeted us with howls, and many of the men turned out. perhaps they thought they were to be attacked by some savage tribe. but we soon explained, got our cooking outfit, lashed it carefully to the canoe and started back. chapter iii _a fire boat and a native wedding_ there was no speeding up against the current, although the light canoe made better progress than our heavy boats. and then i heard a sound that made me think i was back home. it was the "put--put--put" of a gasoline motor. i was amazed. "fire boat," grunted one of the black men. i hailed it. a dutchman answered and came over to us. it was an ordinary native boat to which he had attached one of those portable motors which may be put on any boat. he was going upstream and gladly took us in tow, much to my delight. otherwise i would not have reached camp until daylight, and the tropical nights (as i afterward learned) are not the sort of nights for anyone, especially a white man, to be out in, because of the terrible dampness and mists as well as insect pests. as we chugged along upriver, my three blacks sitting back and grinning at their luck because they would be paid just the same for the trip although they escaped all of the hard work, there suddenly came across the black water the most weird sounds imaginable. there were shrieks and falsetto laughter, squeaks and tinkles and shrill pipings and heavy stamping. i couldn't imagine what it all meant. "wedding celebration," said the dutchman. "let's put in and see the fun." i stared at the black bank of the river whence came the weird sounds, but could see nothing. finally, as my eyes became accustomed, i caught faint glimmers of light that seemed far inland, miles and miles, i thought. in reality the natives were no more than a quarter of a mile inland, or perhaps less. we found a landing place and, guided by the fearful din and the flickering lights, made our way through the jungle to the higher, dry ground beyond. i had all sorts of visions of great snakes dropping on me and wild jungle beasts grabbing at my heels, but nothing worse than giant mosquitoes came near. we came to the opening and a group of huts. in front of one hut was an improvised porch or platform. the boards were rough, uneven and loosely laid across supports. at one end sat a wrinkled and grizzled old man playing a squeaky fiddle. beside him squatted two younger natives playing flutes. another pounded upon the platform with a cocoanut shell, beating time. we were welcomed with nods and smiles, but the natives could not pause in their festival to do more. they were dancing on that platform. overalls and frayed shirts and rough brogans made up the evening dress of most of the bovianders, but the women were decked out in gaudy skirts and waists. up and down and back and forth over the boards, pouncing and scraping and stamping their feet, they danced and laughed. tallow candles, oil lanterns and here and there kerosene lamps were affixed to hut poles or trees, and by this light the dancers cast amazing shadows over everything, shadows that moved and swayed and intertwined in a most awesome manner. and everyone was talking and laughing at the same time. every fourth word was understandable but there were many dialects and vernaculars. there were cocoanuts to eat and a peculiar sort of cake or bread. we watched the merrymaking for quite a while. the newly weds were cheered by means of peculiar calls when they danced together. i suppose those brown children of the jungle danced all night. we finally grew weary of it all and set out for camp. chapter iv _jungle days begin_ such food as could be eaten without cooking had been served and everyone was asleep except jimmy, who awaited my coming, and tumbled me into a hammock beneath a canvas shelter. i suppose i had slept many hours but it seemed no more than five minutes before i was awakened and crawled out for breakfast. the camp kitchen had been set up, the blacks had already eaten and were getting the boats ready. our breakfast consisted of boiled rice, salt fish and biscuits. the second day up the river was uneventful. there were broad sweeps of water, grand, wide curves and the seemingly endless mile after mile of thick jungle vegetation growing down to the water's edge. that night i had an opportunity to see how such an outfit was handled. we landed in a rather likely spot, not far back from the shore, at five o'clock. some of the blacks brought the kitchen outfit ashore, others cut long poles and put up the canvas shelters. it seems that we took our "hotel" along with us, merely a great canvas cover, and spread it anew at each night's camp. a great pole was placed in the crotch of two trees, about twelve feet above ground, the canvas stretched across this and propped up with shorter poles and ropes. beneath this were stretched two hammocks, one for lewis and one for myself. meanwhile captain peter and the bowman swung their hammocks under the awning of the large boat. our twenty paddlers put up three smaller shelters beneath which they swung their own hammocks. the tropic sun was turning the great mazaruni to a sheet of molten gold, deep blue dusk was falling, this turning to gray, and then the camp fires began to glimmer here and there. the captain and bowman needed no camp fire, sleeping on the boat, but we had our own, and the natives had their own at each shelter. jimmy presided over our fire, made coffee for us and prepared our supper. captain pete and the bowman had charge of the food for the natives. the english laws outline clearly to the last ounce and gramme, just how much food you must give the natives who work for you, to live on. it was interesting to watch captain peter, assisted by the bowman, with their scales, measuring out the rations to our paddlers. the government standard of weekly rations for each man is: flour, 7 pints; salt fish, 1 pound; sugar, 1 pound; rice, three and one-fourth pints; salt pork, 1 pound; dried peas, one and three-quarters pints; biscuits, 1 pound. frequently the men prefer the extra portion of sugar in place of the peas, as the sugar is a delicacy with them, desired above all else. captain peter, through long years of experience, knew just how to divide this weekly allowance into daily portions and the blacks trusted him. in line they would march down to the boat, each with a tin plate, and receive his portion, carefully weighed on the scales, then he would march back to his camp fire and prepare his food as best suited himself. [illustration: a jungle "hotel"] [illustration: we worked steadily up the dangerous river] at the same time each one was given extra tea, sugar and crackers for the light morning meal, to save time in breaking camp. with their pint of flour they baked a cake beside the fire, using the salt from their fish for the seasoning. sometimes boiled plantains were eaten with their supper but these they brought with them as they are not required by the governmental regulations to be furnished them. these plantains are much like bananas, but smaller and really considerably different in taste. then there was game and fish to supply additional meat so that, with the foodstuffs we brought along, everyone fared quite well. as soon as they had eaten and had cleaned their tin plates they crawled into their hammocks and filled their short black clay pipes with tobacco. i must say that it was not a very attractive brand of tobacco, to judge from the odor. that night we gave cigarettes to those who did not have them and after that we sold them cigarette tobacco and papers from our stock at cost. they are extremely fond of them. chapter v _getting acquainted with the natives_ it was at these times, as i soon learned, that there was much amusement to be had with these blacks. i learned of their many superstitions, their ambitions, likes and dislikes and much of the customs of that wild country that could never be learned in any other manner. this i learned both by means of questions and by listening carefully as they talked to each other. their english was about as easy to understand as that of the southern georgia darkey, when they cared to talk it. a "dodo" they told me--and they believed it, too--is a sort of hairy bird-beast twenty feet high which either eats men alive or carries them off to its jungle nest and makes slaves of them. then they would name this or that acquaintance and say, "ah spec' he shuah was et by a dodo, yes suh." caven, one of our paddlers, solemnly assured me that he had seen a dodo. caven looked much like a dodo, or some sort of missing link, himself. he said he was out hunting monkeys and saw one. "he gi' me scar' fo' true," said caven, and he must have seen some weird thing, or dreamed that he did, for his teeth chattered even at the telling of it. these blacks could talk fairly understandable english when it was necessary for them to make themselves clear to us. otherwise they could profess almost absolute ignorance of the language, and among themselves they frequently talked a jargon that would defy any linguist to interpret. our men soon formed themselves into cliques and they stuck to these groupings throughout the long trip. the bovianders kept by themselves; the berbicans (negroes from berbice) by themselves; and the demerarians (who believed themselves to be the salt of the earth) likewise flocked together. we had one barbadian negro. now to a british guiana darkey, a darkey from barbados--one of the leeward islands--is the essence of laziness and good-for-nothingness. i think the british guiana darkey is right. i found that caven and his brother berbicans were really the best of the lot. in every test of strength, bravery, skill and endurance, they led the other blacks. i really did not get my initiation into the mysteries of hammock sleeping in the tropics until the second night because on the first night i tumbled in about three in the morning too tired to know whether i was in a hammock or a feather bed. but on this second night i found myself doubled up like a crescent moon. i twisted and squirmed and wriggled about in my fantastic debut into the brotherhood of hammock sleepers before i discovered that the trick was simple enough, once you got on to it, that of sleeping diagonally across it from head to foot. having made this discovery i arose and got out the victrola we bought in georgetown. it was a small, cheap one, but the best investment i ever made. i don't know what induced me to do this, but with a large assortment of records that machine drove away gloom and dull care through many and many a dreary evening. the blacks enjoyed it immensely, and it seemed strange to be mingling the voices of our opera singers with the screech of monkeys and the howls of red baboons and piping of strange night birds in the tropical jungle. the camp fire died low, at last. fresh lanterns were lighted and the men prepared for sleep. this was no simple matter to them. to me it was the most astonishing sight i had witnessed. they made ready for bed by putting on all of the clothing they possessed. then they wrapped cloths around their hands, feet and necks. some even pulled bags down over their heads and tied them. the "wealthy" blacks had bags for each foot. our empty flour bags became grand prizes to be used for this purpose, which we awarded to the best workers. by the faint camp fire light and flicker of lanterns those natives certainly did look queer, like fantastic goblins, all muffled up. there was little that seemed human about them as they clambered into their hammocks and rolled themselves up, pulling over the flaps until quite lost to view. "does it get so cold at night that we have to wrap up like that?" i asked jimmy. "no suh, dey's feered o' vampire bats. that there is a _part_ protection." i couldn't get the "part protection" meaning of it, and all jimmy would explain was that they had some sort of superstitious "voo-doo" rigmarole performances to keep away the vampires. i was quite excited about it. from early boyhood i had read about the deadly vampire bats that come upon you when you are sleeping and suck your life blood away. secretly i hoped that i would be bitten by one so that i could boast of it when i got back home. the blacks were asleep. by virtue of being a sort of aide-de-camp jimmy was allowed to swing his hammock in a corner of our shelter. he insisted that the lantern be kept burning all night. "no need of it," i told him. "yes suh, they is, mister laver," (which was the best he could do in the way of pronouncing my name). "ef yo' don' bu'n a lantum all night yo' will shuah be annoyed." "annoyed?" i laughed. "uh, huh, annoyed by vampires," he answered, very solemnly. but i couldn't sleep with the lantern light in my eyes and so blew out the light. several times in the night, poor scared jimmy tried to light it, but i yelled at him. neither lewis nor myself was ever bitten by a vampire. sometimes one would alight on my hammock, but fly away without trying to bite me. yet, despite their great care, our blacks were frequently bitten. they would become restless in the night, kick off some of their wrappings and then the vampires would get at them. i have heard that vampires are deadly. i never knew personally of a fatal case. i do know that they always pick out a blood vessel for their biting spot and that they never awaken the sleeper. the more blood they draw, the sounder is the sleep of the victim and the bite does not become painful until the next day. i should say that our crew of blacks must have lost, among them, a couple of quarts of blood during the trip. some of them were quite lame and sore and a bit weakened as a result, but that was all. as near as i can figure it out the vampires prefer the blood from gentlemen of color rather than from pale-faced americans. chapter vi _life on the river_ "daylight! daylight!" it was the stentorian shout of captain peter. he was a human alarm clock. he never failed to awaken at the first gleam of daylight. in the tropics it does not come on with a slow pink dawn as here, but seems to burst through the gray morning sky in a flash. there was a scramble everywhere and all tumbled out of the hammocks. camp fires were lighted, tea was boiling and in a short time everyone was getting into the boat. the natives had our shelters down while we were drinking tea. they came down to the boat with their pots and pans jangling at their sides, and at the captain's cry, "in boats all!" we climbed in, the darkies took up their paddles and began their noisy paddling, singing at the same time. the sun was flaming over the top of the jungle from the distant shore of the river, three quarters of a mile away, and we set out on our journey. lewis and i took seats on top of the canvas where we could see everything. we passed through a wide part of the river full of islands and deep channels and treacherous currents and whirlpools. only a skillful man like captain peter could have guided our boat through the right channels, as some of them contain whirlpools that look smooth enough on the surface but would have dragged even as heavy a craft as our own under without a struggle. some of the islands were a mile in area, some no bigger than a doormat. in and out amongst them we paddled and finally came to a smoother, more open part of the river. "eleven o'clock!" cried captain peter. i looked at my watch. it was just eleven o'clock. "your watch is right, captain," i called. "i have no watch, sir," he replied. "i use god's time." it was a fact, he told time by the sun, and seldom was a minute out of the way. eleven o'clock was always breakfast time. how those black men could paddle up against a strong current towing our smaller boat, from five o'clock to eleven with only a cup of tea was more than i could understand. yet they did it, and worked well and never seemed hungry. at eleven we always went ashore and cooked breakfast, cakes, rice, boiled plantains, salt fish and tea. then we would pile back into the boat again and keep on until just before sunset, trying to make a good landing in time to pitch camp before dark. that long afternoon was tiresome to me. i scanned the deep foliage everywhere in hopes to see many wild beasts and reptiles. i recalled my school geography, with its woodcuts of jungles showing great alligators on the shores, giant boa constrictors writhing in trees, monkeys hopping from branch to branch and queer, bright-colored birds flitting about. this was jungle, surely enough, with such thick vegetation that only crawling things could penetrate it, yet for hours i saw no signs of life there. there were wonderful orchids that would, if they could be brought to new york, sell for fabulous sums. there were queer looking trees, great fronded palms, hanging moss as thick as large hawsers and other growing things that i knew nothing about. in georgetown i had heard tales of giant forty-foot snakes. i never saw one. i did catch a glimpse of a small snake which they told me was deadly poison. he was hanging from a limb over the water. we were paddling close inshore to avoid a current. one of the blacks saw it and in a flash knocked it far away into the stream with a blow of his paddle and kept on paddling, because to him this was a common incident. his eyes were trained to see such things. that night we camped at topeka falls, or just below them, and the roar lulled me to sleep. i discovered that the first part of our trip upriver was not as full of adventures as i had hoped. but adventure came in good time. the routine was the same, night after night, but there were many new things of interest to see, many narrow escapes and considerable trouble in one way and another. at this camping place i stripped and was about to take a swim. "hey, quit that," shouted lewis. "i won't hurt your old river," i laughed. "you won't come out alive, sir," said the captain. "there isn't an alligator or crocodile or whatever you call 'em in sight," i insisted and started to dive. jimmy restrained me. "no go in. fish eatum up," he said. i laughed at the idea of a fish eating me up. the captain tossed a salt fish into the water. there was a swish and a big fish came and grabbed it. i didn't get a very clear look at the fish but he looked bigger than a whale and his teeth seemed altogether too prominent for me to fool with. i discovered that the river was full of "perai," a decidedly savage fish extremely fond of human beings. one of them will devour a man in a short while. i gave up my plan of having a swim and lewis and i satisfied ourselves by sitting on the edge of the small boat and splashing water over each other. chapter vii _mutiny among the crew_ our fifth night was saturday. we did not intend to travel or work on sunday. we selected a splendid camp site. heretofore the blacks had waited and given us the best camping place. but we had been treating them so well that they thought our kindness to them was not kindness at all, but fear of them. and so they started to make _their_ shelter on the best spot. "you can't have that place," i said. "we got it," grinned one of the men. most of the others stuck by him. one or two slunk off. "go down there," i commanded. "we stay here," he declared and stood his ground. i was in an uncomfortable position. if i let them have their way this time there would be no living with them. if i got in a fight--they were, after all, twenty-two blacks to three whites--they could overpower us. suddenly i had a vision of how they would abuse us if i gave in. i could see them grinning at each other, believing that we were afraid of them. that situation would be unbearable. i turned on the black man and pointed with my left hand down the slope. "get down there and stay down!" i commanded. "i won't--" he didn't say any more. my fist shot out and took him under the ear and he went over like a stick of wood. then i wheeled to face the others. i really expected a fight, but the blacks stared at their fallen companion who rolled down the slope, their eyes bulging, and before i had time to bark out a short command for them to get out, they hastily snatched up their belongings and ran down the hill. i stood there a moment, waiting to let my anger cool off a little to make sure that i would not say things or do things unnecessarily severe or that i would regret. then i strode down to where they were grouped and where the first black was dazedly rubbing his chin. when they saw me approach they again dropped their things and started to run away. "don't run. you are all right there," i shouted. they paused and looked at me suspiciously. "we are running this little outfit," i said to them, pointing to lewis, "and we are hiring you to work for us. you know your places. keep them and you will get good treatment, otherwise you will be the sorriest niggers in british guiana. for every wrong that you do, you shall be punished. for every good thing that you do you shall be rewarded. we are treating you kindly because it is the right thing to do, not because we are afraid of you. your punishment for attempting to dispute our authority shall be to sleep to-night without your shelter cloth!" then i picked up their shelter cloth, turned my back on them and walked away. to be quite truthful, i was not a little frightened when i turned my back, fearing treachery, yet it was the only thing to do. i knew that i had to make them believe that i was without fear of them or of anything else, otherwise i would not win their respect or co-operation. meekly they arranged to hang their hammocks without the shelter cloth, seeming to take it for granted that they had this penalty coming to them for the way they had acted. "you acted like a veteran explorer," said old captain peter to me. "you did just right, boy. if you had given in they would not have worked, they would have stolen everything and they would have abused you during all the trip." most of the white men that these native darkies knew had been of a rough sort, adventurous dutchmen and others, who kicked them about and treated them without the least regard until the poor black boys--we call all blacks "boys"--thought that it was the white man's natural way. when we showed kindness to them and full regard for their comfort they mistook it for fear. and, thinking that we were afraid of them, they decided to run things themselves. it did not take them long to learn that american white men are not brutes and that when they worked hard and acted on the square they would be treated with kindness. and i am sure no group of native blacks, as a whole, ever worked more faithfully than this bunch after they had learned their lesson. there are always a few exceptions. one or two became lazy, one or two tried to steal diamonds, later, but we had our own methods of handling them. for the first time in my life i learned by direct experience the value of superiority of intelligence. we white men, being mentally far superior to the blacks, could rule them. had they known their own strength they could have overpowered us at any time. and i recalled that in all of my histories the same has held good. the mentally superior people have ruled the less intelligent. chapter viii _the glorious fourth_ this was our fifth night of camping on the banks of the mazaruni. we were to be two nights here, as we did not intend to travel or work on sunday. by the time we had our shelters erected and this little mix-up with the blacks had been settled, lewis suddenly looked up from his notebook in which he was keeping a sort of journal, and said, "say!" "say it," i remarked, lazily, from my hammock where i was resting. "whoop-ee!" shouted lewis, leaping to his feet. "what's got you?" i demanded. "is it a vampire down your neck or a crocodile up your trousers leg?" "this, my beloved fellow american, happens to be the fourth day of july, in the year of our lord nineteen hundred and seventeen, and the one hundred and forty-first year of our country's independence!" was his reply, whereupon i stared at him a moment and then i, too, leaped up and emitted a war whoop. fourth of july in a far-away jungle! in the british guiana wilds we of course couldn't do just as we would have done back in the united states, but we did the next best thing. while he was getting out some firearms i dug up several flags we had with us and soon the stars and stripes were much in evidence. we rigged a pole in the center of our camp, raised our largest flag and, with hats off, repeated the oath of allegiance. then we ran the colors up on our boats and stuck the smaller flags about in various places. our next move was a bit of noise. "bang-bang-bang-bang!" went our repeating rifles. then we shot our revolvers and finally we improvised a "cannon" out of a hollow log, filled it with blasting powder from our stock for mining, attached a fuse and kept up our firing of small arms until sunset, which was then but a few minutes coming. lewis lighted the fuse. i stood by at the flag and began to lower it. "whang!" it certainly was some explosion. bits of the old log flew in every direction. quickly i lowered the flag, for that final explosion was our "sunset gun." there were some scared blacks in our party. they thought we had surely gone crazy. those who had attempted to assert themselves when we landed were certain that we intended to kill them. but captain peter explained to them that it was our national holiday and that we were celebrating, and this made them feel better. i ordered an especially good feast that night, some tinned fruits and double portions of food for all. then we got out the victrola and i selected all of the old war songs and all of our patriotic music that we had, and for two hours lewis and i made a bluff at singing everything from "yankee doodle" and "columbia the gem of the ocean" to "america" and "the star spangled banner." it was the most unusual fourth of july celebration i had ever experienced and, now that we are having sane fourths at home, i believe we burned more gunpowder away up there in the jungles of british guiana on the banks of the mazaruni than was burned in half the cities at home. chapter ix _baboon for dinner_ sunday we sat about camp, reading and chatting for a while. then we heard the peculiar roaring of the wild red baboons, and the blacks wanted to go into the jungle and shoot some, as these men are extremely fond of the meat. off a party of us went, through the thick jungle and into the more open forests on the uplands back from shore. again i kept my eyes open for the giant snakes i had been told about. but i saw none. finally some of the blacks, circling ahead, came upon some of the red baboons and we heard their shots. hurrying on to get into the fun i heard one howl close to me. finally i made him out, high in a tree. by good luck i got him with the first shot and he came tumbling down at my feet, quite dead and one of the most hideous looking beasts to be found. my appetite was not whetted in the least at thought of eating him. the blacks came back with two more which they had got after a dozen or more shots. the fact that i dropped one the first shot increased their respect for me because it indicated that i was a dead shot. i did not deny it, although the truth was that i was by no means a crack marksman. on the way back i suddenly let out a yell and tried to shake something from the back of my hand. from the feeling i was sure it was a red hot poker, jabbed quite through my hand. what i did see was a small red ant. he had hooked his biting apparatus into the skin of my hand and i had to pull him off. there must have been some sort of poison on him for sharp pains, like needles of fire, darted through my hand and up my arm. it was an hour or more before the pain went away. jimmy hailed our arrival with the baboons with delight and proceeded at once to dress and cook the one i had bagged. both lewis and myself were rather skeptical about eating any. however, we had been without our customary quantity of fresh meat and decided to try some. jimmy boiled some of it with salt pork, seasoning it well. very gingerly lewis and i tasted it. the meat was dark, very tender and, to our surprise, tasted much like rabbit or gray squirrel meat. "i feel like a cannibal, eating baboon," laughed lewis. "darwin said we were related to monkeys, not baboons," i argued. "well, a baboon belongs to the same family. i feel as though i were dining on a distant relative." but we soon learned to overcome such feelings and the meat was really excellent. how the darkies did feast on it! there wasn't an unpicked bone or a shred of it left by the time they were finished. monday, our seventh day on the river, found us in the midst of some perilous rapids and facing some tough propositions in the way of portages. in the shallow waters there was no danger from the perai, or man-eating fish, and the darkies could leap out, fasten a line at the bow and two at the stern and haul the craft up over ledges to still and deep water. but frequently it meant that we were to pile out and lighten the boat by removing the five tons of supplies! twice we had to carry those five tons of provisions and other supplies two or three hundred yards around portages while the boys hauled the heavy boat up the ledges. to make matters worse, there was a drizzling rain. after we got further up the river we had less trouble with rains because they came regularly, morning and night, without fail. we made a camp in the rain and ate beneath our shelters. early in the forenoon of the next day we came within sight of caburi, the largest falls on the mazaruni river. at this point the puruni river joins the mazaruni. it was a big job to unload and carry our provisions and other equipment up over the high ledges by hand, for while it was only a carry of about a hundred yards, it was difficult clambering up over steep ledges of the falls with them. it took us more than half the day just to get over the falls and load again. i had been taking a number of pictures, but i lost many of them because i did not know that the warm water of the tropics would ruin the negatives. the developing tank is excellent at home, but down there in torrid british guiana where the water is always from 75 to 80 degrees above zero in temperature, not even the tanks would save them, the heat of the water softening and ruining the emulsion on the celluloid films. the only way i could do, as i afterwards learned, was to take the pictures and then seal the exposed films in tin boxes and wait until i got back to a cooler climate or to civilization where i could get ice to put in the fluids. [illustration: once in a while a boat shot past us] [illustration: at times a portage must be made] chapter x _in the indian country_ over the caburi falls we found a broad expanse of still water, smooth and, while the current was fairly swift, by no means like the treacherous rapids below. "better navigating now, until almost up to the big bend, sir," said captain peter. the "big bend" was a name to conjure with for lewis and me, for away up the mazaruni were the diamonds, where the river makes a sharp bend and begins to almost double in its tracks. this is due to the hilly formation and the lowlands between the hills. "this is the indian territory," added the captain, whereupon i became instantly alert, for i was anxious to see the real natives of this wild country. our blacks are called "native blacks," but in truth they are no more native to british guiana than are the negroes of the united states native to north america. they all had the same ancestors, the blacks of africa who were brought over in slave ships to be sold. the reason the indians live in the upper reaches of the river was plain enough, for here the water was smooth and navigable for their peculiar light dugouts and their eggshell-like woodskins, canoes made of bark. we had no more than swept around the first great bend in the broad expanse of still water above the falls than we saw a canoe loaded down with an indian family and their possessions. "good!" exclaimed captain. "we will get them to hunt for us and have plenty of fresh meat and good fish. i will call them." then he did a peculiar thing. instead of shouting to them, and they were surely nearly half a mile away, he called in a very low tone of voice, softer by far than he would use in speaking to the bowman on our own craft. "yoo-hoo. yoo-hoo," he said, over and over, a dozen times. "they'll never hear you. let me show you how to shout to them," i said. "no-no," warned the captain. "a great shout will frighten them. their ears are so well trained to every sound of the river and jungle that they can hear almost every sound. a loud noise startles them." "yoo-hoo," he repeated again, in a low tone. the indians heard, turned their heads and studied us and then began to paddle toward us. gradually our boats came together and i studied them eagerly. it was a strange sight to me, the first really uncivilized people i had ever seen. before they got to us one of the men stopped paddling and called, in a low tone: "me-a-ree! me-a-ree!" "me-a-ree!" repeated captain peter. "what does that mean?" i demanded. "it is a form of greeting, sir. it means a combination of 'how do you do?' and 'we are friends.' always use it when you meet the native indians." they talked in low mutterings but the captain seemed to be able to understand them. later they talked in a sort of pidgin english that i could understand fairly well myself. at first i was a bit bashful about staring at them, thinking that they would be embarrassed or consider me rude, and that it might affect their modesty. i laugh now every time i think of that. in the first place, they do not know the meaning of the word "modesty." not that they are immodest, but that they go about with scarcely any clothes, which seems quite all right to them. and as for embarrassing them by staring at them, they consider it an honor to be stared at, to have someone take an interest in them. to me they were a great curiosity. the entire family was crowded in their small canoe, the old grandfather with a gray tinge to his hair although with bright eyes and strong muscles, as his paddling showed; his son, son's wife, their son, who was quite a youth; two younger boys and several babies. then there were several tame parrots, a large blue and yellow macaw that croaked incessantly and a worried little flea-bitten dog much mauled by the babies. and packed in about them in their none too safe canoe i saw a dozen chunks of smoked meat, lying about like so much firewood to be walked over, a dozen or more very stiff and black smoked fish, several baskets of queer vegetables, a bunch of small bananas, bows and arrows, blowpipes and bundles of the dangerous poisoned blowpipe arrows with tips wrapped, fish spears, game spears and a large iron pan which was originally used for washing gold, but used by this indian family--who prized it above all their worldly goods--as a kettle, stove, frying pan and griddle. in the center of the boat on a large piece of wet and noninflammable bark, lay a heap of glowing coals, to be used for their cooking fire wherever they might camp or upon their return to their home. from this i figured it out that matches in the jungle were not to be had for the asking. we gave each man cigarettes, which at once made us friends. the captain began to dicker with the men about securing game for us, and as they talked i made a study of them. one thing is certain, they are not bothered by the high price of clothing. i looked at the big boy, he was about sixteen i should judge--about the age when i got into long trousers and had plenty of difficulties in keeping them pressed, when i worried about the right style and fit of collars and the proper tie to go with my shirt, when collar buttons and scarf pins and cuff links were important to me and i craved silk socks and kept my shoes polished and my clothes brushed. it was a serious matter in those days, as every boy knows, getting up in the morning, getting properly dressed and off to school in time. and i looked at this big boy. he wore a red loin cloth which was about a foot long, suspended from a "belt" made of some wild vine. that was all the clothing that he possessed in the world, all that he needed and i'm sure every boy will envy him his comfort, if nothing more. the men, too, wore loin cloths, red, and about two feet long, tucked into vine belts. [illustration: the first jungle indians we saw] [illustration: an indian fisherman] the women wore smaller loin cloths, called an apron or "queyu." these were decorated with beads and held on by a string of beads instead of vines. the smaller children wore nothing at all. some of the women wear necklaces made of shells, animal teeth or beads or all three. some have bright dried beans for beads and most of them wear strings of beads around their legs just below the knees. the men seemed fairly well built. their light, copper-colored skin was smooth and remarkably clean. their hair was jet black and as straight as that of our own north american indians, and their features slightly resembled those of our indians at home, although not so strong and picturesque. some of them, men and women, are tattooed and also decorated with "beena," done by cutting into the arm and letting the scars heel deeply in queer designs. this "beena," i learned, is believed by them to be a charm against all sorts of evil and, on the women's arms (women mostly use this "decoration"), they think that it helps them to weave hammocks and to make their everlasting cassava bread. the parrots and the dog seemed very friendly, the birds walking over him and making queer, low, croaking sounds, the dog lazily watching them walk over him and now and then wagging his tail. one peculiarity about their talk, the pidgin english, was something like that of the chinese coolies i had met in the west. they substitute the letter "l" for the letter "r" and the letter "b" for the letter "v." they say "belly good" instead of "very good." "so," finished the captain to the head man, the grandfather, "you go hunt some game and shoot some fish for us." "uh huh, me go hunt um. shoot paccu, shoot maam, anything. bring 'long to you bime by." and the indians then paddled off and were lost to view around the curve of the river. "will they do it? will they come and find us?" i asked. "they certainly will, sir. they want the sugar and kerosene and other things we shall trade with them for the game." chapter xi _"uncivilized," but courteous, quiet and clean_ that night we pitched camp on the left bank of the river. while preparing supper i was investigating the forest that circled the little clearing and almost jumped out of my skin when i heard, in soft voices, either side of me, the word "me-a-ree." i am sure i jumped a couple of feet straight up. there, standing right beside me, were two of our indian friends. they grinned at my fright. such good woodsmen are they that they can come upon a person without making a sound. their naked bronze bodies seem to blend with the forest shadows. one of them had two paccu, the large, flat, delicious fish that they shoot with bow and arrow or sometimes spear. the other had a "maam" which is a bush turkey, not as large as our wild turkeys. this he shot with a blowpipe. "me-a-ree," i exclaimed, as soon as i caught my breath. i shuddered to think how easily they might have killed me had they been enemies. a white man hasn't a ghost of a chance with such clever natives if they want to get him, because he cannot travel in the jungle and forests down there without being heard, so keen is their hearing, while they can come right up to him, even when his eyes and ears are strained to see and hear, before he knows their presence. "these are real uncivilized men," i thought, as i looked them over, standing there in the dim, deep forest edge, with bow and arrow and blowpipe, with the fish and bird, their naked bodies almost the color of the trees and shadows. but when i came to know them better i discovered that if uncivilized meant a rude, uncouth, ill-mannered, treacherous, dirty and disagreeable people, then these natives were civilized, for i found them to be real "nature's gentlemen," kind, courteous, quiet and clean. it was father and son who brought the game. they asked for powder and shot for their guns. the father was a sort of chief of their own little tribe and he and his son each owned one of those priceless "lead" guns, the cheap muzzle loaders made expressly for such people. we had plenty of powder and shot and made the exchange. you or i could never get any game with those "lead" guns because they will not carry far, they will not shoot accurately and they frequently miss fire entirely. but the skilled indians are able to stalk the game so quietly that they can almost poke the muzzle of the gun into the ribs of the game before they fire point blank. we entertained them with showing them our modern guns, and with showing them their faces in good mirrors and with victrola music, at which they marveled greatly and chattered excitedly about it. then, as silently as they came, they disappeared into the forest to go to their homes before the night mists should enshroud them. i went down to the water's edge to watch the last gleam of light, fast going, when suddenly there was the most terrific threshing about that i had ever heard. something gigantic, seemingly as big as a mountain, arose in front of me. i thought it must be a combination of crocodile and man-eating fish come out of the water to feast on me. then i thought of something else. "good-night!" the thought flashed through my mind, "that nigger, cavan, told the truth when he described the 'dodo' as a hair-covered bird twenty feet high," and i had visions of being transformed into either a dodo's supper or a dodo's slave. instinctively i threw up my arms to ward off the terrible creature, and fell backward. the "giant" arose and sailed out across the water. it was a toucan--that funny bird with the immense bill that we have seen in our picture books and stuffed and occasionally alive in parks. his loud flapping, hoarse croaking, and the spread of his wings in the deepening twilight made him seem fully as big as cavan's mythological "dodo." i laughed at myself, yet the sudden rising of a ruffed grouse in the deep forests at home will frequently startle a chap quite as badly as this, and i am sure that the poor toucan was more scared than i, for i nearly stepped on him when i approached the river bank. as usual we moved on up the river all the next day and camped at night. and quite as silently as they had come before, the two indians appeared within our camp circle. this time each had a wild boar slung over his back like a knapsack. the beasts' feet were tied together with a small vine. father and son had each killed one with a spear. they were greeted warmly by us and given cigarettes. but they did not seem to care about parting with the game. after a while, being persuaded by the clever captain peter, they agreed to let us have them, but first they must take them to their camp to clean them. i learned the reason afterwards. here was my opportunity to see the indians in their homes, to see how they lived. "will it be all right to go home with them?" i asked the captain. he said that it would and so i turned to the father. "me walkee with you, savvy? me go long-side your home." "no sabbe, no sabbe," said the indian. "i want to walk along home with you," i said, in straight english this time. the indian understood that well enough. [illustration: "bringing home the bacon"] "all li'. you come," he said. although he talked pidgin english, he couldn't understand it when we talked it, but he could understand straight english, except when he didn't want to answer, then he would say "no sabbe," and that settled it, you couldn't get a word from him. they were all like that. i started out with them through the jungle forest. the silence of the place, their footsteps being almost noiseless, was depressing. i tried to talk. "how far?" i asked. "me no sabbe," said the youth. "how long will it take to get there?" i insisted. "little," answered his father. they have no idea of time as divided into hours and minutes, they judge by nights, before "high sun" or noon, and back to "no sun" or evening. chapter xii _a visit to a native home_ their home was not as far away as i had expected. but then, an indian's "home" is easily made, consisting of some upright poles, roughly thatched with long marsh grass. beneath this they place their belongings and they sleep in hammocks at night. the forests are full of little colonies or villages back from the river. they hide well back, along small streams, to secrete their camp fires from river travelers. our friends had moved along by land as we moved by water and this night they joined some other families. there were several of the shelters and a fire burning in front of each around which members of families squatted. this camp was on a wide stream entering the mazaruni, and screened by an island. as i entered their camp the natives jumped up from the fires. remembering the captain's instructions i smiled at all of them and said, "me-a-ree, me-a-ree." they replied with the same greeting. i handed the men presents and at once it was understood that i was a friend. our two hunters dropped the wild boars, squatted beside them and in an amazing short time had them opened and skinned. no butcher at home with clean blocks and keen knives and meat saws ever cut up meat as quickly or as skillfully and neatly as did these men. the women gathered about and helped them in their work. the bladders were given to two of the smaller boys, brothers of the youth. at once they ran to the water and began to float the bladders and have fun with them just as white children would do. the intestines were carefully hung on poles by a hot fire of green twigs, to smoke. these, i was told, were to the indians the "best part of the boar." i took their word for it, politely refusing to taste of some of the smoked intestines they already had on hand. this surprised the people who, i am sure, must have thought that i was all kinds of a fool to refuse such a wonderful treat as that. "take what you want," said the old man, pointing to the dressed meat. i selected the hams, shoulders and ribs, and they nodded and walked down to the water to wash. without a word it was understood that their work was done. the women were to do the rest, even to toting the meat to our camp. quite a number of the indians came back to our camp. the meat was given around to our black men, saving some of it for our own meals. our blacks at once proceeded to build a fire of green twigs and smoke their share of the meat. in our shelter the indians squatted. one of the indians who had heard our victrola pointed at it and made a circular motion with his hand, indicating that he wanted us to make the discs go around. jimmy was delighted to play host and proceeded to go through our selection of records. the flea-bitten dog backed away and howled at certain places during the concert, but one of the parrots, which had come over perched on a child's shoulder, was deeply interested and flew to the victrola, lighted on it, eyed the revolving record sharply, squawked delight or anger at the music and finally hopped down on the revolving record. he was probably the most surprised parrot in the world, for that revolving record yanked his feet out from under him and he fell squawking on his back. the way that old parrot flapped off of the victrola and back to the child's shoulder was a caution, squawking and snapping his beak as if he were swearing, in bird talk. the indians laughed noisily and shrilly, like children, at this. we gave the women some little trinkets and all of them a little food. one young woman looked at my hammock and made up a funny face, jabbering to an older woman who nodded, and without a word to me she took down my hammock and began to unravel it. i decided to say nothing and watch her. when it was all unraveled and nothing but a pile of cords she began deftly to weave it again and when she was finished it was as even and smooth as any hammock ever made. she had seen an uneven place in it, knew that it would not be comfortable, and fixed it. i slept much better in it that night. i gave her a piece of scented soap, which delighted her. with great pride she walked around letting everyone have a smell of it. i saw her again and she had bored a hole through the cake and strung it on her necklace. i have often wondered how long it lasted. as the indians never mind the rain but are out in it just as they are in sunshine, that cake of soap certainly dissolved in time. jimmy served me a goodly portion of the boar meat. both lewis and myself enjoyed it. the meat was a bit stringy, but it was delicious, nevertheless. the night dampness and mists began to settle. without a word the indians silently departed into the forests, to go back to their shelters and sleep in their hammocks. i asked jimmy about the vampires and he assured me that the indians were safe. "vampire bats ain't got no use for injun, suh. reckin they don't admire the taste of 'em." the indians sleep without clothes, other than the mesh-like flaps of the hammocks thrown over them, giving plenty of opportunity for the vampires and also for the really dangerous mosquitoes, which proved my undoing, as i will tell about later. the indians seldom have jungle fever or malaria and if the mosquitoes do bite them there are no bad effects. [illustration: two quick puffs, a flutter, and the bird drops to earth] chapter xiii _the snake that disappeared_ that night cavan remarked that we were now getting into the big snake district. "big snake feller here plenty. sho' he scar' yo'," said cavan. "how long?" i asked. "some like a tall tree, some not so much," said cavan. and then they discussed the snakes, how they encircle wild boars and other big animals and "squeeze 'em inter a pulp an' eat 'em." it was interesting, but i found myself looking out into the jungle and imagining that every branch i could see was a giant snake. that night i was awakened and felt my hair standing up and quivering and prickling at each root, for, hanging down from the tree in front of me, to which was suspended the foot end of my hammock, was a great snake. i couldn't stir at first. he lowered his head and swung it about like a pendulum, finally resting it on the foot of my hammock. then, raising his head, he seemed to see me. in the dim light from a pale moon and a ghastly glow from the coals of our fire i could see the snake's bright eyes and his tongue darting in and out. i tried to shout. i tried to look about and see if lewis was still asleep, to see if he couldn't help me. i tried to call jimmy, to see if he was awake, but couldn't seem to turn my head. the snake slid further down the tree and glided across my stomach. he was so long that much of him was still draped up the tree and over a limb. he raised his head and opened his jaws, as if laughing at my helplessness, and i thought of many things. i thought that it was a silly thing to have ventured off into these wilds. i wondered why i had not been satisfied to stay in a white man's country and not butt into the wild jungles of the indians. i thought of everyone at home and finally decided that no snake was going to finish me that way without one good struggle. i looked keenly at his neck to decide just where his throat was, located it back of his jaws and, as he lunged at me, i let out a terrific yell and clutched both hands in a life-and-death grip around the neck of the great snake. he tried to yank away and his strength lifted me upright from the hammock, his whole body quivered. still i clung on. then he began to writhe horribly and to thrash about, swaying me this way and that. in the struggle i fell from the hammock to the ground, still with my deadly grip about that snake's neck. with my fingers clutched in a death grip about his throat, i felt that i would be better able to defend myself. i must have had this thought during the process of falling, for when i struck the ground with a terrific jolt i found my fingers clutched in the holster of my revolver. instantly i was on my feet, looking this way and that for the snake. there was no snake in sight! where had he gone? i looked about again and discovered that there had been no snake at all! it was the result of my talk with jimmy and cavan the night before about mammoth snakes. the perspiration was dripping from my face. i looked about stealthily to see if any of my companions had witnessed my dream struggles, but all seemed to be sleeping peacefully, so i climbed back into my hammock, yet the dream so upset me that i was unable to sleep any more. however, it was almost dawn. "how did you sleep last night?" asked lewis, when he sat up in his hammock. "bully," i declared, giving him a sharp look to see if he was trying to kid me about my foolish dream, but either he had not awakened or else was a good actor, for he never let on that he knew about it. my arm was sore for days where i bruised it in striking a rock as i landed beneath my hammock. it was the only bad dream i had during my months in the jungle, but it was quite enough. chapter xiv _difficulties of jungle travel_ the next two days our trip was disagreeable because of continued rains, but on the third day we camped at four-thirty close to a "path" that led to the largest indian village. i was determined to visit it and pictured quite a little town. we could see the tall column of smoke from their fires. my companion and i were so eager to get to this village next morning that we did not wait to eat, but, taking a handful of food, set out with one boviander to carry a knife and lantern. for the first time i learned something of the difficulties of jungle travel. we had to slash through vines, wade through bogs of slime and mud, clamber over gnarled roots and stumble around in the most tangled growth of vegetation i ever saw. "if this is a 'path,'" i said to lewis, "i'm glad i'm not in the wilderness." "no go outside path," grinned the boviander. we assured him that we would not, but we could find no trace of a path at all. when we were not in muddy bogs, feeling our way to make sure we would not step into some hole over our heads, or clambering around fallen trees and brush, we were going up short but steep little hills covered with tangled vines. after two hours of this, and being almost exhausted, we came to a clearing. "here it is," shouted lewis. and as if to prove it we heard a rooster crow. eagerly we stumbled out into the clearing and saw the few huts, but the place was deserted. "more further," said the boviander; "someone he die." by this he meant that some member of the village had died. the indians always desert their village when anyone dies in it, and move on to establish another. they will never live in a village where anyone has died. the lonely rooster crowed defiantly at us as we skirted the village to find the "path." having found it we moved on about a mile. "ah, here we are," i declared as i came into an opening. not a soul in sight! "another die," commented our boviander, shrugging his shoulders. "if the death rate is very high we'll never overtake that village," grumbled lewis. up above were tiny patches of blue, bits of the sky that we could see through the thick jungle growth. i saw some smoke and decided that at last we were close to the village. but at the opening we saw but a single "house" or shelter. the indian came forward to see us. lewis had prospected up through this section before sending for me, and when he saw this indian he exclaimed in a low voice, "that's simon." he didn't seem at all glad to find him there, but i had no opportunity to ask him about it before simon, the indian, advanced and, smiling as blandly as a chinaman, exclaimed cordially: "me-a-ree!" he told us that the village was quite a distance on, and offered to lead us there. lewis could not well refuse, as we had now gone far away from our camp and the district was wild and unknown to any of us. but i could see that he was not very well pleased with the prospect. simon motioned to his boy, a handsome, copper-colored youth, to start on with him, and proceeded to lead the way, taking a blowpipe and quiver of the poisoned arrows with him. this, too, troubled lewis. but there seemed nothing else to do, so we followed. on the way lewis told me what was worrying him. during his previous prospecting trip when he went up the river to make sure that there were diamond fields before sending for me, he had found an old indian very sick at one of the villages. this was simon's father. lewis did what he could for the sick old indian, giving him quinine pills, the universal cure-all in the jungle, but the old man died. on this trip one of our men had heard that simon believed lewis had purposely killed his father and that he did it with the "magic pills," as he called the quinine. "they say simon has acted queerly ever since," explained lewis, "and he may imagine that i really did kill his father and start a little 'ka-ni-a-mer' of his own between just him and me." "and what on earth is a 'ka-ni-a-mer'?" i demanded. "just about the same as an old kentucky feud where two families try for years to kill each other off. so you see i'm not extremely trustful of this bland simon injun," said lewis. "and to top it all," he added, "i dreamed the other night that my mother came and warned me to look out as i was to be in great danger." this made me decidedly uneasy and i was determined to keep my eye on simon every minute, staying between him and lewis. the trip to the village seemed long. there was considerable uphill going. every once in a while simon would turn and jabber at his boy, who would instantly look around at us, then reply to his father, who would hurry on faster than ever. they were setting a terrific pace. already wearied with our travels before we came to simon's hut, this was overdoing it just a little. but, worse than that, i got the idea that simon was trying to lose us, to rush on far ahead and then hide and kill us--or kill lewis anyway, with his blowpipe from ambush. i knew that just a scratch from the poisoned tip of one of those slender arrows would finish lewis, or anyone else. "you take my gun," i said to lewis, "and take it easy, while i keep up with him and keep him right in plain sight." lewis is a heavy-built man and it was more difficult for him to keep up the hot pace uphill. i hurried on and got quite close to them. simon spoke to his boy, who turned around and gave a little jump of astonishment to see me so close. he spoke sharply to his father, who turned around. just as he turned around i purposely pulled my revolver from the holster with a great flourish. to these native indians our revolvers are wonderful and fearful things. they regard them with awe and also with fear. that so small a thing held lightly in the hand could deal death is one of the most amazing things they know about. when simon saw this he at once slackened his pace and gave me another bland smile. "me-a-ree. me-a-ree!" he said. "me-a-ree," i replied, but kept my revolver in my hand. after that he slowed up and made no attempt to lose us, but he kept looking back frequently and earnestly to make sure that i was not pointing the deadly "mystery gun" at him. we passed many small platforms lashed to tall trees. i thought they were the "graves" of indians, as i knew that many of our american indians had the custom of leaving their dead on high platforms. but the boviander explained that they were hunting stations. the indians climb up and kneel on these platforms motionless for hours, waiting for game to pass so that they can kill it with blowpipes, spears, bows and arrows or with their crude guns. it was getting late and i had just begun to wonder if we would have to camp in that dismal swamp all night when i heard the sound of a horn. it was some indian call made by blowing on a shell. simon nodded, meaning that it was the village. soon we came into a great clearing. i expected to see a thriving village, since i had been assured that assura was the largest of the indian villages. and it was the largest, yet it consisted of only seven houses, with a-shaped roofs of reeds, and one larger or communal house with a conical roof. three of the mangiest, sorriest looking dogs i had ever beheld, howled mournfully when we came into the clearing, then tucked their tails between their legs and ran away to hide, having performed their duty of warning the villagers of our approach. i was greatly interested, for the villagers did not know that we were coming and i was sure to find them in their primitive life without "putting on" for company. they flocked about us, more curious than we, for we had seen indians and knew something about their customs by this time, but few of them had seen any white men except the dutch and half-breed dutch "pork-knockers," or wandering diamond miners. as usual, they wore no clothes except the red loin cloth of the men and the queyu, or tiny apron of the women. but every garment that we wore was a curiosity to them. i am sure that had we marched in there, wearing no more than a loin cloth, they would not have been greatly interested. but hats, coats, vests, trousers, leggings, shoes--all of those garments were wonderful curiosities to them all, as you may well imagine. there was an all-around exchange of "me-a-rees" and we passed around some cigarettes, whereupon they knew that we were friends. how they crowded about us, children with no clothes at all, and tiny babies that could not walk crawled along over the filthy ground, through spots of black mud and shallow pools of stagnant water, picking up the dirt and animal refuse from the ground and apparently feasting on it. it made us shudder to see them, yet those tiny babies seemed quite contented and quite healthy. at once i wondered what an american mother who dresses her baby in costly flannels and embroidered linens, places it in a hundred dollar baby carriage and wraps it in another hundred dollar fur robe, would say if her pink little darling were to be stripped and left to crawl about through the muck of this jungle clearing to get chummy with chiggers and stinging red ants, big ugly black beetles, mosquitoes and other things! chapter xv _hospitality of the jungle folk_ in pidgin english we made the men understand that we wanted six of them to go up the river with us, some to help us hunt, some to build a "logie" for lewis and myself. they agreed to go, but when we suggested that we start right away, they declined. we must wait another day. they could not set out without a supply of cassava, which is to them what our bread is to us, the staff of life. and they declared it too late to venture into the jungle, so we had to arrange to stay with them over night. this interested me, as the night trip was not to my liking and i wanted to see indian life at close range. among the indians was one called "abraham," who had been with lewis on his previous trip. he was an honest chap, faithful and a hard worker and fond of lewis because of his name. it seems that on his prospecting trip lewis liked this chap and asked him his name. alas, he had none. indians are given names by their medicine men, called "peiman," or by the chief of the colony, at birth, providing their parents can pay enough in indian trade goods. when abraham was born his parents had nothing to give, so he went without a name. this is considered a calamity among the indians, as a nameless one is quite liable, so they believe, to meet up with all of the misfortunes possible to befall a human being. lewis liked him so well that he at once assumed the role of a "peiman" and solemnly bestowed upon him the name of "abraham." for this abraham would do anything for lewis. there was another indian who interested us. he had but one eye, but was almost a giant in build. he always had a jolly grin and as we liked him and found him to be nameless, i gravely assured him that i could bestow names. he begged me to do so. "gi' me call by," he said. "you shall henceforth be called by 'lewis,'" i said, with a dramatic gesture, winking at lewis, who grinned at the joke. soon i had taught him just how to speak the word "lewis" and he was a very proud indian. each "house" consisted of only a reed and palm-leaf roof supported on poles, there being no sides to any of them. the supply of household goods was pitifully small indeed. there were plenty of weapons, a few cassava-making implements, a rare metal dish or tin can and hammocks everywhere. the indian women sit in these hammocks doing their weaving or bead work by day and all sleep in them by night. there was a fire at each hut, made of logs which were arranged like the spokes of a wheel, the inner ends, or "hub" being the fire. as the ends would burn away the logs would be pushed in toward the center and new ones added as the old ones burned up. these fires supplied plenty of heat for cooking and enough warmth for the night chill and they were never allowed to go out. in some places a village is not moved for a year or two, depending upon whether there is a death there, and a fire once started burns steadily on that spot all of the time. [illustration: they seemed glad to pose for us] [illustration: jungle huntsmen] we were tired and wet. we needed food and rest and told abraham this, whereupon he promptly gave up his house to lewis and myself and took his wife and flock of children over to the communal house with the conical roof. we livened up the fire and decided to remove our wet clothes and dry them. we had just about as much privacy as a goldfish, and the villagers flocked about us in great excitement as we proceeded to strip off our outer garments. we stripped down to our flannel underwear and decided to sit about our roaring fire and get dry while our clothes dried. but the natives eagerly asked the privilege of taking our clothes and drying them for us. there seemed no way out of it and i wondered if i was going to be left to travel through the jungle in nothing but underwear. but i should not have feared. they were honest enough. they merely wished to borrow our clothes to strut about in for a while. one big chap had my hat cocked on his head at the "tough guy" angle as if he had worn one all his life. two giggling young women divided my big boots, each wearing one, and marched proudly about, the thong ties dragging. an old man put on my coat. but the trousers were too wet, so they escaped. next morning they were returned, well dried and nothing whatever missing from the pockets. i sat in a hammock, slung close to the fire, drying my wet socks and the legs of my underclothes, watching the women prepare a meal of eggs, venison, labbas and cassiri for us, and grinned at the picture we must have made. "not quite up to the etiquette of polite society at home," i said to lewis. "but we are overdressed, even now," he answered, "according to the style down here." the houses are called "benabs." abraham said he would bring the food over to our benab. this he did. it was smoking hot, heaped up in one big wooden dish, and with it a calabash, or gourd, of cassiri. this was a bright pink liquid, most sickening in appearance. the indians all drank out of the same big gourd and seemed to enjoy it. lewis took a taste. "great," he said. i didn't like his expression when he said it, but was determined to try anything once, so i tasted it. "u-r-r-r-gh!" dud. lewis had his back to me. i could see that he was shaking with laughter. "for two cents i'd pour this pink slop down your neck!" i gasped. the indians looked on and grinned. i did not wish to be impolite, so i said, "yaa! cassiri too much humbug yankee man's stomach!" and i hugged my stomach as if in pain and smiled to assure them of good feeling. they merely laughed. this drink tasted like sour milk, long overripe strawberries, vinegar, pepper, sour yeast, cassava meal and whatever else they might have had left over to dump into it. but the venison was delicious and the labba, which is a sort of pig about the size of a rabbit, was as good meat as i ever tasted. the cassava is not bad at all and so we managed to make out a very good meal. but if i had taken a big swallow of that pink cassiri i am sure my stomach would have burned up or exploded. it came time for us to get some sleep if ever we were to turn in. while we were fairly dry, there was a dampness in the air and we had only our underclothes. but the headman of the village brought out three strips of cotton cloth he had been hoarding in an old canister, another loaned a frayed old shirt he had got in some trade, another contributed a pair of red cotton trousers. my shirt and tunic were dry and with these, divided between lewis and me, we turned in to our hammocks. we tried a fire of glowing coals under our hammocks as did some of the indians, but the smoke was too much for us and we had to move the fire. besides, i didn't want to have any more snake dreams and fall out in a bed of hot coals. i lay there listening to the jungle noises and trying to guess what sort of beast, bird or reptile was making them, when it came time for the indians to turn in. just as the village became quiet and the babies stopped squalling and the kids stopped chattering, there came a native song. "this is a great time to start singing!" i grumbled to lewis. "go to sleep and don't mind it," he advised. "i can't sleep until he stops that fool song," i insisted. "ha-ha," laughed lewis, "you've got some fine little wait coming." he covered himself in his hammock and proceeded to sleep. i didn't understand what he meant at the time, but i learned, for i waited and waited for the singer to stop. but when he got tired, another singer took it up and then another and another. they keep that song going _all night_ every night of their lives. there was nothing for me to do but to remain in my hammock and listen to that terrible singing. the voices were not so bad, nor were they harsh, but there didn't seem to be much melody in what they sang and after you have heard the same gibberish sung over and over and over for about a million times (so it seemed to me) you certainly get good and tired of it. it was no effort on my part to learn the song. i got so that i knew just what the next line would be and i found myself muttering it along with whichever indian happened to be taking his "spell" at singing it. "what does it mean?" i asked many. but the best answer i could get was that it was a "sort of song to keep danger away at night." it also kept sleep away from me for several hours, although i finally did get to sleep in spite of it and did not awaken until daylight had come and the singing had ceased. i always wished that i could get a translation of the song, but i will repeat it as it sounded: "_ip phoo ke na, pagee ko, ip phoo ke na; waku beku yean gee ma ta ne ke, ip phoo ke na pegge ko. ip phoo ke na, ip phoo ke na pagee ko, ip phoo ke na, ip phoo ke na pagge ko, ip phoo ke na, ip phoo ke na._" these indians seemed the most restless people on earth. before i fell asleep i watched them in the big communal hut which was within twenty feet of me. i learned afterwards that when going on a long trip they sit up most of the night and stuff themselves with food. they seemed to be eating all night here, and drinking that pink cassiri. they would wander about inside their shelter, sit in a hammock eating, walk over to the calabash and drink the cassiri and back to the hammock again. "if that's the life of a british guiana indian, then i'm glad that i am not one of them. none of this free and untrammeled child-of-nature life for me," i told lewis afterward. "wonder what they would say if they saw so many of our people back home sitting up until nearly daylight having banquets, dancing the fox-trot and one-step and hesitation and opening wine and smoking and having a regular night of it," was his quiet comment. it was good food for thought. the more i figured it out, the more i wondered just where the line between "civilization" and "barbarity" was drawn. i am sure that they did not injure their health as much with their cassava cakes and fruits, eaten during the night, as so many of our so-called "sports" do with their all night dancing and drinking and smoking and eating of lobster a la king and other fancy and expensive foods. some of them were drinking a black liquid from a gourd. this was "piwarree." "don't drink it," warned lewis. "thanks for the tip, old man," i answered, "but there aren't enough diamonds in south america to get me to touch it." it was the most vile looking liquid i ever saw, yet the indians seemed to enjoy it and it did not appear to intoxicate them, although there was probably alcohol in it, as it was made by a fermenting process. i had seen a number of women who wore a peculiar tattoo mark on their foreheads. i had thought it merely some sort of barbaric adornment, but it seems this was their "trade mark." it indicated that they were piwarree makers. these women, to make this drink, sit in a circle about a fire where cassava cakes are allowed to bake until they are burned through quite crisp and black. each woman chews this burned bread until it is soft and pulpy with her saliva. this she strains through her teeth into a vessel in the center. when the vessel is full the contents are thrown into a large wooden trough and boiling water poured over it. it is allowed to ferment. when quite sour and black it is ready for drinking. chapter xvi _cassava cakes and blow-pipes_ in the morning i expected to start out, but learned that the cassava cakes must be made. the women had started the process the night before. but after that i frequently saw it made and the process is interesting. cassava is a root, something like a large turnip, yet longer and more in the shape of an immense sweet potato. the inside is quite white and somewhat soft, a trifle "woody," like a turnip that we would throw away. these roots grow wild. there is no cultivating necessary, although in some localities they cut away the other vegetation and allow the cassava plants to thrive a little better. a grater is made by driving sharp bits of flint into a board. this is covered with a sort of wax which hardens and leaves only the sharp tips of the flints sticking out. the women peel the cassava roots with dull knives or sharp flints. the root is then grated over this flint grater and the fine particles fall down into a woven frame. next comes the "metapee." this is a most peculiar basket, made solely for the manufacture of cassava flour. it may be pulled out long or pushed in short. it works something like an old-fashioned "accordion" hat rack. when pushed down short it is very large around but as it is pulled out it grows smaller and smaller in circumference. it is a great trick to weave these metapee baskets, for they must be exceedingly strong. the grated cassava is put in the metapee when it is squat down short and large around. one end of this basket is hung from a pole or limb. in the bottom of the metapee is a loop through which a pole is run. one end of the pole is lashed to the ground, at the foot of a tree. the woman now sits on the other end of the pole. this makes a lever and her weight stretches the metapee out into a long wicker cylinder. this squeezes all of the moisture out of the ground cassava root. and here is a most remarkable thing--that juice is a deadly poison! yet the pulp that remains makes a nourishing bread. [illustration: at fourteen an indian girl must be able to cook cassava] [illustration: a primitive sugar cane press] the woman bounces up and down on her end of the pole until every bit of the juice is out. this juice is saved, as the poison can be used by the men. or the juice may be allowed to evaporate and what remains of that, instead of being poison, is good seasoning for food! the pulp is spread in the sun to dry. when dry it is sifted through a basket sieve and becomes rather coarse flour. to this water is added, the dough is kneaded with the fists much as our women knead wheat flour and water into dough. this dough is flattened out into cakes three feet in diameter and half an inch thick and baked on a flat slab, a sheet of iron if it be possible to get it, or on anything handy. the bread is now ready to eat. it is firm, fairly hard, rather crisp and has but little flavor. to me it tasted like refined sawdust. but it is extremely nourishing. it takes half an hour to cook these cassava cakes and, kept dry, they will last a great while. that is why the women baked a number of them to take with them upon the impending journey. it was comforting to have this much certain about the uncertain journey which we were now to take. while the indian women busied themselves making cassava cakes for the journey back to our camp i studied all of the weapons of the men in the village, for they interested me. there were but two guns in the village, owned by the chief and another very "wealthy" native. these were the muzzle-loading "lead" guns. what interested me most of all was the blowpipe. it is really a wonderful weapon. it is a wonder to me that we boys back home did not make similar weapons. i am sure that with a little skill we could have picked off rabbits, squirrels and game birds, although, of course, we would have had to become good woodsmen. of all the weapons to be faced, i believe the blowpipe as made and used by these indians is the most deadly. i would rather face almost anything else. these pipes are from eight to twelve feet long. they are made of two strong reeds, a hollow-stemmed variety that grows in the jungle. they take the midribs of a great palm leaf, dry them, split them up, char one end in the fire to make it hard, and with this force out the little partitions that appear at the joints in all reeds, as in bamboo. then a smaller reed is found that will just slide inside the larger one. they now have a double reed which makes an extremely long yet strong tube. the hole is made through the inner reed in the same manner, and these palm midribs and fine sand are worked inside the inner tube until it is quite as smooth as a rifle bore. the arrows are made from the same palm midribs, split as fine as an eighth of an inch in thickness. while at work mining i hired an indian boy to make a collection of bird skins for me. these boys can skin a bird perfectly and prepare the skin so that it will be like soft, thin kid, without misplacing a feather. i watched this boy make blowpipes and arrows. he dried the palm midribs in the sun a few days and they split readily into as fine arrows as he needed. just how he made the deadly poison with which he tipped them i was not certain. i will admit that we kept clear of that poison just as you would keep clear of dynamite. i know that it was made from crushed leaves and roots and put in a gourd. this poison is called "waurali." as soon as the poison is dried on, in the sun, a string is woven in and out around each end of each arrow until there is a long row of them, and this is rolled around a stick so that there is a solid roll of these arrows, which may be pulled out one by one. the quiver is made of woven grass, the bottom made of some wax that hardens from trees. this roll of arrows is placed, poison tips up, in the quiver and a skin top put over them to keep out moisture. attached to the quiver is a small basket containing loose cotton. when the boy was ready to shoot a bird he would remove one of the arrows, pinch off a bit of cotton from the basket and wrap it loosely around the blunt end. thrusting the arrow into the tube this cotton made it fit just enough to take the compression of air. sighting the bird, the boy placed the blowpipe to his lips, aimed at the bird and gave a sudden sharp puff. the speed of that slender arrow was marvelous. seldom did the boy miss. if the bird was merely scratched, it would fly but a short distance before the deadly poison would get in its work and then it would come fluttering to the ground, quite dead by the time the boy, running after it, would pick it up. sometimes the great tapirs, as large as a hog, would be killed by these slender arrows. their bows and arrows interested me. their bows are longer than most of those used by the american indians, being six feet or more. and these men are generally smaller than the american indians. they have many kinds of arrows for the various game, and they also use a sort of harpoon, a large barbed spearhead on the arrow with a long stout woven cord fastened to it. this is for shooting fish. one day an indian took the fruit of a star apple tree, wove a loose covering for it, hung it in a pool of water at the shore of the river from a limb overhead and waited. i saw a great fish dart for this bait and at the same time "zowie!" went this harpoon arrow. there was a great thrashing about in the water, but the indian calmly hauled in his harpoon and there was a big pacu on it, a very tasty fish when properly cooked. they also use hand spears with a half dozen barbed points branching out and get many fish in that manner. chapter xvii _on the march again_ by the time i had watched the cassava cake making process and examined the weapons in the village and noted almost everything of how they lived, the indians were ready to go on with us. they had been eating all night as i explained. now they took a hasty farewell drink of that pink stuff, cassiri, and took a large mouthful of cassava cake; their baskets were already packed for travel, and so we started. but did they carry their baskets? no indeed! that would have been a disgrace, like a man washing dishes or making a dress for baby. carrying the luggage was woman's work. what did each man have a wife for if not to do his work? the men set off with only their weapons, and the women fastened the heavy baskets to their backs by means of vine ropes around their foreheads. each man carried various objects in his basket, some tools, hunks of smoked meat, some extra loin cloths with perhaps a ragged old shirt secured from some "pork knocker." on top of these belongings was placed a stack of the cassava cakes and covered with palm leaves to keep out the rain, for it showed signs of raining when we set out. the indians went on ahead. the women followed. they had removed whatever garments they owned--some of them had loose garments, merely for style, made of strips of cotton--and traveled only with those little beaded aprons or queyus. we came last, but after a while the women stepped out of the path and let us go on ahead. i think they wanted to watch us, just as we would like to stay behind and watch something curious walking on ahead. we thought we had a hard trip getting to the village, but we were in for the hardest traveling afoot that i ever knew. i called it "land swimming." the mud was literally knee deep. we would put one foot down, then the next one, stand still and pull one foot out with a great effort, step ahead with that, pull the other out with a great sucking sound, and so on. it was only with great endurance that we made this trip through the rain, but even the worst journey must come to an end and finally we reached our own camp. nothing ever looked more homelike than our shelters, our fires and the boats moored alongside. lewis and i made a dash for the boat to get some dry warm clothes. jimmy, glad to see us back, made some hot tea. soon we had on lighter shoes, dry woolen underclothes and dry suits and socks, lay back in our hammocks and drank good hot tea and felt none the worse for our journey into the primitive homes of the indians. we gave the women plenty to eat and made them presents of sugar, rice, salt and tea to take back with them. they were the happiest women you ever saw and chattered among themselves like kids at a christmas tree. then they turned and went back into the forests without a word of leave taking to their husbands, as this toting of their husbands' baskets was all in their day's work. of all the sticky, funny messes i ever saw it was the packs of these indians. the rain had soaked through the palm leaves on top and through the meshes of the baskets at the sides. the cassava cakes had dissolved into a soft, semi-liquid dough. this had run down through the contents of the baskets. nearly every one contained bits of red cloth--an indian's choice possession. the colors had run and there were pink dough and dough-covered arrows and pink smoked meat and sticky, cassava dough enameled shirts. it was a great mess, but the indians scraped the dough together to dry out in the sun the next day and worried not at all, for the cassava dough would all dry and be rubbed off their belongings. while the indians like the white men, they do not like the blacks. they get along with them all right because they have nothing whatever to do with the "me-go-ro-man" as they call them. our blacks, as usual, had their three shelters a distance from ours. the indians built a hasty shelter alongside our canvas one, slung their hammocks, now daubed with dough, and climbed in. jimmy started the victrola, the camp fires burned brightly despite the rain, and the indians sat up and stared open-eyed, at the "hoodoo" box from which came the, to them, weird sounds. they believed that the spirits of the dead were inside that victrola, but when they saw jimmy putting on the records and saw that no ghosts came out to kill them, they lost their fear of it. [illustration: my jungle friends] the plaintive southern melodies seemed to please them most. next in their favor was a weird jazz number. from the wet jungle came the peculiar roar of red baboons. we would have fresh baboon steak next day, if we could spare an hour for hunting. and then from the black, dismal depths of that dripping jungle came the most pitiful sobbing that i ever heard. whether a child or a woman, or a number of them, i could not make out. i leaped from my hammock, wondering what was happening to them, if they were lost, and trying to guess how far into the jungle we would have to travel to rescue them. never had i heard such distress as that weeping and wailing and heartbreaking sobbing. i pictured some helpless women there, perhaps being attacked by wild animals. even if they were indian women, still they were humans, i thought-"black night monkey," said jimmy. i looked at lewis. he smiled and nodded. for a moment i could scarcely believe that such human crying could come from animals. "they always cry all night," lewis told me. "very annoying at first. you'll get used to it. just remember that they are ugly black monkeys, that they like to make that noise, that they are not really crying any more than a dog is crying when he barks, and now go to sleep." no one else seemed to mind it. but i must admit that it kept me awake a long while. i couldn't force myself to think that it was a natural noise made by an animal. i couldn't believe anything could make such a noise unless it was actual crying caused by grief or suffering. finally i fell asleep. chapter xviii _arrival at the diamond fields_ next morning the sun was shining brightly. the indians were coming in from a hunting trip with game. our blacks had finished their tea and crackers, the shelters were coming down and soon we would be on the way up the river. "we ought to make the big bend by to-morrow," said captain peters. those were thrilling words to me, for up just around the big bend in the mazaruni river, which i have already described, lay our diamond fields, and while every inch of the seventeen days' boat trip up this mad, wild river, among the primitive indians, had been one of interest and adventure for me, after all, i was out for diamonds and naturally eager to get to the fields and try my luck at digging up the sparklers. of course i did not expect to pick them up off the ground. "dud" lewis had told me of the process and i had read up on diamond mining before starting, yet i had high hopes of finding wealth there in the gravel of the old river bed. mountains could be seen in the distance rising like temples above the low land. nothing startling occurred that day. i believe i saw more birds than usual, and the banks became less marshy. the jungle seemed to be slightly changing into a trifle higher and drier forest land. it was still thick, almost impenetrable, yet a bit different. on the seventeenth day we came to a small portage. we could not paddle over it, yet it was not necessary to remove all of our five tons of supplies. lightening our cargo about one half, the men jumped out, fastened the ropes astern and the single rope to the bow for the last time on our upriver trip and hauled away with a will. soon we were over, goods repacked and the blacks paddling in still, smooth water, but more vigorously than usual as they, too, were glad to be at the end of their hard journey. seventeen days of paddling a fifty-foot boat made of great planks and laden with five tons of goods, hauling it over portages, is not exactly a picnic, and the men certainly earned their forty-eight cents a day. and so they thumped and scraped their much-worn paddles along the gunwales of that old boat, worn smooth with constant paddling, and they sang their everlasting paddle song with more cheerfulness than they had done for days. finally captain peter spoke something to the bowman while he swung his steering paddle over, and our craft put in shore. we nosed about and found just the site we needed, and proceeded to unload everything, this time to set up our mining camp. a temporary shelter went up to store the goods under, with low hanging eaves to keep out the rain. we had now got into a country where there were no more haphazard rains. we could almost set our watches by the rains, which came regularly every morning about daybreak, for a half hour or more, and again every night right after sunset, for a little while. although these twice-a-day rains were of short duration the water certainly came down in bucketfuls while it was raining. a rack of poles kept our goods from the ground so that the rain could run underneath. our shelters went up for that night, and eagerly i began to study the gravel formation, really not expecting to see any diamonds, but anxious to study the soil and somehow all the time wondering if, by chance, i might not see a diamond in the dirt. every sparkling bit of rock i picked up. lewis laughed good-naturedly at this, but he was quite as eager as i to get at the business for which we had the long, tiresome and really costly trip. we had journeyed 300 miles up the river. at this point the mazaruni had once flowed over the dry land where our camp was located. some convulsion of nature, probably of volcanic origin, had changed the course of the river, and it was in this dry and ancient river bed that we hoped to find a fortune. for tools we had brought along only the simplest kind, good old picks and shovels, and a hand pump. we had plenty of material with us for making the mining apparatus, crude but necessary, but there was a great deal to be done and we decided to get well settled and start in right. first we had to have a permanent home, a "logie," which is much like a bungalow, only more open and quite high and dry. then we had to make good shelters for our three groups of blacks, and also for what indians we would find it necessary to hire. we also had to set up our mine, arrange with indians to hunt a steady supply of food, make a permanent cooking place and get as comfortable as possible so that we could go ahead with our diamond mining without interruption. two beautiful white egrets sailed up the river and, without fear of us at all, proceeded to make a nesting place close to our camp site. i considered this to be a good omen. the wonderful crest feathers on their heads would have brought several hundred dollars in the days before wise lawmakers at home forbade bringing such feathers into the country. "how about tigers?" i asked of captain peter. there had been frequent talk of them. it is true that there is a species of large and ferocious jaguar that haunts the wilds of british guiana and i hoped to bag at least one and take the skin home as a trophy. captain peter smiled. "as scarce as hens' teeth," he said. i wondered where he got that expression. perhaps they use it all over the world. i know that we use it at home in all parts of the country, yet it surprised me to hear this dutchman, who for twenty years had navigated the wild waters of the old mazaruni, say it. it was a disappointment to hear him declare that tigers were scarce. i had visions of stalking one and proudly bringing his carcass into camp. i got a tiger skin all right before i left the country, but there is no glamor of adventure about it. i cannot exhibit it at home and spin yarns of stalking the ferocious jungle beast, for it was an old skin and i bought it from an indian for five dollars' worth of trade articles. the indians get a tiger now and then, but will not journey far afield just to bag them as they are not fit to eat and are extremely dangerous beasts to face, even for the skilled natives. chapter xix _how the natives hunt and fish_ for four long, busy months, we were to delve into that pebbly soil, and during that time i would also learn much of hunting and fishing that was strange indeed. i was especially interested in the manner in which the indians get fish by poisoning them. of course that seems very unsportsmanlike to us at home, but remember that these natives do not hunt and fish for the _sport_ of it, but to _live_. and then, bear in mind that while we have telescope steel rods and artificial bait and ball bearing automatic reels and oiled silk lines and transparent gut leaders, floats, spoons, spinners, rubber minnows, hundreds of artificial flies, nets for landing the fish, gaffs, and every sort of fishing tackle, these indians have not even common hooks and sinkers. spears and harpoon arrows are their only means of fishing, aside from poison. consequently one should not say that they were unsportsmanlike, although i felt that way about it at first. thinking it over i decided differently. they have several means of catching fish by poison and i must say that it is a far better way than that of some of the game hogs in this country who dynamite lakes and rivers for fish, killing far more than they can get, while with the poison the fish not taken soon recover and are as lively as ever. our indians paddled into a small inlet of the river one day where there is quite a deep pool that back-waters in. hauling the canoe out on land they proceeded to fill it with haiarry vines and water. with heavy sticks they crushed these vines. as i looked on with interest, one indian pointed to the liquid and said, "kill um," meaning that it was poison. after the vines were well crushed they tipped the contents of the canoe into the pool and within five minutes a great quantity of fish arose and floated on the surface. they collected the largest and best of these for food and as soon as the poison in the pool had thinned out the other fish recovered and were as well as ever. i was afraid that the poison would render the fish unfit for food but found that it did not affect them at all in that manner. it certainly was an easy way to catch fish and for a party as large as ours, the twenty blacks and the group of indian hunters, it took a lot of fish and game to feed us. probably the most interesting method of catching fish as practiced by these clever indians was by means of poisoned grasshoppers. they made a paste of the leaves of the quanamia, a strong narcotic plant. catching large grasshoppers they filled the stomachs of these insects with the paste and tossed them into the water. the fish would leap up and swallow the grasshoppers, only soon after to turn, belly up, and float on the surface where they were picked up. here we found the game more abundant than ever, which was natural as we were far out of the haunts of blacks and dutch, except for the few "pork knockers," or tramp diamond miners, and there were probably no more than a score all up and down the fields. several kinds of animals were shot, but the favorite food was deer and labbas. the tapirs are like great hogs and their meat is rather tough though nourishing. the labbas also belong to the hog family but are about as big as jack rabbits. small game birds were also plentiful. the maams were the best game birds, about the size of a very small turkey and much like them. the white people call them bush turkeys but scientists say that they do not properly belong to the turkey family. we didn't care what family they belonged to, we found the meat delicious. i do not mean that the game was so plentiful that it came down to us and begged to be shot. but our indian hunters seldom went out without bringing back some meat. it was a cheerful sight to see three or four hunters come marching in, each with a part of a great tapir or deer slung over his back. we were sure of "fresh pork," as we called it, for days. one of our indians had hunted steadily for three days without any success and he was getting decidedly sore about it. he had not seen an animal in any of his wanderings. when he returned empty handed on the third day i tried to cheer him. "how come, buck man?" [illustration: usually our hunters were successful] "no thing," he grunted. "too much sit down," i said. "no sit down!" he protested. "wakwakwak (walk), all tam wak. me no see. how can shoot um me no see?" there was no argument there. if he saw nothing he certainly could bag no game. but this indian was superstitious, as all are. he got an idea that there was black magic in my camera, and it bothered him. "too much humbug," he said, pointing to my camera which i happened to have with me. "you tak picture all tam, put um picture on paper and sho all mans. deer know this and be bexed (vexed) see um picture on paper. run away. how go for catch if no see?" this was a lengthy outburst for an indian. he had reference to my taking his picture as he came into camp with various kinds of game over his shoulders. he believed that the dead game knew its picture was taken and that its spirit warned the living game to keep away because the picture taking was an insult. he did not reason that the game would be warned to keep away from him to save its life, but only to escape the insult of having its picture taken. hence his argument that the game was "bexed" and kept out of sight. "no get um. must catch beena," he said, earnestly. a "beena" is some sort of a rite or charm that the hunters go through in order to give them good fortune or luck or whatever it is they most desire. there is a different sort of beena for each thing. i gave him a half day holiday to "catch beena." being especially anxious to bag deer he was going to "catch deer beena." the sly fellow had hidden away somewhere, just for this emergency, the nose of a deer. beena may bring good luck but i would not care for good luck earned in that manner. this chap heated the nose of the deer on a shovel over coals until it fairly sizzled. then he cut slashes, not deep, but enough to draw blood, on his chest, arms and legs and rubbed that hot, greasy nose into the cuts. he believed that the fat thus entering his body or blood would enable him to get all the deer he wished, as it would give him power over them. that afternoon he went out, and, sure enough, he returned with a big deer. i did not dare photograph it for fear the indian would become frightened or discouraged, and leave. no power on earth could persuade him that it was due to any other reason than his beena that he got the deer. [illustration: the toucan makes an interesting pet] as i explained, i took many pictures but lost the greater part of them through attempting to develop the films in the hot climate. birds of unusual variety, to me, were photographed in plenty. the toucans were interesting birds. they would come quite close to us, and i managed to get a snapshot of one not more than ten feet away, just as he was apparently sharpening his gigantic beak on the shore gravel. i found the indians to be not only interesting but very likable chaps. i formed a strong friendship and they likewise became very friendly with me. i learned much of their language, had them at our logie for guests on a great many occasions and, after a manner, got so that i could talk well with them and learn much of their lives, their ambitions, their joys and sorrows. their language is called "akowoia." the taste of the indians in food i could never learn, such as their terrible drinks, the smoked intestines and the eyes of animals which they cook as a great delicacy. nor am i at all fond of their pastry. it is simply a dough made of flour, salt and soda mixed with river water and fried in much grease in a frying pan. but their cooked fresh fish, their boiled tapir and other game meats are always good, clean and appetizing. chapter xx _picking up jungle lore_ the upper part of the mazaruni river is no place for a white man to take up a permanent abode. only once in a great while has a white man been known to live more than a year in that climate. i have heard of one or two who lived there for several years, but they finally died. it is a strange thing the lure of fortune. such men know full well that no white man can escape death if he stays there for much more than six months. yet each individual seems to feel that he will manage in some way to escape the dread and deadly jungle fever. he is having good luck getting diamonds, he stays on and on for "just a few more, just a few more," so that he may go back wealthy, and then comes the fever and either death or a quick get-away. i could not then foresee the danger that faced me and was to bring a sudden end to my own adventures in the wilds. most white men have to use quinine continually. dud. lewis took quantities of it every day. he took so much that it made him temporarily deaf. i was afraid to take too much of it as i didn't care to become deaf nor did i want the headaches that it frequently caused. of course i took some from time to time, but in small quantities. one great trouble was our lack of fresh water. we had only the river water and it was dangerous to drink that without purifying it. the indians and even the blacks seemed to get along well enough on it and would drink right out of the river. we had "steel drops" with us, a highly concentrated form of iron. one drop in a gallon of water was sufficient to remove the danger of disease from drinking the water. we also used bits of rusty iron. by keeping these in the water it was fairly safe, but it was always muddy. and it was always warm. i learned to get used to it. we used to keep it in jars and pails with a wet cloth over it in order to cool it. [illustration: abraham, felling a woodskin tree] while there were a few poisonous snakes about, they seemed no more plentiful than are the rattlesnakes, copperheads and moccasins in certain parts of the united states, and we had no trouble with them. i never saw any of the big boa constrictors or other snakes, that i had been told about, but presume there were plenty of them in the deep marshlands if one cared to hunt the reptiles. frequently i had seen indians gliding about the river in the most peculiar and frail looking craft i had ever beheld. "make um woodskin," the indians told me. i examined one and it was nothing more than the bark of a tree. not at all like the birch bark used by our indians, nor like rough elm bark, but more like the tough, smooth bark of the basswood or ironwood trees at home. one time i was fortunate enough to see and photograph the whole process of woodskin canoe making. i went with the indians back somewhat from the water to where they had located a giant woodskin tree. these trees start at the base with mammoth trunks, which taper up for fifteen feet or more before they continue as a straight and rather symmetrical trunk. the bark of the tapering part is useless in canoe making and so the indians build a frail platform or foot rest of poles that will enable them to reach the straight, even part of the trunk with an axe. standing there they soon have the tree felled. but before it falls they build a supporting frame so that it will not lie on the ground, because if this heavy tree were resting its weight on the ground it would be impossible to remove the bark. when the tree is down and resting on the frames upon which it fell, the indians arrange poles that will enable them to stand and reach one side. they cut the bark clear around the tree at the length which they wish for the canoe, then they slit the bark in an even line between the two cuts and gradually pry it off, putting in braces until it is wedged open sufficiently to slip off the trunk. two braces are then fitted into this, and it is left to dry; as the drying takes place the ends are drawn up a little. that is all there is to it. the canoe is ready for ordinary smooth water traveling, once it is dry, for in the shrinking the braces are so wedged in that they will never pull out. for smooth water paddling the canoe is left with both ends open. but for rough water, in currents and rapids, it is necessary to stop up each end with a sort of vegetable wax drawn from trees much as we get pitch from pine. this wax hardens and thus closes the ends. [illustration: preparing woodskin bark for canoe] [illustration: finished woodskin canoe with ends open] there were many things to learn before we were quite comfortable. we had learned how to keep our food, how to have the indians hunt and cut wood for us, which was all the work they did. for this they were paid the equivalent of $10 a month each, and clothing and lodging. they wouldn't mine--at least there are few indians who will mine. they would rather have an old red flannel shirt than a peck of diamonds. we learned about keeping iron in the drinking water and we put tin grease cups on all of the supporting poles of our logie, and of all buildings and shelters, to keep out the stinging ants and other insects. these insects were decidedly troublesome and we had to keep constant watch of ourselves to prevent serious trouble with them. there is an especially large mosquito which not only stings fearfully but deposits larvae beneath the skin. it is almost impossible to notice this at the time but it soon becomes a live worm in there, and then a great sore breaks out, caused by the bug so that he can crawl out and grow into a mosquito and sting someone else, and start another bug, and so on. worse than this were the "nail beetles." these chaps bore beneath the finger nails and toe nails. they do this boring so cleverly that frequently one does not feel it at all. they, too, deposit larvae, and the result is extremely dangerous as great sores come up beneath the nails and one is likely to lose not only the nail, but the finger or toe from blood poisoning, if even worse effects from the poisoning do not set in. we used a ten per cent solution of carbolic acid as a preventive. constant watchfulness was the price of freedom from becoming nesting places for 'skeeters and bugs. if we had food in kettles we had to set the legs in cups of oil to keep out the bugs. not far from where our mine is located is the property of the late major john purroy mitchel, former mayor of new york city and later an aviator, who was killed while in training at a southern aviation field. he knew this country well and had had many adventures down through here where he had considerable success in mining diamonds. chapter xxi _the first diamond!_ of course, once landed at the site of our diamond mine, we had to have a comfortable, permanent home. a "logie" it is called here, doubtless a corruption of the italian "loggia" which has as its equivalent in english the word "lodge." strictly speaking, a logie is a building that is partly open at the sides and consists of more veranda than closed in room. ours we had built so that it could be closed in, but except in driving rains the sides were always open. we could screen them to keep out mosquitoes and keep quite comfortable. we selected a site that was a little back from the river, out of the dampness, on a high and dry sloping hillside. we made a little clearing, but with the forest all about three sides to protect us from high winds. instead of driving foundation posts we cut the trees and used the stumps where possible. this slope left a sort of basement where we could store such things as rain might injure but insects could not. [illustration: our jungle home] we did not trust to palms and reeds for roofing but brought tarred roofing paper with us. this was much better, storm-proof, and helped keep insects away as they are never fond of tar. facing the river we had a wide veranda. inside we made good but crude tables and chairs, a desk, and strong supports for our hammocks. the rear end was but a step from the ground, but the front end was some fifteen feet up. it made us a snug and comfortable home for the more than four months we were digging into the gravel of the river banks for "shiners." meanwhile we got busy with our mining. jimmy acted as our cook and personal servant. the captain was an expert in this river life, the indians were chopping wood and bringing in game and fish, the blacks were busy now getting the mine started and later in digging, so that we were a very busy and quite contented colony. diamond mining on the mazaruni is not unlike gold dust mining. the diamonds, like the gold, being the heaviest substance in the gravel, naturally settle down to the bottom when a sieve is twisted about so as to make the water move around and around. the centrifugal force sends the heavy material to the bottom. we started in with pick and shovel. later we built a "long tom," which is a wooden trough through which water runs, there being several compartments and cleats. the gravel is put in at the upper end and carried down by the rush of water. the gravel, being lighter, is carried on down and off, the diamonds are mixed in with tin ore, pulsite and ordinary quartz, all of these being heavy. finally the residue, after the gravel is washed out, is put in a sieve and either "jigged" by hand or by means of wire supports, over a box of water. the soil was made up of loose gravel and also of conglomerate, not quite solid, yet not loose like gravel, and much muscle with the picks was needed to loosen the stuff. once our sieves were ready we could scarcely wait to get busy. gravel was shoveled into the first sieve and one of the blacks, an expert "jigger," took it up and started the peculiar circular motion. "lucky baby," he said. the men who do this work are called "jiggers" and they call the sieves "baby." we watched his every move. around and around the sieve went. he paused. we stretched our necks to see but he merely scooped off the lighter top gravel that his circular motion had forced up, then continued. over and over he repeated this, for about an hour, continually washing it, the water dripping through the fine mesh of the sieve. then it was ready. with a final "swish" of the sieve and another washing, with the last handful of gravel brushed off, the contents, just a few handfuls of material, were dumped on a crude table and spread out with a sweep of the hand. "here's one!" it looked bright enough, but lewis, who had been prospecting there and had seen them mine diamonds, had learned the difference between the dull sparkle of ordinary quartz and the brilliant sheen of diamonds; he took up the particle, pressed it between two knife blades and crushed it. "everything here except diamonds can be crushed by that sort of pressure," he said. "here's one!" i picked it out. it would not crush. "yes. that's a diamond. about half a carat," said lewis. i have that tiny glittering pebble now and hope to always keep it. the first diamond from our mine! we found a few more in that lot, none very large, but all of them of value. none are too small, in fact, to be of some value. we find them in various colors, pure white, which is the average sort; brilliant blue white, the most valuable and rare; pink or rose, also quite valuable; and yellow, not so valuable. also a few green and black. most of the stones we get down there are too small for jewelry, and are used in commerce. drills are made of them and machinery for boring, and for probably a hundred different uses in manufacture. [illustration: an interior view of our "logie"] chapter xxii _how the precious stones are found_ then we settled down to steady mining. we built a shed for our tools, and we got the hand pump out, we prepared sieves for jigging and we made "long toms" and swinging sieves, washing troughs and all the necessary apparatus. if you had happened to come across our outfit it would have seemed very crude to you. rough washing boxes, rough troughs through which we turned water, shapeless holes in the ground partly filled with water, great heaps of worthless gravel, the dismal sucking sound of the old hand pump, and a clutter of boards, pans, shovels, and picks. yet we had one of the few good mines down there. the "pork knockers" have no mines; they journey from place to place up and down the river with pick and shovel and sieve, with a small quantity of food on their backs, and make shelter wherever they happen to be. they generally borrow money for the outfit, river traders bring up food and gin--i am sorry to say that it is generally more gin than food--and these pork knockers, niggers for the most part, exchange their few diamonds for the strong drink and food and keep on. they generally come out at the end of the dry season with enough, or about enough, to square their debts and leave a little over to live on until next season when they borrow again and once more set out. they have to give a certain percentage of their diamonds to the british government for the privilege of mining. we had to pay $25 for every 250 carats, which was not excessive at all, when you figure that 250 carats of diamond are worth around $2,000 these days. we sunk a shaft sixty feet, which was remarkable in that locality as the gravel is loose and washes in with rains. we propped it up with planks but had to keep constant watch of it. finally water seeped through faster than our hand pump could get it out. [illustration: a long tom diamond washer] [illustration: jiggers separating diamonds from gravel] some of the jiggers are so expert that, impossible as it seems, they can jig a baby--to use their own expression--so that the diamonds, heavy as they are, will actually come to the top. they then pick off the biggest ones and then go on jigging as usual. but they do not get away with many. a close watch is kept on the jiggers and if they are caught stealing they are fined a month's pay or more. we had some trouble but not much. these men are bound out to us by the british government and must work. if they run away they are outcasts and cannot get more work to do. on the other hand we must feed them according to the law and work them only so many hours. one day we were watching the results of a jigging from the "long tom" and suddenly there sparkled before us a large, brilliant stone. it weighed more than seven carats! this was the largest stone we found. but all together we cleaned up, in only a few months of actual mining, more than $20,000 worth of diamonds! rough diamonds are mostly of odd shapes. seldom do you find them in the almost perfect form that we find quartz crystals. once in a while i have picked out a small diamond that looked as though it had come directly from a skilled lapidary, so perfect in form it seemed to be. the largest diamond known to have been found in these fields weighed fourteen carats. a pork knocker named "london" found it. he was a giant of a black man, noted for his lawlessness, and greatly feared. he was working for another man at the time and, strange to say, he turned it over. the reason was that he knew he could not sell so large a gem without being caught. there is also much gold in that region, but we did not go after it. having come for diamonds, and finding them in paying quantities, we stuck to it. day after day lewis took his eight or ten grains of quinine. day after day i seemed to get along without it and i feared to take too much. the mosquitoes were there in plenty, the sort whose sting gives one the jungle fever, so deadly to white men, just as, at home, they cause malarial fevers. chapter xxiii _good-bye to the jungle_ i was in excellent health. there seemed no danger at all and i believed that i could stay there three or four months longer. it is a great game, full of fascination. you get a few diamonds to-day. next day less, next day more, next day scarcely any, next day a big one, and so on. always it is "to-morrow we may get a ten carat stone," or "to-morrow we may pull a fistful out of one 'baby,'" and so the temptation is great to stay on and on. at the rate that we were gathering in diamonds it seemed that we ought to pile up about $50,000 in six months. but after we had been actually mining more than four months i was returning from a hunting trip. i had a great burden of deer meat on my back. i walked through bogs where it was almost impossible to pull my feet out of the mud. i was hungry and extremely tired. now that is just when the white man succumbs to the bite of the mosquito down there. one nailed me on the back of the hand but i thought nothing of it. but next morning i hated to get up. i had no strength. i became worse during the day and for several days lay in a sort of semi-stupor, weak and listless. "very bad," said captain peter; "get him back before he dies!" poor lewis broke camp in record time. they bundled me into the boat and i was conscious only a small part of the time. going downriver is far different from coming up. they made the trip to georgetown in a few days and when they got me to the hospital the doctors looked me over and demanded a deposit of $85. "why?" demanded lewis, quite indignant. "to cover funeral expenses. he can't live," they said. but i fooled them and recovered rapidly. lewis and i still own that mine. we came out with a good little pot of money, clean profit. the war took all of the time of both of us--but now that it's over we are planning to go back there some day. with our experience we feel sure that we can make much money, both in gold and diamond mining. we shall take back better equipment, power pumps, and everything this experience taught us we should have. my adventure was satisfactory in every way. i wish i could have stuck it out six months longer. but i think the best plan would be for white men to set up their mines and work them about five months, go back home for seven months, work them another five months, and so on, thus avoiding the great dangers. i am looking forward to the day when i can get back there, meet my indian friends, go tapir and labba hunting with them and, above all, enjoy the wonderful thrill that comes when you spread out the residue of a jigging and pick out, here and there, a sparkling diamond! [frontispiece: frank osborne's alarm on discovering a bow and quiver suspended in the forest] [illustration: title page] the emigrant's lost son: or, life alone in the forest. edited by george henry wall. _new edition._ _illustrated by corbould_ london: routledge, warne, and routledge, farringdon street. new york: 56, walker street. 1860. [_the author of this work reserves to himself the right of translating._] london; savill and edwards, printers, chandos street, covent garden. contents. introduction by the editor chapter i. cause of leaving england, and arrival at the forest chapter ii. i am lost in the forest--my situation and feelings described chapter iii. i build myself a hut--the scenery throughout a day in the forest described chapter iv. an adventure with a bear--an extraordinary echo--i am attacked with a fever, and subsequently driven from my hut chapter v. i witness a grand convulsion of nature, in which i have a wonderful escape--am rescued in the last extremity, and admitted into a tribe of indians chapter vi. further account of the indians--i arrive at my father's farm introduction by the editor that no person in this state of existence may be tempted to assert his own independence, the affairs of life are so ordered that much of the happiness enjoyed by mankind depends upon their communion with each other. human affections, if they were permitted to act freely, as they spontaneously arise in the breast of mankind, are designed to bind all the human race in one bond of brotherhood. our own parents and near relatives first call these affections into active exercise. their care and attention to our welfare, the interest they take in preserving us in a state of safety and health, and in teaching us also the duties we owe both to our creator and fellow-creatures, tend to give the first impetus to the germs of our affections; and it is by the exercise of these very affections that we derive a continual source of happiness, which becomes hereafter the chief means by which the refinement of the senses may be effected. thus it is, that when death, or other causes, deprive us of our immediate parental guidance, the affections as naturally seek for new objects, on which to exert their influence, as the operations of any other well recognised principles proceed in the works of nature. the author and hero of the following narrative, was called upon to experience the sudden deprivation of not only his parents, but of all his dearest friends; and that at an age when the heart first expands to the relations of our existence, and is most sensitive to the emotions of grief; when, unexpectedly and unprepared, it is cut off from all sympathy or communication with human kind. at the age of thirteen he was lost in an almost boundless guiana forest, where he remained for several years, dependent solely upon his own resources, mental and physical--that is, on the one hand, to bear the mind up against the shock it received in being thrown suddenly into solitude; and, on the other, to provide for his daily wants. that man never was intended to live in what is denominated "a state of nature," is manifest by his long infancy and the tardy development of his mental powers. no animal is so long after its birth before it can support the body on its legs as man; in none is the period of complete adult stature so long protracted. when born into the world he is entirely defenceless, his great distinctions from other animals are reason and speech: these, however, are germs which are not developed of themselves, but are brought to maturity by extraneous assistance, cultivation, and education; hence we must infer that man was intended for social union, and that his imaginary state of nature, which some writers have spoken of, never has existed. man, however, in his nature, is limited in no respect; being fitted for every kind of life, every climate, and every variety of food. the deity has given him the whole earth for his abode, and the produce thereof for his nourishment. with the advantages, however, of an early moral and religious education, together with an excellent constitution, our juvenile exile from man was enabled, under the direction of a watchful providence, to preserve his life, protect his mind against despondency, and procure a subsistence in the midst of dangers. the difficulties he encountered, the manner in which he overcame them, and the scenes which were brought under his view in the extended field of observation into which he was thrown, it is the object of the following narrative to lay before the reader. to those whose knowledge extends not beyond the world of man to the boundless fields of nature, it may appear that such a life must have been one of monotonous listlessness, from which few materials could be gathered to impart knowledge or interest to the general reader. our hero, however, found employment for the mind in every moment of his waking hours, and was furnished with objects for study in the forest, that might engage the longest period of life allotted to man to catalogue or enumerate. happily for the exile, his mind was formed to seek for knowledge in the only sources open to man for the full development of the intellectual powers; namely, observation and reflection. denied the aid of books, in the far woods that "steeped in their moonbeams lie," he called upon his maker, and the echo of the floor of the forest recognised his presence. acquiring confidence from this assurance, and relying on providence for protection, he converted the scenes around him into a school of study, and realized in the woods a life of activity instead of one of solitude. he soon discovered, when left to draw deductions from his own experience in the scenes of nature, that there is nothing but what is beautiful, nothing unworthy of admiration. "the disregard," he says, "which by many is paid to her productions, reflects no honour on those who evince it, and little credit on a system of education that does not at once lead its pupils to the grand fountain of all knowledge. while the majority," he adds, "of my youthful contemporaries were engaged in committing to memory a vocabulary of words, i was busily engaged in studying the things themselves." while others were spending their time in acquiring a knowledge of the customs and forms of artificial society, our exile had the great book of nature widely spread open before him, throughout that period of life which is usually devoted, by the majority of individuals, to study the purposes of social life, he was conversing only with the trees; or with the birds, and insects, and other tribes, of the animal kingdom, all the works of god, and to which his attachment was ardent and sincere. now that he is again in the society of his fellow-men, the recollections of his sylvan probation are as vividly depicted on his mind as at the moment when he first received the impressions. trees which supplied him with food, or shelter from the heat of the sun or the rains of the climate, are still dear to his recollection, and he often reverts to them with feelings of gratitude and respect, from which he would not, if he could, estrange the affections of his heart. there is no music so sweet to his ear as the breezes that animated the lofty cloud-aspiring monarchs of the forest, with which he claims a peculiar acquaintance, or the murmuring of the brook, where he was wont to slake his thirst; no concert to his sense of sound so grateful as the wild notes of the birds that chanted, morning and evening, their maker's praise, as he offered up his own prayers of gratitude for the prolongation of his existence, or the hummings of the myriads of insects, that every hour, in his woodland rovings, arrested his attention. it was while listening to these voices of the creator that his heart was first touched with feelings of admiration and wonder at the multifarious and exquisitely organized beings that everywhere, whether in tranquil meditation or in active search of his food, met his sight. he saw nature everywhere teeming with life, and proclaiming in language intelligible to every one the presence of an all-directing power. it was in the forest, too, in the midst of the wonders of the creation, that the lost youth first aspired to lift up his thoughts to heaven, and mentally exclaim--"these are thy works, oh god!" it was also in the lonely wilderness he first cherished the hope, in the language of the indian, that the great spirit had provided for him a higher state of happiness; and then it was he offered up a prayer, that this hope might, in his maker's own time, be realized. it was also in the wilderness, communing with his own thoughts, that he first received an assurance that he possessed a soul to be saved, and became imbued with a firm conviction that the wise creator, in his infinite beneficence, designed the happiness of his creatures, and that nothing can deprive the human race of his blessings but a connexion with sin. with an undivided mind, intent only on examining and admiring the works of creation, the youth, in his lonely wayfaring, everywhere found the presence of his maker. at the earliest moment of incipient vegetation, he was busy watching the indications of bursting nature preparing to re-robe the trees; and in a prospective vista he beheld the joyous movements of the various tribes of birds and insects providing for the wants of themselves and their progeny. not less busily was his mind engaged when these labours actually commenced, in noting the construction of their habitations, and in admiring the wonderful ingenuity each displayed in providing for its own peculiar wants and safety. thus engaged in almost continual observation, he was enabled to trace the manner in which numbers of the feathered and insect tribes worked out the purposes of their existence. as the multifarious branches of the trees of the forest expanded themselves into fulness of leaf, he saw nations after nations of living things on the move to claim his attention, all pouring forth to seize on their share of the abundance of nature. as each revolving season hastened the decay of or imparted new vigour to the monarchs of the forest, the exile from man had an opportunity, abstracted as he was from the busy affairs of human life, to distinguish the various characteristics of the tribes of insects that took possession of the trees, differing from those which, apparently innoxiously, fed on their fulness of vegetable youthfulness, and the insects that came to prey only on the trunk or branches of those that age or disease had brought to decay. he saw the leaves of the forest come into life, witnessed their gradual expansion into verdant beauty; he was there, likewise, at their decline and fall--recurring symbols of the succession of the races of mankind,--and when, the biting north winds denuded of their leaves many of these mighty monarchs of the forest, he collected them to form his woodland bed. no season passed without adding to his store of information in reference to the works of nature, which knowledge, as we have already said, it is the design of this work to impart to others. it is the natural history of the forest, or so much of it as has been seen by one individual during a period of six years' sojourn in its solitude. from what has been stated, the reader will not expect to find any classified arrangement of subjects in this work; things are spoken of as they were seen, either in the stillness of the shade at one time, or in the raging of the storm at another. forest trees, in general, are described; those which may afford food to man are more frequently mentioned. of quadrupeds, birds of the air, and insects, those that most excited his attention are more especially noticed. those whose ferocity or whose shyness rendered it hazardous or difficult to approach them, are less spoken of. the details of the author's history, in reference to his probation in the wilds of nature, he has endeavoured to relate in a most familiar manner, and in the simplest language; and when describing scenes and events, faithfully to impart the impressions made on his own mind as they occurred. reasoning from the convictions arising from his experience,--that is, the effects wrought upon his own mind--he thinks that the study of natural objects, used as a means for the improvement of the religious and moral character of mankind, has been much overlooked by the philanthropist, and neglected by those who are sincere in their desire to improve their own species. when the author was restored to society, nothing more excited his surprise than the total absence of a system of education which should at once direct the mind of youth to the fountain of all knowledge; and, in consequence, to persons he met with who took any lively interest in the study of natural objects, he remarked, "your system of education appears more designed to exercise the mere verbal memory, than to excite observation or reflection;" adding, "that an acquaintance with the works of the deity, as they are seen remote from the haunts of men, not only expands and elevates the thought, but spiritualises the soul." the contemplation of nature's works, while it subdues the pride of man, harmonizes the feelings of social life, and in a peculiar manner prepares the mind for the reception of revealed truths. it is only necessary to add that, the education of the "emigrant's son," previously to his exclusion from the world of man, had not in any way been of a peculiarly religious tendency; nor had he evinced any predilection for discussing religious topics. yet, when he was brought to contemplate the works of the deity on an extended scale, he everywhere found the indications of the presence of a superior and all-wise creator in those scenes. it is therefore natural that he should feel a desire that others should seek and find him at the same pure fountain of knowledge. "the voice of my beloved; behold he cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills." (solomon, ii. 9.) true it is, that the student who once enters the portals of natural history, seldom thinks of returning. strolling from object to object, his appetite is never satiated. st. pierre aptly remarked, that "nature invites to the cultivation of herself." should the perusal of the following page direct the mind of the youthful reader to the study of nature, the object of publishing this narrative will have been attained. g. h. w. harrington cottage, brompton the emigrant's lost son. chapter i. cause of leaving england and arrival at the forest. "on the bosom, lone and still, of nature east, i early sought to stroll through wood and wild, o'er forest, rook, and hill, companionless; without a wish or goal, save to discover every shape and voice of living thing that there did fearlessly rejoice." as it is my object to lay before my readers only that portion of my life which was passed in the wilds of nature, it will be unnecessary for me to detain them with a lengthened account of the genealogy of my family. my father occupied a small farm in the west of england, situate near a peaceful village, the curate of which superintended the education of myself and some fourteen or fifteen of the neighbouring youths. i was between ten and eleven years of age, when a stranger arrived at our house, informing the family that, in consequence of the death of my father's elder brother, he, together with two surviving brothers, had jointly become the proprietors of a tract of land situate in the south-western part of guiana. it subsequently appeared that my deceased uncle had speculated in the purchase of the land in question, intending to have invited his three brothers to join him in the cultivation of it. death frustrated these intentions, the land became the joint property of the survivors, and after using every effort to dispose of it in this country, being unsuccessful in meeting with a purchaser, the three brothers came to the resolution of going out, together with their families, and sharing their newly-acquired property. [sidenote: first leaving home] when the order was finally given to prepare for the voyage, it operated on my mind almost as a penal sentence; expatriation presented itself to my imagination as the climax of all evils. it now suddenly occurred to me that i had a thousand local attachments, all of which were to be broken asunder; my imagination passing in review a painful parting with my schoolfellows and other intimates; when all the early and recent scenes of my short career poured in on the memory, and seemed to bind me to the immediate locality of my existence and its environs. i then discovered that i had a real attachment for my teacher, the good pastor of a small flock; indeed, every person known to me, i thought had, in some way, been peculiarly kind, and a torrent of gratitude overflowed the heart; while the idea of quitting the scenes of my childhood, and all i then knew of the world, presented itself as the annihilation of every object from which i had hitherto derived pleasure. the young heart is generally thought to bound with joyousness at the prospect of a change of scene, but it was otherwise with me: the world, in the map of my microcosm, excepting the circumscribed view i had taken of it, was an entire desert, where there was no one to love or be loved. in this state of mind the agitation of my feelings nearly choked me, till i sought the favourite arm of a tree in the orchard, where, unobserved, i found relief in a flood of tears. still oppressed, as the evening advanced i crept to bed without speaking to any one,--not even to my sister, whose buoyant joyfulness at the time excited my surprise. i spent the night in a state of half-dreamy stupor, being neither asleep nor awake; whilst the imagination was engaged in endeavouring to contrast the retrospection of the past with the prospects of the future. every act of kindness which had been bestowed upon me, stood out in strong relief in my memory, as a vista of other days, and into which i had not previously been permitted to look; whilst the little village-world was presented to my view as a bright speck in creation--an oasis in a desert, all around which was a mass of confusion and darkness. the placid countenance of the curate, monarch of his locality, with all the scholastic paraphernalia, were brought vividly under review; the form on which i was wont to sit, with every cut i had made on the well-marked desk with my knife--an instrument with which boys early prove themselves tool-loving animals--were all objects of endearment to me. my fancy then roamed into the little churchyard, where i took a view of each mouldering heap, with the tombstones at the head and foot, every epitaph on which i had committed to memory. i then stood under the brave old hercules, as we designated an oak tree where four of us had met most days to proceed together to school. here i distinctly noted--such is the power of memory when the feelings are excited--each abrupt rising of its rugged roots, and marked the boundary of its shadows at different hours of the day, as described by its broad, out-spreading limbs on the greensward. i wandered to the copse, entered by a well-defined gap at the angular point; noted each spot where i had taken eggs or young ones from birds that had been incautious enough to attract my attention; paused to take a last look at the hazel from which i had gathered the largest cob-nut; lingering at every step, and sighing as i passed each object of remembrance. the following morning, sleepless and weary, i arose with the sun, and collected all my little stock of property--bows and arrows, fishing-tackle, bats, balls, and other juvenile valuables; these i labelled as presents to my intimates. my heart then knew how highly it was susceptible of friendship; it had yet to learn how readily, after the lapse of a few years, such attachments are forgotten. the desire in after life to meet with an old schoolfellow is seldom prompted by a higher motive than a curiosity to learn his success in the world. it is probable that my parents had associations and connexions from which they were about to separate, and deeper feelings of regret to struggle with, than myself, when parting from attached friends. it is fresh in my memory that our calls were very numerous, and that many reasons were adduced to dissuade my father from emigration. the sunday previously to our departure, the curate, from the pulpit, mentioned the intention of the families to emigrate, and offered up a prayer for the realization of their prospects of success. i shall ever remember the day i left the kind preceptor of my youth and the companions of my boyish days. my father had sent a chaise to fetch me and my valuable stock of personal property a day before our final departure. i think i see now the mild old curate shaking my hand and giving me his blessing and friendly advice, while around the gate of the old house were assembled my school companions, to take a last sight of me before i took my leave of home and of them. [sidenote: voyage to demerara] our journey to the coast, and voyage to demerara, a _ci-devant_ dutch settlement, was unattended by any circumstance of peculiar interest. i therefore take up the narrative from the period of our landing. my father was purely a business man, never permitting pleasure or curiosity to divert him from his pursuits. immediately, therefore, on our arrival at demerara, preparations were made for us to proceed on towards our destination, regarding the situation and name of which i had not up to that time taken any interest, i had, however, heard that we had to travel some hundreds of miles over a country where there were no roads, as in england. i also remember a long discussion between my father and my two uncles, whether we should travel with a waggon or purchase horses and mules to carry our luggage and relieve the females when fatigued. as our course was through an extensive wooded country, where carriages could not conveniently pass, the latter mode of travelling was ultimately adopted. our party consisted of nine persons, namely, my father, mother, sister, and self; one uncle, with a grown-up son (his father being a widower); the other uncle, his wife, and son (a youth three years older than myself). my father provided himself with a horse and mule; the latter to carry our personal necessaries, and the former to alternately relieve my mother, and my sister, who was a healthy girl of sixteen years of age, when either was fatigued with walking. one other horse was purchased for the use of my aunt and the party in general. we were provided with two painted cloths, to be used as a covering when we should halt for rest, and no better accommodation could be obtained. i remember my father making a pen-and-ink sketch of the route, marking down, with the assistance of a traveller, the stages we were daily to accomplish. [sidenote: crossing the savanna] thus prepared and equipped, as all of us were in excellent health and spirits, we commenced our journey over the plantations of the settlers, proceeding onwards till we reached the extended savannas--open plains. here the scene was altogether so new and striking, that it was with difficulty i could be prevented from running after every living thing that came under my view. at one moment i was lost in wonder at the multitudes of creeping creatures which, at every step, crossed my path, while the birds of the air in numbers, variety, and plumage, fixed me with astonishment. my excitement was so great that i actually screamed with delight; at another moment i ran from object to object with such eagerness, that, my mother became alarmed for my intellect, affirming that no one in their senses could sustain so much unnatural excitement. on the third day of our journey i began to be seriously fatigued, and my father placed me across the back of our mule. this, however, was a measure against which the animal at once entered his protest, by refusing to move forward the moment i threw my legs across him; his conduct seemed to imply that at starting a contract had been made with him to carry the baggage, and he would not consent to its infringement; and it would appear that the mere attempt to overburden him soured his temper for the whole journey; for a more obstinate or perverse mule was never crossed by man or boy. at length we entered into a compromise, by removing a portion of his baggage to one of our horses; and he then allowed me to ride in peace, as he proceeded sulkily along. he was, however, faithful to his second bargain, never evincing any more discontent. this third day of our journey was the longest we had yet had, and we were all of us anxiously looking for some habitation towards its close, where we might rest for the night. the sun soon promised to hide his golden beams behind the hills which formed the horizon, and we all showed signs of fatigue. we were much delighted when my father informed us that we were approaching the house of a settler, where he hoped to obtain shelter for the night. we proceeded up a steep declivity to the house in question, forming rather a picturesque party. my sister was first, mounted on a heavy dappled grey horse, with my father and mother by her side. i followed on my mule; while the remainder of the party were some fifty yards in the rear. as we halted before the house, my father informed us that, in all probability, this would be the last time we should find accommodation, even in the outhouse of a settler; and that in future we should have to resort to our painted cloths for shelter during the night. we all retired to rest, therefore, with a determination to lay in a good stock of sleep. notwithstanding this determination, and the fatigue i had endured in the excessive heat of the day, the novelty of my new existence resisted every effort to close my eyes for rest; and i arose in the morning but very little refreshed. [sidenote: the blessing of rain] during the first five days of our journey the intense heat of the sun, to which we were unseasoned, annoyed us all exceedingly; while the scorching earth so much blistered my feet that, on the sixth morning, i lingered behind, and divested myself of both stockings and shoes, hanging them upon the mule's baggage. in the school of experience nature is head master. the relief was almost instantaneous; and, during that day, i surprised my fellow-travellers with my pedestrian performances, which induced them all to follow my example. early the same afternoon, the rain began to fall in torrents, or rather in sheets, previously to which, during our journey over the plains, the extreme dryness of the weather had occasioned one of those vegetable conflagrations so common in hot countries. hitherto the scene had been arid, the land being hard to the feet, and painfully dry to the eye. the following morning, we had an opportunity of observing with what surprising rapidity nature, in these climates, clothes the earth. our course was now on a wide-expanded green carpet, every where soft and cooling to the feet, and deliciously refreshing to the sight. birds of every hue, gems of the air, glittered in our pathway; a vast number of the cormorant species were busy in gobbling up frogs, toads, and snakes; the eagle and the vulture, too, were soaring over our heads, looking out for the prey these regions afford them in such abundance. every step we took frightened up flocks of the smaller feathered tribe, and brought to view myriads of other living things, such as slugs, snails, and insects of every variety. on the tenth day of our journey, we approached a country covered, as far as the eye could reach, with dense foliage, variegated with every known or imaginable hue, the groundwork of which was one wide-spreading mass of every shade of green. there were browns of all tints, yellow, orange, purple, and brilliant scarlets, so intermingled as to present one uninterrupted view of nature in glorious beauty, spreading over an undulating mass of waving forest-green, while, in appearance, reaching from the high heavens to the earth, into which the lower sweeps seemed to dip, conveying the idea of eternal spring, summer, and autumn, harmoniously blended into one. as we skirted the forest, the charming variety of the blossoms, and their shades of colour, presented a still more enlivened appearance--the tops of the trees being covered with bloom, some standing erect towards the light of the sun, others bending down, with a profusion of fruit and seed. yet, even here, in this enchanting scene, was man admonished, and reminded of mortality: as we passed the margin of the wood, here and there was seen some former giant of the forest, whose head had been bared by time or the thunder blast, painfully, in the midst of nature's prodigal luxuriance, intimating that all things have their period of birth, maturity, and decay. [sidenote: meeting with natives] penetrated with surprise and admiration at the scene, it was some time before we discovered that we were approaching a party of natives, who, it was evident, had been watching our movements. when they first attracted our notice, the sound of what we took for a village bell fell upon the ear; whereupon my father flattered himself that we were approaching a civilized settlement; while both my uncles were of opinion that a signal of alarm was given at our approach, and, in consequence, prepared for defence. the bell, however, sounded only at intervals of four or five minutes; and as there was no increase of numbers in consequence, we at once went forth to meet the natives. they consisted of a party of six, besides an old negro, who seemed to be the patriarch of his race. to our surprise and delight, he spoke english remarkably well, as did also a young man who appeared to be his son. probably, they were runaway slaves. they proved, however, to be friendly disposed; and when we spoke of the bell, and the negro had explained the nature of our enquiry, they all broke out into a most immoderate fit of laughter. the negro, almost convulsed, said, "white bird, ding dong--ding, dong! a great way off; for white man here, white bird, ding, dong--ding, dong!" the bird that sends forth this peculiar sound is named the campanero, and is snow white; it may be heard at three miles' distance; and during my sojourn subsequently in the wilds of nature, it was the only sound that daily recalled to my recollection the tones of my native village church bell. as we were all attention to the negro, who was very lively and garrulous, a flock of birds passed over our heads, emitting sounds that might be mistaken for those of a trumpet; when the old man pointed up, and laughingly said--"red-coats, red-coats!" meaning to ask, ironically, if we took the birds for soldiers? these birds are properly called waracaba, and are frequently rendered domestic, when they exhibit the attachment of a dog to their master, following him in the same spirit of fidelity; their spirit, also, appears to exceed that of the game cock--although unarmed with spurs for defence, they will fly at a dog; and, in a domestic state, seldom fail to browbeat and lord it over the dunghill cocks living in the same yard. while my father was consulting with the negro regarding our bivouac for the night, the latter suddenly seized his foot, exclaiming, "_chegoe_ in toe," then forcing him to the ground, and taking from his pocket a knife, proceeded to extract one of those formidable insects, which had become embedded in the skin of the foot. this insect, had it been allowed to remain, would have, no doubt, produced inflammation, from its bite, and, in all probability, caused my father lameness for some weeks. the negroes treated us with the greatest possible kindness and respect; and the old man, who appeared the orator of his party, insisted upon our sharing their hospitality, by partaking of their evening meal, which we readily accepted, producing, at the same time, our own provisions; and such an interchange of delicacies took place, that i am sure it would puzzle me now to recollect or enumerate them. i know it was the cause of some considerable share of merriment among us all. their food, if i remember rightly, appeared to me to consist more of vegetables and fruit than ours, and was of a simpler nature. i fancy if some of our worthy civic authorities had been present as partakers of this repast, they would have been more surprised at the viands than delighted. but man is of a ductile nature--a creature of habit, and may almost habituate himself to anything. in civilized cities, where thousands are taxing their energies in the pursuit of wealth and position in society, an artificial state of existence is the consequence; and the primitive fare of our forefathers is superseded by something of a more stimulating nature. i have seen, in my experience in forest life, how little man can subsist upon, and how healthy and strong he may continue in a simple state of existence. civilization brings with it a host of imaginary and fictitious wants. [sidenote: the repast with the negroes] we accepted the offer of our newly-made friends to share with them their small huts for the night, and they being plentifully provided with various skins of animals, a more agreeable resting-place could hardly be desired. the old negro, without being obtrusively inquisitive, was anxious to know our object in crossing the country; and my father informed him of our route, and produced the rough chart he had made upon our first starting upon the expedition. a long consultation was the result, and a doubtful shake of the head was given by the old man as to the possibility of our accomplishing the task; at the same time he gave an incredulous look at my mother and sister, who, he seemed to consider, would hardly be able to endure the journey and the hardships attending it. to say the truth, my mother looked but very weak, and i remember being struck myself with her appearance. my sister was of such a buoyant temperament, that her joyous spirit would carry her through almost any temporary difficulties; but still we were all considerably jaded. and i remember i thought the rude habitation of our entertainers a most delightful place of refuge, compared to being obliged to bivouac in the woods; and, indeed, i dreaded leaving the following morning. i believe we were all of us impressed with the same idea. when we at first met with them, i was overcome with surprise, and was afraid that some calamity was about to befal us. by degrees, however, the feeling wore off, and by that strong and undefined species of discernment which most possess in discovering those kindly disposed towards us, i became on most familiar terms with our friends. the young man, whose name was rangal, i discovered, was the only son of the elder negro. he was very solicitous in his attentions to me, and his peculiar manners considerably amused me during our evening's sojourn. [sidenote: more negroes] upon our retiring to rest, the two negroes, father and son, took up their station in the apartment we had at first entered; this they did to keep watch that no one should harm us; not that there was any absolute necessity for their so doing, but it was an attention meant to impress us with confidence as to our safety. early the following morning, after a refreshing and undisturbed sleep, i accompanied rangal to take a survey of the surrounding country, calling at a neighbouring habitation where the remaining portion of the negroes had located. they conversed with my guide a great deal, two or three speaking at the same time; but it was in a dialect entirely new to me, and beyond my comprehension. they evidently, by their gestures, referred to us; but in what way, i was at a loss to understand. there were also a female and three children, the latter varying from seven to eleven years old. they looked at me in perfect amazement, and the three children retired, whispering, to a corner at the darkest part of the room; but i could see by the whites of their eyes in the gloom, that their gaze was rivetted upon me, in which a feeling of curiosity was mingled with dread. for myself, i was only struck with their comical appearance, and fairly laughed outright, in which i was joined by the negroes, one of whom, i supposed their father, brought them forward and introduced them in due form. upon returning to our habitation of the previous night, we found our party taking their morning's repast; and i learned that the old negro had insisted upon accompanying us, with his son rangal, on our journey during the day. he had also arranged where we should halt for the following night which was at the habitation of a friend of his, situate many miles on our road. [sidenote: the forest] all being got in readiness, we again commenced our pilgrimage. there had been a heavy fall of rain in the night, and it was comparatively cool and refreshing to what it had been, but still the heat was intense to us. we, however, proceeded on our journey with tolerable spirits. my father and uncle shot several birds in the early part of the day, which afforded us an excellent repast. we shortly arrived at a thick and apparently impenetrable forest. through this we had to travel before reaching our destination for the night. once having fairly entered its precincts, there appeared to my mind an impossibility of ever again emancipating ourselves from it. the sun, which had been so scorching to our aching sight, was now no longer visible, save here and there, where a few rays would find a passage through the otherwise impenetrably dense foliage, to remind us of the world beyond our sight. the luxuriance of the foliage, the variety of tropical plants which in the fecundity of nature spring up in a few hours--so rapid is their growth in these climates,--the busy hum of myriads of insects, the reptiles, and occasionally the howling of the fiercer animals of prey, can hardly be appreciated by description. ever and anon we paused, as a rustling of the foliage would give notice of the passage of some fierce animal, who was, as he stole along, unconscious of the presence of man in his domains. we proceeded most watchfully on our way, my father and uncle with guns across their shoulders, ready for immediate service, if required; so, what with our number, and the caution used, we felt ourselves tolerably secure; the more so, as it is a remarkable fact that no species of animal, however fierce, is ever very willing to attack man in open combat, without provocation. waterton, the celebrated naturalist, who has travelled through the woods in search of animals for scientific purposes, says, speaking on this subject, "time and experience has convinced me that there is not much danger in roving amongst snakes and wild beasts, provided you have self-command. you must never approach them abruptly; if so, you are sure to pay for your rashness, because the idea of self-defence is predominant in every animal; and thus the snake, to defend himself from what he considers an attack upon him, makes the intruder feel the deadly effect of his poisonous fangs. the jaguar flies at you, and knocks you senseless with a stroke of his paw; whereas, if you had not come upon him too suddenly, it is ten to one but that he had retired, in lieu of disputing the path with you." secure, however, as we might feel ourselves, it was a matter of surprise to us how the two negroes would fare upon their return, without our party. they would, however, in spite of every persuasion to the contrary, persist in accompanying us, and we were fain to let them have their own way. presently an incident occurred which made us see the necessity of caution. as i was walking by the side of my uncle henry, i discerned, glaring from a neighbouring clump of foliage, two fierce-looking eyes. i impulsively caught my uncle by the arm, and pointed in breathless terror to the spot. he paused, and raising his gun, would have fired, had not my father precipitately intervened, and motioned him to be passive. "do not venture to fire," he whispered, "till there is a greater necessity." at the same time he raised his gun, and both kept guard till the other members of our party passed the point where danger was to be feared. the animal did not move, but appeared ready to spring forth; which had it done, the pieces must then have been discharged. when we had got some little distance from the object of our dread, my father and uncle gradually retreated, with their faces and guns directed towards the animal, until they had got sufficiently out of danger; and we had the satisfaction of observing the animal bound off in another direction. it appeared to be a tolerably large-sized puma, as well as we could discern. this little incident made us doubly cautious, and all were loud in praising the presence of mind evinced by my father; for had my uncle fired so incautiously, it is very improbable that he would have wounded the animal mortally, but it might have incited him to a desperate attack upon us. [sidenote: the negro's daughter] after one or two false alarms, we arrived again in the open country. the darkness of the forest had led us to believe that the day was on the decline; but on emerging into the plain we were greeted again with the rays of the sun. we had still, however, some distance to journey before we arrived at our proposed destination, and my mother, who appeared wearied, was again seated on the back of one of the mules. but even this mode of conveyance was fatiguing to one unaccustomed to such long journeys, in a country so different to our own. the negroes were the most fresh of the party; indeed, heat, and long hours of fatigue or anxiety, seemed to have no effect upon them, for they retained under these trials their good temper and loquacity. the elder of the two seemed, as indeed he always had been, to be of a reflective temperament; and as he was walking by the side of my father, somewhat ahead of the rest, he turned round, and gazing at my sister, said, "make me think of de ole day--de ole day." "how so?" said my father. "had a little girl once myself. long ago, now! long ago!" and he again lapsed into silence, ruminating, in rather an abstracted melancholy mood, for some minutes. "you lost her, then, did you?" said my father. the old man shook his head sorrowfully, and placing his hand upon my father's shoulder, confidentially, exclaimed, "de white man!" he then promised to tell us the history of the affair before leaving. arriving shortly at the point he had originally proposed when we commenced our journey in the morning, we discerned two or three habitations, even more rude than those we had left, and our guides expressed much surprise and chagrin at finding them uninhabited. we, however, determined upon taking possession of them for the night, and at once proceeded to make the necessary preparations for our stay. [sidenote: the story of the negro] agreeably to his promise, the old negro took an opportunity of relating his history. our first surmise proved to be correct; he was indeed a runaway slave. some years previously he and his family were sold to a new owner, who proved to be a cruel and unfeeling taskmaster, the very opposite in character to the former owner, who was a kind-hearted, mild disposed man. his wife was so affected by the change and hard usage, that she sunk into a desponding state, and eventually died, leaving him with a son and daughter. the cruel treatment evinced by their overseer towards the latter, a little girl then of ten years old, was a constant source of trouble and misery to the father, and eventually led to an open revolt. one day, when the brutality of this man was beyond all endurance, the father of the girl, in a fit of rage and disgust, struck his superior to the earth. conscious of what he had done, and the fearful penalty attached to it, he fled frantically from the spot, whither he knew not. his feelings had been wound up to such a state of excitement, that he was scarcely conscious of what he was about; but he had soon left the scene of his suffering many miles distant. his son, it appeared, who was at a remote part of the plantation, hearing of the affair, fled after his father, and they eventually, after enduring numberless hardships, both succeeded in escaping; and notwithstanding the large rewards offered for their capture, they were never betrayed. his daughter he had learned nothing of for many years. he had endeavoured to rescue her soon after his escape from the hands of her tormentor, but did not succeed. afterwards he learnt that she had left the plantation, and had been passed into the hands of a new master at another remote part of the country. she was dangerously ill at that time, and was not expected to recover. the poor old negro grew very mournful as he concluded his narrative. he had not heard of his daughter for so long a period that he seemed to think it improbable he should ever behold her again. his story, i remember, called forth a long discussion upon the horrors of slavery, the truth of which is now happily made sufficiently manifest, and so universally acknowledged, that it hardly needs repetition here. on the following morning we parted with our two negro guides of the previous day, but it was with the greatest unwillingness that they could be persuaded to return to their home; eventually, however, we took leave of them after presenting them two or three remembrances for their kindness. we now journeyed on much the same as before, without any incident occurring worthy of notice, when, on the following day, we met with two english gentlemen, both naturalists, on their way to the forest, to collect specimens for the advancement of scientific knowledge. their party comprised six, namely, themselves, two english attendants, and two negroes, whom they had purchased, with a promise of emancipation if they conducted themselves to their masters' satisfaction. these gentlemen were much delighted to meet with us, and agreed to journey our road, for the sake of company. i was much pleased with their society. i was soon made sensible of the advantages of a system in studying the works of nature. my senses had before been quite captivated and gratified with the general aspect of the scenes through which we had passed; but now i was taught to examine objects more closely and in detail; to compare, arrange, and, above all, to study the uses and purposes of vegetable and animal constituents, with their mechanical construction, tracing, in some measure, the designs of the creator in all his works. i was now awakened to an intellectual gratification exceeding that of the mere senses. i learned how to collect and store up knowledge in the memory, which elevated my notions of the human species and considerably augmented my self-respect. the more i found opportunities to bring the intellect into play, the more apparent became the advantages which the civilized and cultivated man possessed over the mere savage or uninformed; and, in consequence, my delight in receiving instruction was unbounded. unlike myself, however, the gentlemen whom we accompanied did not appear to me to enjoy or appreciate my natural enthusiasm for varied scenery. they carried on their researches with surprising ardour; and when in pursuit of an abstract or particular object, their attention was wholly absorbed; nor were they in any way sparing of the lives of animals, birds, or insects, when selecting their specimens from the abundance before them. their recklessness, too, in destroying what they considered obnoxious animals, somewhat surprised me, so much so as to induce me to enquire what caused them to have antipathies, like unto children and some females, especially against spiders, beetles, &c. the only answer i received was, "we destroy only such things as are of no use to us, and those which come in our way when in search of our object." they soon, however, explained to me that the reason of their shooting such a number of birds was that they were in want of all the varieties, and could not always distinguish, until they had them in hand, whether they had such a one amongst their collection. to watch the young of animals, whether those species born with sight or closed eyes, and note their progress towards perfection, and the celerity with which some of them, birds especially, will remove themselves, even while unfledged, from danger to security, is to see god watching over all his creatures. to be near when the cry of danger is started in the wood, and hear the whole flock, though composed of different kinds of birds, each in their own peculiar note, cry "hush!" to their young ones before they leave the nest,--to ascertain the cause, and then to have the satisfaction of removing that cause of danger,--is to be an agent of the deity in the work of benevolence. "all are agents," said one of the gentlemen, "in carrying out the benevolent purposes of the deity. direct your mind towards the various provisions which nature has devised for the dispersion, of the seeds of plants, and introducing them, into proper situations for germination. every class of beings," he continued, "is useful as a means to promote the spread of seeds: man, beasts, birds, reptiles, and probably even fish, by consuming, cause the propagation of the _algã¦_ in the depths of the ocean; and the multiplied contrivances of hooks, awns, wings, &c., with the elastic and hygrometric power with which seeds are furnished, manifest what infinite provision has been made for the dispersion of seeds, and successive productions of nature." it was thus that they would tutor me, and relieve the tedium of the day, by instilling into my youthful mind the first rudiments of a knowledge respecting the works of the deity, and the uses to which they were applied; and i became aware of the wonders an all-bounteous providence has in store for an enquiring mind. [sidenote: the rattlesnake] but i now approach a period which proved an epoch in my existence. it was towards the evening of a very long and fatiguing day's journey, perhaps the most wearisome we had yet had, that we halted to refresh ourselves, and consult where we should bivouac for the night. we were all jaded, and scarcely knew how to proceed any further. my sister was reclining on a bank, and had, unobserved by us, fallen fast asleep, fairly overcome with the fatigues of the day. her head was resting on a small package of tightly compressed woollen cloths. we had not noticed her for some minutes, when one of the gentlemen who accompanied us was the first to observe her dangerous situation. it was fortunate he did so. taking my father by the arm, and leading him quietly away from the party, he directed his attention to my sister. my father stood almost petrified with fear and horror, on observing a large rattlesnake moving from side to side on my sister's chest. upon the impulse of the moment, he was incautiously about to rush to her rescue; but was detained by his companion. "i do not think it means any mischief," he whispered. "make no noise, and i fancy it will merely cross your child's body, and go away." in this, however, he was mistaken, for on reaching my sister's left shoulder the serpent deliberately coiled itself up; and although it made no immediate attack, it did not appear at all likely to leave the side of the sleeper. "leave it to me," said my father's companion, "to rescue the poor girl from her terrible position. i know best the habits of these creatures, and how to treat them. make no noise, on your life, or your child may be lost; but follow me." my father obeyed; and our friend then determined that two of us should advance in front, to divert the attention of the snake, while he should noiselessly steal behind my sister, and, with a long stick, remove the reptile from her body. the snake, on observing the approach of the two intruders in front of him, instantly raised its head, and darted out its forked tongue, at the same time shaking its rattles,--all indications of anger. [sidenote: anxiety] every one of our party was in a state of fearful suspense and agitation for the fate of my poor sister; who lay like a beautiful statue, sleeping the calm sleep of innocence, unconscious of her danger. our friend advanced stealthily behind, with a stick of seven feet long he had procured for the purpose. in an instant, almost before we had time to observe it, he succeeded in cautiously inserting one end of the stick under one of the reptile's coils, and flung the creature some yards from my sister's body. a wild scream of joy was the first indication my sister received of her danger and providential escape. in the meantime, her preserver pursued the snake, and killed it. it was three feet seven inches long, and eleven years old; the age, our friend said, was always to be ascertained by the number of rattles. he also informed us that there is no danger attending the destruction of the rattlesnake, provided a person has a long pliant stick, and does not approach nearer than the reptile's length; for they cannot spring beyond it, and seldom act but upon the defensive. we discovered, on searching about, a nest of these snakes near to where my sister had been lying; and, after this incident, were a little more cautious in taking our way along. we could not shake off the alarm that it had occasioned; and it was with anxious thoughts and heavy hearts that we again proceeded to seek repose from the day's troubles and fatigue. chapter ii. i am lost in the forest--my situation and feelings described. "existence may be borne, and the deep root of life and sufferance make its firm abode in bare and desolate bosoms: mute the camel labours with the heaviest load, and the wolf dies in silence. not bestow'd in vain should such examples be; if they- things of ignoble or of savage mood- endure and shrink not, we of nobler clay may temper it to bear; it is but for a day." in arranging our watch for the night every precaution was taken to guard against intrusion; then most of the party composed themselves for sleep; indeed, the previous day had been one of peculiar fatigue and disappointment--opiates much less injurious than those issued from a druggist's shop. i alone, and for the first time, became restless after the approach of night--usually having fallen asleep as soon as i had eaten my supper,--and became insensible to the busy hum of night, which in tropical countries is very noisy. i lay down with the adventure of the snake on my mind, my reflections on which kept me awake till the nocturnal insects of the wood were all in full chorus, and the reptiles began to move. up to this hour i had no idea--so soundly had i hitherto slept--that the night was as rife with sounds and animated nature as the day; differing not in their variety but only in their peculiar kinds. [sidenote: fireflies] as i have in another place, under the head of a natural day in the forest, spoken of this hour, it will be unnecessary for me to describe it in this place; suffice it to say, that my ear being once engaged in attending to the succession of sounds which addressed it, sleep, for the night, became hopeless. about midnight i suddenly sprang to nay feet with the surprise of being surrounded, as i thought, with flakes of fire, or rather with similar lights to those emitted by a jet of gas in the centre of glass drops. finding myself uninjured in the midst of myriads of these dancing lights, i moved forward, as they moved, to examine the phenomenon. they were fireflies, whose light would have enabled me to see the hour by a watch. they suddenly, however, left me in darkness, and that as rapidly as if they had really been gas-lights extinguished by the turning of the stop-cock. pausing for some minutes, and censuring my own conduct for having moved from the spot of our bivouac, my attention was again attracted by sounds of something in pain, close to my feet; it was evidently a bird, and i stooped with a view of taking it up, when the note proceeded from my right, and then from the left, "crek-crek-crek!" whether i was ambitious to capture the bird, or whether i was moved by feelings of compassion i know not, i acted on the impulse, and continued to turn from side to side till i had advanced some distance in the underwood in a zig-zag direction. at length, being vexed at my disappointment, i lost my temper, and rushed forward again with renewed determination to take the wounded bird, which was always at my feet but never in my hand. he who does not command his temper can scarcely fail to do wrong; and never was indiscretion perhaps more severely punished than in my case. [sidenote: bewildered in the wood] i had committed an unpardonable act of imprudence in suffering my curiosity regarding the light emitted by the firefly to lead me one yard from the bivouac; but afterwards to lose my presence of mind in such a situation and at such an hour, in the mere attempt to possess a wounded bird, was an act of puerility inexcusable in a boy many years my junior. need i inform the reader that i was the dupe of a watchful parent, or perhaps there were two of them, who, with a view of protecting their young ones, beguiled me from the spot where they were being reared. the bird was a species of quail, which, like the plover in england, will pretend to be lame, to draw stragglers from its hiding-place. when the cry of the quail ceased, without doubt i had been led a sufficient distance to place her progeny out of danger; i was now enshrouded in all but utter darkness, and then bean to shout out to my uncle john, who was on watch, as loudly and as frequently as the power of my lungs enabled me; but there was no response. the aphorism says, "do not halloo till you are out of the wood;" and truly i might have spared my lungs, for calling was of no avail. errors and blunders generally run in sequences; had i remained on the spot when i found myself first lost, the probability is that i should, when the morning dawned, have been near enough to my friends to have been discovered. but no! having been guilty of one act of folly, i must repair it by committing a second. my impatience impelled me to make an effort to retrace my steps; while a moment's reflection might have shown me, that as there was but one road back, so there were many which might lead me farther into trouble. the remainder of this night was spent in exhausting my strength in vain and useless efforts to retrace my steps; and ere the sun rose, i was so fatigued and hoarse as to abandon every hope of making myself heard. exhausted nature alone brought conviction of the fruitlessness of such efforts. i sat down on a blasted tree, and there relieved my harassed and affrighted spirits by a flood of tears, the shedding of which did indeed bring alleviation; for previously i felt as if my heart was bursting. a heavy load of grief, however, still pressed with a leaden weight on my mind; but as the heart lightened, the reflective powers began to operate, and the full sense of my desolation was presented to my view. i was horror-stricken and paralysed; but as these paroxysms passed away, i gradually brought my mind to contemplate calmly my isolated situation. [sidenote: first sensation of solitude] i first reflected on the inestimable value of parental affection, the blessings conferred on us by friends, the pleasures of social life, and the advantages mankind derive by forming communities. at that moment there was no sacrifice i would not have made to have been restored to my family, and become again entitled to all these advantages. out of this comparative state of calmness, i was roused by murmuring sounds which my excited imagination converted into human voices. oh, how my heart bounded, and with what intensity did the ear strain itself to catch assurance that there was truth in its first impression. but the organ had prejudged, and was not readily open to conviction. i therefore proceeded, with what haste my weary limbs would permit, to exercise the sense of sight. alas! it was but the murmuring of waters, a gentle confluence of which was precipitated over an elevated rock of stone. it was impossible to conceive a more enchanting scene than that which now met my anxious eye. through several ravines the water, pouring over moss-grown stones, fell in miniature cascades, with a musical murmur, over rocks shaded by low trees, and grey with variegated mosses and the elegant maiden's hair. large trunks of trees, thrown down by the hand of time, lay covered with fungi waved with various hues. the scene was altogether such as might for a time engage the attention and abstract the mind of one plunged into the abyss of grief. i was deeply impressed with its beauty, and it powerfully excited sensations of delight; but as i continued to contemplate it, a sense of loneliness crept over me; there was no one near to hear me exclaim, "how exquisitely enchanting! how sublime! yet how soft and harmonizing is it to the feelings." turning from this scene i found my grief considerably modified in its intensity; and i began now to look on my case only as that of a lost child in society, whom the parents would be certain of finding on diligent search. "god tempers the wind to the shorn lamb," and in a thousand mysterious ways prepares the minds of his creatures to meet the burdens they are called upon to bear. of this truth i was early convinced. had the night of my first day's loneliness closed on me in the full consciousness of my desolation and self-dependence for preservation, it is impossible to say what dreadful effects might have been wrought on the mind of one so young, and so tenderly brought up. but it was ordered otherwise. the want of sleep the previous night, together with agonised moments of distress, and fears which returned with redoubled force as the day progressed and no relief came, all contributed so much to the exhaustion of my frame, that long ere the curtains of night were drawn over the forest, i involuntarily fell into a profound sleep, unconscious at what hour, or where i had lain myself. i was thus spared those feelings of dread which, if night had overtaken my waking moments, might have overshadowed my reason while i was watching the final departure of daylight. when i awoke the next morning, it was broad day; and nothing, while memory retains her seat, can obliterate or weaken the impressions i received on opening my eyes. there was presented to my view the most magnificent scene perhaps ever beheld in this world of nature's productions. for a time i imagined myself dreaming of fairy-land. before me, as i reclined on a mossy bed of green herbage, as soft as eider-down, there was an opening in the wood, shaped like an amphitheatre, with the sun's rays throwing a flood of light into it. trees rich with foliage and blossoms waved like a galaxy of parti-coloured flags or banners at a jubilee of nature; brilliant colours, varied in endless hues, all beautifully harmonising, so that each was seen without any being predominant. here arose upright flowers on stupendous branches, towering aloft as if aspiring to reach the sun; there others hung pendulously, as if seeking to hide themselves amidst the rich foliage that cradled their birth, and were anxious in their modest delicacy, to avoid the god of day. birds of ever-varied plumage, sizes, and habits, were congregated in immense numbers, forming an orchestra of thousands of vocalists, as if met to celebrate the hour of creation. a small glassy lake in the centre of the glade, peopled with water-fowl, served the songsters for a grace-cup, each quitting the sprays to dip its beak into it, and again resume its perch to pour forth a torrent of musical notes. i know not how long i might have lain rapt with delight, had not some husks fallen on my face, and roused me. i have reason to think that i was pelted by monkeys, whose jealousy at the appearance of a stranger in their territories had aroused their indignation. [sidenote: the nut-hatch in the gum tree] entranced as i had been by the scene, the grosser appetite admonished me that food was necessary for the sustenance of the body; i had not tasted it for upwards of twenty-four hours, and the demands of the stomach now became imperative. without allowing myself time to reflect, the horror of starvation presented itself to my imagination, and i was again relapsing into despondency, when i saw several small birds running up and down the trunk of a large tree, in a spiral course; their movement was so rapid, that i could not distinguish whether their heads or tails were uppermost. curious to obtain a nearer view of them, i advanced, and observed that they frequently tapped the bark with their beaks, and then inserted them into the interstices; this led me to examine the tree more closely, when i discovered large masses of gum protruding from the bark. this description of bird is named the nuthatch. they were in search of insects and their eggs, not of the gum. i however filled my pocket with it, and putting piece after piece into my mouth, as it dissolved, it allayed for the present the cravings of hunger. frequently when distant dreaded danger is more nearly approached, our fears vanish, and it often happens that a supposed coming evil turns out to be a benefit. at all times, however, the mind is soon familiarised to those dangers that partake of the inevitable. the very worst had now passed away from me--the first night's sleep alone in the forest. i was safe, unhurt, refreshed, and even cheerful: perhaps because i was still full of the hope of being sought for and found by my father and friends. it was the will of divine providence that i should for several weeks cherish this hope; nor did i abandon the flattering solace till i had become fully initiated into the ways of providing for myself. indeed, i may affirm that hope never left me--hope, if not of meeting directly with my friends, of emancipating myself from the intricacies of the forest. hope, memory, and imagination, three lovely sisters, were my companions, and even in the wilds of a forest, "hope enchanted, smiled, and waved her golden hair." memory, a visionary slumber, with half-closed eyes, was frequently dispelled by the hard necessity there was to be up and stirring for immediate self-preservation. imagination came with lamp-like eyes, a bright and bold beauty, seating me at one bound or flight in the midst of my family, enjoying all the comforts of civilized life, throwing me into the arms of my mother, indulging in her warm embrace. remorse would then supervene--remorse for the pain and anguish i had occasioned my fond and worthy parents, and for the misery my waywardness had brought upon myself. [sidenote: efforts to escape] my first meal, as i have stated, when left to cater for myself, consisted of gum, of which i had a store in my pocket. as soon, therefore, as i had satisfied myself with the surrounding objects of admiration, i thought of making another effort to regain the spot where i had left my parents: it was a vain hope, but i pursued it throughout the day, during which i must have travelled many miles. in the course of my peregrinations, i found abundance of fruit and nuts, which lay strewed in my way. late in the day, i met with a mass of the bush-rope, and, ignorant of its abundance, i at once jumped to the conclusion that i had arrived at the identical spot which our party had before passed. this barrier, as it is designated, to my view was considerably extended; and then my heart, after being elevated with hope, again sunk within me. still, however, disinclined to relinquish hope, my only solace, i soon persuaded myself that i might not, on the former occasion, have accurately surveyed it; and i resolved, as night was fast approaching, to remain on the spot till the following morning, and from thence to make a fresh start, to find, if possible, the track in which the party were travelling. in social life, provident thoughts rarely trouble a youth of thirteen years of age; his parents, or others, think for him, and generally every night provide a bed for his resting-place. such had been previously my case; the reader will, therefore, not be surprised that, up to this moment, i had not bestowed a thought on how i was to pass the ensuing night in security. i was, however, now fairly inducted into the school of hard necessity; and as the day was fast waning, i had no time to lose. acting on impulse, i commenced climbing the bush-rope, intending there to make my bed, but the dread of falling came over me, and checked my resolution. i then thought of a hollow tree, many of which i had seen in the course of my perambulations. following this suggestion of the mind, i immediately began a search for one, and fortunately met with it on the spot. night was, however, setting in so rapidly, that i had no time to be nice in my choice. [sidenote: the jaguar] the tree that seemed most to invite me to enter into its interior was partly uprooted, leaning its head towards the earth, so that i could rest in a sloping position; but thinking the opening of the decayed part too wide for perfect security, i stripped off the bark on the reverse side, of which to form a shutter, or loose door, which i might pull towards the opening when fairly ensconced within the hollow. having thus prepared my bed, i instinctively cast a look round, as an undefinable sense of danger crept over me; the first movement brought my eyes in contact with those of a large jaguar, the tiger of that country. he was standing upright, about eight yards distant, apparently surveying me from head to foot. i was paralyzed with fear, and remained fixed to the spot; the animal gave me a second and third look, then took two or three bounds, and was out of sight in an instant. it is to this moment my fixed opinion, one confirmed by subsequent experience, that i owe my life to the passive manner in which i stood, and which was occasioned by fright; the slightest movement on my part would have occasioned alarm in the jaguar, and proved fatal. with regard to the jaguar's prowess, he is little less formidable than the bengal tiger: cows and young bulls he destroys with ease and avidity; but the horse is his favourite prey. all these large animals he kills by leaping on their backs, placing one paw upon their head, another on the muzzle, and thus contriving, in a moment, to break the neck of his victim. the jaguar, although as ferocious as the tiger, rarely attacks man unprovoked, or unless very hungry; but in general he finds no scarcity of food in the regions in which i was located. i now debated with myself whether i should enter the tree, foolishly imagining that the animal designed to take me asleep. at length the gloominess of the night enshrouded me in darkness, and left me no alternative but to spring into my cabin, and pull the pieces of bark before the aperture. i will not attempt to describe the fearful trepidation in which i was placed: the darkness of the night rendered the hollow of the tree like a tomb, and i viewed it as a coffin; every movement of a twig was, to my imagination, the jaguar removing my barricade with an intention of clawing me out for prey. the scene was rendered more horrible by the contrast with that of the morning, to which the mind would revert, in spite of surrounding horrors--one was the reality of the fabled elysium, the other that of the tartarean fields. just as i had thought i had now experienced the acme of terrors, my fright was augmented by something fluttering round my head, the noise from which seemed as if an animal was struggling to disentangle itself from a snare. shakspere, describing the effects of fright, speaks of its causing "each particular hair to stand on end, like quills upon the fretful porcupine." i will not affirm that the hairs of my head rose to that height, but i may safely aver that no mortal had ever more cause for exhibiting all the known symptoms of extreme fright. in a second or two after i heard the fluttering, i received repeated blows on the head and face, indubitable proofs that i had a quarrelsome fellow lodger. present and immediate dangers chase all others. i kicked away my temporary shutter; but before i could make my exit i felt, by the motion of the air, that a living thing had passed me in rapid flight. [sidenote: the terrors of night in the forest] when the sharer of my tenement had flown, i began to consider that it must have been some night-bird; and as the jaguar was still uppermost in my thoughts, i lost no time in repossessing myself of my lodging. worn out as i now again was with the fatigues of the day and the terrors of the night, after a time i was dropping to sleep, when i was once more roused by the growl of the jaguar, as if he had just seized his prey, and half the beasts of the forest, from the noise there was, had collected to contend and fight for the carnage. a short interval elapsed, and then the growling changed gradually into death-groanings. i was now in the midst of a scene of horror and darkness that may well be said to elude the power of verbal description. only a few hours previously my mind had been harmonized by the soft and elegant forms of nature's richest beauties, under a clear blue sky. how changed was now the scene! how deformed and disfigured was the aspect! it was a transition from paradise to erebus; environed by all the real and conceivable monsters in nature. i had before been alarmed--i now abandoned myself to the one sensation of unmitigated despair, the extremity of which was so intense, that it is a miracle reason held her place, or that i survived to write this narrative. indeed, nothing but the turn my thoughts took at this crisis could have preserved me. i had already undergone all the horrors of an agonizing and protracted death, and was well nigh insensible to grief or pain, when, providentially, in the last extremity, i was inwardly admonished to appeal to my god. and now, with suppliant accents and upraised hands, i prayed to heaven for a blessing, for short i still thought was the space between life and death. praying with fervency of soul, i gradually became inspired with confidence; my mind became more tranquil and fitter for calm consideration. it occurred to me, notwithstanding the horrible din of noises around, that i was still unhurt; that if the jaguar had really selected me for his prey, he would have seized me when within his reach, and not have restrained his appetite for the mere gratification of tearing me from the hollow of a tree. then, in reference to the sharer of my apartment, i began to look on myself as the real aggressor. had i not ejected some native of the forest, whose natural home it was, both by right and possession; had i not most unwarrantably intruded on his privacy, and frightened an inoffensive member of the sylvan community. thus, through the medium of prayer, was i at once enabled and taught how to face danger; and whilst looking it steadfastly in the countenance, to ascertain correctly its magnitude, and banish chimerical fears. that i was surrounded with danger, i was still conscious; but now i offered up thanks to god for preserving me in the midst of them; for having directed me to a place of security, and provided me with a strong tower, where i might almost defy enemies. thus recovering my self-possession, i began really to enjoy the interior of the tree as a very comfortable resting-place and a complete snuggery. very soon after this state of mind was brought about, i fell asleep, and awoke refreshed and tranquil. morning was announced to my glad eyes by lines of light passing from the lofty trees, scintillating through the holes of my worm-eaten shutter--lines of light which were delicately drawn by the golden fingers of phoebus, the most famed of artists. a very considerable portion of the sufferings of mankind have their source in ignorance: nearly all that i encountered, even from this memorable night to the hour of my emancipation from the forest, was the result of my want of experience. had i known that the noises which had disturbed my rest were but the imitations of the red monkey, i might have slept in quietude. these animals assemble, and at times amuse themselves throughout the night by making the most horrible noises, more especially mimicking the growlings and roarings of the more ferocious animals. i say amuse themselves; but at the same time i may remark that all sounds given out by quadrupeds, birds, or reptiles, are designed to effect some of nature's especial purposes. some, for their own protection; others, to caution weaker animals against approaching danger. [sidenote: monkey tricks] the gift and propensity the red monkey has of imitating the beasts of prey, may deter some enemy from attacking him in the dark; for it is observed they cease their mocking habits when daylight appears. they may also warn the timid animals when others of a formidable nature and ferocious appetite are in their vicinity. the jaguar, as we have said, was in the immediate neighbourhood that night. among the general community of the monkey tribes, morning and evening are periods they generally select to settle their public affairs, for the noises they make at these times are absolutely stunning, and to strangers very alarming. the forest is their citadel, where, mounted on lofty trees waving in the breeze, they confabulate, and, as naturalists have often described, arm themselves with sticks and stones, and in conscious independence defy all intruders. the red monkey, however, is the most pugnacious of the whole species; and it was some months before i was permitted to walk the woods in peace, for these animals frequently assailed me with a stick or a stone. policy led me to take all their insults patiently; and in the end, i imagine, they passed an act of naturalization, for i was ultimately permitted to range the forest without molestation. i once witnessed a peculiar instance of their tenaciousness in regard to their territory. an european boat was passing down a river on the side of a wood, when, on a signal being given by one of these animals, others crowded to the spot in such numbers as literally to cover the trees, bending with their weight the branches to the water's edge. at first they appeared as if amused with the sight of the movement of the rowers; then deeming them intruders, they commenced a general pelting, discharging showers of stones and broken sticks. the people in the boats fired; when the monkeys pelted more furiously than before, and though numbers fell wounded, or dead, still they continued the contest till the boats passed beyond their domain. i now entered on the third day of my sylvan probation, and upon the whole, felt more self-possession than i had any right to expect, under all the circumstances of my forlorn case. this day, like all others, waned with a quick and silent foot, while i again rambled round the immediate locality of my resting-place, fearing i might, if i strayed far away, be constrained to face the perils of a night in the open air. [sidenote: the blood-sucker] this night i took possession of my lodging in good time, and, as i thought, carefully fenced myself with an impregnable barrier; and, as i thought so, it was the same as if it had been a high stone-wall, for it removed my perturbation, and occasioned me to sleep soundly. when i awoke the following morning, i was surprised to find my stocking matted with coagulated blood; i hastened to a rill of water, where i had the day before previously allayed my thirst, to draw it off and cleanse the foot. to my utter astonishment and dismay, i discovered that my shoe was in every part stained with blood, and that the toes and the sole of the right foot were stiff with coagulum. divesting myself of the covering of my foot, i observed a small wound on the instep, not unlike the mark made by a leech. imagining that i had been bitten by some formidable insect, such as i had seen in the course of our journey, when i had washed myself and recovered my fright, i hastened back to scrape out the interior of my chamber with a stick. in performing this work i disturbed myriads of small insects with which i had rested, but nothing that could account for the bite on my foot. pleased, however, at having discovered the necessity there was for cleanliness in my apartment. i was resolved to give it a thorough scouring; and for this purpose thrust the stick up a hollow arm of the tree above my head, when out flew an extraordinary large bat. it was some satisfaction to become acquainted with those who are likely to become the sharers of your lodging, and i had no doubt the bat was the animal that flew against my face when endeavouring to set out the previous evening on his usual nocturnal rambles. still i remained in a state of ignorance as to the cause of the wound in my foot. it requires much study and considerable experience, even to ascertain the causes of only a few effects in the phenomena of nature's workshop. unwilling to leave the uninformed reader in doubt, not only in this particular instance, but in numerous others that will be met with in the course of this narrative, i shall anticipate, as it were, my own subsequent experience, and explain, when i can, the causes of certain effects that occurred to me while living alone in the forest. it was a species of bat, named by naturalists the vampire, that i had ejected, and he it was who had bled me so freely in the foot. it is remarkable that this bloodsucker, when once he has fastened on an animal, is allowed to satiate his appetite unmolested, as its victims all remain quiet and unresisting during the time he makes his meal. it is said that vampires flap their wings and produce a cooling sensation that lulls their prey to sleep while they suck their fill. in the instance of myself, i had not awoke the whole night, and was perfectly unconscious of the attack, until morning; but, as i have already said, i was in nature's great school, and soon learnt that, as in the moral world, so it is in the woods, there is more to dread from insidious attacks, than from open and declared enemies. when i had satisfied my appetite, on leaving my resting-place, with nuts and fruit, i sat down by the rill of water, to consider more determinately than i had hitherto done, what were my prospects, and what course of conduct i should pursue for my own protection. [sidenote: the battle of the snakes] while thus engaged in thought, my attention was attracted to a snake, only a few yards' distance from where i sat; it was near a patch of brushwood, and was apparently trembling with fear. almost as soon as i had noticed its state of alarm, another snake, with astonishing celerity, sprung upon it, and seized it by the neck, then encircled itself about six folds round the body of its victim, like the worm of a screw. the assailant then, leaning its head over the other, looked its gasping foe in the face, to ascertain the effect of the coils round the body; and seeing that its prey was still alive, it multiplied the coils three or four times, and evidently tightened the screw, watching all the time to see the effect of the extra coils. the attacking party was an animal designated the black snake, and the victim was a rattlesnake, about three and a half feet long, its enemy being about the same length. the former, however, had perfect command over the latter; but i was surprised at the length of time the executioner took to satisfy himself that his work of death was performed. the black snake remained three-quarters of an hour coiled round the other, and then very slowly and cautiously slackened one coil at a time, narrowly watching if any signs of life yet remained, ready to resume the screw again, if necessary, to complete the destruction of the victim. driving the live snake away, i obtained possession of the dead one: it was four years old, which i scarce need mention was known by the number of rattles in its tail, which make a rattling noise when these reptiles are in motion. the rattlesnake is not among the most active of the species of snakes: it never springs a greater distance than its own length, which rarely exceeds four feet. it is owing to this that the black snake has the advantage, being able to spring from a greater distance on its prey, and, from its rapid motion and method of seizure to deprive it at once of the power of injecting its venom. i have since seen the rattlesnake destroyed by bucks in the open plain, and that without risk of suffering from the fatal effects of its bite. [sidenote: the buck and the rattlesnake] a buck, when he discovers a rattlesnake, immediately prepares to attack it as a dreaded enemy, while he will pass other snakes unnoticed. the buck, depending on his sharp bifurcated hoofs, with which to sever the body of his adversary, is very skilful in his manoeuvre. he approaches the snake to within about ten feet, and then makes a bound, cutting the snake down with his hoofs with such unerring celerity and fatality as rarely leaves any chance of escape. the two incidents of the vampire and the snakes threw my mind into a state of reflection on the system of nature which makes the existence of one animal depend on another for its subsistence. then my thoughts reverted to the number of living things i had myself to dread, separated as i was from society where men unite for mutual protection. i had seen in the case of the chegoe, that a very small insect could inflict a severe injury on the human frame, and i had narrowly escaped being carried off by the jaguar. snakes, serpents, and enormous lizards, crossed my path at almost every step, and the monkeys pelted me. uneasy and restless, i rose on my feet, to wander i knew not whither; i proceeded forward as if running from danger, yet dreading it at every step as i advanced. presently my progress was impeded by a broad piece of expanded network, such as, from appearance, might have been manufactured by the hand of man,--it was spread from tree to tree. in the network was a small bird struggling to free itself from the toil which had ensnared it. thinking i had now crossed the path of fowlers, my heart leaped with joy, and i flattered myself that deliverance was at hand; yet, fearing to spoil their sport, i drew back, and took up a position behind a tree. my mind was soon disabused of the error into which i had fallen. several spiders of enormous size approaching the captive, i sprang forward to release the bird, and then perceived that the netting was the work of insects. the captive proved to be a humming bird, one of those beautiful little creatures that are fabled to feed on the nectar of plants. they however feed on insects, those which are attached to the nectarium of plants: these they seize for food with their long bills. the spiders that weave these extraordinary webs from one tree to another, are not, like those of europe, of solitary habits, but live in communities; they mutually share in the labour of forming the web, and divide the prey they catch. it is worthy of notice that all animals who unite their labour, possess infinitely more ingenuity in their proceedings than those who work individually. the weak, however, are generally provided with some compensating, self-protecting secret, that enables them to rear their young in as much security as the strong. many insects that execute their buildings in trees, and there collect provisions for their infant colony in fear of the depredations of birds, cover the extremity of their store with substances of nauseous taste. having saved the elegant little bird from the voracious spiders, i could not resist giving it freedom. the web which had impeded my progress brought to my recollection the bush-rope, which i had previously proposed to examine by daylight, in the hope of falling into the original track my family had taken through the forest. after having spent the whole of the subsequent part of the day in surveying the barrier and its approaches, i was reluctantly constrained again to take up my position in the hollow of the tree, under the firm conviction that i had no clue by which i could, for the present, at least, emancipate myself from the mazes of the forest. i retired to rest much depressed, and half disposed to abandon myself to despair. i, however, got some sleep at intervals, notwithstanding the renewal of the frightful noises heard the first night; and, upon the whole, on the approach of morning, found myself somewhat resigned to my fate. [sidenote: preparations for defence] possessing an excellent pocket-knife, i now thought of cutting a good staff, and, if occasion should render it necessary, of defending myself with it against any assailant. how it happened that i had not thought of this before surprised me; and i acquired new confidence from the consideration that i possessed some means of defence. while trimming my staff, the history of crusoe occurred to my recollection; and i then resolved to adopt his mode of registering time by making notches on the stick; and this employment brought home to my recollection that i had now been lost four days, and, while so engaged, that the present day was a sabbath. the last notch i cut longitudinally, that i might mark the sundays, and thus chronicle the return of the one day to be kept holy. having always been accustomed religiously to observe the sabbath, the current of my thoughts now took another turn. my first act was to offer up prayers, and to petition god to infuse into my breast courage to face the trials i must necessarily undergo in the wilderness, and ask for his guiding finger in all my wanderings. alter performing this duty, i sat down on a fallen tree to court reflection, and presently heard a humming noise close to my ear. turning round, to see from whence it proceeded, i thought i recognised the identical bird that i had, a short time before, liberated from the spider's web. it appeared, at first, to be stationary in the air, and i marvelled how it was supported; it then occurred to me that it was a spiritual messenger, sent in the form of the little creature i had been kind to, as an assurance of divine protection. full ten minutes i contemplated the bird in this light, when it flew away, leaving me in a much happier state of mind than i had hitherto felt myself. [sidenote: utility of birds] the fixed position of the bird i afterwards found to be its habit when hovering over certain flowers in search of insects. there are a great variety of the humming-bird tribe; the one i had caught was very beautiful, and moved its wings with such astonishing rapidity in flight as to elude the eye; and when poising itself over a flower, waiting to attack insects as they enter between the petals, the wings moved with such celerity as to become almost invisible, like a mist. the habits of these birds may be denominated fly-like:- "when morning dawns, and the blest sun again lifts his red glories from the eastern main, then round our woodbines, wet with glittering dews, the flower-fed humming-bird his round pursues,- sips with inserted tube the honied blooms, and chirps his gratitude as round he roams." birds, throughout my sojourn in the forest, were my chief and most cheerful companions. they seem to be sent by heaven as the peculiar associates of man; they exhilarate him in his labour, and brighten his hours of leisure by their melody. they also, in an especial manner, serve man, by preventing the increase of those insects that would consume the products of his industry. whatever the uninformed farmer or gardener may say on this head, i beg to assure them that the depredations birds commit are more than compensated by their insectivorous habits. there is not a vegetable production, cultivated or of spontaneous growth, from the forest tree to the most tender garden-flower, that is not liable to attacks from myriads of insects, though small in form and weapons, yet insidious in their mode of attack, and fatal to the plant. birds are the natural enemies of insects, and were sent as a check upon their increase. man persecutes the bird for plundering his fruits, seeds, and grain crops, but he does not enquire whether he would have any of these productions if the bird did not free the ground and buds from insects. the late professor bradley ascertained that a pair of sparrows, during the time they had young ones, destroyed on an average 3360 caterpillars every week, besides butterflies. man, when he clears and cultivates the land, destroys the winter food of birds, cutting down the trees that nature intended should supply them with berries during a season when their insectivorous habits are suspended. it would be an advantage to those who are engaged in cultivating the earth, if they studied the harmony of nature a little more than they now generally do. the farmer will say that a hard and long frost is good for the land, because it kills the insects; so likewise do the birds die off in severe seasons of cold, thus reducing the number of his auxiliary agriculturists to the proportion in which they will be required, on the return of spring, to keep the land clear from insects, and secure a crop to the cultivator. birds in general return tenfold to man, in the services they render him, for all they take from his store; while they, ----"with melody untaught, turn all the air to music, within hearing, themselves unseen." the humming-bird's visit, together with the peculiar associations of my mind at the time, produced in me a calmness that partook of heaven. the scene--a picture, too,--which was before me, was one of those beautiful instances of nature's chaste compositions that combined all around in harmony. lovely were the sylvan flowers, fresh with blossoms, rising amidst the soft and matted growth beneath; and how exquisite the structure of the moss and lichen within my reach; how calm, how clear and serene was the air--how deepened were the shadows--how perfect was the quiet--how eloquent the silence! [sidenote: solitary reflections] my meditations were painfully broken in upon by the mind reverting to the jaguar that i thought at times was lurking about to devour me; then to the snakes, and the captive humming-bird. "has god," i involuntarily exclaimed, "made all his creatures that they may devour each other? yes, yes! he has." i continued, as i rose with disturbed feelings; "i see the scheme of destruction at every step, and behold it at every turn; both day and night, every hour, yea, every moment, millions are struggling in the death-grasp of their foes." these reflections almost melted my heart, when, casting up my eyes to heaven, as if to ask for some light to shine on my mind and explain the subject, i saw a falcon, in the act of flying, seize a bird of the pigeon kind, and fly off with it into the woods. tears came to my relief. goldsmith says, "the mere uninformed spectator passes on in gloomy silence; while the naturalist, in every plant, in every insect, and in every pebble, finds something to entertain his curiosity and excite his speculation. in the animal kingdom alone there exists nearly one hundred thousand of known different subjects, and half that number of different plants. the discovery of almost every vegetable brings with it the knowledge of a new insect. in the mineral kingdom the compositions and forms are almost endless." and dr. priestley says, of scientific pursuits "the investigation of nature cannot fail to be valuable. it engages all our intellectual faculties to the greatest extent, and in its pursuit the general stock of useful knowledge is increased. the field for inquiry is rational, extensive, and profitable, beyond conception." "but what right have i, a poor, short-sighted mortal," i then exclaimed, "to seek for the motives that actuate an all-wise deity? it is not only vain but wicked in man to scrutinize the ways of providence." chapter iii. i build myself a hut--the scenery throughout a day in the forest described. "o may i with myself agree, and never covet what i see; content me with a humble shade- my passions tamed, my wishes laid; for while our wishes wildly roll, we banish quiet from the soul." [sidenote: projects of building] as the first sabbath-day in the woods closed upon me, i felt more resigned to my fate, and more composed, than i had been at any previous period since the separation from my parents. i now looked on myself as a denizen of the forest; and as i slowly repaired to the hollow tree, the thought possessed me that i could construct some kind of dwelling-place. during the night i formed and rejected fifty plans for carrying this scheme out. at length, just as morning dawned, a simple method suggested itself to me of effecting my purpose; and, with my usual ardour, i commenced the work forthwith. before the evening set in i had collected, and trimmed with my pocket-knife, a considerable number of stakes, about four feet long, at which work i continued for four days, when it occurred to me that i had not yet given the eligibility of site a thought, and had been much too hasty in my proceedings. ashamed of my own impetuosity and want of consideration, i crept to rest, very weary and ill at ease with myself; and as i took a retrospective view of the results of my impulsive mode of acting on the thought, together with the ills i had brought on my own head, i did not spare self-reproach. considering my numerous wants, it was clearly, where i had collected the stakes, a very inconvenient spot to choose for a permanent place of residence. weighing in my judgment the kind of locality suited to the purpose, i decided on an open space or glade in the forest, where i might have a clear view all around, and be out of the way of uprooted or falling timber. but for this last consideration i should at once have selected the spot where i awoke after my first night's sleep in the forest. the recollection of that beautiful scene reminded me of another thing i had not hitherto thought of, namely, that my house must be built near to a supply of water, and also of fruit. the next day, therefore, was spent in searching for a site on which i might commence my building speculation. there was no lack of space, or of glades; but in the resolution i had now made to become thoughtful, and act with caution, i fear i became too nice and fastidious. [sidenote: the forest stream] one open plot of ground i traversed many times with the eye of a government surveyor: it was the very thing itself; but there was no water to be seen. presently, i caught the sound of trickling water; and my new friend, caution, forsook me. i was so heedless in running to satisfy myself that there actually was a stream fit to drink, that i was precipitated headlong into the gill, or chasm, which formed the channel for its course. it was so covered with wood that the eye could not see it. fortunately i met with this rent in the earth near to the commencement of the fissure, where it was comparatively narrow and shallow. at any other part, its steepness and depth might have endangered life. it was the birthplace of a native stream. i subsequently learned to track it by the soothing harmony of this invisible torrent, the notes from which sounded like innumerable broken falls, and were softened by ascending through branches which hung over it. these sounds were extremely harmonious. at the spot where i had fallen the water might with some difficulty be obtained, and near to this, at length i determined to build my villa--a sylvan mansion. this site, on one side, was flanked by a morass, or bog, which even then, in the driest season, was only passable with care on tufts of grass, which here and there sprung from the moisture of the soil. proceeding to lay out my ground-plan, which was a circle, and to prepare for the morrow, i stayed at work till it was too late to find my way back to my lodging; leaving me no alternative but either to stretch myself on the ground, exposed to numberless dangers, or remain awake, and protect myself as i might. in this extremity i thought of the chasm, and groping my way to it, found its extreme end, where it was a mere slit, into which i rolled, and laid till the return of day. [sidenote: the hut commenced] the morning opened with its usual bustle of animals, birds, and insects summoning me to my labour, and, having commenced, i was surprised to hear a cry of, "who are you? who--who are you?" i had scarcely recovered from the astonishment which these words occasioned, when they were followed by, "work away!--work away!--work away!" and a mournful cry of "willy come!--go, willy! willy--willy--come! go willy!" looking up, and being now in an open space, i could plainly see the birds fly over my head that uttered these notes. not aware that these calls are common to certain birds, and my christian name being william, the reader may imagine the effect and surprise with which they were heard. i instantly discontinued my labour, conceiving that the birds had been influenced by supernatural agency, and that they portended omens which had a peculiar reference to myself. this impression filled me with fears and fantasies of all kinds; it seemed as if some spell was on me, and i sat down in melancholy moodiness for the rest of the day. irresolute, the following morning i rather dragged myself than walked to the same spot; but as i went, another bird over my head distinctly cried out, "whip-poor-will! whip-poor-will! whip-poor-will!" yes! i exclaimed (as my spirits threw off the burden which had oppressed them) i am indeed ashamed of my folly in attending to the omens of birds. they are winging their way to the business of the day, and why should i neglect mine? i then returned, and took a bundle of the prepared stakes on my back to my new settlement. need i apologise to the reader for mentioning the trifling incidents which depressed me at times, and the manner in which the paroxysms were dispelled. my motive in naming them is to illustrate the alternations my feelings underwent during my early days of probation in the wilderness. i know not whether i had taken a cold, but for some days past i had now suffered from a pain in my limbs, which i at the time attributed to the cramped position in which i rested at night. i therefore became extremely anxious to possess a place in which i might stretch myself at length. it, however, took seven days to construct the internal shell of the hut; for, being determined to sleep in security, i ultimately doubled the frame of the building. having driven stakes into the earth, about a foot apart, forming a circle of about eight feet in diameter, i interlaced these with the limber branches of trees, fastening them to the stakes with tough fibres, stripped from the bark of lianes. these shrubs, of which there are a great variety, all comprised under that term, sometimes grow to the size of a man's leg round trees, making the trunks look like a mast of a ship furnished with rigging. they support the trees against the hurricanes, in the same manner as spurs are placed in the ground to prop posts; cords are made of their bark stronger than those manufactured of hemp. in woods where timber is felled, it is sometimes the practice to cut several hundred trees near their roots, where they remain till the lianes, which hold them, are also cut. when this is done, one whole part of the wood seems to fall at once, making an astounding crash. by the means of the lianes and stakes, i formed a circular strong hurdle-kind of fence; on this i fastened a number of other sticks, like wands, tapering at the top, which, when bound together, met over the centre part of the floor of the hut, and formed a conical roof. these i also interlaced in the same manner as the upright stakes; covering the whole with leaves of the parrasalla tree, which the wet does not injure; binding these also down with my most excellent substitute for cordage--fibres of the bark of the lianes. in the roof i left a hole for ingress and egress; so that, with two steps up, and then a jump, i was in the centre of my habitation, where, with dried grass, i made a most comfortable bed. this, after all, was a frail affair. my next object was to erect another frame over it, at about two feet distance from the interior shell, filling up the space between the upright stakes with stones and dry earth. the aperture was secured at night, leaving only a space for air, with a piece of bark hung on with the before-named fibres. with the same material (bark) i also formed a kind of stage before the opening into the hut, where i could sit, and survey the surrounding scenery. some time subsequently i wove myself a grass hammock, which i found more cleanly than the dried grass, and less liable to be infested with insects. finding myself lonely in this structure, i took the resolution of increasing my family; and, with this view, i devoted a portion of the interior for birds, that i might not be wholly companionless. these i took young, and reared them up in an aviary which i constructed immediately under my hammock, letting them out to hop about me when the aperture of the hut was closed. many of my associates repaid me for my care with strong proofs of docility and affection. i also caught two land tortoises, to occupy the floor of the dwelling, and make me conscious of other living things besides myself breathing the same air. [sidenote: the dwellers in the hut] in the foolishness of my heart i thought that when i possessed a hut, in which i might repose in security, i should be happy. but alas! in the city or in the forest, worldly acquisitions are not always attended with contentment. man everywhere sighs for something more than he possesses. i had now a hut, one, too, that was impregnable against the attacks of the jaguar, or any of the animals of the forest; and, as i thought, in every way compactly built to be impervious to noxious insects; but happiness or contentment did not abide in it. i now wanted a gun, that i ought, man-like, slay, and play the tyrant over the living things around me. i grew tired of my vegetable diet, and daily lamented the want of a fire to cook the eggs, which now began to form a considerable portion of my food. these wants gradually, as the mind dwelt upon them, became sources of anxiety, and disturbed my rest. the animal propensities of my nature began to stir within me. i longed to kill at my pleasure, and live on prey, as did the other animals of the forest. at length i determined on making the best substitute i could for a gun--namely, a bow and arrow; and, like robin hood, practise till i could hit the shaft of an arrow placed upright in the ground. it was many weeks subsequently to this resolution before i succeeded in even procuring the materials i deemed suited for my purpose. my knife having become blunted with frequent use, it took a length of time to fashion the bow, and no less than four snapped in two as soon as i attempted to use them; proving that, choice as i had been in the selection of my wood, my judgment was defective in this particular. when i had succeeded in forming one of these primitive warlike weapons, i fastened large butterflies against the hut, and commenced the practice of archery. i have informed the reader that the entrance of the new dwelling was through the roof, where, as i have said, i erected a seat, or standing-place; a sort of balcony, or rather, more like a dormer window. on this, every morning, during the dry season, at daybreak, i took my stand to discharge my arrows at any unwary bird that might come within my reach. [sidenote: early morning in the forest] this early rising at length grew into a habit, and to watch the opening of the day gave me unspeakable pleasure; and up to the last day of my pilgrimage it was the most interesting hour to me. it was an hour when the littleness of life did not present itself; the mind being refreshed with rest, was prepared to be filled with enlarged ideas. the labourers of the night--for nature has her two sets of working animals--were then all on their way to seek retirement and rest during the day, from the fatigues of the night; while those that had rested during that period were all preparing to hail the morn with innumerable cries. as twilight glimmers in the east, the tiger-cats are stealing into their holes. the owl and the goat-sucker cease their mournful lament, and as streaks of light appear the "ha! ha! ha! ha!" of the latter, each note lower than the last, sounding like the voice of a murdered victim, entirely ceases. the crickets, also, at this hour begin to slacken the violence of their chirping, though sometimes in cloudy weather they will continue their notes for four-and-twenty hours together. the partridge is the first of the birds to give signal of the rising of the sun, even before he appears on the horizon; while the mist of the morning, that precedes the day, is dispelling, numerous tribes of insects are creeping to their hiding-places, as others are issuing forth to enjoy the day. lizards of sparkling lustre, from two inches to two feet and a-half long, cross the paths of the forest; and the chameleon has begun to chase the insects round the trunks of trees. gaudy serpents steal from out of holes or decayed trees. "each rapid movement gives a different dye; like scales of burnished gold they dazzling show, now sink to shade, now like a furnace glow." the houton, a bird so called from the sound he gives out, distinctly articulates "houton, houton," in a plaintive note, as he erects his crown, and cuts and trims his tail, with his beak, in the most, artistical manner, then flies off with a short jerk. at the same period the maam whistles; and when the sun is seen above the horizon, the hanaquoi, pataca, maroucli, and all the parrots and paroquets are prepared to announce his arrival. every hour from this moment, excepting noon, calls into action new races of animals; and he who spends a day in the scene that environed my existence, when seated at my door, would not know which most to admire,--the forms, hues, or voices of the animals presented to his observation; as at intervals, wonder, admiration, and awe of the power that created them, are forced on the mind. [sidenote: forest animals] with the morning's dawn, the monkeys send forth their howl, the grasshoppers and locusts chirp, the frogs and toads give out their notes. the hanging pendant wasps' nests, most curious in form, send forth their inhabitants; myriads of ants issue from their clay-built tenements, in some places colonized so densely as to cover the foliage all around. these, like the species of ants called the termites, that cast up the earth in mounds, commence their day's journey on roads constructed by themselves, some of which are covered, and others open. myriads of the most beautiful beetles buzz in the air, and sparkle like jewels on the fresh and green leaves, or on odorous flowers. other tribes, such as serpents and agile lizards, creep from the hollow of trees, or from holes beneath the herbage; many of them exceeding in splendour the hue of the flowers. the major part of these are on their way to creep up the stems of trees or bushes, there to bask in the sun, and lie in wait for birds and insects. the most brilliantly coloured butterflies, rivalling in hues the rainbow, begin to flutter from flower to flower, or collect in parties on the most sunny banks of cooling streams. there was the blue-white idia, the large eurilochus with its ocellated wings, the hesperite, the laertes, the blue shining nestor, and the adonis; these, like birds, in most places hovered between the bushes. the feronia, with rustling wings, flew rapidly from tree to tree; while the owl, the largest of the moth species, sat immovable, with out-spread wings, waiting the approach of evening. as the day progresses, the life of the scene increases. troops of gregarious monkeys issue from the depths of the forest, their inquisitive countenances turned towards the verge of their wooded domain, making their way for the plantations; all leaping, whistling, and chattering as they progress from tree to tree. parrots, some blue, red, or green, others, parti-coloured, assemble in large groups on the tops of the forest-trees; and then, flying off to the plantations, fill the air with their screams. the toucan, perched on an extreme branch, rattles his large, hollow bill; and in loud, plaintive notes, calls for rain. the fly-catcher sits aloof, intent on watching insects as they dart from branch to branch, seizing them as they heedlessly buzz by him in their giddy and unsteady career. other birds, of singular form, variety, and superb plumage, flutter by, in large or small parties, or in pairs, and some singly, peopling everywhere the fragrant bushes. on the ground are gallinaceans, jacuses, hocuses, and pigeons, that have left the perch to wander under the trees, in the moisture, for food. in the tones of the nightingale the manikins are heard in all places, amusing themselves by their sudden change of position, and in misleading the sportsman; while the woodpecker makes the distant forest resound as he strikes the trees. super-noisy, above all, is the uraponga, who, perched on the highest tree he can find, gives out sounds resembling the strokes of a sledge-hammer on the anvil, deluding the wanderer, as it once did me, into a belief that a blacksmith's shop is near at hand. [sidenote: the mocking-bird] every living thing, by its action and voice, is seen greeting the splendour of the day; while the delicate humming-bird, rivalling, in beauty and lustre, diamonds, emeralds, and sapphires, hovers with invisible wings over the brightest flowers. the bird colibri repairs to the tree called _bois immortel_, when the wild guava ripens its fruit; and there, also, will be found the pompadour, both the purple-breasted and the purple-throated. at the same hour (day-break), the crowing of the hanaquoi sounds like a village-clock, for all to set to work in the great shop of nature. then the cassique, or mocking-bird, gives out his own short but sweet song, preparatory to visiting the plantations, being fond of the haunts of man, where he remains till evening, making all kinds of noises, from the crowing of a cock, and the barking of dogs, to the grunting and squeaking of pigs. these birds weave their nests near together, in a pendulous manner. their bodies are black, having the rump and half-tail yellow; other species have the rump a bright scarlet. in form they are a model of symmetry. as the feathered tribes, one after the other, adjust their plumage, and tune their throats, squirrels, in rapid spiral speed, as quick as thought, are seen descending trees, then darting upon others in opposite directions, flinging themselves from tree to tree, with amazing exactness; pursuing their mates or their rivals among the mazy branches of the trees, with a velocity that eludes the sight. everywhere is nature's secretary, with his pen dipped in intellect, busy in writing down the invisible agency of infinite wisdom and almighty power. "how dazzling is thy beauty! how divine! how dim the lustre of the world to thine!" the sublimity of the scene, when first beheld, produced unlimited astonishment; viewed again and again, all was softened down into harmonious shades of beauty, imparting a pleasure that cannot be understood by mere dwellers amidst the works of man. [sidenote: noon in the forest] in the forest, every hour of the night and day is the creator present to the eye. surrounded by the works of man, we sometimes lose sight of our maker, and do not always properly appreciate his attributes. i have said that the morning gives life and activity to myriads of his creatures, who declare his power; but not less expressive is the hour of tranquillity--the hour of noon. at that hour, all is suddenly hushed into solemn silence. stillness, as if by general consent, concert, or word of command, influences all the sylvan communities--a stillness illumined and made more manifest by the dazzling and burning beams of a meridian sun. creation at that hour appears wearied, fatigued, and overcome with the splendour of the day; it is as the face of god himself, before whose glory all things are struck with awe, and pause to acknowledge his majesty. nothing moves--it is the hour of nature's siesta--yet the stillness speaks. "thy shades, thy silence, now be mine, thy charms my only theme; my haunt the hollow cliff whose pine waves o'er the gloomy stream." the quietness is that of a pause in the running stream of time; the air is motionless, the leaves hang pendant, as waiting in the presence of a deity for permission to resume the business of growth. the silence that reigns at the hour of noon is peculiarly of a religious character; there is nothing to which it can be compared but itself. from the nobles of the forest to the minutest insect, all appear to be at their devotions--the propensity to kill, for the time being, is forgotten or suspended,- "the passions to divine repose alone persuaded yield; and love and joy are waking." it is as if the naiads and fairies had deserted the sunbeams and fallen asleep. oh! there is a harmony in nature wonderfully attuned to the intelligence of man, if he would but listen to it. the hour of noon, in the woods, is an hour of intellectual transcendentalism; it lifts the thoughts beyond the world, and peoples the grove with spirits of another world. yet is there nothing in motion but the beams of the sun penetrating the foliage to the base of the trees- "the chequered earth seems restless as a flood brushed by the winds, so sportive is the light shot through the boughs; it dances as they dance, shadow and sunshine intermingling quick, and dark'ning and enlight'ning (as the beams play wanton) every part." everything speaks of the deity, and the fall of a leaf passes as a phantom of the dead. ----"not a tree, a plant, a leaf, a blossom, but contains a folio volume." the fitful meanings of the wind, in the more boisterous moments of ã�olus, through the branches, speak not louder of god than the whisper of his breath that plays with the foliage. the low and broken murmurs of the water in the gill are as audibly eloquent as the lashing of the waves of the ocean in a storm, or the wild roar of the cataract. the voice of nature, come in what form it may, brings unutterable thoughts of the majesty of the creation. whether it is in the deep, delicious tones of the happiness of the wood-dove, the melting, graceful notes of the nightingale, the thrilling melody of other sylvan songsters, or the twitterings of the swallow, all compel us to exclaim, "oh! there is harmony in nature." "sounds inharmonious in themselves, and harsh, yet heard in scenes where peace for ever reigns, ... please highly for their sake. ... kites that swim sublime in still-repeated circles, screaming loud, ... have charms for me." [sidenote: evening] but the hour of stillness, like all other hours, passes away. the insects again give out their sounds; wasps and bees buzz in every direction; the talk of birds is clamorously resumed; the king-vulture and the kite soar high in the hair, like fugle-birds, as signals for the resumption of the business of the day. the chattering manikins again rustle among the fig-leaves; the armadillo, and other burrowing animals, are seen cautiously peeping from their holes; the horned screamer opens wide his throat, and one by one, the whole of the sylvan feathered community join in concert. the porcupine moves in the trees; the long grass is observed to give way as creeping things pursue their prey, or escape from foes; all indications that the earth and air again are full of animated life. an hour or two elapses, and a gentle breeze rises to cool the air and give motion to the trees, as troop after troop of birds and monkeys wend their way back into the interior of the forest, indicating the gradual decline of the day. general preparations are being made for rest; only the slender deer, the peccari, the timid agouti, and the tapir, will still graze. the opossum, and some sly animals of the feline race skulk through the obscurity of the wood, stealthily prowling for prey. finally, the last troop of howling monkeys are heard, as if performing the duty of drovers to those that have preceded them; the sloth cries as if in much distress with pain; the croaking of frogs, and monotonous chirps of large grasshoppers, bring on the close of day. the tops of the forest now appear to be on fire, in the midst of which, the toucan, on a blasted mora tree, is uttering his evening cry, as darker shades are gradually cast into the forest, and the sun's disc sinks into the horizon. the sky, which a moment since was bright as burnished gold, has already changed to a dusky grey, with here and there streaks of purple hue. a solitary bird, truant to its mate, or perhaps a mourner for its loss during the day's excursion, is seen like a wayfarer, with tired flight, wearily labouring to reach the wood ere nightfall. twilight is still lingering in the west, bringing on the night with a soft and sweet touch of delicacy, but still approaching, till surrounding objects become more and more obscure and confused, though undiminished in their beauty and effect. the cries of the macue, the capaiera, the goat-sucker, and the bass tones of the bullfrog, are now heard. myriads of luminous beetles fly in the air, resembling the ignes fatui, and announce the departure of the day; when the night-moths and numerous other insects start on the wing, the bats flit between the branches of trees, the owls and vampires, like phantoms, silently pursue their course in search of prey, reserving their hollow cries for the ominous hour of midnight. the stars, one after another, are lighted up as the moon rises on the horizon, with a modest countenance, to intimate to man that there is still a ruling power over the world. she tinges with silver streaks of light the tops and edges of the forest, till "lo! midnight, from her starry reign, looks awful down on earth and main, the tuneful birds lie hush'd in sleep, with all that crop the verdant food, with all that skim the crystal flood, or haunt the caverns of the rocky steep." at this hour the spectral owl quits the hollow tree, and with his shriek makes the boldest birds shrink away in fear, though in the sunshine hour they would hunt him. "so when the night falls, and dogs do howl, sing ho! for the reign of the horned owl! we know not alway who are kings by day; but the king of the night is the bold brown owl!" "mourn not for the owl, nor his gloomy plight! the owl hath his share of good; if a prisoner he be in the broad daylight, he is lord in the dark greenwood. nor lonely the bird, nor his ghastly mate, they are each unto each a pride; thrice fonder, perhaps, since a strange dark fate, hath rent them from all beside." [sidenote: the bow and arrows] i made but little progress in archery, which was a great source of mortification to me, although i spent every leisure hour i could spare after obtaining food, in practice. i was on the verge of despair of ever being able to make anything like a shot, when an incident occurred that enabled me to kill, in a few weeks, almost any bird on the wing, if within the range of my bow. returning home from a long and fatiguing ramble (for i had extended my surveys of the forest as i acquired confidence of finding my way home at night), i one day was astonished to see a bow and a quiver of arrows suspended from the branch of a tree. this was a sight which occasioned feelings that are indescribable. i was both rejoiced and alarmed. at first i thought my deliverance was certain; the next moment i crouched behind a bush to hide myself, as from a most deadly foe. when i reflected on the loneliness of my existence, i longed to join society; yet, whenever society appeared to be available, i instinctively shrunk back, as if about to lose my independence or be carried into slavery. operated on by mingled impulses, the dread of man seemed for a long time to prevail. might they not be savages, and take my life? or might they not lead me into captivity, and make a slave of me? they would at least have the christian's practice to urge as a plea, in extenuation of such a measure. confident that human beings were in the neighbourhood, i at length resolved to secrete myself in a bush and wait their return. i fixed my eyes on the bow and quiver, expecting their owner would return for them; but the tones of the toucan were heard, by which i was as well informed of the approach of evening, as the partridge's call announces the coming day. still unwilling to quit the spot, i remained throughout the night; but no owner came to claim the weapons. all this time i feared to touch them as if they were a trap laid to ensnare me. about noon the next day, i thought of possessing myself of them, and then made a circuit to reassure myself that no one was at hand. with fear and trembling i then, like a thief, took the bow and quiver from the tree, and hastened back to my hut to examine them. the whole secret of my inability to shoot birds was now at once explained. i had not feathered my arrows, nor was my bow long enough. still anxious to know their owner, the following morning i repaired again to the spot, and hung my own rudely formed weapons on the same tree from which i had taken the others. my motives were, first, to ascertain whether any person would yet come to remove them, and also to inform those who might come for that purpose, that another human being was in the neighbourhood. the bow and arrows hung there a month, when i gave up all hopes of seeing any person in the woods; still the event caused me much uneasiness, and ever afterwards occasioned me to tread the paths around with extreme caution. [sidenote: flint and steel] being now furnished with well-made arms, i soon brought down my birds, and might have fared sumptuously, could i have procured a fire. all my waking hours were, therefore, spent in bewailing this want, when one morning, as i was digging with my stick to come at a land tortoise that had crept into a hole, i raked out a piece of flint, and the tinder-box occurring to my mind, i struck it on the back of my knife, and instantly produced sparks, which actually made me leap for joy. my delight, however, was but of short duration. how were the sparks to be collected? i had no tinder--no matches. i then thought of my shirt, which i had long cast off; but then i had no matches, and must have fire before i could make tinder. my joy was soon turned into despondency. i threw down the flint, and in the bitterness of my disappointment, apostrophised it, as the cock in the fable did, when scratching on a dunghill he found a jewel instead of a grain of corn. "are all my days to be spent," i ejaculated, "in hopes that delight me only to make me more miserable?" suddenly it occurred to my memory, that when at school, our small pieces of artillery were fired with lighted decayed wood, what the boys called touch-wood. repossessing myself of the flint, i flew to my old sleeping-place, and in my impatience, struck a light on my former bed--the soft wood in the interior--it ignited, and smouldered. i was in an ecstacy of delight, and clapped my hands with exultation. still i had no flame. i then collected some dried leaves, and holding them loosely over the spot that was alight, i blew with my mouth; a severely burnt hand soon informed me that i had succeeded. my first fire was indeed a bonfire: heaping more leaves and dried sticks on to it, the tree was entirely consumed, and a number of others so damaged as very soon to become touch-wood. [sidenote: the thunder-storm] a terrible thunder-storm succeeded this exploit. so wholly absorbed had i been with the fire, that when it expended itself, i found myself in total darkness, the moon having been suddenly obscured. all the inhabitants of the wood were restless and uneasy in their beds. i could hear the stag startle, and again lay himself down. flashes of lightning showed the birds, lifting their heads at intervals, then returning them hastily again under their wings. the storm had for some time been gathering on the tops of the forest, and had now spread its black mantle over the moon, while i, like a school-boy on the fifth of november, had been exulting over a blaze. on the storm advanced, in the majesty of darkness, moving on the wings of the blast, which my imagination pictured as uprooting the trees around me. the thunder rolled over the crown of the forest in the rear of the lightning. rifted clouds continued to pass over my head. an owl left its dirge unfinished, and fitted its ruffled feathers into a cleft of a blasted tree over my head. the wild animals that prowl by night, with famished stomachs, sought shelter in their dens. i alone stood bared to the fury of the storm, incapable of reaching my hut in the darkness of that awful night. the thunder rolled as with ten thousand voices, and the lightning at intervals set the whole forest in a blaze of light. one of the flashes brought down a mora tree near to where i stood, crushing the limbs of other trees as it fell. the crash was terrific. examining it the next morning by daylight, there was a wild fig-tree growing out of its top, and on the fig grew a wild species of vine. the fig-tree was as large as a common apple-tree, yet owed its growth to an undigested seed, dropped by birds that resort to the mora to feed on its ripe fruit. such seeds the sap of the mora raises into full bearing, when they, in their turn, are called on to support and give out their sap to different species of seeds, also dropped by birds. in this case the usurpation of the fig on the mora, and the vine on the fig, brought all to an early end. a dead sloth was lying near to the prostrate timber, probably brought down, by the force of its fall, from the branch of another tree. it was a night of devastation in the wilds of nature. the storms of destruction blew piercingly on every quarter. the destroying blast clapped his wings over many a tree, and laid prostrate numerous creatures that had life as the sun went down the previous evening. to the things that can be shaken, belong all that is earthly. however durable they may appear, however they may glitter, or stable they may appear, age, or the storm, will bring them to oblivion. mutability is written on all the works of nature. it is an inscription that meets every eye, whether turned on the foundations of a city, a nation, or the works of the creation. awe-struck with the dilapidations the morning made visible, i hastened to my hut, anxious to see if all was safe there, and prepare to cook myself a dinner. [sidenote: the sloth] man is essentially a cooking animal, and though omnivorous in his appetite, is nine parts out of ten carnivorous. i had abundance of vegetable food around me, of which i ate freely, and was in good health; yet my desire to taste animal food was so strong that i would at the time have made almost any sacrifice to obtain it. i had reached more than half the distance towards my residence, thinking all the way only on the means that i possessed of making a fire, before it occurred to me that i had no flesh to cook. i then turned back, and with my knife cut off the hind-quarter of the sloth, being resolved to try the quality of the flesh. having collected a small heap of the dried rotten wood, to use as tinder, i succeeded in making a fire outside my hut, where i broiled some pieces of the sloth's flesh, and from it made a tolerable meal, though it was not so good as beef or mutton. whenever i subsequently met with the sloth, he always excited my pity, and i forbore from doing such a helpless creature any injury. the natives say that by his piteous moans he will make the heart of a tiger relent, and turn away from him. the sloth is a solitary animal; he has no companion to cheer him, but lies on the branches of trees almost stationary, having no means of defence or escape, if you intend him any harm; his looks, his gestures, and his cries declare it; therefore do not kill him. he subsists wholly on the leaves of trees, and does not quit one branch till there is nothing left for him to eat, and he then moves evidently with much pain to himself. he preys on no living animal, and is deficient and deformed, when compared with other animals, though in some other respects he is compensated in the composition of his frame. his feet are without soles, nor can he move his toes separately; he therefore cannot walk, but hooks himself along by means of the claws which are at the extremity of the fore-feet. he has no cutting teeth; he has four stomachs, and yet wants the long intestinal canals of ruminating animals. his hair lies flat on his body, like long grass withered by the frost. he has six more ribs than the elephant, namely, forty-six, the latter having only forty; his legs strike the eye as being too short, and as if joined to the body with the loss of a joint. on the whole, as a quadruped, the sloth is of the lowest degree. he never quits a tree until all the leaves are eaten. the day after i had made a meal from the sloth, i shot my arrow through the head of a horned screamer, which brought him within my grasp; this was a great feat for me to accomplish, the screamer being a majestic bird, as large as a turkey-cock, having on the head a long slender horn, each wing being armed with a sharp, strong spur, of an inch long. i had seated myself behind a tree, where i had been, for several hours, watching the movements of the ants that build their nests on those trees, when the bird came within a few yards of me. this incident practically exemplified to me that, like other animals that seek for prey, i must use patience, and be wary in my movements. it taught me to reflect and to know that it was not rambling over much space that would ensure success, and that every spot in the world was available, either for the study of the things of creation or for procuring food. it is a great error some fall into when they imagine that travelling over much ground will give knowledge; those who observe and reflect may gain more information when examining a puddle of water, than the careless will in traversing the globe. [sidenote: the ants] of the insect tribe, the ants early attracted my attention, and i spent much time in watching their movements; indeed, from the first hour i turned my thoughts to the study of insects, i never afterwards spent a dull one. the tree ants' nests are about five times as large as those made by rooks, from which they have covered ways to the ground; these ways i frequently broke down, but as often as i did so, they were quickly under repair, a body of labouring ants being immediately summoned for that purpose. ants have the means of communicating with each other in a very rapid manner. i am of opinion that the antennã¦ are the medium through which they receive and convey orders to each other. i have seen a troop of ants a mile long, each one carrying in its mouth a round leaf about the size of a sixpence, which appeared to have been trimmed round to the shape. wasps do the same; and after twisting them up in the shape of a horn, deposit their eggs in them. when on their march, or engaged at work, nothing deters them from progressing; they seem to have no fear either of injury or death. i have broken their line at different points, and killed thousands of them; the others go over the same ground, as if perfectly unconscious of danger, while a body of them are instantly detached to remove the dead, and clear the way. it matters not how often the experiment is repeated, or what number are slain, others come on as if their forces were unlimited. it would seem that they live under an absolute monarchy, and dare not disobey orders. when accompanying them on a march, i have seen a messenger arrive from the opposite direction to that they were going, and the whole line, as i have said, of sometimes a mile long, simultaneously brought to a halt. one of the ants belonging to the body went forward, and applied its antennã¦ to those of the messenger, after which, the latter returned the way he came, and the main body immediately altered its course of march. at one time, i fell in with an unusually large body of these persevering labourers, and being resolved, if possible, to stop them, i formed a ditch in their way, and filled it with water; while the ditch was being made, they continued their course up and down the ridges of the loose earth, as if nothing had happened, although hundreds were every instant buried. when, however, the water was turned into the channel, there was a momentary halt; but as the ant must never be idle, it was but for an instant, to receive orders to take the margin of the earth, and travel round the head of the channel. how the nature of the disaster they had met with was made known, so as to stop the whole body simultaneously, may be difficult to ascertain; but at the moment of making these experiments i have distinctly seen the antennã¦ of one ant strike the tail of the one immediately before it, and the same movement repeated by all the others in rapid succession as far as my observation extended. [sidenote: wasps] all insects that live in communities are, i should imagine, in possession of language. one day i saw a wasp fly into my hut, and recollecting that i had a small collection of honey wrapped in some plantain leaves, i went to close the shutter as it again flew out; but observing the wasp immediately fly towards another of his species, and then to a second and a third, and those instantly fly off in opposite directions, i said to myself, the discovery of my depot of honey is being advertised throughout the community of wasps. thinking i would disappoint the depredators, before i left home i was very careful in fastening the entrance, and stuffing every crevice up with long grass. about a hundred yards from my hut i met a swarm of wasps, which induced me to return and ascertain whether my conjectures were confirmed; and there i found an immense number seeking an entrance, evidently with a view of plundering me of my honey. it was not long ere they found admission through some of the apertures in the roof. knowing that my honey must go,--for a swarm of wasps is not to be molested with impunity,--i turned away to pursue my walk with the reflection that they only took what they could get, and suited their appetites, the business of my own every-day life. both in society and in the forest it is wise at all times to avoid being an aggressor. the stings of mankind, and of insects, are most frequently the result of our own imprudence. in the forest i have daily been surrounded with myriads of wasps and large stinging bees, and never received an injury but when i was committing depredations on their store. but of all plunderers in nature, the ant exceeds the whole. i had become acquainted with five species of bees in my immediate neighbourhood, not one of which could secure their combs from the voracious appetites of the ant. they came in such numbers, as sometimes, in my view, to threaten the undermining of the forest; and were to be seen of all sizes and colour. one sort is so large, that the natives make a considerable article of food of them when fried. the termites, or white ants, are very destructive; neither fruit, flowers of plants, or food of any kind, escapes them. when they appear in the dwellings of man, they will undermine a house in a few hours, if the wood of which it is built suits their taste. [sidenote: voracity of the ants] the whole of the ant tribes are, however, essentially carnivorous, and are useful in repressing a too rapid increase amongst reptiles much larger than themselves; and i have often thought, when watching their movements, and observing that there is nothing, from the smallest winged insect to the carcase of a bullock, that comes to the ground, but they instantly assemble in millions to devour it, that they were intended by nature to prevent the corruption of the air from the decay and putrefaction of animal matter. if an enormous spider accidentally falls to the ground, they give it no time to recover itself; thousands are instantly on it; and although the spider, in its struggles to escape, will kill and crush numbers, still others continue to crawl up his legs and thighs, and there hang on in quietness, till their victim is exhausted by fatigue, when a few seconds serve to remove all traces of its heretofore existence. as i grew older, and acquired more experience in hunting for my food, i frequently killed large animals, of whose flesh i could only eat as much as served me for a meal, before the remainder would be spoiled by the heat of the weather: this the ants generally cleared away. at length i learned to go out by moonlight, to kill deer and the peccari,--a time that they like to browse, and may be approached with more ease. i generally dragged the remains of a carcase i did not want in the way of the ants, and watched them at their feast. a few hours served to leave the bones of the largest animal perfectly clean, and as a skeleton for study, fit for an exhibition. when the termites, or white ant, is seen in the neighbourhood of man, the antipathies of the species are rendered available. as soon as they are observed, sugar is strewed in such a direction as to lead the brown or black ants to the spot, who, it is known, will immediately attack and put the white party to the rout, much to the amusement of the negroes, who cheer on the blacks to kill the whites. i have often awoke with my body covered with ants, when i generally ran to the nearest water, and plunging into it, freed myself from them; though i never could discover for what purpose they spread themselves over my frame, unless it were in expectation of my becoming a corpse. when, however, i did rouse myself, they seldom exhibited much alacrity in acknowledging their error by making a speedy retreat. chapter iv. an adventure with a bear--an extraordinary echo--i am attacked with a fever, and subsequently driven from my hut. "give me, indulgent gods--with mind serene, and guiltless heart--to range the sylvan scene; no splendid poverty, no smiling care, no well-bred hate, or servile grandeur there." i had now become a sportsman--a nimrod--my chief delight being found in the use of my bow and arrows. thus armed, i ranged the forest, or laid in covert, to destroy any game which might come in my way. my propensity for killing, however, soon led me into a scrape, the escape from which nearly cost me my life; yet the lesson was thrown away on me, for it in no way abated my desire to shoot and eat the flesh of birds. early one morning i had taken my station behind a large tree, from which i discharged an arrow at a mocking-bird. no sooner had the arrow quitted the string, than i descried a bear, feeding on ants' nests, and that in a direct line between myself and the bird shot at. the arrow passed close by his ear; it might have struck him: be this as it may, the bear instantly began to descend the tree, showing evident signs of his intention to revenge the insult. not being disposed to confront such an enemy in an angry mood, i instantly took to my heels; but had not proceeded far, before the shaggy monster was near overtaking me. in this extremity i ascended a tree, confident of being as good a climber as bruin was. i had, however, scarcely reached the lowest extending branch, before the enraged beast was close on me. fortunately, i had in my flight retained possession of my stick; and as the bear had no means of supporting himself but by clinging to the trunk of the tree with his claws, i applied my staff with so much vigour to his feet, that he was constrained to drop to the ground, whereupon his rage was great. he then took a turn or two round the base of the tree to cool himself, gave a growl, and seated himself under it, fixing his eyes on me. in this position the disappointed monster remained, on his hind-quarters, seven hours, watching my movements; till at length, growing weary of his presence, and having read somewhere of the effect of the human voice, i cried out loudly, mentioning several names, as if calling for assistance. when speaking of the storm, i said that the thunder rolled with ten thousand voices. the cause, however, of its multiplied tones, was reserved for this adventure to make known. as i called out, i was utterly astonished to hear my own words repeated several times in succession;--the bear started on his feet; and after looking round, as if in fear of an attack, took himself off at his utmost speed. [sidenote: an alarming echo] assured that i had heard human voices, i became more agitated than when in company with the bear. it may appear anomalous; it is nevertheless true, that the prospect, or thought, of meeting with human beings in these wilds, always elicited agitation, or, more properly, terror. the joy that hope brought of my emancipation was always mixed with an alloy of indefinable dread of some coming evil. i remained in the tree about an hour after the bear had departed, continuing to amuse myself with the exercise of the voice, and listening to the repetitions of its sounds. at length, when assured that the bear did not contemplate a renewal of the attack, i descended from the tree, and again raised my voice, and was again surprised to find that i had no response. this struck me as very mysterious; and instead of seeking for natural causes of the phenomena, i abandoned myself to superstitious fears, and persuaded myself that i was on enchanted ground, while my mind indulged in endless chimeras. every effect is preceded by a cause, was a sentence i had often heard my father repeat; and as it recurred to my memory, i again ascended the tree, and repeated the experiments, alternately, for some time, on the ground and in the tree. the result was always the same, the voice being reverberated when in the tree, and not so when on the ground. again and again. i turned the matter over in the mind, and could come to no other conclusion than that there were persons somewhere in the neighbourhood, who could hear me from the tree, but were too far off to hear my voice when surrounded with the underwood on the ground. i now thought it my duty to find out the persons from whom i supposed the sounds came, and was actually preparing to start in search of them, when it suddenly flashed on my mind that i had heard a similar phenomenon under a bridge near my own native village, which the boys called an echo; yet as that gave only one response, or echo, i was still perplexed to make out a cause for hearing so many. this phenomenon, however, soon became a considerable source of amusement to me, and by shifting my positions i found several series of echoes: in some places the reverberations were six and sevenfold, and in others they were so numerous as to run into indistinctness. for a considerable time subsequently it was my wont, on a sunday, to ascend a tree after my devotions, and sing a line or two, or a verse of a psalm which i knew, when the effect was something like a number of voices in a place of worship, though the ear could not compass the innumerable combination of reverberations. when the echo was peculiarly distinct and near, and then taken up and repeated at a distance, it conveyed to my imagination the idea of aerial spirits answering each other. it was thus that the astonishing multiplied reverberations of the thunder in this region were accounted for--namely, the transmission of its sound from point to point. [sidenote: the honey-bear] i saw no more of the ant-bear; but the honey-bear, which was more common, and a fellow-depredator of the bees' nests with myself, often crossed my path; and it required the exercise of much ingenuity and caution to successfully compete with him. in all countries where the collection of honey is made a profit, various devices have been resorted to for deterring or entrapping the rugged depredators. to enumerate them all would be a digression from my narrative. the following are, however, among other successful modes of dealing with bears who have a taste for honey. the trees in which the bees are found the inhabitants lop close to the trunk, up to the home of the bees, so that the bear has nothing but the main trunk to assist him in climbing. these trees they sometimes stick with spikes, and blades of knives, with the points upwards. these, however, offer but small impediments to the bear in ascending the tree, but as he cannot descend with his head foremost, he is compelled to slide down, when the points are not so easily avoided, generally lacerating him in such a manner as to deter him from making any future attempt to rob hives situated in trees. the experienced bear will, however, sometimes, as he ascends the tree, break off the points, and secure himself a safe retreat. entrapping them is, therefore, a more successful practice. in lopping the tree the peasants are careful to leave a branch that extends out from the trunk above the hole where the bees have constructed their hive. from such a branch they suspend, with four ropes, a flat board, forming one scale of a pair, such as are commonly used in open markets; when this is hung up it hangs pendant at a distance from the trunk of the tree. when, however, it is prepared as a trap, it is brought close to the body of the tree by means of a bark rope, upon which it is fastened over the entrance of the hive. the bear having climbed the tree, with difficulty maintains himself with his claws while he commits the depredation, and is, therefore, glad to find a seat so conveniently placed for him to sit on; but seeing the entrance of the hole nearly covered with the bark-rope, he immediately commences tearing it away, and, in so doing, liberates himself from the tree, and becomes suspended in the air. in this situation he sits contemplating the alternatives of remaining to be killed when discovered, or venturing a leap to the ground; both, however, lead to the same end, as stakes are placed to receive him on their points, should he hazard a leap. in cold countries, it is by no means uncommon for bears to attack human beings; but in forests, within the tropics, where redundant nature pours out her horn of plenty, and food is found in abundance throughout the year, man, if he is not himself quarrelsomely disposed, may pass without molestation. both the ant and the honey-hear occasionally visited my hut, having frequently detected them sniffing round my barricade; but when i made my appearance, either on the roof, or in returning from a ramble, they always walked away without manifesting decided hostile intentions. [sidenote: the rains of guiana] i had now passed ten months in the forest, and had learned to dispense with shoes, stockings, linen, and, indeed, with every kind of covering for the body, excepting a wrapper for the loins, which i contrived to make out of the remaining rags collected from the worn-out habiliments i possessed when lost to my family. i had also combated with a wet season, and this season was now again approaching, that is, january and february, when the rains fall heavily; indeed, rain is no proper term for a fall of water in a guiana forest. rain conveys the idea of water falling in drops; there, the water comes bodily upon the earth in wide sheets. and before they come, no notice is given; they send no _avant courier_ of a few scattered drops to warn you of what is to follow; they are their own messengers. in the intervals between every such fall, the fervid sun resumes its influence, operating with such intensity as to effectually envelope all things in hot steam. a continuation of rain and excessive heat produces exuberant vegetation; and these in turn, by the exhalations of its ripeness and corruption, furnish back to the atmosphere an accumulating fund of distempering miasma, or cause of malignant fever. when the destructive effects of these influences are considered, in a locality amongst the rankest productions of nature, and where in a thousand places the water is pent up and sluggish,--prolific producers of reptiles and noisome vapours--nothing but a miracle, through the interposition of providence, could have preserved me in health so long. but my day of sickness was not to be altogether remitted, it was only postponed, and then inflicted in kindness, to teach me prudence, and the necessity there was for adopting proper precautions against evil results. my hut, notwithstanding the complacency with which i had selected the site, was, after all, situated in the very worst place i could have found in the entire forest. the former rainy season had inundated the morass that lay in the rear of my dwelling, and had, indeed, threatened me with submersion; yet i continued to remain there, as if nothing of danger had occurred, and the air, impregnated with the fermentations of collected vegetation for ages, was as healthful as that on hilly lands. it is the province of experience to calculate or anticipate results; how then could one so young as i was know that too frequently the beauty which redundant nature presents to the eye, is but an indication of its treachery to the constitution. i had not then reflected on the condition on which mortals receive life, namely, that of being associated with an inseparable companion called care; a companion which never quits their side till they resign up their souls. in my isolated situation, it was natural i should seek to indulge the sentiment of friendship with such companions as the locality afforded. the interior of my hut was therefore a kind of aviary; and it was my practice every morning to devote a couple of hours to teaching, and in the amusement of feeding my companions; after which, i indulged, by turns, the most docile with a walk into the interior of the wooded parts of the forest. a land-tortoise had become so tame, that when, in my rambles, i sat down to rest, i allowed him to seek his own food in the immediate neighbourhood, and that without any fear of his wandering far, even if unwatched. the rainy season had commenced about three weeks, when one morning i arose with an intense headache, excessive thirst, and a burning skin. i hastened to the stream, drank copiously of cold water, bathed for upwards of an hour, and then returned with my usual supply of water, conveyed in a clay vessel, which i had baked in the sun. this, as were similar vessels, was chiefly for the use of my family of birds, &c. i remember perfectly well, the following morning, that, as was my custom, i caressed the whole family; and, to avoid jealous bickerings, to which some were prone, i bestowed on each an equal portion of attention; and that subsequently i took up a tortoise and a mocking-bird for my companions during a walk. i also remember, that as i reached the aperture under the roof, the rays of the sun affected my sight in a peculiar manner, and that a giddy sensation came over me; but from that moment i lost all remembrance of what followed, being unconscious of passing circumstances; until i found myself reduced in flesh, and so weak and feeble, as to be incapable of rising from the floor of the hut where i was lying. under the opening, from whence i must have fallen, lay a dead tortoise, the shell being crushed. the sticks of which my aviary was composed were all torn asunder, and the broken fragments strewed about the place. several of my favourite birds, with their necks wrung, were on the ground; the others were absent. the vessel in which i had brought the water was broken into pieces, and many parts of the hut exhibited proofs of an attempt having been made to pull up the stakes of which it was formed. these were all evidences that i had fallen down when attempting to leave the hut, probably from giddiness or vertigo; that a violent fever had supervened, and in that condition i had lost my reason, and the consequent command of my actions--whence the devastation around me, and the debilitated state in which i found the body when reason returned. soon after consciousness had made me sensible of my condition, i fell asleep, in which i was carried into all kinds of illusory imaginations. among other fantasies, i dreamed that i was on the sea--walking--yet bounded on either side with rows of myrtles in full blossom, intermixed with jessamines; and that thousands of cupids and fauns preceded me, strewing flowers in my way. these figures, carrying baskets, were followed by zephyrs, which supplied the flowers. i was in a state of enchantment with the scene, yet every moment suffered from the dread of sinking into the depths of the sea, until i thought the water would no longer support me, when i awoke in the fright of being drowned. [sidenote: the power of prayer] the fever had entirely left me, and i was in a measure refreshed by the sleep i had had. i was now reflecting on the phenomena of dreams, and the length of time the impressions they leave remain on the mind--for i still heard the action of the water--when, after several efforts to disengage myself from the illusion, as i thought, i was roused from imaginings to a sense of the reality of what i heard. plash, plash, went the water against the exterior of my hut; and these sounds were continuous and audible, so much so as to be unmistakable. still i was incapable of reaching the exterior to see what was the cause. my state of alarm and agitation may therefore be better conceived than described. too feeble to use my limbs, i had no resource but in prayer. most sincerely did i offer the supreme being thanks for having preserved me through my illness. i then prayed, that after such a miraculous dispensation of divine goodness, i might not be left to perish in my helplessness. i believe that no one ever prayed from the heart without acquiring some additional knowledge or strength of purpose. may not this be because prayer is both an inquiry of the intellect and of the affections; the one seeking for the truth, and the other for what is good? besides, pure devotion is thought, which improves, at least, and helps the judgment. after some time spent in this manner, i felt the perturbation of my mind much abated, and in a frame to contemplate steadily surrounding circumstances, and consider how they might be best dealt with. a short time since, and i had looked on death as inevitable, either by drowning or starvation; now, i reflected, that if the water had been very high, it must have, ere this, penetrated my frail creation; and, if very powerful, it would have swept the whole away without giving me any notice whatever. it also occurred to me that i ought to have some dozen or two of cocoa-nuts and a store of honey within my reach, as i lay on the floor. as i had not previously, on any occasion, made a store, i could not but see the hand of providence directing me to prepare for my present extremity. these supplies were placed in a hole which i had made in the ground for their reception, being covered with a piece of bark, and a stone to keep it in its place. fortunately, i had only to drag myself a few yards, and take the nourishment i so much needed; although it was not calves'-foot jelly and port wine, yet, in my then weak state, it proved a very gratifying refreshment. it is not possible for me to make any rational estimate of the length of time i was under the influence of the fever, or of the period employed in sleeping during my recovery. it is probable that it had but a short, though a violent career; but the present exigencies were too pressing to admit of much time being expended over the past. plash, plash, continued the water against the hut, and the floor began to exhibit signs of its entrance into the interior. my situation was now one of real peril. i made an effort to raise myself up to the opening through which i mast pass to escape, but as i had first to mount a stool formed of pieces of bark, and then to raise my body several feet with my arms, before my head could reach the aperture, i found my strength insufficient for the task. my distress was considerably augmented by the impossibility of my taking any more rest in a reclining position, as the water was rapidly covering the floor, and the probability there was of the structure giving way on a sudden, and submerging me in an instant of time. i seated myself on the before-mentioned stool, with my feet and legs stretched over a bird-coop that had not been entirely broken up. singular to relate, in this position i fell into a profound sleep, with my back against the lining of the hut; the extreme of distress, contemplated for a length of time, i believe has a tendency to produce this effect. [sidenote: perils of water] i had fallen asleep as the moon went down, about an hour after midnight; it was daylight when i awoke; the first object that caught my attention being the staff, on which were the notches that formed my calendar; this was floating on the water, now a foot or more in depth. it is said drowning men catch at straws; the idea immediately came across my mind that, with the support of the stick, i should be enabled to effect my escape. i succeeded; and after wading about fifty yards up to my knees in water, reached a dry spot of land, on which my first act was to kneel, and offer up prayers of gratitude for my deliverance. as a period of unconsciousness had occasioned a breach in my calendar, and the true sabbath was lost to me, i made the day of my deliverance a sunday, from which hereafter to reckon the days of the week. attenuated in frame, with weak limbs, but possessing a healthy stomach, i dragged myself to a half-natural cave, at a short distance, which i had previously cleared out as a place where i might find shelter from the heavy rains, and where i could lie in wait to kill a head of game without the fatigue of hunting for it. in this retreat i lived for two days, solely on cocoa-nuts and honey; the third, i caught an armadillo, which i dressed for dinner, and then resumed the practice of taking a dessert in the afternoon, having abundance of fruit at my command. it is one of the miseries inseparable from the condition of man, that good and evil are presented under different forms; misery often appearing to us under the mask of happiness, and prosperity under the image of misfortune, teaching us to leave all in the hands of him who knows best what is good for his creatures. i had no reason to complain, having within my reach blossoms, green and ripe fruit, all on the same trees, and those in abundance throughout the year, new soil for their growth being constantly formed by the exuviã¦ of the forest, which here keeps her sabbath in silence. but even here, in the midst of plenty, man must not be idle. "the crab," say the negroes, "that does not leave his hole, never gets fat." as my strength returned, my wants increased; and as animal food appeared to be needed for the renovation of the frame, i was constantly engaged in the pursuit of it; while, what leisure time i possessed became irksome, from the want of a domestic establishment such as i had formed in the hut. [sidenote: the first night in the cave] although my specimen of sylvan architecture was at no time more than half submerged in water, and that without being broken up, i abandoned it as being unsafe as a residence. finding myself not only more secure from the heavy rains, but much more cool in the cave, i now began to fortify its entrance, to guard against night intrusions. in effecting this object, the only one i kept in view while at work, i fell into the error of neglecting to provide for the admission of sufficient air to sustain life. the first night i passed in the cave, after completing my barricade of bark, which served the purpose of planks of deal, i could get no rest, turning and rolling about with an uneasiness i could in no way account for, till the morning came, when the admission of air made me sensible of breathing with more freedom, and at once explained the cause of my previous uneasiness. the next day was spent in cutting holes through the bark fence, to remedy so serious an evil as the want of air. accustomed as i had been to the intimate society of birds and other animals, their loss was too severely felt for me to remain long without them; i therefore commenced the construction of a new aviary on the outside of the cave, with a space beneath, to confine any of the small kind of animals which might fall into my hands. one surviving tortoise from the hut i had already brought into the cave. it was not long before the entrance to my retreat somewhat resembled the display made by a metropolitan dealer in animals, on the pavement before the steps which lead to his lodgings in the cellar. contentment is in no station the lot of mankind. although my new residence had many advantages, nothing could compensate me for the loss of the security in which i had every morning obtained a survey of the movements of the inhabitants of the forest from the roof of the hut. i did not, however, indulge in idle regrets, continuing to work on in constructing snares and traps, to people my new dwelling-place; and when it happened that i wounded a bird or animal, i derived a peculiar pleasure in attending to it till its recovery was effected. when i had again collected a tolerable number of friends, and formed some new attachments, a catastrophe happened which occasioned me more regrets than any circumstance which had previously befallen me in the woods. [sidenote: slaughter of the pet birds] early in the day i had left my family all safe and well; they were of course confined, but plenty of air and light was admitted through the bars into their dwellings. i had the satisfaction of thinking they were happy, even in their captivity; they were, however, all carried off at one fell swoop, and i returned only to witness the desolation of the scene. there is a small animal of the weasel species, having the bump of destructiveness so strongly developed, that it seeks the destruction of all other animals that cannot defend themselves from its attacks; it is called the crabbodaga. one of these--or there may have been an accomplice in the murderous business--crept between the bars of the cage, and killed every bird and animal i possessed, excepting a mocking-bird i happened to have out with me. none but those who have reared birds from the callow state and have given them a place in their affections, can appreciate my distress at this disaster. the birds had been my companions--had dined, some of them, at the same table every day, and over the dessert had amused me with their conversation, or delighted me with their music. reflecting on this domestic tragedy, i resolved to convert the entire of the abandoned hut into one large aviary, that is, as soon as the dry season had entirely freed the place from water. i had very little difficulty in trimming sticks, and binding them together for fences, to confine the birds; but it was not so easy to repair the loss of attached friends, who had reposed their confidence in me, or to teach strangers an agreeable method of conversation upon a given signal. i could now no longer give dinner-parties at home; i therefore intruded on the entertainments given by others, for i did not enjoy my meals alone. i did not often take a meal with gregarious birds--those who moved in flocks,--yet many of these were excellent companions in private; in a body they were generally too noisy and fickle in flight to be depended on, except in the morning or evening. the birds usually called social, were my favourites; these are such as live in pairs, but assemble in parties at certain hours of the day to dine on the same tree, sing in concert for an hour, and then part as they came, each attended by its mate. at many of these entertainments i was permitted to remain, without causing any surprise or confusion; but then i behaved with proper decorum, and above all, did not forget the manners and habits of those i visited. observing the monkeys to be very fond of the seeds that grew on a tree called the _vanilla_, the spanish name for scabbard, which the seeds of the plant resemble, i one day presumed to join one of their parties at meal time, and climbed a tree for that purpose, but was received so very uncourteously, that i gave them up as incorrigible boors. that they have no soul for music i have had frequent proofs while listening to the song of the thrush in the breeding season; a period when these birds select an elevated spot, generally the same every day, and pour forth strains of peculiar melody. these songs the monkeys not only disregard, but continually interrupt with their monotonous howls. [sidenote: habits of birds] the habits of birds are very peculiar, and distinctively marked; the thrush sings to its mate, delighted with the prospect of rearing up a new progeny; the nightingale, on the contrary, only ceases to sing when his mate arrives to join him; being migrating birds, the male precedes the female in making its passage from one country to another, and pours forth his notes only while waiting for the arrival of the female. if this bird is caught and caged before he is joined by his mate, he will continue to sing in confinement, if afterwards, he will be mute. nothing is more remarkable in birds, or has perhaps been less noticed, than their affection for each other, and for callow birds in general. the cries from any one nest of birds will set all the old ones within hearing into a state of extreme agitation, all flying up and down anxious to inquire what is the matter, and what assistance they can offer. he who walks through the woods, and can imitate the cries of young birds, may at all times be certain of collecting old ones around him, that is, in the breeding season. the cry of young birds in the nest is in the forest what the cry of fire or murder is in a city; it alarms all the neighbourhood; and the knowledge of an enemy to their young being in the vicinity of their homes, is to them much the same as going to bed next door to an incendiary. i have seen a blue jay--a very noisy and chattering bird--discover an owl sitting in his hiding-place, and immediately summon a flock of his feathered fraternity to his assistance. these surrounded the winking _solitaire_, and opened a fire of abuse on him that might at a distance be mistaken for a general disturbance in billingsgate market. the owl opened and then shut his eyes, as if at first unconscious of the meaning of the attack, and asking, "can it be me you mean?" he, however, was soon made sensible that he would not be suffered to remain within their jurisdiction; and off he went, followed by a mob of birds, who hunted him out of the bounds of their district. clamorous as the jay is against the owl for eating young birds, he himself i have detected in tearing the callow young out of the eggs belonging to other birds; yet he never fails to unite with the other feathered inhabitants of the wood at the cry of danger. the tender assiduities of birds in their attachments is no less remarkable than their courage in defence of their mates and young ones. the male, solicitous to please, uses the tenderest expressions, as evinced by his manner; sits by his mate as closely as he can; caresses her with a thousand endearing movements of the body and head: sings to her his most enchanting warblings; and, as they are seated together, if he espies an insect more agreeable to her taste than another, he takes it up, flies to her with it, spreads his wings over her, and genteelly puts it into her mouth. and if a rival or an enemy appear, his courage in attack soon proves the ardour of his love. [sidenote: the mocking-bird and snake] during incubation, the female is no less the object of his solicitude; as birds have many enemies, the males feel that it is their duty to watch over and protect their mates and young ones. i had every waking hour opportunities of witnessing their courage, frequently seeing very small birds attack the black snake, darting at its head, and pecking the eyes till they either killed or drove away that enemy to their brood. when these contests became doubtful, the females would leave their nests, and hasten to the scene of action to render their mates assistance. the mocking-bird seldom fails to kill the snake single-handed, instantly afterwards mounting the bush, to pour forth a torrent of song in token of victory. these birds mount and descend as their song swells or dies away; at times darting up with the celerity of an arrow, as if to recover or recall the last strain of expiring melody. while the mocking-bird thus exerts himself, a bystander, destitute of sight, would suppose that the whole of the feathered tribes had assembled to vie with each other in singing and in deceiving the sportsman, by imitating the birds of which he was in pursuit. their talent at imitation is so extraordinary, that they can call the mates of almost every other bird around them at pleasure. the fascinating power ascribed to the black snake is an error. when a snake is discovered in the vicinity of a nest, the male bird mounts a spray, and in great agitation flutters his wings in a threatening manner, till an opportunity offers of flying down to the attack. in these encounters the snake sometimes succeeds in biting the bird, and in injecting its venom, when the effect of the poison is so sudden, as to paralyse the further efforts of the latter; hence has arisen the supposed power of fascination, and the story of birds flying into the snake's jaws. instances of this nature i have witnessed, and if i had not followed up my observations further, might have fallen into the popular error of supposed fascination: but my experience informs me, that when the bird is said to be spellbound, it is preparing to destroy an enemy, in which encounter it generally comes off victorious. birds, as a class, possess as much intelligence, and more courage than any of god's creatures lower in the scale of animals than man. the instincts, or the propensities and precautions of animals, as in birds developed, are as multifarious and as striking, if not more so, as in other animals, not excepting the elephant and dog. a thrush that i caught in a trap used to catch wasps, and after plucking the wings off to prevent their escape, pressed the abdomen with his bill, to force out the poison of the sting before he swallowed it. i have frequently seen birds seize mice and reptiles, and after examination reject them. in all such cases i have found that the prey thus cast aside was sickly, or infested with lice. the birds seem to reason thus: "if i take this sickly thing to my nest, i shall not only carry my young ones unwholesome food, but shall carry a nuisance to them, also." another bird i had in my aviary, would carry food that was too hard for his taste to his water, and there let it remain till it was soaked to his palate. [sidenote: departure from the cave] looking over my notched calendar, and transferring it in weeks and months to another stick i was suddenly struck with the length of time i had been shut out of society, and how wonderfully the almighty had preserved me. it then occurred to me that i had not exerted myself as i ought to have done, to free myself from the intricate mazes of the forest. then, reflecting on the regular inundations of the morass, i thought it was probable that the waters might come from a river, or the sea; and as they had just then retired, i determined to start off immediately, and pursue the margin to its source. hitherto, security at night had induced me to linger about favourite spots; i had now surmounted childish fears; still i was sensible of the great risk i should run of sleeping, night after night, in the open air; and this reflection for a time deterred me from carrying out my plan. at length i thought of the gipsies i had seen in the green lanes in england, and then set to work to manufacture a substitute for the covers they use to throw over the hooped sticks at night, with which they were wont to form low booths. this i effected by platting and weaving long dried grass, and when it was completed, i cut some poles of the lacaria; but still doubting my own resolution to break up my establishment, i one day, with a kind of spasmodic effort, liberated all my newly-collected domestic friends and companions, some of which accepted of freedom rather reluctantly. my attachments being thus dissolved, the following morning i commenced my lonely journey, on the second day of which i made a fire near to some shallow water, and was broiling a jay i had killed for my supper, when the earth on which i sat began to move, and instantly afterwards the embers were scattered about. starting to my feet with alarm, a crocodile about four feet long showed itself as it plunged a few yards further off into a pool of mud and water. the place on which i had lighted my fire, was a part of the swamp, crusted over, probably, by the heat of that day's sun only. every hour, indeed, now brought me in contact with enemies, and exposed me to privations i had avoided by making a home in one spot. but then i had an object to attain, and i persevered for twenty days, at the end of which i had the mortification to find that i had, like many others in the world, progressed not a step, having travelled in a circle, which brought me to the very threshold of my recent home. my chagrin was so poignant, that i thought the very trees waved in derision at my folly; and the same day i set out in another direction, which proved to be directly south. every step i took informed me that i was a trespasser; the scene that i had quitted appeared to have been ceded to me by the inhabitants of the forest, who were willing for me to occupy it without molesting me, or exhibiting any signs of alarm; but, as i moved from place to place, all seemed in arms against me. my insatiable curiosity, too, was everywhere offensive; nothing escaped my prying propensity, and i even regretted that i had suffered the crocodile to escape that i might have intercepted, had i been cool, and have driven to the land for examination; i often, indeed, pushed my inquiries beyond the line of prudence. [sidenote: an unpleasant nocturnal visitor] one moonlight night i was favoured with a splendid view of the jaguar under the influence of a hungry stomach, and in that state i saw him seize his prey. i had spread my matting at the lower end of a tree that had been torn up by the roots, between which i could creep and hide myself; at the other end the branches extended into a small glade or open space; when about midnight i was awaked by a tremendous roar. alarmed for my own safety. i crept between the roots of the tree, pulling the covering after me, and in this situation raised my head so as to look along the shaft of the fallen timber, about ten yards from the end of which i could distinctly discern the jaguar, pacing up and down, in a space of not more than thirty yards. his step was quick and hurried, but so light that he appeared not to touch the ground; his swollen and stiffened tail swept the ground, as it moved from side to side. i instantly became anxious to ascertain whether his eyes were directed towards any particular object, and more especially in the direction where i was hid. i had the satisfaction of seeing their fierce glance furtively cast in every direction but towards me; indeed, i must have been invisible to him through the broken branches and roots, at the distance he was from the tree, and amid the shade that surrounded me. the spot he had chosen for his nocturnal promenade was, i have no doubt, a deer track, on which he had before in all probability snatched many meals. his impatience evidently increased as his expectations were delayed; he quickened, if possible, his step at every turn, till at length he suddenly paused, and assumed a most exciting attitude. his tail for a moment stood out perfectly horizontal, in a line with his back; making gentle sweeps, as if of immediate expectation. suddenly he crouched on his belly, still moving his tail very gently; at length the moment arrived: he gave one roar of horrid delight, and the next, a deer was in his jaws, and growling, he seized and dispatched it by twisting the head downwards with his paw. finally he gave the deer a shake, as if to assure himself that life was extinct, and then, with a fling of the head threw the dead animal across his back, and was lost in the thicket, depriving me of the satisfaction of witnessing his manner of finishing the repast. strong in my resolution to arrive if possible at the extremity of the forest, i continued to proceed, as i thought, in the same direction; but i could not travel every day, being compelled sometimes to watch through the night, and being frequently unable, while moving forward, to obtain a sufficiency of nutritious food. when, therefore, i met with a convenient retreat, i stayed and refreshed myself till i acquired strength to undertake new labours. some scenes would irresistibly detain me, and if any one express surprise that they should do so when journeying to seek the society of my fellow-creatures, i reply that i did not at any time abandon the hope of success; yet when the uncertainty of my course, without a compass or guide, is considered, i never had a right to be very sanguine in my expectations, use whatever efforts i might. in a journey of such a doubtful nature, oftentimes worn down with fatigue of body and despair of mind, it was natural to linger on and to rest in an oasis longer than in a desert. in a hot climate, cool retreats have peculiar charms, such as are unappreciable by those who live in cold countries. the mere topographical traveller may measure a lake, or a river, give the height and angle of a projecting rock, describe the rush of falling waters into an estuary, and trace the course of rivers from their rise to their mouth, but he is unable to give the living tints of nature, together with all their form and colour. [sidenote: beauties of the forest] neither the pen nor the pencil can describe the feelings of those who sympathize with nature in her secret homes of grandeur. when i first entered the forest, the effect of the sublimity of the scene was astonishment, in which the beauties were lost; but as surprise wore off, these beauties, one by one, stood out to view; and operating on the senses, produced pleasure in its highest state of enjoyment. in scenes where bignonias, passifloras, and a thousand other flowers presented an unceasing display throughout the year, surrounded with birds and insects of surpassing beauty, who, possessed of sympathy of soul, or an ear for the sweet sounds of nature, would not for a time forget mortality and live in imaginary eternal bliss; for the charm of such scenes is only dispelled by awakening to the wants and necessities of the corporeal man. my existence was of such a nature,--one of alternate enjoyment in communing with lonely and enchanting scenes, and of fears lest i should fall a sacrifice to the dangers that environed my everyday movements. sometimes i sallied forth to face dangers, and again paused to breathe, and, for a time, escape them. at length i reached a new scene, consisting of sand-hills, out of which issued springs of water, uniting at a short distance, where they formed a stream, which appeared to wind over an open country. in comparison with my solitude in the woods, this was a cheering change; and recollecting the geographical axiom in my school-books, that all springs and rivers ultimately find their way into the sea, i rejoiced at the chance i had of being extricated from the labyrinth in which i had been so long bewildered. [sidenote: following the stream] it is the fate of mortals to see the birth of pleasure only to witness her destruction. her commencement is always very nearly connected with her end. the instant that gives her birth is generally the same in which she expires. i had not proceeded far before the waters spread themselves over the land, and were lost to the sight. in one or two places their course terminated as if they were cut off with a knife, one edge being visible and the other in obscurity, exhibiting the phenomenon of rivers which suddenly take a subterraneous course, to rise again at another point, leaving the space between perfectly dry. being now in an open country, i ascertained that the course i had travelled was directly southward, or towards that part of the horizon which was cut by the sun's culminating, or meridian line; and this course i continued to pursue. a day and a half again brought me to the stream, for, as yet, it was not entitled to be called a river. it now, however, took a direction leading into the wood, among the foliage of which it was lost to the eye. the emancipation from the forest had given me the greatest possible delight, i therefore could not but hesitate before i again entered it; yet it was my only certain source of subsistence in the open country. i suffered both from hunger and thirst. i had, therefore, no alternative but to follow the stream; and on i went, its course winding so much that i began to fear i was traversing another circle. at length, after giving me much wearisome toil, it was lost in an impenetrable thicket of wood. i was now constrained to make a very considerable and extended _dã©tour_, in the hope of again reaching its banks at some merging point. three days i journeyed round an impervious mass of wood, so closely matted that i could at no point obtain an entrance. at the end of that time, i suddenly lighted upon the spot where i supposed the waters met in one broad reservoir. various tributary streams flowed into this spot, and continued their meandering course for many miles. i hailed the sight of it with considerable delight, as i had begun to be fearful that i was about to lose sight of its course altogether. chapter v. i witness a grand convulsion in nature, of which i have a wonderful escape--am rescued in the last extremity, and admitted into a tribe of indians. "look round and see how providence bestows on all alike sunshine and rain, to bless the fruitful year of different nations, all different faiths; and though by several names and titles worshipp'd, heav'n takes the various tribute of their praise. since all agree to own, at least to mean, one best, one greatest, and one lord of all." [sidenote: a useful hollow tree] when i arrived at the confluence, as i took it to be, of the streams, it was saturday night,--that is, according to my new calendar. as i did not think it lawful to travel on the sunday, i sought for an eligible place of security, where i might rest, and start thoroughly refreshed on the monday, to solve the problem of the opposing currents. with this view i ascended an isolated blasted tree, where i might seat myself, and find protection from insidious enemies. i was delighted to find that the trunk was hollow, the only entrance being from the top. the tree leaned to the horizon at about an angle of 45 degrees. after carefully examining it, i thought i had satisfied myself that it was not pre-occupied by any obnoxious inhabitant; i then dropped into it, as it were, down a chimney. crouching, i was out of sight, but when i stood erect i had a view of my own desolate situation. a species of frogs had just commenced to send forth their peculiar noise, which resembles the sound from a stonemason's yard, when i was annoyed by a number of green frogs, such as dwell in trees; and endeavouring to brush these from my immediate locality, i discovered a number of the _scolopendra_, or centipedes, from five to eight inches in length. perceiving a hole in the side of the tree, i proceeded to expel these formidable insects with my stick, by which means i disturbed, in the pulpy part of the decayed wood, a nest of _scorpions_. things in motion soon catch my eye, and in another second i had regained the earth. indisposed, however, to give up such a comfortable apartment, i cleared out the whole of the interior, and then regained the top of the tree, where i sat for a considerable time in doubt whether i should retire to rest or keep watch through the night. it was a beautiful evening, and the air was strongly impregnated with the aromatic fragrance of the different species of the _rubiaceã¦_, the _andiocera_, and _ã¦nothera_. moonlight is a thoughtful period in all climates. i had almost, while watching my own shadow, forgotten the process of time, when suddenly cynthia extinguished her lamp. wearied, both in a mental and physical sense, i again, reckless of consequences, dropped into my cylindrical apartment. how long i slept i cannot tell; i was, however, awaked to scenes as remarkable as they were terrible and rapid in succession. a flood of light was streaming into my skylight, and i became conscious of a rocking sensation. for a moment i concluded that i was again seized with the vertigo in my head. a violent sound of rushing waters soon roused me to a sense of my real danger, and, standing erect, i beheld all the firm earth, on which but a few hours previously i had stood, now covered with water. an immense number of aquatic birds were floating on its surface, while others were springing up to branches of the trees above, to escape from the enormous serpents, and other monsters of the deep, that infest temporary lakes caused by sudden inundations. [sidenote: an inundation] as i surveyed the scene the waters were still rising, and the tree on which i sat rose with them in an upright position. presently it became stationary, and the water began, gradually to cover its trunk. i have said that it was an isolated spot: it was a small area in the midst of the wood, which appeared to have been cleared by the blast of lightning, the nearest tree being fifty yards, or more, distant. among other things struggling for life was a fawn, which swam beneath me, and was seized by a cayman; while as another monster of the same species, at least thirty feet long, paused to survey me, with my feet then nearly touching the water, i impulsively raised my stick in self-defence, and at this juncture the trunk of the tree suddenly swung round, and by its action nearly threw me off into the jaws of the cayman. the principal part of the roots were torn from the earth, but most providentially the only remaining branch on the tree remained uppermost, which presented me with the opportunity of climbing five or six feet higher. still, as i could not now turn round with facility, i remained for a full hour, every moment expecting the monster would seize me from behind; for the cayman continued to show himself at intervals, as if certain, in the end, of his prey. at length the roots of the decayed tree parted entirely from the earth, and it was carried forward with the current. fortunately the branch, which was my only chance of escape, still remained elevated. the cayman did not abandon his intended victim till my bark conveyed me among the standing trees, when i seized the opportunity of climbing up one of considerable height. up to this period all other dangers had been merged in the immediate dread of the monster of the deep, but i was now at liberty to take a more extended view of the scene, from a fixed position, and i found myself in the midst of congregated wild beasts and powerful reptiles. in the next tree to the one i occupied was an ant-bear, and a little farther off i could discern several others. monkeys and apes were swinging and chattering over my head in large numbers; serpents, from five to thirty feet long, were crawling on the branches and round the trunks of trees, to escape from the flood; tiger-cats, beautifully striped, were springing from branch to branch of the green and purple-heart trees, which here grew to the height of seventy feet; lizards were seen in such numbers as in many places literally to cover the branches of the trees. all the birds were sending forth sounds of dissonance, as if stricken with terror; while the shrill voice of the bird called the pi-pi-yo roused me to the consciousness that the hour of noon had arrived. the lofty _panax_, _bignonia_, _copaiva_, rising to a hundred feet in height, were peopled with living things, all in apparent consternation at the sudden changes of the scene. it was a grand, though an awful sight for a human being to behold. animals of various natures, habits, and antipathies, were all crowded together in one common place of refuge, shaken by the wind, and dreading contact with each other, as the violent rushing of the waters bore on their surface numberless proofs of the havoc made, and still threatening to sweep away and swallow up every vestige of animal and vegetable creation. [sidenote: hope in desolation] but let the soul be set on the highest mount of distress, and view the most spacious prospect of misery, if the eye be turned towards god comfort may be found beyond the horizon, when human strength is vain. i lifted up my voice in the wilderness, and lo! god was there, and i took courage, exclaiming, "the almighty is the architect of all i see, his power stretches over the whole earth and the empty space; he hangs the earth and all the ethereal globes upon nothing; and is he not able to save me?" "i will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness," saith the lord. "the hand which fixes the stars and guides the planets in their courses is stretched out to preserve his children." with these reflections did i trust in my position, and bid my soul to take courage and rely on divine succour. fortunately, i had the remains of a cooked bird in my wallet, which always hung at my back; and _murucuja_, fruit of one of the passion-flowers, was within my reach, which i gathered and ate. the fish also forsook their ordinary food, for i could plainly see them feeding on the fruit and berries of shrubs through which they swam. at length night overtook me, and the moon, i thought, rose with a more speaking yet angry countenance than usual, frowning blood-coloured rays on the surface of the water and through the foliage of the wood, still rendering my fellow-lodgers immediately around me visible, while the vampire and other species of bats flitted wildly round, like spirits of the air; and occasional splashings beneath indicated that the larger tyrants of the flood were making prey of the weaker inhabitants, or the latter were exerting themselves to escape from the jaws of the former. the terrestrial animals seemed, for the most part, in providing for their own safety, to have suspended all operations of warfare, the scene above the flood in the evening wearing much the same appearance as throughout the day, excepting that the reptiles were not so numerous, the serpents and lizards having found hiding-places in the holes of the trees or under thick foliage. after a few hours the moon went down and left me "in the populous solitude of bees and birds, and fairy-form'd and many-colour'd things." it was now that, like job, i had to "gird up my loins like a man;" for, as darkness shrouded me, my thoughts naturally reverted to the bear in the next tree; i could not but speculate on his movements, and the probability of his descending and swimming to invade my territory. impressed with this fear, the master one of the hour, i took up a position to command the trunk of the tree, where, armed with my stick, i might oppose him to an advantage. [sidenote: a night on the water] it would be futile were i to attempt to describe my sensations during the night. could words be found expressive enough for the purpose, they should have been penned at the instant they were felt; feelings under such extraordinary circumstances cannot be recalled, or appreciated only at the time they were excited. words, in description, stand for general ideas in nature's chart; ten thousand sensations and forms enter of themselves into the sanctuary of the mind. i can only say that i spent the night in prayer for the coming morn. it, however, passed without involving me in any encounter. "now, men see not the bright light which is in the clouds; but the wind passeth and cleareth them away." i thought it was an interminable night, and long before morning dawned, as the first glimmer of light tinged the eastern horizon, i strained my eyes to assure myself of its actual approach; yet what hope could it bring me?--none, in prospect; notwithstanding which, latent hope was not wholly extinct. a vague idea possessed me that i might find some floating tree to carry me to the nearest shore. at length, indolently, as i thought, the morning did appear, rendering surrounding objects visible. the bear was still in the tree, coiled up like a cat, in a forked branch, apparently asleep. his bearship had not even the politeness to pass the compliment of the day by noticing me; and noon again arrived, bringing with it utter despair. for some time i had been watching a log of timber, in the hope that it would float within my reach, when i distinctly heard the sound of human voices. my heart leaped up with joy; and the coincidence of the appearance of a rainbow at the same instant, operated like a reprieve to a malefactor in the hands of the executioner. i was so much elated, that i actually should have neglected to have called out for assistance, had not the same voices again addressed my ear more distinctly, when i used my vocal powers with all my might; but i had no response, and my heart was again, sinking within me, when i observed a canoe approaching. it contained two indians; one was using the paddle, the other directing his attention to the spot from whence my voice proceeded. a few seconds brought them under the tree, and an invitation, by signs, for me to descend, and accept of my emancipation from their hands. [sidenote: the charms of solitude] notwithstanding all the terrors and privations of my wild life, there was a charm in it which is inexplicable; and i paused ere i parted with it. men whose whole life has been identified with civilization may not understand this feeling; but long association with nature in her own scenes of unlimited grandeur and profuse bounty, cannot be broken off without a struggle. in return for all the blessings nature bestows on her children of the woods, she requires no sacrifice of liberty; free and unconstrained she permits them to roam throughout her domains; to robe or unrobe, as their taste may dictate; to rest when fatigued, and to rise when refreshed. nature does not mask misery with the face of happiness, nor dress misfortune in the guise of prosperity; free and uncontrolled, her children are invited to help themselves at her munificent board; while in the narrow paths of civilized life, even the boasted reason of man is incapable of conferring happiness on society. but with the green grass and soft moss for a carpet, umbrageous trees for a shade, the murmuring stream for the ear, together with the sound of the breeze amongst the leaves to woo reflection, the syrens of vicious pleasure may be avoided, and the disquietudes of life be forgotten. like a true citizen of the world, i had become enamoured with liberty, and with the instinct of a denizen of the forest, i shrank from the presence of man. my situation was perilous, death being inevitable if i remained in the tree; for in a short time sleep must overcome me, and in that state, i must fall into the waters beneath. reluctantly, therefore, i dropped into the canoe, with the feelings of a bird who darts into a cage to escape the talons of the hawk--an incident, by the way, which once brought both the fugitive and the hawk into my trap. no captured african slave could feel the loss of liberty more than i did when the indians assigned me a seat in the canoe, which proceeded to join a company consisting of eleven persons. they were a fishing party that had left their wonted haunts to avail themselves of the flood, a period when their efforts were generally rewarded with great success. one canoe was nearly filled with the product of the first draught, and they were in the act of drawing another as i appeared amongst them. they were all well-grown men, nearly naked, like myself, very placid in their demeanour, and showed great anxiety to relieve my distress, offering me food and drink. indeed, their manners were so urbane and pleasing, that in a very short time i recovered from my depression of spirits, and congratulated myself on my good fortune in falling into their company. they wore large grass-platted hats to defend the head from the heat of the sun, and had each a hammock made of the same materials, which as night approached, they slung from the branches of trees, and calmly laid themselves down to survey the confusion of nature which the sudden inundation had occasioned. with the party was a youth about my own age, who at once attached himself to me; he manifested his disappointment and concern that he could not make himself understood by words, and in a very short time intimated his intention of undertaking my education by showing me the implements in use and calling them by name, till i not only recollected them, but acquired accuracy of pronunciation. [sidenote: the indian village] two days subsequently to my rescue from the tree, i was taken to the indian village, about ten miles from the border of the forest. it consisted of fifteen huts on an elevated spot, distant a half-mile from a fine river, which ebbed and flowed with the tide. it was this circumstance that had occasioned my embarrassment when following the stream and suddenly meeting with a contrary current. on my arrival at the village i was struck with the absence of curiosity or surprise which a stranger from another race generally excites, even in civilized localities. neither men, women, or children appeared to bestow on me any peculiar notice, nor did they, as far as i could learn, express any desire to know how i came amongst them, or from whence i came. no overseer or other parish officer was called in to provide me with food and then dispute my right to eat. i was at once led to the hut of the father of my young friend, and received as one of the family, in which there were two wives and two families--one mother with three, and another with four children. plurality of wives was the custom of this indian community, and yet they lived in perfect harmony; there were no jealousies or bickerings; the progeny of each shared alike the affection and care of both mothers, who laboured with equal zeal in the culture of cassava or manioc, the roots of which they grated and made into bread. there were numerous tribes of these indians, but they all spoke the same language. the tribe i was with were called galibis; they were remarkable alike for their humanity and intelligence. indeed, they possessed all the moral qualities of civilized society, without its forms and most of its vices, especially the one of coveting their neighbours' goods. [sidenote: habits of the indians] during the time i was with them, a period of eighteen months, i never heard of a charge of theft. land was as plentiful as air and water; there could not, therefore, be any motive to steal, if we except idleness,--a vice which prevails more in cities than in the wilds of nature. numerous families sometimes live in one common large hut; yet there are no quarrels to disturb their harmony; and such is their hospitality that he who is fatigued with hunting may always depend on repose in the nearest dwelling. their language is peculiarly harmonious, rich with synonyms, and is represented by those who have studied its grammatical construction, to be complicated and ingenious in syntax. intelligent as they are, they have at all times rejected the arts and all instruction, from their great love of independence. the countenances of all are stereotyped with benevolence, and their conversation is fraught with maxims that inculcate the practice of charity to all the human race. they are not without a sense of pride, yet discourage it in practice. it requires no broker to make a written catalogue of their household furniture: their weapons are bows and arrows, and a short dart which they force through a reed with the breath, bringing down birds on the wing with surprising dexterity. a flat stone on which the women bake bread, and a rough one on which to grate the root of cassava; a hammock, a hatchet, a comb, and a broken piece of looking-glass in a rude frame, comprise the whole of their furniture. what few vessels they had were ill made,--not any improvement on those i formed from clay for the use of my aviary when in the woods. they have no code of laws, nor have they a word in the language by which to convey the idea of laws; yet they have the same word as in hebrew to express god, by which they understand supreme master. they have a magistrate or elder, to whom any matter of disputation is referred, and by him summarily and finally settled. fire they obtain by rubbing two pieces of wood together; and for cooking, this is made on the ground, over which they suspend their vessels in the rudest manner. although these people wear no clothes, properly so called, they are very fond of ornaments; as amulets and charms, those obtained from the ivory-billed woodpecker were most in vogue. no people in the world, perhaps, are more remarkable for acute observation. if you name any kind of bird, or other animal, to them, that is to be found in this part of the globe, instantly they imitate its action and tones of voice. the notes of birds they give with surprising accuracy. they are very expert swimmers, and some of the women and children spend the chief of their time in the water. the men fish, and hunt, and when not so employed, which happens three or four days in the week, they remain in their hammocks, and amuse themselves with their implements, in the repairs of which, and in conversation, all their leisure is spent. they possess all the qualities to form good sportsmen, and to take the command of others--having great presence of mind and promptitude of action. i know not which most to admire, their skill in discovering game, or their manner of taking it. they entertain the loftiest sentiments of chivalrous honour, and their courage always rises with increasing difficulty; it "smiles in danger stern and wild," and is superior to circumstances. on the fourth day after my emancipation from the loneliness of the forest i accompanied a fishing party to the same spot from whence i had been taken. it was a favourite locality for hunting the ant-bear, and when the waters were out, for taking crabs and oysters, which were caught in large numbers among the trees and shrubs that were more or less covered by the flood. [sidenote: the great spirit of the indians] under the assiduous tuition of my young friend, whose name was _pecoe_, i rapidly progressed in a knowledge of his language, and could not refrain from making many reflections on his method of teaching as compared with my european schoolmaster's. pecoe, i considered, had adopted a natural mode of instruction, while the system of the other was wholly artificial, and tedious in practice. my teacher was as anxious to be taught himself as to teach me, and when we were able to converse, asked ten thousand questions relative to my country and the state of society in it. whether my long residence in the woods had disqualified me to be an advocate for the cause of civilization i know not, but at all my descriptions of it, pecoe shook his head, and was evidently under an impression that my countrymen must be a very unhappy race of people. on one occasion, when conversing on our difference of colour, and on the human races generally, he said, "i will tell you how it happened: you know that there are three great spirits, all good, though each is greater than the other. the great spirit of all one day said to the lowest spirit, 'make a man, and let me see him.' the spirit took some clay and made a man; but when the great spirit saw him, he shook his head, and said he was too white. he then ordered the spirit next to himself in goodness to make a man, who tried his skill with charcoal--burnt wood; but the great spirit again shook his head, and said he was too black. the great spirit then determined to try himself, and taking some red earth, made the indians, which pleased him very much." when i told him that the great spirit in his great goodness had so ordered it that every one should think his own colour the best, he replied, that it was not possible for either a black or a white man to be so stupid as to be satisfied with the colour of his skin, stigmatized as he, pecoe, thought both races were, by barbarities. when i explained to him the various grades of civilized society, his quick apprehension broke out in the most indignant terms, denouncing the system as one dictated by a demon. rich and poor! "what good," he asked, "could arise from allowing one to take all, and giving nothing to the other?" [sidenote: pecoe's ideas of society] i replied, that the wisdom of the great spirit (god) was recognised in his anticipation of the wisdom of man, by providing him with original principles of his own, which were given to regulate, not excite desires. thus the sense of property is germinated in very early childhood, which sense i maintained generated a moral feeling, and a principle of justice and equity. my young friend, after a moment's thoughtful pause, stoutly gave the negative to my premises,--that the sense of property was developed in early life; he argued that the desire exhibited by children to handle things, and which we erroneously call a desire to possess them, is nothing more than a natural desire to exercise the physical senses on objects of the external world, through which only could they educate the powers of the body for healthful and manly purposes of life. those things which some call children's playthings, he held to be _bonã¢ fide_ tools, without which, whether they were wooden horses, paper boats, a doll's head, or a piece of stick, they could no more rise out of a state of childhood than a man could go to sea without a canoe. he therefore denied the inference, that because children manifest a disposition to snatch or handle everything they can reach, it is an indication of natural acquisitiveness. the mind, he said, was wholly disengaged from these matters at an early age; employment for the organs of the five senses, together with an instinctive desire to promote their development, were the true causes of children quarrelling for possessions. he instanced their having no abiding attachment for any one particular toy, however expensive or attractively constructed, always casting away one thing to handle another, the various forms of which gave exercise to different muscles, and imparted new sensations of pleasure. the object i have in presenting my readers with a few of pecoe's opinions is to illustrate the different ideas elicited in the minds of men by diverse circumstances of life and education. i scarcely need inform them that, in committing to paper my friend's notions, i have dressed them up in my own language. on this occasion pecoe closed the conversation by remarking that the nature of society, such as i had depicted in england, appeared to charge the great spirit with having at some early period thrown upon the earth all his gifts in a heap, for a general scramble, on the condition that the posterity of those who succeeded in first picking them up should for ever live in idleness, and become the masters of the posterity of those whose ancestors had been unsuccessful in snatching from their fellow-men more than their own share. he continued: "it was hard to believe such a state of society could exist, and thought the evil spirit must have put it into my head;" meaning that i had drawn upon my own imagination for the sketch. the incomprehensible part of the system to pecoe was, that some could be luxuriating in plenty and others be starving at the same time in one country. warfare was unknown to his race, because the practice of good-will and the friendly offices of mutual assistance were universal among them, and annihilated every motive to aggrandisement, and consequently the disposition was never brought out. bear in mind, reader, that i am describing no utopia. when, therefore, i spoke of our numerous wars, and explained that it was those who had been unfortunate at the first general scramble, as he designated it, who risked their lives in battle, fighting for their wealthy masters, his incredulity rose so high as to doubt my veracity, and for some time subsequently i thought he seemed to shun my society, appearing very pensive and lonely in his habits. [sidenote: pecoe as a nurse] about a fortnight after the above conversation i was suddenly taken with violent symptoms of fever, when pecoe was immediately by my side, assiduously attending to all my wants with the tenderness of a nurse. the physician, or pee-ay-man, was applied to, who offered up prayers to the bad spirit for my recovery;--for it is a part of their creed that the good spirit is too good to do any one harm, and therefore it is the malicious spirit that must be conciliated. for this purpose a number of incantations were performed, after which the physician continued to parade from hut to hut, howling and performing another series of incantations throughout the night, at intervals calling to see if any improvement had taken place in the health of his patient. as it was the practice of every family to burn a fire through the night, i could from my hammock see this juggler stalking to and fro, looking more like a demon than a minister of comfort in sickness. pecoe proved the best physician. he never left me, continuing to administer comfort to me in every possible way and manner. among other services he relieved me, at my request, from the mummeries of the pee-ay-man, aptly urging that, as the spirits of my country were not the same as theirs, he might by his interference make them angry instead of conciliating them. but the women, who really felt an interest in my fate, were not so easily satisfied, they placed implicit reliance on the skill of the pee-ay-man, and were angry with pecoe for sending him away. "never mind," said he, coolly, to some remarks that censured his conduct, "i am as good a doctor as he is; and if i am hot, don't the great spirit brush away the flies from the animal without a tail?" my disease grew worse, and rapidly hastened to its crisis. pecoe in every stage sought for new sources of comfort: he collected silk-grass, and daily made new pillows for my head, when they were wetted with the cold water he applied to my temples. he constantly moistened my lips with slices of pineapple, only occasionally leaving me, to go in search of the jelly cocoa-nut, which in an unripe state has but a thin skin, but contains more liquor. as the fever subsided, these grateful draughts contributed much towards my recovery, and without doubt hastened the period of final restoration to health, when i said to my friend, "you may now set up as physician to the tribe, and supersede the pee-ay-man." the remark brought a smile from his lips, as he replied, "i have not such a mean spirit as to endure to be laughed at by all the people. do you, then, really believe that these pretenders to superior knowledge are esteemed, or that any in the place have faith in their arts?" "if not," said i, "why tolerate them, and why not apply to the great and good spirits themselves for help?" [sidenote: pecoe's prudence] "why!" rejoined pecoe, "because too many like deception more than honesty, and prefer listening to falsehood rather than to truth. my father and all his friends have secretly laughed at the impostor all their days, yet in public give him countenance, and also frown on the children who would doubt the efficacy of his tricks, or his ability to solve dreams and foretell events. i myself," he continued, "sometimes doubt my right to disregard the proffered services of these men. this arises, perhaps, from the general countenance they have from all the tribes, and the force of custom; for i seldom give myself the trouble to investigate their claim to respect; i endure their arts, because the majority patronise them, though i never open my lips in their defence. it is an ungracious task to make yourself more wise than your neighbours; even if you should be successful, you must inevitably make enemies without gaining new friends, people do not like to be told that they have been in error all their lives, or to believe that their forefathers were foolishly credulous." chapter vi. further account of the indians--i arrive at my father's farm. "what fancied zone can circumscribe the soul, who, conscious of the source from whence she springs, by reason's light, or resolution's wings, spite of her frail companion, dauntless goes o'er libya's deserts, and through zembla's snows? she bids each slumb'ring energy awake,- another touch, another temper take; suspends th' inferior laws that rule o'er clay. the stubborn elements confess her sway; man's little wants his low desires refine, and raise the mortal to a height divine." notwithstanding the darkness in which my friend pecoe had been brought up, i was impressed with the notion that his soul was sufficiently alive to receive the great truths of christianity. i therefore resolved again to introduce the subject, and make an effort to engross his attention. i commenced by impressing on his mind that my countrymen were a race acknowledged to be inferior to none other, and that they worshipped only one great spirit, the maker of the heavens and the earth, together with all things visible and invisible. he surprised me by admitting that these things had engaged much of his attention, and that his mind was now made up on the question; his conviction being that the heavens and the earth had existed from eternity, and would continue the same to eternity. i explained to him that nothing endured for ever but the power of god; that all things were constantly undergoing a process of change; that the globe we inhabited had a beginning, and, consequently, like inferior bodies, would have an end; that god permitted the dissolution of one body, and the birth of another, at periods appointed, to the end that the whole of his designs might arrive at perfection, and no absolute loss be sustained. pecoe heard me out with great patience, then shook his head, and enquired how it came that my father should know better than his? when, however, i spoke of the existence of the soul in another and better world, and endeavoured to illustrate that certainty by saying, in the dissolution of bodies nothing perished but their forms, and that the soul when it abdicated its decaying vessel, the body, was translated to another, and a purer state of existence, he evidently looked on me as being insane. [sidenote: attempts at conversion] i was disappointed,--was vexed at my inability to awaken him to a sense of what all mankind, more or less, in some form, have acknowledged, namely, a future state of existence. i now urged that all human beings were sensible of relations not subject to the senses, and therefore possessed sensibilities distinct from the body. that they could compare, and therefore had judgment; that they retained, and therefore have memory; that they possessed freedom of choice, and therefore have will. i then said, if to these we add instinct, there are five faculties of the soul; adding, reason compares those ideas immediately transmitted to the memory; imagination is the same faculty exercised on the same objects differently combined, having no similitude in nature. "these," replied pecoe, "are all your own thoughts." having from early infancy been accustomed, both morning and evening, to offer up my prayers to god, and having, when in the wilds of nature, found in this practice much solace, i did not fail while with the indians to continue the custom; yet none of the people had hitherto taken any notice of my devotion. at length pecoe inquired my motives, asking what i expected to gain by the practice. i replied, that we had all daily wants, and that in the morning i petitioned the great spirit--my god---to supply them, and that in the evening i returned thanks for the protection and supplies i had received. i further explained, that prayer was the voice of sin to him who alone can pardon it; that it was the petition of poverty, the prostration of humility, the confidence of trust, the feeling of helplessness, and the compunctions of the soul. all this i put in the most simple form of language, and i have reason to think that he fully understood the feeling i endeavoured to convey. notwithstanding, he asked me whether i had not food enough to eat, and what it was the evil spirit had made me do that troubled me so much? [sidenote: conversation on prayer] in vain did i labour to impress his mind with a sense of the necessity there is for all to worship the giver of life and all other blessings, and that by intreating the one god to protect us, the value of his gifts was enhanced, and that there was an inexpressible delight in committing ourselves to the care and guidance of one who is infinitely able to protect us in the right path. "the spirit," said he, "is good, and will do nothing wrong--he will not listen to what you tell him." i replied by saying that we could not tell god of anything that he did not already know, and that prayer and thanksgiving were due from us all to one so beneficent. i then explained to him that his condition of darkness in religious matters was once the condition of all mankind, and that it was only by reflection, and the intercommunication of minds, that the little light our forefathers possessed was obtained, until at length god sent his only son to reveal the truth to us. i then repeated the lord's prayer, and promised to teach it to him in his own language if he would use it. he replied that he must have time to consider of it. a few days after he requested that i would not talk in that way any more to him, adding, that they were all my own sayings, meaning they were things of my own invention. "you have consulted your father," said i. he acknowledged that he had, laughing at the same time, as if i had been a subject of their ridicule. up to that moment i had flattered myself that i should have been spiritually of service to him, and perhaps through him, to more of his race. his father, however, was an enemy to civilized man, and inimical to innovations of every kind. it appeared from a traditional story, which pecoe subsequently related me, that at some former period these people had been visited by a party of missionaries, the particulars of which i an induced to give, as a caution to gentlemen who labour in such arduous undertakings as those of converting heathens to christianity. "some white men," said pecoe, "came here a long time since, and brought strange talk about the great spirit and his son, (that is, about our blessed saviour), to which our people agreed to listen, upon condition, that every time they attended they should receive a bottle of rum. they did attend," continued pecoe, "but in a short time the white men wanted them to come and listen for nothing, and so broke their contract." scrupulously punctual to their own engagements, the indians, immediately on the withholding of the rum, took a prejudice against the missionaries, which no subsequent conduct on the part of the latter could remove, or perhaps will ever efface from the memory of the former. thus has a stumblingblock been placed in the way of all future adventurers among them in the cause of christianity. as soon as i was made acquainted with these particulars, i resolved to undertake the defence of the missionaries' conduct, and at least, lessen the prejudice against them. with this view, i availed myself of the first large assemblage of the natives, and opened the subject by inquiring how long it was since the white men had visited them, which way they came, and lastly, by what road they returned? suggesting, that perhaps the same road might lead me to a european colony, where i might have a chance of hearing from my friends. [sidenote: defence of the missionaries] an aged indian replied to these inquiries, adding, that he had no great opinion of the white men who came there; and on asking how they had conducted themselves, he related the story in nearly the same words as i had heard it from pecoe. i then explained the good intentions of the persons who subscribed money to spread the truths of the gospel, and the great sacrifices made by those who consented to give up the charms of civilized life for the good of the poor unenlightened heathen. i then went on to say, that with respect to the presents of rum, it was natural, after the missionaries had taken the trouble to study their language, and to travel so far, to adopt any means to secure a hearing, without which, no good could possibly accrue to the objects of their mission. although, i continued, they might at first hold out some inducement to be heard, yet it was unreasonable to expect that persons so far away from home and their resources could continue to find the means of making repeated presents in order to tempt persons to their own good. when i had finished, some of the indians laughed, others shook their heads, indicating disapprobation, and a hint that i had better be silent. upon the whole, though i pushed the matter somewhat strongly, i failed in making any impression on the auditors. with regard to natural objects, i question if there be a more acute and observing people in the whole world; yet they are wholly a people of feelings, being evidently deficient in intellect. their imagination and understanding are both at a low ebb, as i could never extend their ideas beyond their own path of life. at times i gave pecoe credit for possessing a more lively imagination than others of his tribe; but as i knew more of him, this impression died away. in the highly cultivated walks of society, manhood is the period when the feelings are predominant. imagination prevails in youth, and the understanding in old age. these people are in the middle stage of progress; and as they possess the purest moral notions of right and wrong, cannot be incapable of receiving the truths of revealed religion. the highest degree of moral elevation can only be attained by carefully cherishing the more benevolent and kindlier feelings of nature; that is, by cultivating the good passions, and throwing into disuse the bad ones. the indians with whom i lived, effected these objects in a very high degree; for i never saw an instance of any violent exhibition of temper among them, and it was always a matter of astonishment to me to see how exceeding tractable their children were without severity on the part of the parents. in the moral sense of the word, they were good; and if they had been christians, would have been deemed examples for more refined nations. "a good man, and an angel! these between, how thin the barrier? what divides their fate? perhaps a moment, or perhaps a year; or, if an age, it is a moment still." the following anecdote will not only illustrate the kind feelings of the indian's heart, but also exhibit his delicacy in bestowing a favour. i had for some time been uneasy at not being able to contribute, by my exertions, a fair share towards the provisions of the common stock of those with whom i resided; and this uneasiness was frequently expressed to pecoe, the principal difficulty being the want of a canoe--for these vessels were not constructed in general to carry more than one person; i was thus precluded from sharing in the daily excursions on the water. [sidenote: gift of a canoe] pecoe, as i have said, knew that i felt this want, and one morning surprised and delighted me, after a walk in the woods, where he pointed out the silk cotton tree as the material out of which they made canoes. "why," exclaimed he, as he took a turn towards an inlet of the great river, "here is a canoe already made for you; come, help me to launch it, and let us see how it fits you when afloat." i had recently, for several long intervals, missed him, and having, when inquiring the cause of his absence, received equivocal replies, i thought it was occasioned by some duty connected with his family, and had in consequence forborne to notice it again. he had, however, been in the wood, fashioning a canoe for my use, being the most valuable present he could, at that juncture, have made me; and the manner in which he conducted the matter, considerably enhanced its value. i was now as rich in property as any of the natives, whose ambition seldom soars beyond the possession of a canoe and a stock of hunting and fishing implements, which my friend pecoe did not forget to provide with the canoe. my health being perfectly restored, i now joined in all the sports followed by the natives, having previously, at pecoe's earnest solicitation, learned to swim. time ran on smoothly, the morning invited me to the woods (my natural home) to hunt for game. "on a sweet shining morning, thus drawn out, it seem'd what man was made for, to look round and trace the full brook, that, with clamorous route, o'er fallen trees and roots, black curling, wound through glens, with wild brakes scatter'd all about." the days did not linger in their progress, nor did night arrive too soon, the changes being all attended with enjoyments. "night bringeth sleep to the forest deep, the forest bird to its nest, to care, bright hours, and dreams of flowers, and that balm to the weary--rest." discontent is man's great enemy. i believe that, constitutionally, i was fitted to enjoy any station to which the almighty, in his wisdom, might call me; yet even contentment may be carried to an extreme, and degenerate into apathy, or the want of a healthful spirit into indolence. soft leisure hath her charms, and the bliss of her votaries is to bask in summer rays through the day under the greenwood tree; but however soothing or pleasant this may be to the reflective mind, the common duties of life should not be neglected. i had parents, relations, and friends, all of whom had more or less been rendered unhappy by my loss in the woods; and i now became impressed with a notion that i had not been sufficiently active in using means for my restoration. i had indeed escaped the mazes of the forest by the inundation--an event in which the hand of providence was conspicuous; for had not the flood-gates of the firmament been opened, i might still have remained in my forest prison. i now asked myself why i did not stir and exert all the energies the same providence had bestowed on me, to reach the nearest european colony and seek advice as to the proper mode of proceeding to discover the home of my parents. all my moments of leisure were now filled up with self-reproaches. the deep solitude of the woods, i thought, had enchanted me, and now the wild charm of a free and roving life was weaning me from duty. these were errors which, i thought, demanded a rigid retribution; yet at intervals i was in no want of excuses to extenuate my conduct. i reflected on the extraordinary flexibility of our nature, which accommodates and adapts itself to all circumstances; and, that the reality of our existence is the present moment, the exigencies of which are inimical to prudent resolutions. of man's generic character there is much yet to be written; the change of climate, food, scenery, society, together with a thousand contingent circumstances that follow in their train, all produce effects unappreciable by those whose lives have been bounded by one circle. of all animals, man best endures the changes of food and climate. it therefore follows that his physical construction is more changeable; but in proportion as the body undergoes a change, and adapts itself to the circumstances of its situation, so will the feelings, temper, and mind also undergo some change, and more or less affect the character of the individual. [sidenote: forgetfulness of home] in reference to my own case, and the experience derived from it, this is the best solution i can give of the passive submission with which i accommodated myself to the manner of life into which my waywardness had cast me. if we pass from man to the influence of climate on other animals, the effect on dogs is very remarkable. in kamtschatka, instead of the dog being faithful and attached to his master, he is full of deceit and treachery; he does not bark in the hot parts of africa, nor in the extreme cold countries of the north; in greenland he loses his fitness for hunting and his character for docility. if this subject were pursued, it might be added that the african slaves, when removed from their own country to the west indies, undergo a marked change of character. the american settlers too, have changed in character since their first settlement in that country, as also have the anglo-new hollanders. the temperate zones appear to be the most favoured regions for the full development of the human powers, whether physical or moral, especially of the principle of sympathy, that vicegerent of the divine benevolence in our world, which is capable of binding up all the wounds that sin and death have introduced into it. as we are all, however, too much swayed by the considerations of pleasure and pain, it is probable, that had i been cast into regions subject to a rigorous winter, i should have been more anxious to have escaped from the forest. perpetual summer, however, beguiled me from my resolution, and being unprovided with a defence against ease and indolence, years passed on while i was only dreaming of home and friends. the hand of providence, notwithstanding, continued over me, and in a miraculous manner took me from savage life. the sun's departing red rays were shining on the surface of the river, as pecoe, myself, and three other youths were hastening in our canoes to reach home before night should set in, when i heard the stroke of oars, that indicated the approach of a boat's crew. i have before said that an inexplicable feeling came over me whenever i thought that i was in approximation with those who might be the means of conveying me again into civilized life. on this occasion i was for the moment paralysed. pausing to assure myself of the reality of the sounds, i heard pecoe and his companions calling to me to pull towards the opposite shore, from whence the sounds proceeded, and turning round to ascertain the direction they were pursuing, i caught sight of a long-boat, manned with ten sailors, just turning a point of land which had hitherto screened them from my view. the indians were still calling to me, but it was too late. with the usual celerity of british sailors, the boat in a few seconds was abreast of my canoe. the officer who commanded the crew pulled my canoe aft, and after scrutinizing my countenance, ejaculated, "the boatswain is right--an european; but not, as he supposed, a runaway convict; it's the wrong latitude for that kind of fish;" continuing, "come, young man, step into our boat: we are in want of some information with which you may furnish us." [sidenote: impressed on board an english ship] i hesitated, then made some reply in english, when one of the sailors exclaimed, "i told tom that he was a briton." "i am glad i have met with a countryman," resumed the officer, who held the canoe fast as he offered his hand to assist me into his own boat; but as i still hesitated, he affected to stumble, and in the action drew me over the bow of the canoe, which constrained me either to jump into the ship's boat or fall into the river. when seated beside the lieutenant, i had in some measure recovered from my surprise; i inquired whether the practice of pressing in the british navy was revived. "it is not," replied the lieutenant, "but i shall feel myself justified in detaining you until i have the particulars of your history, and learn especially what brought you into this part of the world." all this time the boat was proceeding down the river, and had carried me out of sight of my indian friends. when i informed the officer that i had been lost when a boy, he replied-"then you are now found; but have you a knowledge of this river?" "from hence upwards i have," said i. "having accompanied the indians in their farthest migrations." "make your mind easy," rejoined the officer, "i shall introduce you to the captain of our brig." it appeared that the boat had been sent out by a government brig which was on a survey in the river amazon, to ascertain the course of one of its tributaries. late in the evening of the following day we reached the ship, and when my story had been heard by the captain, he at once determined on taking me with him, saying that he should find means of sending me to berbice, the point, he judged, from which my father had started, and to which place he thought it probable my father would in the first instance transmit an account of my having been lost; and where also it was likely some arrangement had been made for providing me with the means of finding my way to his residence. the brig remained two months on the survey, and then sailed for halifax, crossing the mexican bay, where i had an opportunity of witnessing the extraordinary phenomena produced by a large body of fish that at one time surrounded the vessel. the sea was like one field of fireworks, all sparkling with serpents and silver spangles; the mind, when contemplating such scenes, is lost in amazement at the prodigious number of living things the regions of the sea contain. but whether the naturalist turns to the woods and the water, or explores the cloud-capt mountains, the sequestered cave, or the rocky cliffs, he will at first be embarrassed at the sight of the variety of objects that claim his attention; and it is only by learning how to distinguish them in a methodical manner that the mind can be brought to contemplate them in detail. on board the vessel i was supplied with a sailor's dress, but the force of habit was so strong that for a considerable time i could not wear it with any comfort to myself. the captain was faithful to his promise, and from halifax sent me in a merchant vessel to demerara, with a letter addressed to the british consul at that station. on my arrival i presented myself before that authority, who the next day produced a colonial newspaper in which i had seven years previously been advertised, and a reward offered for my recovery, and in which also the name of an agent was mentioned who would defray any costs incurred on the occasion. [sidenote: return to society] fortunately that gentleman was still in the colony, who, after satisfying himself of my identity, promised to avail himself of the earliest opportunity to restore me to my family. the location of my father's property was on the remote banks of a branch of the amazon river, to which few vessels traded, there was therefore no possibility of reaching it otherwise than overland, as the family had previously done. for some time after my arrival in demerara, i found myself an object of interest, receiving invitations from most of the respectable inhabitants; while my appearance in the streets excited a sensation. although i was much pleased with the opportunity of attending public worship, where i might collect and concentrate the scattered ideas i retained of my father's faith, yet the ceremonies and forms of society appeared ridiculous to me, and were very irksome. [sidenote: first sight of home] [sidenote: the brother and sister] [sidenote: rengal] i received marked attention and kindness from the gentleman who had been advertised as my father's agent, and an opportunity soon occurred for him to place me under safe escort to my home. two gentlemen were about to journey near to where my father resided, and they kindly undertook my safe conveyance. they were entrusted with a letter from the agent to my father, which was to be delivered into no other hands but his own. i can scarcely describe my delight when all was in readiness for our departure and we set out on our journey. my feelings of impatience grew more uncontrollable every day. the thoughts of home and the prospect of again beholding all i held dear on earth made my passage appear a lifetime;--tedious and protracted as it was i shall pass it over now, as it had no incident that was at all attractive to me--until we arrived at the amazon river, whose clear surface i hailed with indescribable delight, as i knew then we were not far from my father's estate. following its course for a day we arrived towards the afternoon at a plantation of cotton, the proprietor of which informed me that we were within two miles of my father's house. he had heard the particulars of my absence, but declined to comply with my request to go and inform the family of my arrival. the reason he assigned was that he had lately been engaged in a dispute with my father, and therefore could not undertake my mission--adding that the alteration in my appearance, living as i had from the age of thirteen to twenty in the wilderness, would be sufficient to prevent them from recognising me at first. i then inquired for my uncles, and was informed that one had sold his land and returned to england, and that the other (the widower) was dead. this unchristian man also informed me that, in his opinion, i had been given up as entirely lost by my family. as the day was advancing, i waited no longer to hold converse with him, but abruptly turned away, disgusted with his apathy and want of feeling. as we proceeded towards my home, i consulted with the two gentlemen who were my guides what course to adopt in breaking the intelligence of my return, to my family, as i felt a dread of presenting myself too precipitately after so long an absence, being naturally fearful that the shock would be more than my mother could sustain. we deemed it prudent, therefore, to send the letter by one of my guides, while i waited the result close by. our precautions, however, were not carried into effect, as an incident occurred which rendered them unnecessary. i had arrived in sight of my father's habitation, and paused on a slight eminence to contemplate with mingled feelings of surprise, delight, and fear, the spot made sacred by the affections which were centred there, with all the ties which bound me to the world--that spot which, from the meanest to the noblest in every land, is the only haven of refuge from the troubles and travail in this life, and which finds a ready response in every heart by the one magic word--home! i had not felt its cheering influence for now more than six years. an outcast and a wanderer for that period, how often in the loneliness of my forest life had i yearned to be again restored to it, and to find, like the dove of old, a place of refuge and rest--an ark, and a covenant. but now, as the fruition of my hopes appeared to be realized, i paused, spell-bound and overpowered by the many conflicting feelings which the sight of it had conjured up. the memory of all the incidents of my early life--the days of childhood--the school-boy troubles--the many acts of parental kindness evinced in a thousand ways--were all pictured to my sight in one rapid glance. and then the terrible foreboding presented itself, that i might not find my family circle as i had left them--alive and in health. in the history of the world six years is but a speck of time; but with individuals the case is widely different. i had lost one uncle, and the fear came across me that my loss might not be ended thus. i almost dreaded to make the inquiry, as i felt incapable of bearing such a calamity. it was a beautiful mansion which lay before me. the large and well-built house, surrounded with thick foliage--the carefully cultivated grounds surrounding it--the broad and extensive landscape beyond of richly wooded hill and dale--the wide and meandering river by whose banks i had been guided thither--gave to the scene a lofty grandeur. while standing thus irresolute, a young man of some five or six and twenty was advancing towards us; he had on his arm a female, with whom he appeared to be chatting familiarly. i watched them as they came near us, and from the young man's appearance judged him to be one of the settlers here. as they approached, i heard their voices more distinctly. that of the female fell upon my ear in well remembered tones. there could be no mistaking them, i knew it to be the voice of my sister. but ah! how changed she was. the laughing merry girl had grown into a staid and matronly woman. i could hardly believe it possible; but to assure myself, i inquired of her companion if that was the residence of mr. howard. my sister started as i spoke, turned pale, and looked at me intently. i suppose i was changed; indeed, there was but little doubt of that--but changed as i was, she could not be deceived. she trembled, and would have fallen, had i not caught her in my arms in a fond embrace. the first surprise over, she laughed and cried by turns, and overwhelmed me with caresses. then the numberless inquiries she had to make! one after the other in such rapid succession, without waiting for replies. i know not what the three spectators of the scene must have thought; but no doubt they deemed her frantic, and, indeed, for the time, i believe she was. my first inquiry was about my parents. they were both well. she had left them a few minutes previously. her companion she introduced to me as her husband. she told me, also, that she had two children, a little boy and girl. we arranged our plan, if it could be called arrangement, where all was mad delight; she insisted that my two guides should go home with her husband for that evening, as his house was close by, and deliver the letter in the morning, while she and myself went home to our parents. when we had arrived at the house, i detained her from entering until i had peeped in at the window to take a glance at its inmates. there was a light in the interior, and i could observe all distinctly. i saw my father seated in a comfortable apartment, quite unconscious of any one observing them. my father was reading aloud one of the local papers. he wore spectacles; i remember to have been struck with this, otherwise, my mother and he were not at all changed. the same as i had left them--the old familiar faces, remembered from earliest childhood--the old familiar faces, it made a child of me again to gaze on them. presently my sister entered, and from her hurried manner and sudden return, they seemed surprised. she said something, i did not know what, but my father rose, and hastily throwing down the paper, gazed wonderingly on my sister. i waited no longer--another moment--i was on my knees before my mother, buried in her embrace. she wept over me, her truant boy, tears of joy. who of us has not felt the depth and purity of a mother's love? who hath not found, be his errors what they might, that there was one gentle spirit to turn to, ever ready to pardon, protect, and solace? i felt the force of this doubly then. and now, when past the meridian of my life, i look back through the long vista of the past, the self-devotedness of a mother's love shines forth as something "which lighted up my way of life," never to be forgotten. my father could scarcely find utterance, from excess of joy at my return. i recounted to him a brief summary of all i had gone through since i had been lost, and half that night was passed in the details of my story. my sister did not return to her own home till the following morning, when i accompanied her. another surprise awaited me. i saw rengal and his father working on our estate. they had become devoted and trustworthy servants of the family, being employed as free labourers. it seemed that my father had instituted a vigorous search for me, and had engaged them many months for that purpose, believing their acquaintance with the country would be of infinite service in the undertaking. their labours, however, proved fruitless, as my reader already knows. ultimately, pleased with their faithful conduct, and evident anxiety to accomplish my restoration, he engaged them as assistants on his farm, where they had remained ever since. their surprise and extravagant delight when i made myself known, exceeded all bounds; and although, perhaps, i compromised my dignity, i was obliged, in spite of myself, to burst out into a fit of immoderate laughter. there was a degree of comicality about these people which was perfectly irresistible, the more so, as they could not at all comprehend it themselves. the old negro informed me that he had discovered his daughter, and my sister's husband had purchased her freedom, and engaged her as a domestic in his house. * * * * * many years have rolled on since the incidents described in this narrative occurred. time has been busy with his ceaseless works and wondrous changes. our little settlement has now sprung up into a large and thriving city, in whose streets are seen a throng of busy men. our river bears upon its bosom many argosies freighted with the merchandise of every clime. our meadows are ploughed into furrows by the hand of the skilful husbandman, and returning autumn sees them laden with the products of cultivated nature. the giant, steam, is made a slave to man. and is seen at work on the mill--the mine--the forge--and rail; and everywhere marks of the master spirit, industry, are visible in our town. for myself, i am rich in the possession of all the blessings of domestic life, with an amiable and loving partner and dutiful children. i am respected as a thriving merchant, and i hope as a worthy friend. my parents, i am happy to say, still cheer me with their presence and advice; and if this, the narrative of my earlier years, should awaken the youthful mind to a sense of self-reliance and dependence under all trials and vicissitudes, and make manifest the bounteous providence of a wise and beneficent creator, my labours will not have been spent in vain. the end. [transcriber's note: in this etext, the source book's variant page headings have been converted to sidenotes and positioned where most logical.] the modern library of the world's best books jungle peace _turn to the end of this volume for a complete list of titles in the modern library_ jungle peace by william beebe foreword by theodore roosevelt [illustration: (publisher's logo)] the modern library publishers :: :: new york _copyright, 1920, by_ henry holt & co. _manufactured in the united states of america_ _bound for_ the modern library _by h. wolff_ to colonel and mrs. theodore roosevelt i offer this volume with deepest friendship note with three exceptions these chapters have appeared in the pages of _the atlantic monthly_, and i publish them through the kindness of the editor, ellery sedgwick. "hoatzins at home" is adapted from a title in my _tropical wild life_, volume i, published by the new york zoölogical society, which deals with the more technical results of study at the research station. the illustrations are from my own photographs, except the frontispiece and those facing pages 162, 186, and 268, which were taken by paul g. howes. all the chapters dealing with the jungle relate to bartica district, british guiana, except x, which refers to pará at the mouth of the amazon. foreword mr. beebe's volume is one of the rare books which represent a positive addition to the sum total of genuine literature. it is not merely a "book of the season" or "book of the year"; it will stand on the shelves of cultivated people, of people whose taste in reading is both wide and good, as long as men and women appreciate charm of form in the writings of men who also combine love of daring adventure with the power to observe and vividly to record the things of strange interest which they have seen. nothing like this type of book was written until within the last century and a half. books of this kind can only be produced in a refined, cultivated, civilized society. in rude societies there may be much appreciation of outdoor life, much fierce joy in hunting, much longing for adventurous wandering, but the appreciation and joy are inarticulate; for in such societies the people who write are generally not the people who act, and they express emotions by words as conventional as egyptian hieroglyphics. in the popular poetry which has come down to us from early times, in the ballads of britain and france, and the folk songs of the russian and turkish steppes, there are occasional lines which bring before us the song birds in spring, in the merry greenwood, or the great flocks of water fowl on the ponds of the plains of green grass; but they are merely a few words of incidental description of the land through which the hero rides to foray and battle. we do not pass much beyond this stage even with chaucer and the minnesingers; and although the heroes of the nibelungenlied were mighty hunters, those who described their deeds knew nothing of the game, even of their own forests. there were sovereigns of nineveh whose devotion to the bolder forms of the chase was a passion; and kings and queens of memphis and thebes who with absorbed and intelligent curiosity sought for information about the life of far-off lands; but their laborious writings, if they did not deal with business contracts, were generally concerned only with boastful annals or religious ritual. hitherto there have been only two periods of western history in which both the art of expression, and the breadth of interest among cultivated men, grew to a point which permitted the cultivated man to turn back to the life of the open which his inarticulate ancestor had gradually abandoned, and to enjoy, appreciate, and describe it. one of these periods included the society which enjoyed theocritus and the society which applauded the country poems of virgil. the other includes our own time, and may roughly be said to have begun when the rise of writers like pope showed that english eighteenth century society had at last regained the level of the ancient society which enjoyed cicero and horace and pliny; in france the advance had been more rapid. it was not until the end of the eighteenth century that there appeared (in primitive form, of course, as with all early types) "nature books" and books of natural history, big game hunting and adventures in out-of-the-way lands. in the middle ages there had been many "beastiaries," in which the natural history was for the most part fabulous; and many french and german, and some italian, spanish, and english hunting books, which were for the most part as stiff and technical as treatises on farriery. but bruce and le vaillant at last foreshadowed the wilderness--wanderers, half explorers, half big game hunters, of our own day; with gilbert white, there appeared the first book of literary work by a stay-at-home lover of nature and natural history; and a century ago waterton's "wanderings" marked the beginning of the literature wherein field naturalists who are also men of letters and men of action have described for us the magic and interest, the terror and beauty of the far-off wilds where nature gives peace to bold souls and inspires terror in the mind. gilbert white and waterton added in new ways to the sum of achievement of men of letters. each made a contribution to literature as new and distinctive as the idylls of theocritus--it is not necessary to compare the worth of two kinds of literary work, and in speaking of theocritus i am making no such comparison, but merely indicating that literature may be literature even although of a totally new type. the new literature, of appreciative love of nature and of hardy outdoor life, will appeal only to the never very extensive class which neither ignorantly believes that literature is purely an affair of the lamp and the library, nor ignorantly proclaims its own shortcomings and conceit by boasting that it does not value books because, forsooth, it is too "red-blooded" to care for anything except action. a really first-class hunting book, for instance, ought to be written by a man of prowess and adventure, who is a fair out-of-doors naturalist; who loves nature, who loves books, and who possesses the gift of seeing what is worth seeing and of portraying it with vivid force and yet with refinement. such men are rare; and it is not always easy for them to command an audience. in his own much larger field mr. beebe is just such a man; and he has such marked ability that he can make and command his audience. exactly as john burroughs is the man who has carried to its highest point of development the school in which gilbert white was the first scholar, so beebe is the man who has turned into a new type of higher literature the kind of work first produced by waterton. nothing of this kind could have been done by the man who was only a good writer, only a trained scientific observer, or only an enterprising and adventurous traveler. mr. beebe is not merely one of these, but all three; and he is very much more in addition. he possesses a wide field of interest; he is in the truest sense of the word a man of broad and deep cultivation. he cares greatly for noble architecture and noble poetry; for beautiful pictures and statues and finely written books. nor are his interests only concerned with nature apart from man and from the works of man. he possesses an extraordinary sympathy with and understanding of mankind itself, in all its myriad types and varieties. in this book, and in his other recent writing (for i wish to draw a sharp line in favor of what he has recently written as compared with his earlier and more commonplace work), some of his most interesting descriptions are of the wild folk he meets in the wilderness--black or yellow, brown or red--and of some nominally tamer folk with whom he has foregathered in civilization. i don't know in which category, civilization or savagery, the trenches at the front ought to come; but mr. beebe, a man of deeds as well as of books, knows the trenches and the people in them, and the pathetic or pitiful or else wholly brave and admirable people back of them; and his sketches of some of them and of their deeds and of the by-products of war as waged today are wholly admirable. lowell, praising the elizabethans as both doers and writers, spoke of ben jonson's having trailed a pike in the lowlands, and of kenelm digby's having illustrated a point in physics by the effects of the concussion of the guns in the sea fight in which he took part off scanderoon. beebe, as bomber, has sailed in planes over the german lines; in company with a french officer he has listened to a wolf howl just back of the fighting front; he has gone with iroquois indians into the no man's land between the trenches of the mightiest armies the world has ever seen. this volume was written when the writer's soul was sick of the carnage which has turned the soil of northern france into a red desert of horror. to him the jungle seemed peaceful, and the underlying war among its furtive dwellers but a small thing compared to the awful contest raging among the most highly civilized of the nations of mankind. it is the same feeling that makes strong men, who have sickened of the mean and squalid injustice of so much of life in the centres of material progress, turn with longing to the waste places where no paths penetrate the frowning or smiling forests and no keels furrow the lonely rivers. the jungle he herein describes is that of guiana; and in the introductory chapters he gives cameos of what one sees sailing southward through the lovely islands where the fronds of the palms thrash endlessly as the warm trade blows. he knows well and intimately malaysia and the east indian islands, and ceylon and farther india and mid-china and the stupendous mountain masses of the himalayas. all of these he will some time put before us, in volumes not one of which can be spared from the library of any man who loves life and literature. this is the first of these volumes. in it are records of extraordinary scientific interest, in language which has all the charm of an essay of robert louis stevenson. he tells of bird and beast and plant and insect; of the hoatzin, a bird out of place in the modern world, a bird which comes down unchanged from a time when birds merely fluttered instead of flying--and had only recently learned to flutter instead of gliding. whatever he touches he turns into the gold of truth rightly interpreted and vividly set forth--as witness his extraordinary account of the sleeping parlor of certain gorgeous tropic butterflies. if i had space i would like to give an abstract of the whole book. as it is i merely advise all who love good books, very good books, at once to get this book of mr. beebe. theodore roosevelt. reprinted from the _new york times_. review of books. contents chapter page i jungle peace 3 ii sea-wrack 5 iii islands 33 iv the pomeroon trail 66 v a hunt for hoatzins 92 vi hoatzins at home 123 vii a wilderness laboratory 140 viii the convict trail 177 ix with army ants "somewhere" in the jungle 211 x a yard of jungle 239 xi jungle night 263 index 295 jungle peace i jungle peace after creeping through slime-filled holes beneath the shrieking of swift metal, after splashing one's plane through companionable clouds three miles above the little jagged, hero-filled ditches, and dodging other sudden-born clouds of nauseous fumes and blasting heart of steel; after these, one craves thoughts of comfortable hens, sweet apple orchards, or ineffable themes of opera. and when nerves have cried for a time 'enough' and an unsteady hand threatens to turn a joy stick into a sign post to charon, the mind seeks amelioration--some symbol of worthy content and peace--and for my part, i turn with all desire to the jungles of the tropics. if one looks the jungle straight in the face and transcribes what is seen, there is evolved technical science, and until this can be done with accuracy and discretion, one can never feel worthy now and then, of stealing quietly up a side aisle of the great green wonderland, and, as i have done in these pages, looking obliquely at all things, observing them as actors and companions rather than as species and varieties; softening facts with quiet meditation, leavening science with thoughts of the sheer joy of existence. it should be possible occasionally to achieve this and yet to return to science enriched and with enthusiasm, and again to play some little part in the great physical struggle--that wonderful strife which must give to future peace and contentment new appreciation, a worthier enjoyment. it is possible to enter a jungle and become acutely aware of poison fang and rending claw--much as a pacifist considers the high adventure of righteous war. but it is infinitely more wonderful and altogether satisfying to slip quietly and receptively into the life of the jungle, to accept all things as worthy and reasonable; to sense the beauty, the joy, the majestic serenity of this age-old fraternity of nature, into whose sanctuary man's entrance is unnoticed, his absence unregretted. the peace of the jungle is beyond all telling. ii sea-wrack suspended in the naked air eight thousand feet above new york, i look down and see the city and its inhabitants merged into one. from this height the metropolis is less interesting and hardly more noticeable than many tropical ants' nests which have come under my observation. circling slowly earthward, i have watched the city split apart into its canyon streets, and have finally distinguished the caterpillars which i knew were trains, and the black beetles which must be automobiles. last, and apparently least, were resolved a multitude of tiny specks, weird beings all hats and legs, which were undoubtedly the makers and owners of these beetles and worms and canyons. in many similar bird's-eye-views of the city one phase of activity always amuses and thrills. circling as low as i dare, bumped and jolted by the surging uprush of invisible spouts of warm air, i head, like a frigate-bird, straight into the teeth of the wind and hang for a time parallel with the streaming lines of gray and white smoke. near the margin of the city where the glittering water reaches long fingers in between the wharves, a crowd of people push, antwise, down to the brink. many burdened individuals pass and repass over slender bridges or gang-planks, for all the world like leaf-cutting ants transporting their booty over twigs and grass stems. then comes a frantic waving of antennæ, (or are they handkerchiefs), and finally part of the wharf detaches itself and is slowly separated from the city. now i can mount higher to a less dangerous altitude and watch the ship become a drifting leaf, then a floating mote, to vanish at last over a curve of the world. i cease chuckling into the roar of my motor; my amusement becomes all thrill. the gods shift and change: yoharneth-lahai leaves me, and in his place comes slid, with the hand of roon beside me on the wheel. i hasten hangarwards with the gulls which are beating towards their roosting sands of far long island beaches. on some future day i in my turn, scurry up a gang-plank laden with my own particular bundles, following days of haste and nights of planning. i go out on the upper deck of the vessel, look upward at a gull and think of the amusing side of all the fuss and preparation, the farewells, the departure, which sufficient perspective gives. and then i look ahead, out toward the blue-black ocean, and up again to the passing gulls, and the old, yet ever new thrill of travel, of exploration, possesses me. even if now the thrill is shared by none other, if i must stand alone at the rail watching the bow dip to the first swell outside the harbor, i am yet glad to be one of the ants which has escaped from the turmoil of the great nest, to drift for a while on this tossing leaf. at the earnest of winter--whether biting frost or flurry of snowflakes--a woodchuck mounts his little moraine of trampled earth, looks about upon the saddening world, disapproves, and descends to his long winter's sleep. an exact parallel may be observed in the average passenger. as the close perspective of home, of streets, of terrestrial society slips away, and his timid eyes gaze upon the unwonted sight of a horizon--a level horizon unobstructed by any obstacles of man's devising, mental and physical activity desert him: he hibernates. he swathes himself, larva-like--in many wrappings, and encases himself in the angular cocoons furnished for the purpose at one dollar each by the deck steward; or he haunts the smoking room, and under the stimulus of unaccustomed beverages enters into arguments at levels of intelligence and logic which would hardly tax the powers of pithecanthropus or a bushman. from the moment of sailing i am always impressed with the amusing terrestrial instincts of most human beings. they leave their fellows and the very wharf itself with regret, and no sooner are they surrounded by old ocean than their desires fly ahead to the day of freedom from this transitory aquatic prison. en route, every thought, every worry, every hope is centripetal. the littlenesses of ship life are magnified to subjects of vital importance, and so perennial and enthusiastic are these discussions that it seems as if the neighbor's accent, the daily dessert, the sempiternal post-mortem of the bridge game, the home life of the stewardess, must contain elements of greatness and goodness. with a few phonograph records it would not be a difficult matter to dictate in advance a satisfactory part in the average conversation at the captain's table. the subjects, almost without exception, are capable of prediction, the remarks and points of view may be anticipated. occasionally a passenger detaches his mind from the ship and its doings long enough to take note of something happening beyond the rail--some cosmic phenomenon which he indicates with unerring finger as a beautiful sunset, frequently reassuring himself of our recognition by a careful enumeration of his conception of the colors. or a school of dolphins undulates through two mediums, and is announced, in a commendably adam-like, but quite inaccurate spirit, as porpoises or young whales. mercury, setting laggardly in the west, is gilded anew by our informant as a lightship, or some phare off cape imagination. we shall draw a veil or go below, when an "average citizen" begins to expound the stars and constellations. all this is only amusing, and with the limited interest in the ship and the trip which the usual passenger permits himself, he still derives an amazing amount of pleasure from it all. it is a wonderful child-like joy, whether of convincingly misnaming stars, enthusiastically playing an atrocious game of shuffle-board, or estimating the ship's log with methods of cunning mathematical accuracy, but hopeless financial results. all these things i have done and shall doubtless continue to do on future voyages, but there is an additional joy of striving to break with precedent, to concentrate on the alluring possibilities of new experiences, new discoveries, on board ship. if the vessel is an oasis in a desert, or in a "waste of waters" as is usually announced at table about the second or third day out, then i am a true arab, or, to follow more closely the dinner simile, a jonah of sorts, for my interest is so much more with the said waste, or the things in it and above it, than with my swathed, hibernating fellow mortals. precedent on board ship is not easily to be broken, and much depends on the personality of the captain. if he has dipped into little-known places all over the world with which you are familiar, or if you show appreciation of a captain's point of view, the battle is won. a few remarks about the difficulty of navigation of nippon's inland sea, a rebuke of some thoughtless idiot at table who hopes for a storm; such things soon draw forth casual inquiries on his side, and when a captain begins to ask questions, the freedom of the chart-room is yours, and your unheard-of requests which only a naturalist could invent or desire, will not fail of fulfilment. i am off on a voyage of two weeks to british guiana and i begin to ponder the solution of my first problem. the vessel plows along at a ten-knot rate, through waters teeming with interesting life and stopping at islands where every moment ashore is of thrilling scientific possibility. by what means can i achieve the impossible and study the life of this great ocean as we slip rapidly through it--an ocean so all-encompassing, yet to a passenger, so inaccessible. day after day i scan the surface for momentary glimpses of cetaceans, and the air for passing sea birds. even the rigging, at certain seasons, is worth watching as a resting place for migrating birds. the extreme bow is one of the best points of vantage, but the spot of all spots for an observer is the appropriately named crow's nest, high up on the foremast. you have indeed won the captain over to your bizarre activities when he accords permission to climb the swaying ratlines and heave yourself into that wonderful place. it is tame enough when compared with piloting a plane among the clouds, but it presents an enormous expanse of ocean compared with the humble deck view. here you can follow the small whales or blackfish down and down long after they have sounded; with your binoculars you can see every detail of the great floating turtles. and when the sun sinks in glory which is terrible in its grandeur, you may let it fill your senses with wordless ecstasy, without fear of interpretive interruption. save for the other matchstick mast and the spider-web ratlines, the horizon is unbroken. many years ago i spent a night in the torch of the statue of liberty and each time i dozed, the twenty odd inch arch through which the lofty structure swayed, awoke me again and again, being changed, behind one's closed lids, into a single motion, apparently that of a gradually accelerated fall to earth. in the crow's nest, when the ship is rolling, i can often conjure up the same feeling when my eyes are shut, but now i react to a new stimulus and instinctively reach for a steering rod, as the sensation is that of a wing slip, consequent upon too slow progress of an aeroplane. among the luggage which i take on board is invariably a large, eight-pronged, iron grapple, with a long coil of rope. these the stewards eye askance when they place them in my cabin, and hold whispered consultations as to their possible use. it is by no accident or chance that before the third day i have won the attention and a certain amount of interest of the captain and have obtained permission to put his vessel to a novel use. about the fourth day, from the upper deck or the ship's bow, i begin to see floating patches of seaweed--gulfweed or sargasso as it is called. for the most part this appears as single stems or in small rounded heads, awash with the surface. but as we proceed southward larger masses appear, and then, with my assistant, i get my crude apparatus ready. we fasten one end of the coil of rope to the rail of the lowest open deck forward, and then i mount the rail, securing a good grip with legs and feet. as a cowboy on a fractious horse gathers the loops of his lariat for the throw, so i estimate my distance and balance myself for the propitious moment. now if not before, the audience gathers. it is flattering to see how quickly my performance will empty the smoking room, put an end to bridge games and fill the deck chairs with deserted, outspread yellow-backs. as dangerous rival attractions, i admit only boat-drill and the dinner gong! my whole object is of course to secure as much as possible of the sargasso weed together with its strange inhabitants, and to this end i have tramped the decks of steamers with the patience of the pedestrian of chillon. i have learned the exact portions of the vessels where the strain is the least, and where the water, outflung from the bow is redrawn most closely to the vessel's side. i have had overheavy grapples dragged from my hand and barely escaped following the lost instrument. i have seen too-light irons skip along the surface, touching only the high spots of the waves. as one drops one's aerial bomb well in advance of the object aimed at, so i have had to learn to adjust the advance of my cast to the speed of the ship. i make throw after throw in vain, and my audience is beginning to jeer and to threaten to return to the unfinished no trumps, or the final chapter of "the lure of love." near the water level as i am, i can yet see ahead a big 'slick' of golden brown, and i wait. but the bow dips farther and farther away and i almost give up hope. then i look up appealingly to the bridge and catch a twinkle in the captain's eye. even as i look he motions to the wheelman and the second succeeding dip of the bow slews it nearer the aquatic golden field. still more it swings to starboard and at last crashes down into the very heart of the dense mass of weed. the frothing water alongside is thick with the tangle of floating vegetation, and it is impossible to miss. i throw and lean far over, dragging the grapple until its arms are packed full. then with all my strength i draw up, hand over hand, leaning far out so it will not bang against the side, and dump the dripping mass on the deck. my helper instantly frees the prongs and i make a second cast and get another rich haul before the last of the field of weed drifts astern and tarnishes the emerald foam of the propeller churned wake. for a few minutes there is wild excitement. my audience dances and shouts with enthusiasm from the upper rails, members of the crew appear and help me pursue agile crabs and flopping fish about the deck. even the surly old mate roars down news of another batch of weed ahead, and i curb my curiosity and again mount my precarious roost. in the course of several days i acquire a wonderful sunburn, considerable accuracy in flinging my octodont, and finally a series of tumblers of very interesting specimens, which furnish me with many new facts, and my fellow passengers with the means to kill much of that embarrassing concomitant of ocean voyages--time. an amazing amount of fiction and nonsense has been written about the sargasso weed, but the truth is actually more unbelievable. though we see it in such immense patches, and although for days the ocean may be flecked with the scattered heads of the weed, yet it is no more at home in mid-ocean than the falling leaves in autumn may claim as their place of abode, the breeze which whirls them about, or the moss upon which at last they come to rest. along the coast of central america the sargasso weed grows, clinging, as is the way with seaweeds, to coral and rock and shell, and flowering and fruiting after its lowly fashion. the berry-like bladders with which the stems are strung, are filled with gas and enable the plants to maintain their position regardless of the state of the tide. vast quantities are torn away by the waves and drift out to sea and these stray masses are what we see on every trip south, and which, caught in the great mid-ocean eddy, form the so-called sargasso sea. just as the unfailing fall of dead leaves has brought about a forest loving clique of brown and russet colored small folk--frogs, crickets, lizards, birds and mammals which spend much of their life hiding beneath or living upon the brown dead leaves, so this never-ending drift of weed has evolved about it a little world of life, a microcosmos of great intimacy, striving by imitation of frond and berry and color to avoid some of the host of enemies forever on the lookout. it is possible to place a bit of weed in a tumbler of salt water and have a dozen people examine it without seeing anything but a yellowish brown frond with many long, narrow leaves and a number of berry-like structures. here and there are patches of thin ivory-white shells--tiny whorls glued closely to the surface of the leaves. yet on this same small piece of weed there may be several good-sized crabs, slug-like creatures, shrimps and a fish two or three inches in length. until they move, the eye is powerless to detach them. no two are alike; the little frog-fish is mottled and striped, with many small flabby filaments, and apparently ragged fins, with curious hand-like fore limbs which clutch the fronds closely. the pipe-fish and sea-horses are draped and ragged, and splashed with yellow and brown, the slugs are simply flaccid stems or leaves, and the crabs are beyond belief, living bits of weed. some are clear yellow, others are mottled, others again have white enameled spots like the small masses of tiny shells. the little shrimps are mere ghosts of life, transparent, yielding to every movement of the water--altogether marvelous. then there are other beings, blue like the sea, white like the foam, or translucent bits of disembodied organs. this is all absorbingly wonderful, but the unreality of this little world's existence, the remembrance of its instability is always present, and the tragedy of the immediate future looms large. the weed along the coast is honest growth, with promise of permanence. the great floating sargasso sea is permanent only in appearance, and when finally the big masses drift, with all their lesser, attendant freight into the gulf stream, then life becomes a sham. there can be no more fruiting or sustained development of gas-filled berries. no eggs of fish or crabs will hatch, no new generation of sea-horses or mollusks appear among the stems. bravely the fronds float along, day by day the hundred little lives breathe and feed and cling to their drifting home. but soon the gas berries decay and the fronds sink lower and lower. as the current flows northward, and the water becomes colder the crabs move less rapidly, the fish nibble less eagerly at the bits of passing food. soon a sea-horse lets go and falls slowly downward, to be snapped up at once or to sink steadily into the eternal dusk and black night of deeper fathoms. soon the plant follows and like all its chilled pensioners, dies. the supply from the sargasso sea seems unfailing, but one's sympathies are touched by these little assemblages, so teeming with the hope of life, all doomed by the current which is at once their support, their breath and their kismet. but all these creatures, interesting as they are, form but a tithe of the life existing around and beneath the ship. night after night i lean over the bow and watch the phosphorescence flare and flash beneath the surface, the disturbance of the steamer's approach springing a myriad of these floating mines, whose explosions, gentler than those of human make, merely vibrate into a splendor of visibility. how to capture these tiny beings which the eye can scarcely resolve is a matter far more difficult than the netting of the seaweed. i try to plan, then give it up. i walk restlessly over the vessel, seeking some method. but, as is often the case, nature had fairly to force the solution upon me. thoreau says somewhere, "a trout in the milk is pretty good circumstantial evidence," and in similar guise i saw the light. early one morning i was paddling in my salt-water bath, thinking of the coming week when i should be able to dive into island harbors from the deck, when i sat up suddenly at the sight of a tiny fish disporting himself with me in the tub. at least i needed no further hint, and as i scooped up the little being my plan was made. by exhaustive inquiry among the feminine portion of the passengers i obtained possession of a small square of a very fine-meshed fabric something like bolting cloth. in the evening, with the assurance of a small monetary liaison with the bath steward, i tied this bit of cloth over the salt-water nozzle and carefully set the faucet so that a dribble of water trickled forth. in the morning the cloth strainer contained a small blob of grayish jelly. this i dropped into a tumbler and saw the water cloud with an opalescent mist of a myriad motes and i knew that my plan was successful. no matter how tempestuous the sea, or at what speed the ship throbbed through the water, i would always be able to gather any amount of the wonderful floating life of the ocean--the phosphorescent plankton--for my microscope. again, aside from my own edification, i was able to give some thrills to my fellow passengers, and i have had twenty or more lined up for a squint at the weird things of the open sea. in spite of my reassurances, there was reported to be less enthusiasm for the daily bath, and much suspicious inspection of the clear ocean tub water as a result of glimpses of the concentrated cosmos in my tumblers. i can recall many similar diversions and discoveries of new possibilities of life on board ship, but one brings memories of especial delight. next to the crow's nest the bow is, for me, the place of greatest joy--the spot where each moment one's eyes reach forward into a trackless, unexplored field of view; a heaving, translucent no man's land, fraught with potentialities such as sea-serpents. long had i pondered the possibility of getting nearer the fascinating bit of unbroken water just ahead. at last a scheme unfolded itself, but not until a following trip when i had made all preparations did i venture to ask permission of the captain. for i knew better than to wish to add anything to the responsibility of this official. when he had become used to my eccentric use of the deck and the bath tubs, i unfolded my new plan, and thanks to my preparation, met with no opposition. i had a waistcoat made of stout leather straps, with a heavy ring behind to which i attached a strong rope. this tethered to the rail, in the extreme bow, enabled me to swarm safely down until i reached the flukes of the great anchor. seating myself comfortably, i lashed my leather straps fast, and was ready for work with glass or net or camera. of course this was possible only on comparatively calm days, but when the sea was mirror-like, with only the low, heaving swells bending its surface, and the flying fish flushed before us in schools, then i had days of good sport. this novel method of anchor perching led indirectly to the solution of a very different puzzle. i had been thinking and talking of the congested turmoil of the great city far below the horizon to the north. looking back on a year in its midst, memory, aroused by present contrasts, registered sham, insincerity, deceit, illusion, veneer as dominant notes in civilization. in an argument one evening i had held that deceit or illusion was not of necessity evil, nor when unconsciously self-imposed, even reprehensible. the next day i instanced a rather apt example. our very knowledge, our mental mastery leads us to false sensory assertions, which become so universal that they develop into apparent truisms. only by a distinct effort may we summon them to consciousness and correctly orient them. it is not without a wrench that we set aside the evidence of our senses and realize the proof which physics offers. we watch the glorious "sunset" and to disillusion our minds require to repeat again and again that it is the earth which is heaving upward, the horizon which is eclipsing the sun and the sky of day. i once persuaded a group of passengers to speak only of the evening's "earth-rise" and in three or four days this term had become reasonable, and almost lost its strangeness. one finds numerous examples of these sensory deceits at sea; our senses are at fault in every direction. the wind flutters the fins of the flying fish and we think they actually fly. the tropic sea, under the palest of green skies, is saturated ultramarine, save where the propellers churn it to pea-green, yet in our bath the water is clear and colorless. my most interesting oceanic illusion, was a personal one, a result of memory. i looked about the ship and felt that this at least was wholly sincere; it was made to fulfil every function and it achieved its destiny day by day, finally and completely. i had never sailed on a vessel of this name before, the "yamaro," and yet at certain moments an oblique glance brought a flash of memory, of a familiar hatchway, a rail which fitted snugly under one's elbows, a stretch of open deck which seemed too much of a known path for these few days' acquaintance. as i talked with the trinidad negro lookout on the forward deck, i saw a brass coolie plate roll out of the galley, and i wondered. there were only negroes among the crew. then one day i donned my leather waistcoat and climbed down to my anchor flukes, and my mystery was solved. in clear new letters the name of the vessel appeared along the side of the bow above me, but a second glance showed me something else: a palimpsest of old corroded sites of four letters, painted out, which once had sent their message to so many inquiring eyes: pegu. long ago, on trips of unalloyed happiness, i had traveled between colombo and rangoon on this selfsame steamer, which now, caught in some unusual stress of distant demand of war, had with her sister ships been taken from her route in the far east and settled to her new routine. so even the ship beneath me was not what she had seemed, and yet her deceit and illusion were harmless, wholly without guile, and i began to wonder whether my unfriendly thoughts of the great city behind me were quite fair. the carven wodens and brünnhildes who guarded the fortunes of old viking ships, watched the icy arctic waters forever cleft beneath them and felt the sting of flying splinters of ice; the figureheads of gloucester merchantmen of old, with wind blown draperies and pious hands, counted the daily and monthly growth of barnacles, and noted the lengthening of the green fronds on the hull below. one day i lay in the great arms of an anchor, beneath a prosaic bow; myself the only figurehead, peering gargoyle-wise over the new-painted steel. far below, in place of wooden virgin or muscled neptune, there appeared only four numbers, 2, 3, 4 and 25. even these, however, yielded to imagination when i remembered that the light cargo which made them visible was due to the need of sugar by soldiers in far distant trenches. the great unlovely bow rose and reached forward and settled until, as i lay face downward, our speed seemed increased many fold. and i wondered if the set wooden expression which always marked the figurehead ladies and gods had not its origin in the hypnotic joy of forever watching the molten cobalt crash into alabaster, this to emerald, then to merge again into the blue which is a hue born of depth and space and not of pigment. and now i forgot the plunging bow beneath and the schools of toy biplanes, the strange little grasshopper-like fish which burst from the ultramarine, unstained, full-finned and banked sharply outward for their brief span of flight. i looked up and saw pale-green shallows, a thread of silver surf and the rounded mountains of a tropical island. and i frowned with impatience--something that more reliable figureheads never did--for the island, teeming with interest, with exciting birds, and fascinating people, had been spoiled for me. force of circumstance had shuffled me inextricably into a pack (i use the simile advisedly) of insufferable tourists. effeminate men, childish women and spoiled children diluted or wholly eclipsed every possible scene. the obvious was made blatant, the superficial was imagined subtle, the glories of silent appreciation were shattered by garrulous nothings. at the thought of such fellow countrymen i hid my face and strived with all my might to obliterate the remembrance. soothed by the rise and thrust of the great ship's bow and the intermittent roar of the steel-born breaker beneath, i rested motionless. when at last i roused, it was with a start at the altered scene. it seemed as if my thought--buddha-powerful--had actually wrought the magic of widespread change. the alabaster breaker was there, but oxidized, dulled; the cobalt had become gray-black, and by the same alchemy the emerald shallows were reset with a mosaic of age-dimmed jade. most of all was the island changed. from strand to cloud-capped peak, the tone was purple. in high lights it hued to dull silver-gray, in the shadows it deadened to utter black. rugged and sheer mont pelee drew upwards, its head in cloud, its feet in the sea--the shadow-gray sea. my eye strove to penetrate the cloud and picked from its heart a thread of black among the gray lava, which, dropping downward, enlarged to a ribbon and then to a gully. in ugly angles and sharp, unreasonable bends it zigzagged down the shoulder of the great cinderous mountain. before i realized it my gully became a gorge and ended at the edge of the dark waters, as black and as mysterious as it had begun. idly, i lay and watched the silver shuttle of coral-shattered foam weaving the warp and woof of the rising tide along the whole length of shore. this seemed the only bit of land in the whole world. was it the first--or the last--to appear above the waters? it might have been either, until, suddenly i saw a movement among what i had taken for huge, crater-spewed boulders, but which i now knew for the weathered remains of a city. from between two walls of this city of the dead came slowly into view the last human being in the world--or so the surroundings suggested. yet a second glance belied this, for her mission was fraught with hope. even at this distance i could discern her stately carriage, swinging and free, her black countenance and her heavy burden. at the very edge of the water she stopped, lifted down the basket piled with black volcanic débris and emptied it. she stood up, looked steadily out at the passing steamer and vanished among the shadows of the ruins. it was startlingly like the first grain of sand which an ant brings out after a passing heel has crushed its nest. but however vivid the simile, the dominant thought was hope. at least one ant had faith in a new ant-nest of the future, and the somber picture of the negress, her basket of black lava poured into the equally black waters, was suddenly framed in high relief by the thought of a new st. pierre. the great mountain still rumbled and smoked. one at least believed in a home in its very shadows. but the end was not yet. the island had been for me unhappily visited; its passing had been a sudden, wonderfully dynamic vision. and now i shut my eyes again to strive to interpret and to fix indelibly in mind this vision and all the network of thoughts it wove. again the roar from below and the gentle rise and forward surge calmed and rested me. and the thought of the unhappy morning was become dim and carried no resentment. ten minutes later i looked up again and found all changed--no ruthless, startling shift of values, but a subtle, all-wonderful transformation. pelee should still have loomed high, the craters and gullys were but a short distance away and indeed all were faintly discernible. a faint veil of azure had intervened. there was no wind, it had neither drifted in from the sea nor frayed from the edges of the dense cloud which enveloped the peak. so evanescent, so delicate was this still-born haze that the crater cloud was only softened, not eclipsed. from the strong sweep and stroke and virile outline of a brangwyn or the gnomesque possibilities of a rackham, the great mountain softened to the ethereal air castle of a parrish. between winks, as imperceptibly as the coming of twilight to a cloudless sky, the vision changed to a veritable isle of death. this seemed too evanescent, too ethereally fragile to endure, and yet for moment after moment it held and held--and then the mountain--which was yet but the shadow of a mountain--this itself dissolved, and over the gently heaving sea, were neither lava flows nor cinders, gorges nor ruins, but only a faint pearly-white mist, translucent, permeable, floating softly between sea and sky. martinique had vanished--had dissolved--there was no longer any land above the waters. dusk settled quickly and the vision remained unbroken. all my sensory relations with the world seemed inverted. my actual contact with the island had passed into happy forgetfulness; the coastal vision was more vivid and real, and now, the essence of memory, the vital, tangible retrospect was forever bound up in the final vanishing, the very evaporation of this island--lapped by the sea--the sea which tomorrow's sun would fill with the glorious hue of sapphires--the sapphires of kashmir. iii islands with thrice seven-league boots one could stride from the coast of the united states and with a dozen steps reach british guiana dry-shod. from an aviator's seat, the chain of west indies, windward and leeward islands curves gracefully southwards, like stepping-stones across a japanese stream. if, corresponding to this annihilation of space, we could abbreviate minutes, hours and days as in a moving-picture film, we might have the edifying spectacle of our steamer's trip reduced to a succession of loops, ricochetting from island after island, as a stone skips along the surface of the water, sliding along those dotted lines which are so characteristic a feature of coasts in our school geographies, and coming to rest at last with a splash in the muddy current off the georgetown stelling. our steamer is preferable to the seven-league trip, for we thereby omit the big, cumbersome west indies. it is a curious fact that any land projecting above the surface of the water is interesting and exciting in inverse ratio to its size. the endless new jersey shore moves one not at all, while the single volcanic cone of nevis brings thrills and emotions; cuba is wearisome as one steams slowly past headland after headland, while sombrero--a veritable oceanic speck of dust--stimulates the imagination to the highest pitch. it seems as if our ego enlarges as our immediate terrestrial cosmos diminishes. in studying the birds of the endless jungles of the south american continent my interest never flags, yet it never quite attains the _n_th power of enthusiasm which accompanies the thought of the possibility of locating every nest on st. thomas. this love of small islands must savor of the joy of possible completeness in achievement, plus a king's sensations, plus some of those of adam! any guide book will give the area, population, amusements, best hotels (or the least objectionable ones), summary of history and the more important exports. but no one has ever attempted to tell of the soul of these islands--or even of the individuality of each, which is very real and very distinct. some day this will be done, and the telling will be very wonderful, and will use up most of the superlatives in our language. for my part i may only search my memory for some little unimportant scene which lives again when the name of the island is spoken--and string these at random on pages, like the chains of little scarlet and black sea-beans which glisten in the fingers of the negresses, held up in hope of sale from their leaky boats, rocking on the liquid emerald around the steamer. st. thomas, or how i was taught to catch lizards by a danish flapper.--nearly a week had passed since we began to exchange a sleety winter for the velvety tropics, to traverse the latitude spectrum of ocean from drab-gray to living turquoise. as on every trip, it was early morning when the long undulating profile of st. thomas reared itself lazily from the sea, and almost at once, flocks of great-winged booby-gannets began to wheel and veer around the ship, banking in a way to make an aviator's blood leap. from a dusky monochrome the land resolved into shades, and slowly into colors--gray volcanic rocks, dry yellow turf and green patches of trees. then contours became traceable, smooth rounded shoulders of hills frayed out into jagged strata, with the close-shaven fur of bushes and shrubs, and occasional tall slender palms reminding one of single hydroids on the sargasso fronds. a thread of smoke drifting free from a palm grove was the first sign of life, and after a few minutes of twisting and turning, the steamer nosed out her circuitous channel, and from the very heart of the island the great crater harbor opened before us. the beautiful hills rolled up and upward, and to their feet charlotte amalie, crowned with bluebeard's castle, clung obliquely, her streets climbing with astonishing steepness. the little town was newly roofed, all the picturesque old red ones having been ripped off in the last hurricane. the houses were as flat, quite as like cardboard theatrical scenery as ever. at the sight of a distant flag i endeavored to thrill patriotically at the thought that this island was now a part of the united states. i would have been more successful, however, if i could have recalled the vision of some fellow countryman in far distant time, landing on these slopes and taking possession by right of discovery. even if some burly, semi-piratical american adventurer had annexed it for his president by feat of arms, my blood would have flowed less calmly than it did at the thought of so many millions of dollars paid as _droit de possession_. however, a tropic bird flew past and put the lesser matter out of mind. as always, near the wharf thrived the same little open bar-room, with its floral-bedecked mirrors, selling good beer and vile soda. aside from a flag here and there, the only sign of the change of nationality was several motorcycles with side cars which american soldiers drove like jehu through the narrow streets, hustling natives and their tiny carts and ponies to one side, and leaving enduring trains of gasoline-scented dust. a few minutes' walk up one of the steep streets and all was quiet and unhurried, and the sense of a yet undigested possession, of embarrassing novelty of purchase, slipped aside and we knew that st. thomas was still the unspoiled little island which the slow mellowing growth of west indian evolution had made it. we climbed slowly up the steep road toward mafolie, and behind us the glory of this wonderful island unfolded and spread, the roofs of the town shifting into strange geometric figures, and the harbor circle widening. we passed pleasant sunburned danes and negroes driving tiny burros laden with small fagots and with grass. at one turn a tamarind tree was in full blossom, and here were gathered all the hummingbirds and butterflies of the island, or so it seemed. at last we reached a ravine, dry as everything else at this season on the island, and walked slowly up it, catching butterflies. they were in great numbers and gayly colored. the strangest sight was hundreds of large, brown millipedes clinging to the stems of bushes and small trees, apparently finding more moisture in the steady tradewinds than in the soil, which even under large stones, was parched and dry: dragonflies were abundant, but the dominant forms of insect life were butterflies and spiders. the road wound over the top of the ridge and from its summit we looked down on the other half of the island. no house or trace of cultivation was visible and the beauty of the view was beyond adequate description. rolling, comfortably undulating hills were below us, and in front a taller, rounded one like the head of some wearied tropical giant. beyond this, a long curved arm of richest green had been stretched carelessly out into the sea, inclosing a bay, which from our height, looked like a small pool, but such a pool as would grace a dunsany tale. it was limpid, its surface like glass and of the most exquisite turquoise. its inner rim was of pure white sand, a winding line bounding turquoise water and the rich, dark green of the sloping land in a flattened figure three. i never knew before that turquoise had a hundred tints and shades, but here the film nearest the sand was unbelievably pale and translucent, then a deeper sheen overlaid the surface, while the center of the pool was shaded with the indescribable pigment of sheer depth. in a great frame of shifting emerald and cobalt, set a shining blue wing of a morpho butterfly and you can visualize this wonder scene. outside the encircling green arm, the water of ocean glowed ultramarine in the slanting sunlight, and stretched on and on to the curving horizon of atlantis. the scene seemed the essence of peace, and to the casual glance hardly a cloud moved. i sat for a long time and let every part of my retina absorb the glory of colors. soon motion and life became apparent. shadows shifted softly across the surface, bringing hues of delicate purplish blue, memory tints of open ocean, and against these darkened tones a thousand specks of white glowed and inter-weaved like a maze of motes in a shaft of sunlight. in imagination we could enlarge them to a swarm of silvery bees, and then my glasses resolved them into gannets--great sea birds with wings six feet from tip to tip--an astounding hint of the actual distance and depth below me of this pool-like bay. an hour later the sunlight left the turquoise surface, and its blueness darkened and strengthened and became opaque, although it was a long time before sunset, and the ocean beyond kept all its brilliance. my eye was drawn to two tiny dots on the sandy rim. i could just make out that they were moving and guessed them to be dogs or chickens. the glasses made magic again and split up each group into a triumvirate of little burros which trotted along, and presently turned into an invisible side trail. perhaps the most fascinating discovery of motion was that of the water's edge. to the eye there were neither waves nor ripples, but careful scrutiny through the strong prisms showed a rhythmical approach and receding, a gentle breathlike pulsation which regularly darkened and uncovered a thread of sand. i forgot the busy little town on the other side of the island, the commerce and coaling and the distant echo of war, and giving a last look at the tarnished turquoise pool, the resentment of financial acquisition of such beauty softened, and i felt glad that i had indirectly some small tithe of ownership, as well as the complete memory monopoly of the glories of this passing day. as i made my way down the ravine, the fascinating island lizards scrambled about or watched me knowingly from rock or tree-trunk. as usual i wrecked my net in striving to sweep them into it, and bruised my fingers in vain efforts to seize their slender forms. rarely i succeeded; usually i found but a bit of tail in my fingers, or a handful of loose bark, while, just out of reach, they would halt and look me over derisively with their bright intelligent eyes. at the roadside i came suddenly upon a little danish girl of about twelve years, dancing excitedly with a lizard dangling from the end of a slender grass stem. her blue eyes flashed with excitement, her yellow pigtail flew wildly about as she danced and backed away, fearful of touching the little lizard, and yet too fascinated to drop it and allow it to escape. i took it up and found it had been captured with a neat slip noose. she said it was easy to catch them and showed me how, and before i reached the wharf i had a dozen of the interesting little chaps stored in various pockets. thus after years of effort a little danish school girl solved my problem for me. acting on this hint i tried fine hair wire, but nothing proved as effective as the thin, pliant but strong stems of grass. it is surprising how difficult it is to touch these little reptiles and yet how easy to noose them. at the approach of hand or net they are off faster than the eye can follow, yet they are merely interested in the waving grass. even when by an awkward motion one flicks their nose, they merely shake their heads or shift a step or two. they detect no connection between the moving grass and the more distant hand that wields it. bound to the ground by their short scales and four limbs, these small lizards are yet remarkably birdlike in their vivacity and their enthusiastic playing of their little game of life. every motion is registered by quick wrenlike movements and by the changing play of colors over their scales, while when particularly excited, they puff out a comical dewlap of yellow and orange skin beneath their throat. thanks to my flapper acquaintance i am now on more equal terms with the little scaly people of the islands, and can study their puzzling color problems at close range. looking back at bluebeard's and blackbeard's castles from the deck of our vessel as we slowly steamed from the harbor, some one asked when the last pirate plied his trade. i looked ashore at the fort and guns, i listened to the warning bugle, i watched the scattered lights vanish, leaving all of the town in darkness, i saw our own darkened portholes and shaded lights. as my mind went to the submarines which inspired all these precautions, as i recalled the sinister swirl in the atlantic which had threatened us more than once on my return from the battle-front, i could answer truly that bluebeard and his ilk were worthily represented at the present day. indeed, of the two enemies, i found much more to condone in the ignorance and the frank primitive brutality of the pirate of past centuries, than in the prostituted science and camouflaged kultur of the teutonic ishmaelite of today. st. kitts, a plunge, exploration and monkeys.--i came on deck at daybreak and found the sea like a mirror. even the clouds were undisturbed, resting quietly in the mountain valleys of st. eustatius, and on the upper slopes of st. kitts in the distance. the tropical morning was a lazy one, and the engines seemed to throb in a half-somnolent manner. i folded up into a deck chair and idly watched the beautiful profile of the island astern. suddenly the sea became alive with virile beings--curving steel-gray bodies which shot forth like torpedoes from some mighty battery. i thrilled in every fiber and the sloth of the tropics fell from me as if by a galvanic shock: the dolphins had come! usually they appear in their haunts between dominica and martinique or off the latter island, but here they were in dozens, leaping for breath with the regularity of machinery. now and then the spirit of play would possess one and he vaulted high in air, ten feet above the surface, twisted and fell broadside with a slap which could be heard a half-mile away. then several simultaneously did the same thing. a school would come close alongside, slacken speed to that of the vessel, and now and then dive beneath and appear off the opposite quarter. another trick was for one or two to station themselves just ahead of the bow and remain motionless, urged on by the pressure of the water from behind. it was very unexpected and very splendid to have this battalion of magnificent cetaceans, bursting with vital energy and fullness of life, injected without warning into the calm quiet of this tropical sea. we anchored off basseterre and waited in vain for the doctor. there seemed no chance of landing for some time, so several of us dived off and swam about the ship for an hour. the joy of this tropical water is something which can be communicated only by experience. it was so transparent that in diving one hardly knew the moment he would enter it. paddling along just beneath the surface, there was a constant temptation to reach down and grasp the waving seaferns and bits of coral which seemed only just out of reach, whereas they were a good thirty feet beneath. whether floating idly or barging clumsily along in the only fashion possible to us terrestrial humans, we longed for the sinuous power of the dolphins, whose easy sculling imparts such astounding impetus. now and then we saw a deep swimming fish, but the line of envious fellow voyagers along the ship's rail were denied all this joy by reason of their fear of sharks. they had read in many books and they had listened to many tales, and they do not know what we shared with the little nigger boys who dive for pennies--the knowledge that the chance of an attack from a shark is about equal to that of having your ears sewed up by devil's darning needles. over all the world i have swum among sharks; from ceylon to the spanish main i have talked intimately with scores of native captains and sailors and learned the difference between what they tell to the credulous tourist and what they believe in their hearts. in time the st. kitts doctor arrived, and, as he rowed past, looked at us critically as if he suspected us of infecting the waters of the sea with some of those mysteriously terrible diseases which he is always hoping for on the ship's papers, but never seems to find. walking hastily through the town, we reached the first of the great sugar-cane fields, and skirting these diagonally came ever nearer the sloping base of the high land. ravines are always interesting for they cannot be cultivated, and it was up one of these lava and water-worn gullies that we began to climb monkey hill. we went slowly, for there were many absorbing things on the way. palm swifts swooped about, while noisy kingbirds gleaned as industriously but with shorter flights. heavy-billed anis _whaleeped_ and fluttered clumsily ahead of us; honey creepers squeaked and small black finches watched us anxiously. from a marshy pool half a dozen migrating sandpipers flew up and circled down to the shore. every shrubby field was alive with butterflies of many kinds and the vigorous shaking of each bush yielded excellent harvests of strange insects which fell into the open umbrella held beneath. in a grove of wild mango and acacias were hosts of green filigree butterflies, dropping and swirling from the foliage like falling leaves, the comparison being heightened by the brown spots, like fungus blotches, which were etched upon their wings. leaving the ravine we climbed over great lateral shoulders of the mountain, grassy slopes with bold outjutting rocks, and rarely a clump of small shrubs, bringing to mind the lower foothills of garhwal and kashmir. higher still came dense shrubby growths, much of it thorny, seamed by our narrow trail, and threaded here and there by glowing fronds of golden shower orchids. ground doves perched on low branches and an occasional big pigeon whistled past. from the summit a wonderful view stretched out--the long, sloping green cane-fields, the clustered roofs, and beyond the curving beaches, the blue water with our vessel resting at anchor. now came a search for monkeys, regardless of thorns and rough stones, for, strange though it sounds, st. kitts possesses many of these animals. whatever the accident of their arrival, they are firmly established and work much havoc in the small hours, among gardens and sugar-cane. our efforts were in vain. we heard the scolding chatter of one of the small simians, and were preparing to surround him, when a warning blast from the ship summoned us and we packed up our collection of insects and flowers, munched our last piece of chocolate and began to clamber down the great sun-drenched slopes. martinique, or a new use for an eight of hearts.--columbus thought that this island was inhabited only by women, and to this day the market place bears out the idea. it is a place apart from all the rest of the city. in early morning, before the gaudy shutters were taken down, the streets were quiet--the callous soles of the passersby made the merest velvet shuffling and only an occasional cry of the vendor of some strange fruit or cakes broke the stillness. when yet half a block away from the market one became aurally aware of it. the air was filled with a subdued hum, an indefinite murmur which might as well be the sound of tumbling waters as of human voices. it was a communal tongue, lacking individual words, accent and grammar, and yet containing the essence of a hundred little arguments, soliloquies, pleadings, offers and refusals. after the aural came the olfactory zone, and none may describe this, so intermingled that fish and vegetables, spice and onions were only to be detected when one approached their respective booths. the details of market life hold the possibilities of epic description; the transactions of a stock exchange pale into mediocrity when compared with the noise and excitement when a sixpence changes hands between martinique negresses. all the sales in the market were of the smallest quantities; little silver was seen, pennies, ha'pennies and sous composing all the piles of coppers. the colors of the fruits were like flowers, melons white with a delicate fretwork of green; brilliant touches of red peppers like scarlet passion flowers; tiny bits of garlic lilac-tinted. the fish had the hues of sunsets on their scales, and the most beautiful, the angelfish, were three for a penny, while the uglier, more edible ones, were sixpence each. beauty was rated at inverse value here. around and around the iron fence which bounded the market place, paced a pitiful pair--a tiny black mite who could not have passed three summers, leading by the hem of an ample black skirt an old blind woman. after several halting steps they would hesitate and the gaunt hand would be thrust through the bars begging for market refuse. once the gods were kind and a bit of melon and a spotted mango were given, but more often alms was asked of an empty stall, or within sight only of a tethered duck or chicken. some of the gifts were no better than the garbage over which the pair stepped. we sat in chairs in a tiny pharmacist shop--the artist and i--and were at once the center of a chattering, staring throng, a kaleidoscope of shifting colors. we shoved and dismissed to no avail, then the owner of the shop with a gentle "permitte-moi" threw a pailful of "not-too-clean" water over the crowd, including the artist and myself. the mob scattered shrieking and for a short time the surrounding space was open. soon a larger crowd gathered, with the still dripping units of the first assemblage smiling expectantly in the offing, hovering at a safe distance. the second dispersal had a legal origin; the market policeman stole quietly along the wall of the shop and hurled himself like a catapult, butting goatlike into the heart of the crowd. a half-dozen fat negresses toppled over, and cassava, tin cups and stray fishes flew about. even those who lost all their purchases showed no resentment but only a roaring appreciation of the joke. in this rush we were almost upset with the crowd, and we began to look forward with dread to any more strenuous defense of our comfort. the little french mulatto pharmacist who was responsible for the occasional joyful outbursts of eau, seemed to profit by our presence, for a number of interested onlookers who had pushed into the shop to watch us from behind, when cornered and hailed by the irate owner, stammeringly asked for some small thing, by the purchase of which they bought their liberty. the regular business of this little shop alone was worthy one's whole attention. a prescription was being pounded up in a mortar and when the clerk reached out for a scoop and for something to scrape the sides clean, an eight of hearts was the nearest and with this the chemicals were mixed. within the next fifteen minutes eight or ten different prescriptions, powders and crystals were measured, shaken, mixed and scraped by the same eight of hearts, and the combination of ingredients which the last purchaser obtained must surely have had some radical effect on his system--salubrious or otherwise. then came the unusual one--the super person who is always to be discovered sooner or later. externally she was indistinguishable from the host of her sisters. she was garbed in a wrapper, flowing and reaching the ground, purple, and pocked with large white spots. a diminutive turban of yellow and red madras was surmounted by an ancient and crownless straw hat, but at the first word she was revealed. a british subject, she was here at the eruption fifteen years ago. that day she and one of her daughters happened to be far away from st. pierre. when the explosion came, she was outside the danger zone, but her husband, son and other daughter were burned to death. she regretted the impoliteness of the french here and apologized for them for crowding us. later she brought a gift of rose bananas to mary hammond, saying that americans had given her food and clothes when she lost everything. the crowd was curious, thoughtless, selfish, with the dominant hope of a laugh at some one's expense. here was one who sought us out, who left unguarded her little tray of bananas and garlic to speak a word of thanks, to present a handful of fruit which in her station was a munificent gift, and who was satisfied and grateful with our sincere appreciation. she has sisters in graciousness over all the world, but they are rare and widely scattered, like the akawai indian squaw who gave me her last cassava, like the wrinkled japanese crone who persuaded her son to become one of my best servants, like the wife of the headman of an isolated village in yunnan, who from among her sodden, beastlike neighbors came forth and offered fowls and vegetables with a courteous spirit worthy of any station in life. st. lucia, a study in contrasts.--each time i have visited castries it has seemed more somber and less pleasant. it is colorless because it is full of coal and no change of weather brings amelioration. when the sun fills the air with a blinding glare and palpitating heat waves (as it occasionally does), each step raises a cloud of coal dust, and when the tropical rain falls in a steady downpour (as it usually does), the whole world seems covered with coal mud, as if about to dissolve into some carboniferous slime. this is an important military and coaling station, which perhaps explains much. military exigency compelled me to procure a special pass from the chief of police to paddle about its dreary streets, and which strictly forbade my climbing the comparatively clean and attractive mountains beyond these streets. as a coaling station i am sure of its success and popularity, for the coal carriers who comprise most of the natives, have apparently no time to wash between steamers. so intensive was the grime that the original dark hue of their skins offered no camouflage to the anthracite palimpsest which overlaid it. such huge negro women, such muscles, such sense of power, i had never before sensed. i should dislike, were i an official of st. lucia, to take any decided stand on an anti-feminine platform. so saturated are the people in coal, such is their lack of proper perspective of this material, they seem actually to be unconscious of its presence. returning on board, one passes the seaview hotel, about which coal is piled to a much greater height than the roof. such abstraction is worthy of mention at least. amid the memory of all the dirt and damp, dull sadness, two things were unforgetable, as untouched diamonds glisten in their matrix of wet blue clay. amid sodden clothes, unwashed hands and bestial faces, a trayful of rainbow fishes gleamed opalwise--coral, parrot and angelfish, all awaiting some unsavory purchaser. then came the little french negress, selling fans, out of the ruck of sexless bearers of coal. when we answered her appeal with a "_non merci_," her face lighted up at the courtesy of the words; "_voyons!_" said she, "_comme c'est gracieusement refusé!_" no mortal could have resisted buying her wares after such delicate sentiment. about five in the afternoon we parted from the gritty wharf and steamed for hour after hour along the shore. we forgot the poor, filthy, ill-mannered coal carriers, and the thought of the misery and squalor of the town passed with its vanishing, still clad in its cloak of rain. as the natives appeared to us so inferior to those of the other islands, so by some law of compensation the coast was revealed correspondingly beautiful. at four bells the sun sank on the side away from the island, in a blaze of yellow and orange with one particular cloud touching the water line with flame color, as if a mighty distant volcano had just reared its head above the sea, still in the throes of molten erection. on the opposite side were passing the dark green headlands and fiords of the land, while upward, high into the sky, there arose now and then some tremendous cloud, on fire with rich rose or salmon afterglow, or a maze of other tints defying human name or pigment. in front was the living blue water dulled by the dimming light and above all the transparent blue of the tropic sky. without warning, from out of the soft folded edges of one of the filmy clouds, crept a curved edge of cold steel, like some strange kind of floating shell coming forth from its cloud of smoke, and a moment later the full moon was revealed, unlike any other color note in this marvelous scene. the icy, unchanging moon craters, the more plastic island mountains fringed by the wind-shapen trees, the still more shifting waters and the evanescent cloud mist, all were played upon and saturated and stained by colors which were beyond words, almost beyond our appreciation. tiny villages, fronted by canoes and swathed in feathery cocoanut fronds, snuggled at the foot of great volcanic and coral cliffs. but the crowning glory was reserved for the last, when we surged past the _trois pitons_, rearing their majestic heads above all the island, hundreds and hundreds of feet into the sky. even the moon could not top one, and after cutting into sharp, silver silhouette every leaf and branch of a moon-wide swath of trees, it buried itself behind the peak and framed the whole mountain. a small wandering rain storm drifted against the tallest piton and split in two, one half going away down the coast and the rest passing close enough to us to shower the decks with drops. as it fell astern, it spread out fanwise and in its heart developed a ghostly lunar rainbow--the spectrum cleansed and denuded of all the garish colors of day. at first we could only sense which was the warm, which the cold side of the bow, then it strengthened and the red appeared as dull copper or amber buff, and the violet as a deeper, colder blue, cloud hue. all the time, even when the rain was falling heaviest, the moon shone with full strength, and when at last we veered away from this wonder island, it was so high that there was no moonpath on the water, but only a living, shifting patch of a million electric wires, which wrote untold myriad messages in lunar script upon the little waves. from one fraction of time to another, the eye could detect and hold in memory innumerable strange figures, and the resemblance, if it be not sacrilege to make any simile, was only to script of languages long, long dead--the cuneiform of babylon and the tendril spirals of pali. once a faint light appeared upon the distant shore. our steamer spoke in a short, sharp blast which thrilled us with its unexpectedness and the signal among the palms was quenched. from the great things of the cosmos, from brilliant venus, and from the north star low in the sky, from the new splendor of formalhaut, rising ever higher in the south, our thoughts were forced back to the littlenesses of the world war, whose faint influence reached even thus far to break the thread of our abstraction. barbados, in eclipse and in sun.--the vagaries of a naturalist are the delight of the uninitiated, and impress simple natives more than immoderate tips or the routine excesses of tourist folk. one's scientific eccentricities may even establish a small measure of fame, or rather notoriety. so it was that as i walked up the landing stage at bridgetown, a small ebon personality pointed finger at me and confided to his neighbor, "see de mon--de tall mon da--he de mon who chase tree lizards in de cemetry!" "yes, george," i said, "i'm de mon who chased them with you two years ago, but this time we shall catch them as well." "anyting you say true, boss, i'se yo boy." but as is always true in sport, certainty robs it of the finest element of excitement, and our successful stalks that afternoon with grass stem nooses were less memorable than the frantic tree circlings and grave hurdlings of two years before. on our return from the cemetery a breeze swept up from the sea, the palm fronds slithered against one another, and i suddenly caught myself shivering. the moment i became conscious of this i thought of fever and wondered if my life-long immunity had come to an end. then i observed old hags wrapping themselves up; my eyes suddenly readjusted, i perceived that the glaring sunlight was tempered; again the strange mid-day breeze arose and finally i realized that i was witnessing an eclipse of the sun on the island of barbados. the natives and the birds and even the patient little donkeys grew restless, the light became weaker and strange, and until the end of the eclipse we could think of nothing else. the most remarkable part to me, were the reflections. looking however hastily and obliquely at the sun, i perceived nothing but a blinding glare, but walking beneath the shade of dense tropical foliage, the hosts of specks of sunlight sifting through, reflected on the white limestone, were in reality thousands of tiny representations of the sun's disk incised with the segment of the silhouetted moon, but reversed, just like the image through the aperture of a pinhole camera. i suppose it is a very common physical phenomenon, but to me it was a surprising thing to trace the curve of the eclipse clearly and with ease in the sunbeams on the pavement beneath my feet, while my retinas refused to face or register the original. barbados is very flat, thoroughly cultivated and said to be the most densely populated bit of land in the world; all of which guide-book gossip was discouraging to a naturalist. but besides the cemetery which was sanctuary for the jolly little lizards, i found a bit of unspoilt beach, with sand as white and fine as talcum powder, where dwelt undisturbed many assemblages of small folk. there were land-crabs which had come to have at heart more affection for the vegetable gardens at the beach top than for the waters of their forefathers. they had degenerated into mere commuters from their holes to the nearest melon patch. the lower part of the beach was that ever changing zone--that altar upon which each tide deposited some offering from the depths of the sea. this will some day have a worthy interpreter, a sympathetic recorder and commentator who will make a marvelous volume of this intermittent thread of the earth's surface, pulsing, changing--now showing as water, now as land--but always vital with exciting happenings. i sat for an hour on the upper beach and watched the little native folk, autochthones who for innumerable generations had been so loyal to their arenaceous home that the sheltering mantle of its pale hue had fallen upon their wings and bodies. here were tiny, grayish-white crabs, here were spiders, which, until they moved, were not spiders but sand. and when they did move, recognition usually came too late to some fly, which had trespassed on this littoral hunting ground. tiger-beetles drifted about like sand-grain wraiths, whose life wanderings lay between low tide and the highest dune; veriest ghosts of their brilliant green brethren farther inland. ashen wasps buzzed past, with compass and maps in their heads, enabling them to circle about once or twice, alight, take a step or two and, kicking down their diminutive front door, to enter the slanting sandy tube which for them fulfilled all the requirements of home. from an aeroplane, barbados would appear like a circular expanse of patchwork, or a wild futurist painting set in deepest ultramarine; a maze of rectangles or squares of sugar-cane, with a scattering of sweet potatoes and sea island cotton. i got a hint of this when i motored to the highest point of land, and then climbed the steeple of the loftiest church. at my feet was the atlantic with great breakers, reduced by distance to tiny wavelets twinkling among the black boulders and feathery palms which were scattered along shore. for more than two hundred and seventy-five years the church had stood here, and not to be outdone by the strangeness of the little beach people, the graveyard boasted the remains of a descendant of a greek emperor, who long ago had been warden. but again our steamer summoned us and we left the dusky natives with their weird legends and the tiny island which they love, and were rowed steadily out beyond the two miles of shallow coast. when we steamed away from shore that night, no lights except those of the dining saloon were allowed. yet the path of the vessel made a mockery of this concealment. the world did not exist a hundred feet away from the ship and yet there was no mist or fog. the outward curve of the water from the bow was a long slender scimitar of phosphorescence, and from its cutting edge and tip flashed bits of flame and brilliant steely sparks, apparently suspended above the jet-black water. alongside was a steady ribbon of dull green luminescence, while, rolling and drifting along through this path of light came now and then great balls of clear, pure fire touched with emerald flames, some huge jelly or fish, or sargasso weed incrusted with noctiluca. everywhere throughout the narrow zone of visibility were flickering constellations, suns and planets of momentary life, dying within the second in which they flashed into sight. once orion left a distinct memory on the retina--instantly to vanish forever. perhaps to some unimaginably distant and unknown god, our world system may appear as fleeting. to my eyes it seemed as if i looked at the reflections of constellations which no longer swung across the heavens--shadows of shadows. then four bells struck--silveryly--and i knew that time still existed. iv the pomeroon trail ram narine gave a party. it was already a thing of three months past, and it had been an extremely small party, and ram narine was only a very unimportant coolie on the plantation of the golden fleece. but, like many things small in themselves, this party had far-flung effects, and finally certain of these reached out and touched me. so far as i was concerned the party was a blessing. because of it i was to travel the pomeroon trail. but it befell otherwise with ram narine. it was, as i have said, a small party. only two friends had been invited, and ram and his companions had made very merry over a cooked cock-fowl and two bottles of rum. in the course of the night there was a fracas, and the face of one of ram's friends had been somewhat disfigured, with a thick club and a bit of rock. he spent two months in the hospital, and eventually recovered. his injuries did not affect his speech, but, coolie-like, he would give little information as to his assailant. and now the majesty of the law was about to inquire into this matter of ram's party, and to sift to the uttermost the mystery which concerned the cooked cock-fowl and the rum, and the possibilities for evil which accrued to the sinister club and the bit of rock. i was invited to go, with my friends the lawyer and the judge, and our route lay from georgetown westward, athwart two mighty guiana rivers. my mission to british guiana was to find some suitable place to establish a tropical research station, where three of us, a wasp man, an embryo man, and a bird man, all americans, all enthusiastic, might learn at first-hand of the ways and lives of the wilderness creatures. after seven years of travel and bird-study in far distant countries, i had turned again to guiana, the memory of whose jungles had never left me. in new york i had persuaded the powers of the zoölogical society that here lay a new, a worthy field of endeavor, hidden among the maze of water-trails, deep in the heart of the forests. for these were forests whose treasury of bird and beast and insect secrets had been only skimmed by collectors. the spoils had been carried to northern museums, where they were made available for human conversation and writing by the conferring of names by twentieth-century adams. we had learned much besides from these specimens, and they had delighted the hearts of multitudes who would never have an opportunity to hear the evening cadence of the six-o'clock bee or the morning chorus of the howling monkeys. but just as a single photograph reveals little of the inception, movement and dénouement of an entire moving-picture reel, so an isolated dead bird can present only the static condition of the plumage, molt, and dimensions at the instant before death. i am no nature sentimentalist, and in spite of moments of weakness, i will without hesitation shoot a bird as she sits upon her eggs, if i can thereby acquire desired information. but whenever possible, i prefer, for my own sake as well as hers, to prolong my observations, and thus acquire merit in the eyes of my fellow scientists and of buddha. i hoped the pomeroon might prove such a desirable region, and fulfil my requirements to the extent that i might call it home for a season. so i accepted the invitation with a double pleasure, for i already knew what excellent company were friends lawyer and judge. as a site for my researches the pomeroon failed; as an experience filled to the brim with interest and enjoyment, my visit left nothing to be desired. besides, i met ram. the big yellow kiskadees woke me at daybreak; my bedroom wren sang his heart out as i splashed in my shower; and before breakfast was over i heard the honking of my host's car. we glided over the rich red streets in the cool of early morning, past the thronged and already odoriferous market, and on to the tiny river ferry. this was on monday, but ram narine was to have yet another day of grace, by a twist in the nexus of circumstance which envelops all of us. the lawyer's orderly had failed to notify his cabman that the georgetown steamer left at six-fifty instead of seven. so when we finally left the stelling, with a host of twittering martins about us, it was with sorrowful faces. not only were the master's wig and gown missing, besides other articles less necessary from a legal point of view, but the ham for luncheon was lacking. the higher law of compensation now became active, and the day of postponement gave me the sight of the pomeroon trail. this delay solved the matter of the wig and gown, and the ham was replaced by a curry equal to a calcutta cook's best. this was served in the colony house at suddy village, where one ate and slept in full enjoyment of the cool tradewind which blew in from the clear stretch of the atlantic. and here one sat and read or listened to the droning of the witnesses in the petty cases held by the local magistrate in the courtroom below stairs. i chose to do none of these things, but walked to the sandy beach and along it in the direction of the distant spanish main. it was a barren beach, judged by the salvage of most beaches; few shells, little seaweed, and the white sand alternating with stretches of brown mud. i walked until i came to a promontory and, amid splashing muddy waves, climbed out and perched where i ever love to be--on the outermost isolated pile of an old wharf. scores of years must have passed since it was in use, and i tried to imagine what things had come and gone over it. those were the days of the great dutch sugar-plantations, when plantations were like small kingdoms, with crowds of slaves, and when the rich amber crystals resembled gold-dust in more than appearance. what bales of wondrous dutch lace and furniture and goodies were unloaded from the old high-pooped sailing ships, and what frills and flounces fluttered in this same tradewind, what time the master's daughter set forth upon her first visit to the netherlands! now, a few rotted piles and rows of precise, flat dutch bricks along the foreshore were all that was left of such memories. inland, the wattled huts of the negroes had outlasted the great manor-houses. out at sea there was no change. the same muddy waves rose but never broke; the same tidal current swirled and eddied downstream. and now my mind became centered on passing débris, and in a few minutes i realized that, whatever changes had ruffled or passed over this coastal region of guiana, the source of the muddy waters up country was as untouched now as when amerigo vespucci sailed along this coast four hundred and twenty years ago. i forgot the shore with its memories and its present lush growth and heat. for in the eddies of the wharf piles swirled strange things from the inland bush. first a patch of coarse grass, sailing out to sea, upright and slowly circling. on the stems i could distinguish unwilling travelers--crickets, spiders, and lesser wingless fry. half-hollow logs drifted past, some deep and water-soaked, others floating high, with their upper parts quite dry. on such a one i saw a small green snake coiled as high as possible, and, serpent-like, waiting quietly for what fate should bring. and now came an extraordinary sight--another serpent, a huge one, a great water-constrictor long dead, entangled in some brush, half caught firm and half dangling in the water. attending were two vultures, ravenous and ready to risk anything for a meal. and they were risking a good deal, for each time they alighted, the brush and snake began to sink and allowed them time for only one or two frantic pecks before they were in water up to their bodies. they then had laboriously to take to flight, beating the water for the first few strokes. for several minutes one loop of the snake became entangled about a sunken pile, and now the scavengers boldly perched in the shallow water and fairly ducked their heads at each beakful. next came a white ants' nest on a lichened trunk, with a multitude of the owners rushing frantically about, scores of them overrunning the confines of their small cosmos, to the great profit and delectation of a school of little fish which swam in the wake. most pitiful of all was a tiny opossum, with a single young one clinging tightly about her neck, which approached as i was about to leave. she was marooned on a hollow log which revolved in an arc while it drifted. as it turned, the little mother climbed, creeping first upward, then turning and clambering back, keeping thus ever on the summit. the tail of the baby was coiled about her mouth, and he was clinging with all his strength. it was a brave fight and well deserved success. no boat was in sight, so i could not hesitate, but, pulling off my shoes, i waded out as far as i could. at first i thought i must miss it, for i could not go in to my neck even for an opossum. but the wind helped; one or two heavy waves lapped conveniently against the sodden bark, and i succeeded in seizing the stub. as i reached for the little creature, the young opossum gave up and slipped into the water, and a ripple showed where a watchful fish had snapped it up. but i got hold of the mother's tail, and despite a weak hiss and a perfunctory showing of teeth, i lifted her and waded ashore. the last view i had, showed her crawling feebly but steadily along a branch into the heart of a dense thicket. i climbed back to my outpost and dried my clothes in the sun, meditating on the curious psychology of a human which wanted opossums and would unhesitatingly sacrifice a score of opossums for a real scientific need, and yet would put itself to much discomfort to save a single one from going out to sea. sentimental weakness is an inexplicable thing, and i finally made up my mind--as i always do--not to yield again to its promptings. in fact, i half turned to go in search of my specimen--and then didn't. the tide had reached full ebb and the sun was low when i started back, and now i found a new beach many feet farther out and down. still no shells, but a wonderful assortment of substitutes in the shape of a host of nuts and seeds--flotsam and jetsam from far up-river, like the snake and ants and opossum. there were spheres and kidney-shapes, half-circles and crescents, heads of little old men and pods like scimitars, and others like boomerangs. some were dull, others polished and varnished. they were red and green, brown and pink and mauve, and a few gorgeous ones shaded from salmon into the most brilliant orange and yellow. most were as lifeless in appearance as empty shells, but there were many with the tiny root and natal leaves sprouting hopefully through a chink. and just to be consistent, i chose one out of the many thousands piled in windrows and carried it high up on the shore, where i carefully planted it. it was a nut unknown to me at the time, but later i knew that i had started one of the greatest of the jungle trees on its way to success. ahead of me two boys dashed out of the underbrush and rushed into the waves. after swimming a few strokes they reached a great log and, heading it inward, swam it ashore and tied a rope to it. here was a profession which appealed to me, and which indeed i had already entered upon, although the copper-skinned coolie boys did not recognize me as one of their guild. and small blame to them, for i was an idler who had labored and salvaged a perfectly good opossum and the scion of a mighty _mora_ for naught. here i was, no richer for my walk, and with only damp clothing to show for my pains. yet we grinned cheerfully at each other as i went by, and they patted their log affectionately as they moored it fast. dusk was not far away when i reached colony house and the lawyer and i fared forth to seek a suit of pajamas. for the orderly had with him both luxuries and necessities, and so we went shopping. i may say at once that we failed completely in our quest, but, as is usually the case in the tropics, we were abundantly compensated. we visited emporiums to the number of three,--all that the village could boast,--and the stare of the three chinawomen was uniformly blank. they could be made in three days, or one could send to georgetown for most excellent ones; we could not make clear the pressure of our need. the lawyer grumbled, but the afterglow was too marvelous for anything to matter for long. indeed, things--wonderful and strange, pathetic and amusing--were so numerous and so needful of all our faculties, that at one time my mind blurred like an over-talked telephone wire. my enthusiasm bubbled over and the good-natured lawyer enjoyed them as i did. here were two among the many. there was the matter of the poor coolie woman who had injured a leg and who, misunderstanding some hastily given order, had left the hospital and was attempting to creep homeward, using hands and arms for crutches. her husband was very small and very patient and he had not the strength to help her, although now and then he made an awkward attempt. while we sent for help, i asked questions, and in half-broken english i found that they lived six miles away. i had passed them early in the afternoon on the way to the beach, and in the intervening four hours they had progressed just about two hundred feet! this was patience with a vengeance, and worthy of compute. so, astronomer-like, i took notebook and pencil and began to estimate the time of their orbit. it was not an easy matter, for mathematics is to me the least of earth's mercies--and besides, i was not certain how many feet there were in a mile. by saying it over rapidly i at last convinced myself that it was "fivethousantwohunderaneighty." i gasped when i finished, and repeated my questions. and again came the answers: "yes, sahib, we go home. yes, sahib, we live aurora. yes, sahib, we go like this ver' slow. no, sahib, have no food." and as he said the last sentence, a few drops of rain fell and he instantly spread his body-cloth out and held it over the sick woman. my mind instinctively went back to the mother opossum and her young. the coolie woman ceaselessly murmured in her native tongue and looked steadily ahead with patient eyes. always she fumbled with her dusty fingers for a spot to grip and shuffle ahead a few inches. two hundred feet in four hours! and six full miles to the coolie quarters! this was on the fourteenth of a month. if my calculation was correct they would reach home on the tenth of the following month, in three weeks and five days. truly oriental, if not, indeed, elemental patience! this planet-like journey was deviated from its path by a hospital stretcher and a swift return over the four-hour course, although this cosmic disturbance aroused comment from neither the man nor his wife. i checked off another helpless being salvaged from the stream of ignorance. from serio-comic tragedy the village street led us to pure comedy. at the roadside we discovered a tiny white flag, and beneath it a bit of worn and grimy cloth stretched between a frame of wood. this was a poster announcing the impending performance of one "profesor rabintrapore," who, the painfully inked-in printing went on to relate, "craled from ankoffs" and "esskaped from cofens," and, besides, dealt with "spirits invisibal." the professor's system of spelling would have warmed the heart of our modern schoolteachers, but his séances did not seem to be tempting many shekels from the pockets of coolie spiritualists. after tea at the colony house, i leaned out of my window and watched the moonlight gather power and slowly usurp the place of the sun. then, like the succession of light, there followed sound: the last sleepy twitter came from the martin's nest under the eaves, and was sustained and deepened until it changed to the reverberating bass rumble of a great nocturnal frog. in the moonlight the road lay white, though i knew in the warm sun it was a rich, foxy red. it vanished beyond some huts, and i wondered whither it went and remembered that tomorrow i should learn for certain. then a ghostly goatsucker called eerily, "who-are-you?" and the next sound for me was the summons to early coffee. during the morning the missing orderly arrived, and with him the wig and gown and the ham. and now the matter of ram narine became pressing, and my friends lawyer and judge became less human and increasingly legal. i attended court and was accorded the honor of a chair between a bewigged official and the inspector of police, the latter resplendent in starched duck, gold lace, spiked helmet, and sword. being a mere scientist and wholly ignorant of legal matters, i am quite like my fellow human beings and associate fear with my ignorance. so under the curious eyes of the black and indian witnesses and other attendants, i had all the weaving little spinal thrills which one must experience on being, or being about to be, a criminal. there was i betwixt law and police, and quite ready to believe that i had committed something or other, with malicious or related intent. but my thoughts were soon given another turn as a loud rapping summoned us to our feet at the entrance of the judge. a few minutes before, we had been joking together and companionably messing our fingers with oranges upstairs. now i gazed in awe at this impassive being in wig and scarlet vestments, whose mere entrance had brought us to our feet as if by religious or royal command. i shuddered at my memory of intimacies, and felt quite certain we could never again sit down at table as equals. when we had resumed our seats there was a stir at the opposite end of the courtroom, and a half-dozen gigantic black policemen entered, and with them a little, calm-faced, womanly man--ram narine, the wielder of the club and the rock. he ascended to the fenced-in prisoners' dock, looking, amid all his superstrong barriers to freedom, ridiculously small and inoffensive, like a very small puppy tethered with a cable. he gazed quietly down at the various ominous exhibits. a and b were the club and the rock, with their glued labels reminding one of museum specimens. exhibit c was a rum-bottle--an empty one. perhaps if it had been full, some flash of interest might have crossed ram's face. then weighty legal phrases and accusations passed, and the judge's voice was raised, sonorous and impressive, and i felt that nothing but memory remained of that jovial personality which i had known so recently. the proceeding which impressed me most was the uncanny skill of the official interpreter, who seemed almost to anticipate the words of the judge or the clerk. and, too, he gestured and shook his finger at the prisoner at the appropriate places, though he had his back fairly to the judge and so could have had none but verbal clues. ram narine, it seems, was indicted on four counts, among which i could distinguish only that he was accused of maltreating his friend with intent to kill, and this in soft hindustani tones he gently denied. finally, that he had at least done the damage to his friend's face and very nearly killed him. to this he acquiesced, and the court, as the judge called himself, would now proceed to pass sentence. i was relieved to hear him thus re-name himself, for it seemed as if he too realized his changed personality. and now the flow of legal reiteration and alliteration ceased for a moment, and i listened to the buzzing of a _marabunta_ wasp and the warbling of a blue tanager among the fronds. for a moment, in the warm sunshine, the hot, woolly wigs and the starched coats and the shining scabbard seemed out of place. one felt all the discomfort of the tight boots and stiff collars, and a glance at ram narine showed his slim figure clothed in the looped, soft linen of his race. and he seemed the only wholly normal tropic thing there--he and the wasp and the tanager and the drooping motionless palm shading the window. in comparison, all else seemed almost arctic, unacclimatized. then the deep tones of the court rose, and in more simple verbiage,--almost crude and quite unlegal to my ears,--we heard ram narine sentenced to twelve months' hard labor. and the final words of the interpreter left ram's face as unconcerned and emotionless as that of the buddhas in the burmese pagodas. and the simile recurred again and again after it was all over. so ram and i parted, to meet again a few weeks later under strangely different conditions. robes and wigs and other legal properties were thrown aside, and once more we were all genial friends in the little automobile, with no trace of the terribly formal side of justice and right. the red pomeroon road slipped past, and i, for one, wished for a dozen eyes and a score of memories to record the unrolling of that road. it was baffling in its interest. the first ten or twenty miles consisted of huge sugar estates, recently awakened to feverish activity by the war prices of this commodity. golden fleece, taymouth manor, capoey, move success, anna regina, hampton court--all old names long famous in the history of the colony. in many other districts the dutch have left not only a heritage of names, such as vreeden-hoop and kyk-over-al, but the memory of a grim sense of humor, as in the case of three estates lying one beyond the other, which the owners named in turn, trouble, more trouble, and most trouble. unlike our southern plantations, the workers' quarters are along the road, with the big house of the manager well back, often quite concealed. the coolies usually live in long, communal, barrack-like structures, the negroes in half-open huts. this first part of the pomeroon road was one long ribbon of variegated color: hundreds of tiny huts, with picturesque groups of coolies and negroes and a smaller number of chinese, all the huts dilapidated, some leaning over, others so perforated that they looked like the ruins of european farmhouses after being shelled. patched, propped up, tied together, it was difficult to believe that they were habitable. all were embowered in masses of color and shadowed by the graceful curves of cocoanut palms and bananas. the sheets of bougainvillea blossoms, of yellow allamandas, and the white frangipani temple flowers of the east, brought joy to the eye and the nostril; the scarlet lilies growing rank as weeds--all these emphasized the ruinous character of the huts. along the front ran a trench, doubling all the glorious color in reflection, except where it was filled with lotus blossoms and victoria regia. as we passed swiftly, the natives rushed out on the shaky board-and-log bridges, staring in wonder, the women with babies astride of their hips, the copper-skinned children now and then tumbling into the water in their excitement. the yellows and reds and greens of the coolies added another color-note. everything seemed a riot of brilliant pigment. against the blue sky great orange-headed vultures balanced and volplaned; yellow-gold kiskadees shrieked blatantly, and, silhouetted against the green fronds, smote both eye and ear. we were among the first to pass the road in an automobile. awkward, big-wheeled carts, drawn by the tiniest of burros and heaped high with wood, were the only other vehicles. for the rest, the road was a noah's ark, studded with all the domestic animals of the world: pigs, calves, horses, burros, sheep, turkeys, chickens, and hordes of gaunt, pariah curs. drive as carefully as we might, we left behind a succession of defunct dogs and fowls. for the other species, especially those of respectable size, we slowed down, more for our sake than theirs. calves were the least intelligent, and would run ahead of us, gazing fearfully back, first over one, then the other shoulder, until from fatigue they leaped into the wayside ditch. the natives themselves barely moved aside, and why we did not topple over more of the great head-carried loads i do not know. we left behind us a world of scared coolies and gaping children. the road was excellent, but it twisted and turned bewilderingly. it was always the same rich red hue--made of earth-clinker burned under sods. preparing this seemed a frequent occupation of the natives, and the wood piles on the carts melted away in the charcoal-like fires of these subterranean furnaces. here and there tiny red flags fluttered from tall bamboo poles, reminiscent of the evil-spirit flags in india and burma. but with the transportation across the sea of these oriental customs certain improvements had entered in,--adaptations to the gods of ill of this new world. so the huts in course of alteration, and the new ones being erected, were guarded, not only by the fluttering and the color, but by a weird little figure of a dragon demon himself drawn on the cloth, a quite unoriental visualizing of the dreaded one. as we flew along, we gradually left the villages of huts behind. single thatched houses were separated by expanses of rice-fields, green rectangles framed in sepia mud walls, picked out here and there by intensely white and intensely japanesque egrets. great black muscovy ducks spattered up from amber pools, and tri-colored herons stood like detached shadows of birds, mere cardboard figures, so attenuated that they appeared to exist in only two planes of space. the rice-fields gave place to pastures and these to marshes; thin lines of grass trisected the red road--the first hint of the passing of the road and the coming of the trail. rough places became more frequent. then came shrub, and an occasional branch whipped our faces. black cuckoos or old witch-birds flew up like disheveled grackles; cotton-birds flashed by, and black-throated orioles glowed among the foliage. carrion crows and laughing falcons watched us from nearby perches, and our chauffeur went into second gear. now and then some strange human being passed,--man or woman, we could hardly tell which,--clad in rags which flapped in the breeze, long hair waving, leaning unsteadily on a staff, like a perambulating scarecrow. the eyes, fixed ahead, were fastened on things other than those of this world, so detached that their first sight of an automobile aroused them not at all. the gulf between the thoughts of these creatures and the world today was too deep to be bridged by any transient curiosity or fear. they trudged onward without a glance, and we steered aside to let them pass. the grass between the ruts now brushed the body of the car; even the wild people passed no more, and the huts vanished utterly. forest palms appeared, then taller brush, and trees in the distance. finally, the last three miles became a scar through the heart of the primeval jungle, open under the lofty sky of foliage, the great buttresses of the trunks exposed for the first time to the full glare of day. the trail was raw with all the snags and concealed roots with which the jungle likes to block entrance to its privacy; and, rocking and pitching like a ship in the waves, we drew up to a woodpile directly in our path. standing up in our seats, we could see, just beyond it, the dark flood of the pomeroon surging slowly down to the sea. seven years ago i had passed this way en route from morawhanna, paddled by six indians. _maintenant ce n'est qu'une mémoire._ for centuries the woodskins of the indians had passed up and down and left no trace. only by this tidal road could one reach the mouth of tributaries. and now the sacred isolation of this great tropical river was forever gone. the tiny scar along which we had bumped marked the permanent coming of man. and his grip would never relax. already capillaries were spreading through the wilderness tissues. across the river from our woodpile were two tiny portuguese houses--those petty pioneers of today whose forefathers were worldwide explorers. around us, scarcely separable from the bush, was the coffee plantation of one señor serrao. he and his mother greeted us, and with beaming courtesy we were led to their wattled hut, where a timid sister gave us grapefruit. i talked with him of his work and of the passing of the animals of the surrounding forest. tapir were still common, and the wild pigs and deer waged war on his vegetables. then a swirl drew our eyes to the brown flood and he said, "perai." and this was the end of the tropical trail which had started out as a road, with its beginning, for me, in the matter of ram narine. along its route we had passed civilization as men know it here, and had seen it gradually fray out into single aged outcasts, brooding on thoughts rooted and hidden in the mystery of the far east. from the water and the jungle the trail had vouchsafed us glimpses and whispers of the wild creatures of this great continent, of the web of whose lives we hoped to unravel a few strands. the end of the trail was barred with the closed toll-gate of memory. v a hunt for hoatzins lines of gray, plunging tropic rain slanted across the whole world. outward-curving waves of red mud lost themselves in the steady downpour beyond the guards on the motor-car of the inspector of police. it is surprising to think how many times and in what a multitude of places i have been indebted to inspectors of police. in new york the average visitor would never think of meeting that official except under extraordinary and perhaps compromising circumstances; but in tropical british possessions the head of the police combines with his requisite large quantity of gold lace and tact a delightful way of placing visitors, and especially those of serious scientific intent, under considerable obligation. so my present inspector of police, at an official banquet the preceding evening, had insisted that i travel along the seafront of guiana--betwixt muddy salt water and cane-fields--in his car. but an inspector of police is not necessarily a weather prophet, and now the close-drawn curtains forbade any view, so it was decided that i tranship to the single daily train. three times i had to pass the ticket-collector at the station to see after my luggage, and three times a large clover-leaf was punched out of my exceedingly small bit of pasteboard. a can of formaline still eluded me, but i looked dubiously at my limp trey of clubs. like a soggy gingersnap, it drooped with its own weight, and the chances seemed about even whether another trip past the hopelessly conscientious coolie gate-man would find me with a totally dismembered ticket or an asymmetrical four of clubs of lace-like consistency. i forebore, and walking to the end of the platform, looked out at a long line of feathery cocoanut palms, pasteled by the intervening rain. they were silhouetted in a station aperture of corrugated iron, of all building materials the most hideous; but the aperture was of that most graceful of all shapes, a moorish arch. neither my color nor my caste, in this ultra-democratic country, forced me to travel first-class, but that necessary, unwritten distinction, felt so keenly wherever there is a mingling of race, compelled me to step into a deserted car upholstered in soiled dusty blue. i regretted that i must "save my face," as a chinaman would say, and not sit on the greasy bare boards of the second-class coach, where fascinating coolie persons sat, squatting on the seats with their heads mixed up with their knees. desire, prompted by interest and curiosity, drew me to them, and frequently i got up and walked past, listening to the subdued clink of silver bracelets and anklets, and sniffing the wisps of ghee and curry and hemp which drifted out. nose-rings flashed, and in the dim station light i caught faint gleams of pastel scarves--sea-green and rose. i longed for kim's disguise, but i knew that before many stations were passed the concentration of mingled odors would have driven me back to my solitude. perhaps the chief joy of it all lay in the vignettes of memory which it aroused: that unbelievable hot midnight at agra; the glimpse of sheer paradise in a sunrise on the slopes of kinchinjunga; the odors of a caravan headed for the khyber pass. when i returned to my coach i found i was to have company. a stout--no, exceedingly fat--bespectacled gentleman, with pigment of ebony, and arrayed in full evening dress and high hat, was guarding a small dilapidated suitcase, and glaring at him across the aisle was a man of chocolate hue, with the straight black hair of the east indian and the high cheekbones and slanting eyes of the mongolian. his dress was a black suit of heavy scotch plaid, waistcoat and all, with diamonds and loud tie, and a monocle which he did not attempt to use. far off in the distant corner lounged a bronzed planter in comfortable muddy clothes. but we three upheld the prestige of the west end of the carriage. soon, impelled by the great heat, i removed my coat and was looked at askance; but i was the only comfortable one of the three. with the planter i should have liked to converse, but with those who sat near i held no communication. i could think of them only as insincere imitators of customs wholly unadapted to their present lives and country. i could have respected them so much more if they had clad themselves in cool white duck. i hold that a man is not worth knowing who will endure excessive tropical heat, perspiring at every pore, because his pride demands a waistcoat and coat of thickest woolen material, which would have been comfortable in a blizzard. so i went out again to look at the coolies with their honest garb of draped linen, and they seemed more sincere and worthy of acquaintance. we started at last, and only a few miles of glistening rails had passed beneath us when, finally, proof of the complete schism between police and weather bureaus became evident: the fresh tradewind dispersed the rain! the clouds remained, however--low, swirling masses of ashy-blue, billowing out like smoke from a bursting shell, or fraying in pale gray tatters, tangling the fronds of lofty palms. for the rest of the day the light came from the horizon--a thrillingly weird, indirect illumination, which lent vividness and intensity to every view. the world was scoured clean, the air cleansed of every particle of dust, while the clouds lent a cool freshness wholly untropical, and hour after hour the splendid savannah lands of the coast of guiana slipped past, as we rumbled swiftly southward along the entire shore-front. at first we passed close to the sea, and this was the most exciting part of the trip. in places the dikes had given way and the turbulent muddy waters had swept inland over rice and cane-fields, submerging in one implacable tide the labor of years. a new dike, of mud and timbers and sweet-smelling hurdles of black sage, had been erected at the roadside, and past this went all traffic. now and then an automobile had to slow up until a great wave broke, and then dash at full speed across the danger-spot. in spite of the swiftness, the wind-flung spray of the next wave would drench the occupants. the lowering sea-water glistened among the sickly plants, and strange fish troubled the salty pools as they sought uneasily for an outlet to the ocean. a flock of skimmers looked wholly out of place driving past a clump of bamboos. then the roadbed shifted inland, and lines of patient, humped zebus trailed slowly from their sheds--sheds of larger size and better built than the huts of their owners. these open-work homes were picturesque and unobtrusive; they fitted into the landscape as if, like the palms, they had come into being through years of quiet assimilation of water and warmth. their walls were of mud, adobe, mere casual upliftings of the sticky soil which glistened in every direction. their roofs were of _trooly_-palm fronds, brown and withered, as though they had dropped from invisible trees high overhead. like the coolies themselves, the houses offered no note of discord. i had just come from the deep jungle of the interior with its varying lights and shadows, its myriad color-grades, pastel, neutral in quality. here was boldness of stroke, sharpness of outline, strength of pigment. all the dominant tones of this newly washed coastal region were distinct and incisive. clear-cut silhouettes of vultures and black witch-birds were hunched on fence-posts and shrubs. egrets, like manikins cut from the whitest of celluloid, shone as far as the eye could see them. as if the rain had dissolved and washed away every mixed shade and hue, the eye registered only flaming, clashing colors; great flocks of birds black as night, save for a glowing scarlet gorget; other black birds with heads of shining gold, flashing as the filigree nose-beads flash against the rich dark skin of the coolies. like the colors, the sounds were individualized by sharpness of tone, incisiveness of utterance. the violent cries of flycatchers cleft the air, and, swiftly as we passed, struck on my ear fair and strong. the notes of the blackbirds were harmonious shafts of sound, cleaving the air like the whistle of the meadowlark. hawks with plumage of bright cinnamon and cream, hurled crisp, piercing shrieks at the train. only the vultures, strung like ebony beads along the fronds of the cocoanut palms, spread their wings to dry, and dumbly craned their necks down as we passed. past mahaica and abary we rushed, the world about us a sliding carpet of all the emerald tints in the universe. and just as the last tint had been used up and i knew there must be some repetition, the clouds split and a ray of pure sunlight shot through the clear air and lit up a field of growing rice with living green of a still newer hue, an unearthly concentrated essence of emerald which was comparable to nothing but sprouting rice in rain-washed sunlight. whether this be on the hot coastlands of java, in tiny sod-banked terraces far up on the slopes of dehra dun, or in the shadow of fuji itself, makes no manner of difference. the miracle of color never fails. trees were so rare that one was compelled to take notice of them. high above the bamboos, high above even those arboreal towers of pisa, the cocoanut palms, rose the majestic silk-cotton trees, bare of leaves at this season, with great branches shooting out at breathless heights. like strange gourd-like fruit, three sizes of nests hung pendant from these lofty boughs: short, scattered purses of yellow orioles, colonied clusters of the long pouches of yellow-backed _bunyahs_, and, finally, the great, graceful, woven trumpets of the giant black caciques, rarely beautiful, and, like the trees, scarce enough to catch and hold the eye. the groves of cocoanut palms, like a hundred enormous green rockets ever bursting in mid-air, checkered the sunlight, which sifted through and was made rosy by a host of lotus blooms beneath. then the scene changed in a few yards, and low, untropical shrubs filled the background, while at our feet rose rank upon rank of cat-tails, and we might be passing across the jersey meadows. each little station was the focus of a world of its own. coolies and blacks excitedly hustled to place on board their contribution to the world's commerce:--tomatoes no larger than cherries, in beautifully woven baskets; a crate of chickens or young turkeys; a live sheep protesting and entangled in the spokes of an old-fashioned bicycle; a box of fish, flashing silver and old rose. some had only a single bundle of fodder to offer. at one station, quaintly named de kinderen, a clear-faced coolie boy pushed a small bunch of plantains into the freight van, then sat on the steps. as the train started to move he settled himself as if for a long ride, and for a second or two closed his eyes. then he opened them, climbed down, and swung off into the last bit of clearing. his face was sober, not a-smile at a thoughtless lark. i looked at his little back as he trudged toward his home, and wondered what desire for travel, for a glimpse of the world, was back of it all. and i wished that i could have asked him about it and taken him with me. this little narrow-gauge link with the outside world perhaps scatters heartaches as well as shekels along its right of way. i was watching a flock of giant _anis_, which bubbled cheerfully on their slow flight across the fields, when a wide expanse of water blocked our way, and we drew up at the bank of the berbice river. in the course of five days at new amsterdam we achieved our object. we found hoatzins, their nests, eggs, and young, and perpetuated in photographs their wonderful habits handed down through all the ages past, from the time when reptiles were the dominant beings, and birds and mammals crept about, understudying their rôle to come, as yet uncertain of themselves and their heritage. when we needed it the sun broke through the rain and shone brightly; when our lenses were ready, the baby hoatzins ran the gamut of their achievements. they crept on all fours, they climbed with fingers and toes, they dived headlong, and swam as skilfully as any hesperornis of old. this was, and i think always will be, to me, the most wonderful sight in the world. to see a tiny living bird duplicate within a few minutes the processes which, evolved slowly through uncounted years, have at last culminated in the world of birds as we find it today--this is impressive beyond words. no poem, no picture, no terrible danger, no sight of men killed or injured has ever affected me as profoundly as this. thus the primary object of the trip was accomplished. but that is a poor expedition indeed which does not yield another hundred per cent. in oblique values, of things seen out of the corner of one's eyes. if one is an official or an accredited visitor to berbice, the colony house is placed at one's service. i am sure that it is quite the ugliest of all colony houses, and surrounded by what i am equally sure is one of the most beautiful of tropical gardens. if berbice held no other attraction it would be worth visiting to see this garden. the first floor of colony house is offices, the second is the supreme court, and when i peeped in i saw there were three occupants--a great yellow cat curled up in the judge's chair, and two huge toads solemnly regarding each other from the witness-box and the aisle. three stories in guiana constitute a skyscraper, and that night i slept on a level with the palm fronds. it was a house of a thousand sounds. during the day hosts of carpenters tore off uncountable shingles devastated by white ants. two antithetical black maids attended noisily but skilfully to all my wants. at night, cats and frogs divided the vocal watches, and a patient dog never tired of rolling the garbage-can downstairs past the supreme court to the first floor. i thought of this at first as some strange canine rite, a thing which alice could have explained with ease, or which to seumas and to slith would have appeared reasonable and fitting. i used to wait for it before i went to sleep, knowing that comparative silence would follow. i discovered later that this intelligent dog had learned that, by nudging the can off the top step, the cover would become dislodged at about the level of the supreme court, and from there to the government offices he could spend a night of gastronomic joy, gradually descending to the level of the entrance. a kind planter put me up at the club, the usual colonial institution where one may play bridge or billiards, drink swizzles, or read war telegrams "delayed in transit." these were the usual things to do, daily duties, timed almost regularly by the kiskadees' frantic farewell to the day or the dodging of the first vampire among the electric-light bulbs. but in this exciting country, with hoatzins asleep within a half-mile, i could not bring my mind to any of these things, and wandered about, idly turning the leaves of dull periodicals, looking at cases of cues and the unfinished records of past billiard tournaments, yellowed with age. the steward approached timidly. "would the sahib like to see the library?" yes, the sahib decidedly would. we climbed the stairs, creaking as if they complained at the unaccustomed weight of footsteps, to the upper room of the club. it was large, barn-like in its vacantness, with a few little tables, each surrounded by a group of chairs, like chickens crowded about a hen. the walls were lined with books and there was an atmosphere about the room which took hold of me at once. i could not identify it with any previous experience, certainly not with the libraries of georgetown in which i had spent days. this was something subtle, something which had to discover itself. the steward led me proudly about, making it plain that his affection was here rather than with the mixing of swizzles below. no, he had never read any of them, but he would feel honored if i found any pleasure in them and would condescend to borrow one. he seemed rather emphatic on this point; he especially desired that i take one to colony house. then he left me. the books were without a speck of dust, each volume in its place and aligned with precision. little by little, as i made my round, nibbling at a book here and there, the secret of the place came to me: it was a library of the past, a dead library. there seemed something uncanny, something unreal about it. here were hundreds of books, there tables and chairs, but no one ever used them. yet it was in the center of a large town just above the most frequented gathering-place. more than this the library itself was obsolete. no volume had been added for many years. most of them were old, old tomes, richly bound in leather and tree calf. nearly all were strange to me--little-known histories and charmingly naïve "conversations" and memoirs of generations ago. they were delicately, gracefully worded, many of them; one could feel the lace and velvet of the sleeve which had touched them; the subtle musty odors of the yellowed page and crumbling leather seemed tinged with faint, strange perfumes. it was astounding and very affecting, and my interest increased with every minute. the evening chorus of the tropical night had commenced outside, and a glance out of the window showed a network of motionless fronds dimly outlined against the rose-colored clouds over the waters of the berbice. below i heard the soft click of billiard balls. then i returned to the books. their rich bindings were falling apart, musty, worm-eaten, many held together only by a string. it was as if i had entered the richly filled library of some old manor-house which had been sealed up for two-score years, and yet kept lovingly dusted. it was this sense of constant care which served to emphasize the weird isolation, the uncanny desolation. i glanced at _lives of the lindsays_, by lord lindsay, a work of sixty-five years ago, unknown to me, quaint and delightful. this rubbed covers with lockhart's _life of scott_. on another shelf i recall _the colloquies of edward osborne, citizen and clothmaker of london_, which held me until i knew that the colony house dog would get all of my dinner if i did not start homewards. the next volume to this was a friend, thier's _the consulate and the empire_. then i walked past stacks of old-fashioned novels, nearly all in three volumes. their names were strange, and i suppose they would prove deadly reading to our generation; but i am sure that in their day they fascinated many eyes reading by the flickering light of tapers and rushes. and even now they stood bravely alongside dickens and scott. finally i reached up to the highest row and chose one of a series of heavy tomes whose titles had completely fallen away with age and climate. i untied the binding string, opened at random and read thus:-"it is vain, then, any longer to insist on variations of organic structure being the result of habits or circumstances. nothing has been elongated, shortened or modified, either by external causes or internal volition; all that has been changed has been changed suddenly, and has left nothing but wrecks behind it, to advertise us of its former existence." thus wrote the baron cuvier many years ago. and this brought me back to reality, and my study of those living fossils now asleep in the neighboring _bunduri_ thorn bushes, whose nestlings so completely refute the good baron's thesis. as i reached the door i selected a volume at random to take back to colony house. i put out the lights and turned a moment to look about. the platinum wires still glowed dully, and weak moonlight now filled the room with a silver grayness. i wondered whether, in the magic of some of these tropical nights, when the last ball had been pocketed and the last swizzle drunk belowstairs, some of the book-lovers of olden times, who had read these volumes and turned down the creased pages, did not return and again laugh and cry over them. there was no inharmonious note: no thrilling short stories, no gaudy chromatic bindings, no slangy terse titles, no magazines or newspapers. such gentlefolk as came could have sat there and listened to the crickets and the occasional cry of a distant heron and have been untroubled by the consciousness of any passage of time. i learned that this library club had been the oldest in the west indies, founded about three quarters of a century ago. it had long ceased to exist, and no one ever disturbed the quietness of the gradual dissolution of this admirable collection of old works. i walked slowly back, thinking of the strange contrast between what i had seen and the unlovely, commercialized buildings along the street. i was startled from my reverie by the challenge of the sentry, and for a moment could not think what to answer. i had well-nigh forgotten my own personality in the vividness of the stately early victorian atmosphere. long after the colony house dog had noisily announced the beginning of his nocturnal feast, i lay behind my net poring over the _memoirs of the lady hester stanhope, as related by herself in conversations with her physician, comprising her opinions and anecdotes of some most remarkable persons_, and i came to the conclusion that by far the most remarkable of them all was lady hester herself. berbice, we were told by residents elsewhere, was behind the times. i found it up to date, colonially speaking, and, indeed, possessing certain ideas and ideals which might advantageously be dispersed throughout the colony. but new amsterdam, with all its commercial hardness of outline and sordid back streets, flashed out in strangely atavistic touches now and then; a sort of quintessence of out-of-dateness which no inhabitant suspected, and which was incapable of legislative change. first, there were hoatzins, hinting of æons of years ago; then, the library, which preserved so perfectly the atmosphere of our great grandparents. and now, as i left the compound of colony house in the early morning, i watched with fascination a coolie woman bearing a great bundle of loosely bound fagots on her head. as she walked, they kept dropping out, and instead of leaning down or squatting and so endangering the equilibrium of all the rest, she simply shifted her weight to one foot, and felt about with the other. when it encountered the fallen stick, the big toe uncannily separated and curled about it, and she instantly bent her knee, passed up the stick to her hand and thence to the bundle again. it surpassed anything i had ever seen among savages--the hand-like mobility of that coolie woman's toes. and i thought that, if she was a woman of simla or of the western ghats, then my belief in the siwalik origin of mankind was irrevocable! it seemed as if i could not escape from the spell of the past. i walked down to a dilapidated stelling to photograph a mob of vultures, and there found a small circle of fisherfolk cleaning their catch. they were wild-looking negroes and coolies, half-naked, and grunting with the exertion of their work. a glance at the fish again drove me from berbice into ages long gone by. armored catfish they were, reminiscent of the piscine glories of devonian times--uncouth creatures, with outrageously long feelers and tentacles, misplaced fins, and mostly ensconced in bony armor, sculptured and embossed with designs in low relief. i watched with half-closed eyes the fretted shadows of the palms playing over the glistening black bodies of the men, and the spell of the strange fish seemed to shift the whole scene centuries, tens of centuries, backward. the fish, attractive in the thought suggested by their ancient armor, were quite unlovely in their present surroundings. piles of them were lying about in the hot sun, under a humming mass of flies, awaiting their unhurried transit to the general market. when the fishermen had collected a quantity of heads, apparently the chief portions considered inedible, these were scraped off the stelling to the mud beneath. at this there arose a monstrous hissing and a whistle of wings, and a cloud of black vultures descended with a rush and roar from surrounding roofs and trees. while watching and photographing them, i saw an antithesis of bird-life such as i had never imagined. the score of vultures fought and tore and slid about in the black noisome mud exposed by the low tide. sometimes they were almost back downward--fairly slithering through the muck to seize some shred of fish, hissing venomously; and at last spreading filthy, mud-dripping pinions to flap heavily away a few paces. in disgust at the sight and sound and odor, i started to turn back, when in the air just above the fighting mass, within reach of the flying mud, poised a hummingbird, clean and fresh as a rain-washed blossom. with cap of gold and gorget of copper, this smallest, most ethereal, and daintiest of birds hung balanced just above the most offensive of avian sights. my day threatened to be one of emotion instead of science. berbice vouchsafed one more surprise, a memory from the past which appeared and vanished in an instant. one of the most delightful of men was taking me out to where the hoatzins lived. we went in his car, which, and i use his own simile, was as truly a relic as anything i have mentioned. i have been in one-horse shays. i have ridden for miles in a calcutta gharry. i was now in a one-cylinder knockabout which in every way lived up to its name. it was only after a considerable time that i felt assured that the mud-guards and wheels were not on the point of leaving us. when i had also become accustomed to the clatter and bang of loose machinery i was once more able to look around. i had become fairly familiar with the various racial types of guiana, and with some accuracy i could distinguish the more apparent strains. halfway through the town we passed three girls, one a coolie, the second dominantly negroid, while the third showed the delicate profile, the subtle color, the unmistakable physiognomy of a syrian. she might have posed for the finest of the sculptures on a babylonian wall. i turned in astonishment to my host, who explained that years ago some syrian peddlers had come this way, remained, prospered, and sent for their wives. now their children had affiliated with the other varied types--affiliated in language and ideas perhaps, but not, in one case at least, at the expense of purity of facial lineament of race. as i have said, success with the hoatzins came swiftly and completely. we had discovered a few nests with young birds of just the right age and in positions which left nothing to be desired. yet when a jovial scotch manager came with news that one of his coolies knew of colonies of hundreds of breeding _anaquas_, we decided to take the whole of the proverbial cake instead of being satisfied with our generous slice. so we made all preparations and left colony house early one morning. to be equal to the occasion we went in full force, with two servants, an indian and a black, and an automobile full of duffle, guns, nets to catch the young birds, glasses, notebooks, game-bags, and ropes. as usual it poured in torrents at daybreak but cleared somewhat as we started. a reckless creole driver hurled our tiny ford through deep puddles and around corners, and we rocked and skidded and splashed, and were forever just grazing coolies and their carts. a land of a thousand surprises! we stopped a moment at the lunatic asylum to borrow an ax, and it was presently brought to us by a smiling, kindly old coolie inmate, who kept murmuring hindustani to himself. as we drove on, a gigantic black man appeared on the ridgepole of the highest building and, stark naked, rushed aimlessly back and forth, stamping gleefully on the corrugated iron, and chanting as he stamped. we gazed on the axe and for once did not chide the driver in his reckless progress. with relief we reached the bridge, where our scotch friend had kindly provided mule, rope, boat, and coolies. we waited for a while, but as the downpour showed no signs of abating, we started on one of the wildest, weirdest journeys i have ever taken. the trench was narrow and deep, the boat was overladen, the banks were erratic, the mule was fractious, and the coolies were extremely unskilful. for the first half-mile the trench was crowded with great dreadnaughts of iron cane-boats, wholly irresponsible in position and movements. in places our speed caused a troubling of the water far ahead, and this now and again swung a cane-barge directly across our path. again and again the stern of our boat would develop a sentient mind of its own and swirl ahead. then followed a chorus of yells at the mule-boy, and a nervous half-rising in the boat, and a still more terrible silence, broken at last by a crash--hollow and echoing if we struck a cane-barge, splintering if against a log or stump. the boat would tip, several gallons of water pour in, and then there became audible our minute and detailed opinions of coolies and mules in general and ours in particular. of course every one who came between our mule and the bank had to flee, or else was scraped into the trench by the rope; and we left in our wake knots of discomfited coolie women who had been washing themselves or their clothes and who had to escape at the last moment. calves were a source of intense excitement, and their gambols and intricate manipulations of our rope would have been highly amusing if the result of each encounter had not been mixed up so acutely with our own fate. i sat crouched down, a water-soaked mound of misery. miserable, for i was still partly dry, having on the only raincoat, for the purpose of protecting our precious camera. water ran up hill that morning, seeking out crevices and buttonholes by which to penetrate to my person and to the leather-covered box which was so precious. things went better after we made the discovery that we were progressing bow-hindmost. and all the time the rain poured down, and coolie women and girls plodded drearily by to work. we landed finally and, in despair of photography, i cached the camera beneath a slanting tree. then we began a tramp through all the mud in the world. there is only one place where the mud is deeper and more sticky than by a sugar-plantation trench, and that is on the dividing dikes of a chinese rice-field. we slipped and slid, and when our shoes became too heavy to lift, we dabbled them in the trench and washed them. in brief intervals of less heavy rain we watched passing herons and hawks, while giant _anis_ bubbled and grunted in surprise at our procession. at last the never-to-be-forgotten hoarse gutturals of hoatzins came to our ears, and dimly through the rain we saw one small branchful of four birds, hunched up with drenched plumage. two others were posed as rain-worshipers--rufous wings widespread, heads stretched out, welcoming the sheets of water which poured over them. their wild crests, though sodden and glued together, were still erect, dripping and swaying. we encircled the clump of trees and found deep canals and trenches on all sides. we shot one bird, which, true to its reptilian nature, spread both wings, locked its flight feathers among the twists of a liana tangle, and there hung suspended out of reach. a strange coolie now appeared out of the mist and promised many, many, many _anaquas_ "not too far" beyond. we shook the wet from our hat-brims, squeezed it from our shoes, and plodded on. the cane-fields seemed never-ending, always separated by lily-covered trenches. then came half-swampy expanses with scattered trees. careful search revealed another half-dozen hoatzins, sheltered among the dense foliage of the tallest tree. no nests were visible, and the rain was so heavy that we could not look upward. in the midst of the vague expanse of this dreary world a rootie spine-tail perched in a tree and sang three notes. we shot him because we could think of no other way at that moment of relieving our feelings. then we had a reaction, almost hysterical, and the coolies murmured, "_padliadme_" (madmen), and we laughed loudly again and again and started homeward. we chaffed the coolies until they were embarrassed; we slid into the deepest holes we could find. we made set speeches on the dampness of sugar-plantations, on tropical weather, and especially on the veracity of the indentured inhabitants of india. it was all as good-natured as it sounded, for, after all, had we not already found the birds themselves and obtained our notes and photographs? then we discussed the psychology of rain and of getting wet, and i arrived at the following conclusions, which are true ones. once drenched to the skin in the tropics, all discomfort is gone. one simply squidges around in the blissful knowledge that all the mud and water in the world can now arouse no feeling of discomfort. one has simply been translated to a new world of elements, a new cosmos of sensation. and as with most such transmigrations, it is only the shifting which is disagreeable. as long as a shred of clothing is dry, we think of it and worry about it, and endeavor to keep it dry, and shrink from the clammy touch of partly sodden foot-wear. once we slip into a trench, the rain becomes only a pleasant tapping on one's shoulders, a rhythmical, liquid vibration. with all fear eliminated, water and mud become no more unpleasant than air and earth. so our plantation expedition, like gaul, may be divided into three parts: first, a thrilling, dangerous, expectant phase; a brief second period of thoroughly disappointing revelation; third, a jolly, unscientific, and wholly hilarious finale. these are the trips which no explorer or traveler mentions, because there are no tangible returns. but it is seldom that any expedition, however barren of direct results, cannot be made to yield some viewpoint of interest. * * * * * the sun had just risen when the little ferryboat left the stelling on its way to the railway station on the opposite bank of the river. half of the jungle across the berbice was dark, dark green, almost black, with a fragment of rainbow hung obliquely above it, tangled in blue-black clouds. a little way up-river the level sun's rays struck fairly, and the rounded, cloud-like billows of foliage were of palest sage-green. our shore was all one blatant glare, flooded already with the violent light of a tropical day. against the black berbice cloud a hundred fork-tailed flycatchers flashed and vanished alternately as they swerved and careened. steadily across its threatening face was drawn a single line of scarlet--a score of ibises glowing like the essence of rubies. vi hoatzins at home the flight of the hoatzin resembles that of an over-fed hen. the hoatzin's voice is no more melodious than the cry of a peacock, and less sonorous than an alligator's roar. the bird's grace is batrachian rather than avian, while the odor of its body resembles that of no bird untouched by dissolution. still, zoölogically considered, the hoatzin is probably the most remarkable and interesting bird living on the earth today. it has successfully defied time and space. for it, the dial of the ages has moved more slowly than for the rest of organic life, and although living and breathing with us today, yet its world is an affair of two dimensions--a line of thorny saplings threaded along the muddy banks of a few tropical waters. a bird in a cage cannot escape, and may be found month after month wherever the cage is placed. a stuffed bird in a case may resist disintegration for a century. but when we go to look for the bluebirds which nest in the orchard, they may have flown a half mile away in their search for food. the plover which scurries before us today on the beach may tonight be far away on the first lap of his seven thousand mile flight to the southward. the hoatzin's status lies rather with the caged bird. in november in new york city an englishman from british guiana said to me, "go to the berbice river, and at the north end of the town of new amsterdam, in front of mr. beckett's house, you will find hoatzins." six months later as i drove along a tropical river road i saw three hoatzins perched on a low thorn bush at the river's edge in front of a house. and the river was the berbice, and the house that of mr. beckett. thus are the hoatzins independent of space, as all other flying birds know it, and in their classic reptilian affinities,--voice, actions, arms, fingers, habits,--they bring close the dim epochs of past time, and renew for our inspection the youth of bird-life on the earth. it is discouraging ever to attempt to translate habits fraught with so profound a significance into words, or to make them realistic even with the aid of photographs. we took a boat opposite mr. beckett's house, and paddled slowly with the nearly-flood tide up the berbice river. it was two o'clock, the hottest time of the day. for three miles we drifted past the chosen haunts of the hoatzins. all were perched in the shade, quiet in the intense heat, squatting prostrate or sleepily preening their plumage. now and then we saw a bird on her nest, always over the water. if she was sitting on eggs she sat close. if young birds were in the nest she half-crouched, or perched on the rim, so that her body cast a shadow over the young. the vegetation was not varied. muckamucka was here and there in the foreground, with an almost solid line of bunduri pimpler or thorn tree. this was the real home of the birds, and this plant forms the background whenever the hoatzin comes to mind. it is a growth which loves the water, and crowds down so that the rising of the tide, whether fresh or brackish, covers the mud in which it stands, so that it appears to be quite as aquatic as the mangrove which, here and there, creeps out alongside it. the pimpler bears thorns of the first magnitude, often double, recurved and at such diabolically unexpected places, that like barbed wire, it is impossible to grasp anywhere without drawing blood. such a chevaux-de-frise would defend a trench against the most courageous regiment. the stems were light gray, greening toward the younger shoots, and the foliage was pleasantly divided into double lines of locust-like leaflets. the plants were in full flower,--dainty, upright panicles of wisteria-like pea-blooms, pale violet and white with tiny buds of magenta. a faint, subdued perfume drifted from them through the tangle of branches. the fruit was ripening on many plants, in clusters of green, semi-circular, flat, kidney pods. the low branches stretched gracefully waterwards in long sweeping curves. on these at a fork or at the crossing of two distinct branches, the hoatzins placed their nests, and with the soft-tissued leaflets they packed their capacious crops and fed their young. besides these two plants, which alone may be considered as forming the principal environment, two blooms were conspicuous at this season; a deep-calyxed, round blossom of rich yellow,--an hibiscus, which the indians called makoe, and from the bark of which they made most excellent rope. the other flower was a vine which crept commonly up over the pimpler trees, regardless of water and thorns, and hung out twin blossoms in profusion, pink and pinkish-white, trumpet-shaped, with flaring lips. the mid-day life about this haunt of hoatzins was full of interest. tody-flycatchers of two species, yellow-breasted and streaked, were the commonest birds, and their little homes, like bits of tide-hung drift, swayed from the tips of the pimpler branches. they dashed to and fro regardless of the heat, and whenever we stopped they came within a foot or two, curiously watching our every motion. kiskadees hopped along the water's edge in the shade, snatching insects and occasionally splashing into the water after small fish. awkward guinea green herons, not long out of the nest, crept like shadow silhouettes of birds close to the dark water. high overhead, like flecks of jet against the blue sky, the vultures soared. green dragonflies whirled here and there, and great blue-black bees fumbled in and out of the hibiscus, yellowed with pollen and too busy to stop a second in their day-long labor. this little area held very strange creatures as well, some of which we saw even in our few hours' search. four-eyed fish skittered over the water, pale as the ghosts of fish, and when quiet, showing only as a pair of bubbly eyes. still more weird hairy caterpillars wriggled their way through the muddy, brackish current--aquatic larvæ of a small moth which i had not seen since i found them in the trenches of pará. the only sound at this time of day was a drowsy but penetrating _tr-r-r-r-r-p!_ made by a green-bodied, green-legged grasshopper of good size, whose joy in life seemed to be to lie lengthwise upon a pimpler branch, and skreek violently at frequent intervals, giving his wings a frantic flutter at each utterance, and slowly encircling the stem. in such environment the hoatzin lives and thrives, and, thanks to its strong body odor, has existed from time immemorial in the face of terrific handicaps. the odor is a strong musky one, not particularly disagreeable. i searched my memory at every whiff for something of which it vividly reminded me, and at last the recollection came to me--the smell, delectable and fearfully exciting in former years--of elephants at a circus, and not altogether elephants either, but a compound of one-sixth sawdust, another part peanuts, another of strange animals and three-sixths swaying elephant. that, to my mind, exactly describes the odor of hoatzins as i sensed it among these alien surroundings. as i have mentioned, the nest of the hoatzin was invariably built over the water, and we shall later discover the reason for this. the nests were sometimes only four feet above high water, or equally rarely, at a height of forty to fifty feet. from six to fifteen feet included the zone of four-fifths of the nests of these birds. they varied much in solidity, some being frail and loosely put together, the dry, dead sticks which composed them dropping apart almost at a touch. usually they were as well knitted as a heron's, and in about half the cases consisted of a recent nest built upon the foundations of an old one. there was hardly any cavity at the top, and the coarse network of sticks looked like a precarious resting place for eggs and an exceedingly uncomfortable one for young birds. when we approached a nest, the occupant paid no attention until we actually came close to a branch, or shook it. she then rose, protesting hoarsely, and lifting wings and tail as she croaked. at the last moment, often when only a yard away, she flew off and away to a distance of fifty feet or more. watching closely, when she realized that we really had intentions on her nest, she returned and perched fifteen or twenty feet away, croaking continually, her mate a little farther off, and all the hoatzins within sight or hearing joining in sympathetic disharmony, all with synchronous lifting of tail and wings at each utterance. the voice of the female is appreciably deeper than that of the male, having more of a gurgling character, like one of the notes of a curassow. the usual note of both sexes is an unwritable, hoarse, creaking sound, quite cicada or frog-like. their tameness was astounding, and they would often sit unmoved, while we were walking noisily about, or focusing the camera within two yards. if several were sitting on a branch and one was shot, the others would often show no symptoms of concern or alarm, either at the noise of the gun or the fall of their companion. a hoatzin which may have been crouched close to the slain bird would continue to preen its plumage without a glance downward. when the young had attained their first full plumage it was almost impossible to distinguish them from the older members of the flock except by their generally smaller size. but the heart of our interest in the hoatzins centered in the nestlings. some kind providence directed the time of our visit, which i chose against the advice of some of the very inhabitants of new amsterdam. it turned out that we were on the scene exactly at the right time. a week either way would have yielded much poorer results. the nestlings, in seven occupied nests, observed as we drifted along shore, or landed and climbed among the thorns, were in an almost identical stage of development. in fact, the greatest difference in size occurred between two nestlings of the same brood. their down was a thin, scanty, fuzzy covering, and the flight feathers were less than a half-inch in length. no age would have showed to better advantage every movement of wings or head. when a mother hoatzin took reluctant flight from her nest, the young bird at once stood upright and looked curiously in every direction. no slacker he, crouching flat or awaiting his mother's directing cries. from the moment he was left alone he began to depend upon the warnings and signs which his great beady eyes and skinny ears conveyed to him. hawks and vultures had swept low over his nest and mother unheeded. coolies in their boats had paddled underneath with no more than a glance upward. throughout his week of life, as through his parents' and their parents' parents' lives, no danger had disturbed their peaceful existence. only for a sudden windstorm such as that which the week before had upset nests and blown out eggs, it might be said that for the little hoatzin chicks life held nothing but siestas and munchings of pimpler leaves. but one little hoatzin, if he had any thoughts such as these, failed to count on the invariable exceptions to every rule, for this day the totally unexpected happened. fate, in the shape of enthusiastic scientists, descended upon him. he was not for a second nonplussed. if we had concentrated upon him a thousand strong, by boats and by land, he would have fought the good fight for freedom and life as calmly as he waged it against us. and we found him no mean antagonist, and far from reptilian in his ability to meet new and unforeseen conditions. his mother, who a moment before had been packing his capacious little crop with predigested pimpler leaves, had now flown off to an adjoining group of mangroves, where she and his father croaked to him hoarse encouragement. his flight feathers hardly reached beyond his finger-tips, and his body was covered with a sparse coating of sooty black down. so there could be no resort to flight. he must defend himself, bound to earth like his assailants. hardly had his mother left when his comical head, with thick, blunt beak and large intelligent eyes, appeared over the rim of the nest. his alert expression was increased by the suspicion of a crest on his crown where the down was slightly longer. higher and higher rose his head, supported on a neck of extraordinary length and thinness. no more than this was needed to mark his absurd resemblance to some strange, extinct reptile. a young dinosaur must have looked much like this, while for all that my glance revealed, i might have been looking at a diminutive galapagos tortoise. indeed this simile came to mind often when i became more intimate with nestling hoatzins. sam, my black tree-climber, kicked off his shoes and began creeping along the horizontal limbs of the pimplers. at every step he felt carefully with a calloused sole in order to avoid the longer of the cruel thorns, and punctuated every yard with some gasp of pain or muttered personal prayer, "pleas' doan' stick me, thorns!" at last his hand touched the branch, and it shook slightly. the young bird stretched his mittened hands high above his head and waved them a moment. with similar intent a boxer or wrestler flexes his muscles and bends his body. one or two uncertain, forward steps brought the bird to the edge of the nest at the base of a small branch. there he stood, and raising one wing leaned heavily against the stern, bracing himself. my man climbed higher and the nest swayed violently. now the brave little hoatzin reached up to some tiny side twigs and aided by the projecting ends of dead sticks from the nest, he climbed with facility, his thumbs and forefingers apparently being of more aid than his feet. it was fascinating to see him ascend, stopping now and then to crane his head and neck far out, turtlewise. he met every difficulty with some new contortion of body or limbs, often with so quick or so subtle a shifting as to escape my scrutiny. the branch ended in a tiny crotch and here perforce, ended his attempt at escape by climbing. he stood on the swaying twig, one wing clutched tight, and braced himself with both feet. nearer and nearer crept sam. not a quiver on the part of the little hoatzin. we did not know it, but inside that ridiculous head there was definite decision as to a deadline. he watched the approach of this great, strange creature--this danger, this thing so wholly new and foreign to his experience, and doubtless to all the generations of his forbears. a black hand grasped the thorny branch six feet from his perch, and like a flash he played his next trick--the only remaining one he knew, one that set him apart from all modern land birds, as the frog is set apart from the swallow. the young hoatzin stood erect for an instant, and then both wings of the little bird were stretched straight back, not folded, bird-wise, but dangling loosely and reaching well beyond the body. for a considerable fraction of time he leaned forward. then without effort, without apparent leap or jump he dived straight downward, as beautifully as a seal, direct as a plummet and very swiftly. there was a scarcely-noticeable splash, and as i gazed with real awe, i watched the widening ripples which undulated over the muddy water--the only trace of the whereabouts of the young bird. it seemed as if no one, whether ornithologist, evolutionist, poet or philosopher could fail to be profoundly impressed at the sight we had seen. here i was in a very real, a very modern boat, with the honk of motor horns sounding from the river road a few yards away through the bushes, in the shade of this tropical vegetation in the year nineteen hundred and sixteen; and yet the curtain of the past had been lifted and i had been permitted a glimpse of what must have been common in the millions of years ago. it was a tremendous thing, a wonderful thing to have seen, and it seemed to dwarf all the strange sights which had come to me in all other parts of the earth's wilderness. i had read of these habits and had expected them, but like one's first sight of a volcano in eruption, no reading or description prepares one for the actual phenomenon. i sat silently watching for the re-appearance of the young bird. we tallied five pairs of eyes and yet many minutes passed before i saw the same little head and emaciated neck sticking out of the water alongside a bit of drift rubbish. the only visible thing was the protruding spikes of the bedraggled tail feathers. i worked the boat in toward the bird, half-heartedly, for i had made up my mind that this particular brave little bit of atavism deserved his freedom, so splendidly had he fought for it among the pimplers. soon he ducked forward, dived out of sight and came up twenty feet away among an inextricable tangle of vines. i sent a little cheer of well wishing after him and we salvaged sam. then we shoved out the boat and watched from a distance. five or six minutes passed and a skinny, crooked, two-fingered mitten of an arm reared upward out of the muddy flood and the nestling, black and glistening, hauled itself out of water. thus must the first amphibian have climbed into the thin air. but the young hoatzin neither gasped nor shivered, and seemed as self-possessed as if this was a common occurrence in its life. there was not the slightest doubt however, that this was its first introduction to water. yet it had dived from a height of fifteen feet, about fifty times its own length, as cleanly as a seal leaps from a berg. it was as if a human child should dive _two hundred feet_! in fifteen minutes more it had climbed high above the water, and with unerring accuracy directly toward its natal bundle of sticks overhead. the mother now came close, and with hoarse rasping notes and frantic heaves of tail and wings lent encouragement. just before we paddled from sight, when the little fellow had reached his last rung, he partly opened his beak and gave a little falsetto cry,--a clear, high tone, tailing off into a guttural rasp. his splendid courage had broken at last; he had nearly reached the nest and he was aching to put aside all this terrible responsibility, this pitting of his tiny might against such fearful odds. he wanted to be a helpless nestling again, to crouch on the springy bed of twigs with a feather comforter over him and be stuffed at will with delectable pimpler pap. such is the normal right destiny of a hoatzin chick, and the _whee-og!_ wrung from him by the reaction of safety seemed to voice all this. vii a wilderness laboratory robinson crusoe had a wreck well stored with supplies, and we inherited only four walls and a roof. still, we had a boy friday--sam, an ebony demeraran, exactly half of whose teeth had been lost in the only automobile ride he had ever taken. sam was sent by some personal providence--perhaps the god of intelligence bureaus--as the first of our faithful following in guiana. sam had formerly been a warden in the georgetown jail, and rumor had it that he left because he saw "jumbies" in the court where one hundred and nine men had been hung. and surely that was where jumbies would be found if anywhere. even crusoe's man must have admitted that. how wardenship could be of aid to us in our scientific work was a puzzle. only once before did a servant's previous experience surpass this in utter uselessness. that was when a russian chauffeur whom i had taken on trial found a cowboy saddle in my attic and seriously and proudly showed me in great detail, with the saddle strapped to the banisters, how with his long cossack training he could stand on his neck when going at full speed! but sam, like many another servant of the past, was to prove a treasure. we had come from new york with a very distinct idea of what we wanted to do, but no idea at all of just how or where we should begin. on kindly but conflicting advice and suggestion, we had searched hither and thither over the coastlands of british guiana. everywhere we found drawbacks. we wanted to be near primeval jungle, we wished to be free of mosquitoes and other disturbers of long-continued observation. we desired the seemingly impossible combination of isolation and facility of communication with the outside world. in a driving, tropical rainstorm i ascended the essequibo to bartica, and from the hills, as the sun broke through gray clouds, my friend the rubber planter pointed over two jungle-clad ranges to a great house, a house with many pillars, a house with roof of pale pink like a giant _mora_ in full bloom. then, like the good fairy prince in a well-regulated tale, he waved his wand toward it, and said, "that is kalacoon; take it and use it if you want it." only his wand was a stout walking-stick, and for the nonce the fairy prince had taken the form of a tall, bronzed, very good-looking englishman, who had carved a rubber plantation out of the very edge of the jungle, and with wife and small daughter lived in the midst of his clean-barked trees. and now we had had a gift of a great house in the heart of the guiana wilderness, a house built many years before by one who was protector of the indians. this we were to turn into a home and a laboratory to study the wild things about us--birds, animals, and insects; not to collect them primarily, but to photograph, sketch, and watch them day after day, learning of those characters and habits which cannot be transported to a museum. and exactly this had not been done before; hence it took on new fascination. i had never given serious thought to the details of housekeeping, and i suddenly realized how much for granted one takes things in civilization. in new york i had possessed beds and baths and tables, dishes and cooks and towels, in a spirit of subconsciousness which made one think of them only if they were not there. now i had suddenly to think about all these and other things particularly hard. if it had been the usual camping duffle of hammock, net, tarpaulin, and frying-pan, that would have been simple. but when the sugar-bowl is empty, one becomes at once acutely conscious of it; if it is not, while the hand unbidden manipulates the tongs, the brain distils or listens to thoughts of opera, science, or war. optical eclipse, impelled by familiarity, is often total. however, we found the georgetown stores well stocked, and whenever we purchased a useless thing we found that it could be used for something else. and sooner or later, everything we possessed was used for something else, thereby moving one of us to suggest a society for reducing household articles by half. but while it was well enough to make a lark of such things when one had to, we begrudged every minute taken from the new field outspread before us in every direction. for kalacoon was on a hilltop and looked out on the northern third of the horizon over the expanse of three mighty rivers--the essequibo, the mazaruni, and the cuyuni. and around us was high second growth, losing itself to the southward in a gigantic, abrupt wall of the real jungle--the jungle that i knew by experience was more wonderful than any of the forests of the far east, of burma or ceylon or malaysia. we sat down on some packing-boxes after our first day of indoor labor, and watched the sun settle slowly beyond the silvered mazaruni. and a song, not of the tropics, but bubbling and clear and jubilant as that of our northern singers, rang out from the single tall palm standing in our front compound. clinging to the topmost frond was an oriole, jet as night, with the gold of sunshine on crown and shoulders and back. he was singing. while he sang, a second oriole swooped upward between two vanes of a frond to a small ball of fibers knotted close to the midrib. the event had come and it developed swiftly. we seized a great ladder and by superhuman efforts raised it little by little, until it rested high against the smooth trunk. one of us then mounted the swaying rungs, reckless with excitement, and thrust his hand into the nest. it was withdrawn and went to his mouth, and down he came. to our impatient, impolite inquiries, he answered only with inarticulate mumblings and grunts. he reached the ground and into his pursed hands carefully regurgitated an egg--white, with clustered markings of lavender and sepia about the larger end. we looked at each other and grinned. words seemed superfluous. later i believe we quieted down and danced some kind of a war-dance. our feelings had then reached the stage where they could at least be expressed in action. perhaps it was not altogether the scientific joy of gazing at and possessing the first known egg of the _moriche_ oriole. i know that by sheer perversity i kept thinking of the narrow-gauge canyon of a city street, as i gloried in this cosmic openness of tropical river and jungle and sunset. only in an aeroplane have i experienced an equal spatial elation. our bird-nester told us that there was a second egg, and said something about not daring to put two in his mouth lest he slip and swallow both. but later, in a moment of weakness, he admitted the real reason,--that he had not the heart, after the glorious song and this splendid omen of our work, to do more than divide the spoils fifty-fifty with the orioles. self-control was rewarded, as the other egg hatched and we learned a secret of the juvenile plumage of these birds, while the songs of the _cadouries_, as the indians call them, were heard month after month at our windows. when the idea of a tropical research station occurred to me, the first person with whom i discussed the matter was colonel roosevelt. in all of my scientific undertakings under the auspices of the new york zoölogical society, i have found his attitude always one of whole-souled sympathy, checked and practicalized by trenchant criticism and advice. for colonel roosevelt, besides his other abilities and interests, is one of the best of our american naturalists. to a solid foundation of scientific knowledge, gained direct from literature, he adds one of the widest and keenest of experiences in the field. his published work is always based on a utilization of the two sources, and is characterized by a commendable restraint and the leaven of a philosophy which combines an unalterable adhesion to facts, with moderation of theory and an unhesitating use of the three words which should be ready for instant use in the vocabulary of every honest scientist, "i don't know." my object in founding the research station was to destroy the bogie of danger and difficulty supposed to attend all tropical investigation, and to show that scientists from north temperate regions could accomplish keen, intensive, protracted scientific work in tropical jungles without injury to health or detriment to the facility of mental activity, and at extremely moderate expense. this will open to direct personal investigation, regions which, more than any others, promise dynamic results from evolutional study, and will supplement the work of museums with correlated researches upon living and freshly killed organisms. this was a "progressive" doctrine which colonel roosevelt endorsed with enthusiasm, and after we had brought semblance of a comfortable american home to great, rambling kalacoon, we were able to welcome colonel and mrs. roosevelt as the first visitors to the actual accomplishment of the project which months before, we had so enthusiastically discussed at oyster bay. the jungles of south america were no novelty to colonel roosevelt, but to be able to traverse them over smooth, easy trails, in a comfortable temperature and with no annoyance of flies or mosquitoes, was an experience which none of us had enjoyed before. to mrs. roosevelt it was all new--the huge, buttressed trunks, the maze of lianas in tangles, loops and spirals, the sudden burst of pink or lavender blossoms in a sunlit spot, and the piercingly sweet, liquid notes of the goldbird, "like the bird of siegfried," as she aptly said. the coolie workmen in their eastern garb, the akawai indian hunters and their tattooed squaws along the trail, all aroused that enthusiasm which a second meeting can never quite elicit. most memorable to me were the long walks which colonel roosevelt and i took on the kaburi trail, that narrow path which is the only entrance by land to all the great hinterland lying between the essequibo and mazaruni rivers. majestically the massive trees rose on either side, so that while our contracted aisle was as lofty as the nave of a cathedral, yet it was densely shaded by the interlocking foliage high overhead. our progress was thus through a glorified tunnel; we traveled molewise with only here and there a glimpse of the sky. every walk was filled to the brim for me with that infinitely satisfying joy, derived from frank, sympathetic communion with an enthusiastic, true friend. i know of no earthly pleasure more to be desired. perhaps this is because friends are so rare with whom one can be wholly natural, with one's guard completely down, unafraid of any misunderstanding--an omnimental communion. it was with dismay, at the end of one long walk, that i realized we had forgotten to search for the tropical creatures for which we had presumably set out. we had kept the jungle birds and animals well at distance by a constant flow of human speech--argumentative, eulogistic, condemnatory--of literary and field and museum doings of the scientific world. but we did not wholly neglect the life around us and one of the last problems which we solved that day was that of a small voice, one of those apparently unattached sounds which come from no definite place, nor are referable to any certain source. it might have been a cicada or other insect, it could well have come from the throat of a bird. were we in the heart of a city we should unhesitatingly have pronounced it a jewsharp played very badly. we set out in search, we stalked it through the thin underbrush, we scanned every branch with our glasses, and when we found it was bird and not insect we shamelessly played upon its feelings and squeaked after the manner of a stricken nestling. we saw that it was a small flycatcher, green with waistcoat of lemon-yellow. finally after we had learned its fashion of flight, the stratum of jungle it inhabited and its notes, i secured it. not until then did we perceive that concealed on its head it wore a glorious crown of orange and gold. when my reference books arrive, and we learn the technical name of this little golden-crowned flycatcher or cotinga, i do not think that this title will persist as vividly as the "jewsharp bird of kaburi trail." close to where we walked on those first days, we were later to find our best hunting. during the next few months all the more interesting animals of this part of south america were shot or their presence noticed; jaguars, tapirs, deer, peccaries, howling monkeys, vampires, agoutis, jaguarondis, otters, sloths, and armadillos. hosts of birds, almost half the entire number of species found in the colony, made their home hereabouts, macaws, bellbirds, curassows, trumpeters, toucans, the great harpy eagle and the tiniest of iridescent hummingbirds. within a week our great front room, full thirty by sixty feet, with sixteen large windows, was a laboratory in appearance and odor. hundreds of jars and vials, vivaria and insectaries, microscopes, guns, and cameras, with all their details and mysterious inner workings, left no table vacant. with book-shelves up, there remained only the walls, which little by little became mosaics of maps, diagrams, sketches, drying skins, indian weapons, birds' nests and shot-holes. whiffs of formaline, chloroform, and xylol, together with the odors of occasional mislaid or neglected specimens, left no doubt as to the character of the room. we found that the tradewind came from the front, and also that we had much to discuss after the lamps were put out; so we turned the couches into their rightful functions of cots, and the three of us slept scattered here and there in the great room. the vampire bats never allowed us to become bored. there were no mosquitoes or flies, so we used no nets; but for months we burned a lantern. low around our heads swept the soft wings of the little creatures, while the bat enthusiast now and then fired his auxiliary pistol. later we found that a score of them roosted behind a broken clapboard, and, by spreading a seine below and around this, we were able to capture and examine the entire colony at will. tarantulas were common, but not in the least offensive, and we learned to know where to look for a big black fellow and a small gray one who kept the room free from cockroaches. one or two scorpions were caught indoors, but the three centipedes which appeared occasionally were those which had been brought in and were always escaping from a defective vivarium. there were no other dangers or inconveniences, if we can apply such terms to these comparatively harmless creatures. this was the background of our labors, our la_bor_atory as our english visitors called it: cool in the daytime, cold at night, where one could work as well as in the north, and where a morning's tramp usually furnished material sufficient for a week of research. we came to know it as the house of a thousand noises. the partitions, like those of all tropical houses, extended only part way to the ceiling, so, as some one has said, one enjoyed about the privacy of a goldfish. it would have been a terrible place for a victim of insomnia; but when we were kept awake by noises it was because we were interested in them. after a day's hard work in the jungle, it must indeed be a bad conscience or a serious physical ailment which keeps one awake a minute after one rolls up in his blanket. through all the months of varying tropical seasons we slept as soundly as we should at home. i can do with five or six hours' sleep the year round, and i begrudged even this in the tropical wonderland, where my utmost efforts seemed to result in such slight inroads into our tremendous zoölogical ignorance. at night i spent many wonderful hours, leaning first out of one, then out of another window, or occasionally going down the outside lattice stairway and strolling about the compound. no two nights were alike, although almost all were peaceful, with hardly a breath of air stirring--just the cool, velvet touch of the tropics, always free from any trace of the heat of the day. whether dark rich olive under crescent or starlight, or glowing silvery-gray in the flood of the full moon, the forest, so quiet, so motionless all about me, was always mysterious, always alluring. to the north, at the foot of the hill, lay the dark surface of the great river, its waters one amber, homogeneous flood, yet drawn from a thousand tributaries: hidden creeks seeping through mossy jungles far beyond the spanish border, brown cascades filtering through gravel which gleamed with yellow gold and sparkled with the light from uncut diamonds. and to the south rose the wall of the jungle itself, symbol of all that is wild and untamed in nature. yet i am never conscious of the bloody fang, the poison tooth, of the wilderness. the peace of this jungle at night was the same peace as that of the trees in our city parks. i knew that well within my horizon, jaguars and pumas were stalking their prey, while here and there on the forest floor bushmasters lay coiled like mats of death. but quite as vividly could i picture the stray cats pouncing on sleeping sparrows in the shrubbery of washington square, or the screech owls working havoc in the glades of central park where the glare of the electric lights is less violent. and i have not forgotten the two-score gulls and swans with torn throats--a single night's work of wild mink in the bronx. nature is the same everywhere; only here the sparrows are not alien immigrants, and the light is not measured in kilowatts, and the _hacka_ tigers are not so sated that they kill for pleasure. a sound broke in upon my reverie, so low at first that it seemed but the droning hum of a beetle's wing echoing against the hollow shield of their ebony cases. it was deep, soothing, almost hypnotic; one did not want it to cease. then it gained in volume and depth, and from the heart of the bass there arose a terrible, subdued shrilling--a muffled, raucous grating which touched some secret chord of long-past fear. the whole effect was most terrifying, but still one did not desire it to cease. in itself it seemed wholly suited to its present jungle setting; the emotion it aroused was alien to all modern life. my mind sped swiftly back over the intervening years of sound, over the jeering chorus of malay gibbons, the roars of anger of orangutans, four-handing themselves through the swaying bornean jungle, and on past the impudent chatter of the gray _langurs_ of kashmir deodars. memory came to rest in a tent-boat, seven years ago and not many more miles distant, when i heard my first red howlers. then i shared my thrill. now all with me were asleep, and alone i reached far out into the night and with mouth and ears absorbed every vibration of the wonderful chorus. in spite of all this variety and immeasurable diversity, i came to perceive a definite sequence of many daily and nightly events, as i observed them from kalacoon windows. not only did the sun rise invariably in the east and the tradewinds blow regularly every afternoon, but a multitude of organic beings timed their activities to these elemental phenomena. at half after five, when it was just light enough to see distinctly, i went out into the calm dawn. the quiet of the great spaces at this hour was absolute. no matter how tempestuous the evening before or the night, the hours of early morning were peaceful. not a leaf stirred. the tide flowed silently up or down or for a time held itself motionless. at the flood the mirror surface would occasionally be shattered for a moment far from shore, where a porpoise or a great _lucannani_ rolled, or a crocodile or a _water mama_ nosed for breath. the calm was invariable, but the air might be crystal clear to the horizon, or so drenched in mist that the nearest foliage was invisible. no matter how early i went out into the dawn, the wrens were always singing--though they were recent arrivals at kalacoon. then, within a few minutes, the chachalacas began their loud duets, answering one another in couples from first one, then another direction, until the air was ringing with _hanaqua! hanaqua! hanaqua!_ dragonflies appeared in mid-air, martins left their nests among the beams, parrakeets crossed over from their roosts, and swifts met them coming from their sleeping quarters in hollow trees. the quaint little grass-quits began their absurd dance against gravity, and blatant kiskadees ushered in the sun and day. then came an interval when every one was too busy feeding to sing, and the wren's notes were hushed by an astounding succession of tiny spiders, and the chirps of young martins were smothered in winged ants. swiftly the sun rose and the heat dissipated the mists and lured out a host of flying things. even at mid-day one might sit at a window and take notes continuously of lesser happenings, while now and then something of such note occurred that one could only watch and wonder. this might be a migration of sulphur butterflies, thousands flying steadily toward the southeast hour after hour, day after day. or a host of hummingbirds of nearly a score of species would descend upon the cashew blossoms in the rear compound. most exciting was a flight of winged termites. in the rainy season the clouds would bank up about mid-day, and showers fall with true tropical violence. after an exceptionally long downpour the marriage flight would take place and logs, dead branches, and even the steps and beams of kalacoon would give up their multitudes. from great rotted stumps the insects poured forth like curling smoke. the breeze carried them slowly off toward the west, and at the first hint the birds gathered to the feast. only rangoon vultures surpassed them in numbers and voracity. the air was fretted with a kaleidoscopic network of swifts--from great, collared fellows to the tiny dwellers in palms--with swallows, martins, and, if late enough, nighthawks. fork-tailed flycatchers swept by scores round the vortex of insects, while a fluttering host of kiskadees, tanagers, anis, thrushes, and wrens gleaned as best they could from grass-top or branch. in ten minutes the whole flight had vanished. any queen termite which ran that gauntlet safely, deserved to found her colony without further molestation. although i might have stalked and watched the white _campañeros_ for a week past, yet whenever there came to ear the anvil-like _kong! kang!_ or the ringing, sonorous _kaaaaaaaaaaang!_ of a bell-bird three miles away, i always stopped work and became one great ear to this jungle angelus. one could watch the changing seasons of the great tropical jungle from the same wonder windows of kalacoon. a dull rose suffused the tree-tops, deepening day by day, and finally the green appeared, picked out everywhere by a myriad blossoms--magenta, mauve, maroon, carmine, rose, salmon-pink. yet the glass showed only top-gallant foliage of wilted, parti-colored leaves. illusion upon illusion: these were not wilted, but newborn leaves which thus in their spring glory rivaled our autumnal tints. one never forgot the day when the first mora burst into full bloom--a great mound of lavender pigment, swung nearly two hundred feet in mid-air, dominating all the surrounding jungle growth. this was the lush, prodigal way in which the tropics announced spring. whether i had spent the day in hard tramping or stalking in the jungle, or at my laboratory table trying to disentangle the whys and wherefores from the physical skein of my specimens, toward sunset i always went down to the cement floor of an orchid-house long fallen in decay. this was under the open sky, and from this spot on the highest hilltop in all this region, i watched the end of the day. no sunset should ever be described, and the kalacoon sunsets were too wonderful for aught but wordless reverence. they were explosions of wild glory, palettefuls of unheard-of pigments splashed across the sky, and most bewildering because they were chiefly in the east or north. this evening on which i write was sealed with a sunset of negligible yellow, but the east was a splendor of forest fires and minarets, great golden castles and pale-green dragons and snow-capped mountains all conceived and molded from glorious tumbled cloud-masses, and ultimately melting back into them again. the moriche orioles met the beauty of the heavens with their silver notes, and as the sky cooled, there arose the sweet, trilled cadence of the little tinamou heralding the voices of night. the silvery collared nighthawks began their eternal questioning _who-are-you! who-are-you!_ and the coolness banished all thought of the blistering sunshine now pouring down upon the waters of the pacific. not until later, when the night-life was fairly under way, and all the beings of the sun hidden and asleep, did the deep bass rumble of the big toads commence, and the tinkling chorus of the little frogs. last of all came the essence of the nocturnal--the sound furthest removed from day. all other voices seemed to become for an instant hushed, and the poor-me-one spoke--a wail which rose, trembled, and broke into a falling cadence of hopeless sighs. and now, with the crescent moon writing its heliograph cipher upon the water, a new sound arose, low and indistinct, lost for a moment, then rising and lost again. then it rang out rich and harmonious, the full-throated paddling chanty of a gold-boat of blacks coming down river with their tiny pokes of glittering dust. it tore at the heart-strings of memory, and in its wildness, its sad minor strain, was strangely moving. the steersman set the words and in high, quavering tones led the chorus, which broke in, took up the phrase, different each time, and repeated it twice over, with a sweet pathos, a finality of cadence which no trained white chorus could reproduce. there was much of savage african rhythm in these boat-songs, and instead of the drum of the zulus came the regular _thump-thump, thump-thump_, of paddles on the thwarts. they were paddling slowly, weary and tired after a long day of portaging, passing with the tide down to bartica. then on to a short, exciting period of affluence in georgetown, after which they would return for another six months in the gold bush. they were realizing their little el dorados in these very waters more successfully than sir walter raleigh was able to do. i have said that the wonder windows would take one to the far east; and hardly had the gold-boat passed out of hearing when the never-to-be-forgotten _beat-beat-beat-beat_ of a tom-tom rose without hint or introduction, and straightway the cecropias became deodars and the palms dwarfed to _pîpuls_ and _sal_, and the smells of the calcutta bazaars and the dust of agra caravans lived again in that sound. a voice in soft hindustani tones was heard below--the low, inarticulate phrases framing themselves into a gentle _honk-honka, honk, honk-honka_. then, still out of sight, came a voice on the stairway: "salaam, sahib, will sahib come see dance and see wedding?" the sahib would; and i followed the wavering lantern of the bride's father down the steep, rocky path which, at the water's edge, turned toward the half-dozen huts of the east indians. for a week the coolie women had done no work in the fields, but had spent much of their time squatted in chanting circles. i learned that a marriage was to take place, and, to my surprise, the bride proved to be budhany, the little child who brought us milk each day from the only cow south of the mazaruni. another day, as i passed to the tent-boat, i saw the groom, naked save for his breech-clout, looking very foolish and unhappy, seated on a box in the center of the one short street, and surrounded by six or eight women, all who could reach him rigorously slapping him and rubbing him with oil from head to foot. every evening, to the dull monotone of a tom-tom, the shrill voices of the women were carried up to kalacoon; but tonight a louder, more sonorous drum was audible and the moaning whine of a short, misshapen hindi violin. amid a murmur of salaams we seated ourselves on grocery boxes while the audience ranged itself behind. in the flickering light of torches i recognized my friends one by one. there was guiadeen who had brought in the first ant-eater; he seated us. then persaïd of the prominent teeth, who had tried to cheat me of a sixpence already paid for a mouse-opossum with her young. persaïd gave us only a hasty salaam, for he was a very busy and fussy master of ceremonies. from behind came the constant droning chant of the priest, lingeringly reading from a tattered pali volume, an oil torch dripping close to his white turban. his voice was cracked, but his intonation was careful and his words well articulated. the day before we had greeted him and chaffingly admonished him to marry them well. "god only could promise that," he had replied with a quick smile. others of the little village i knew: rahim the milkman, and mahabol, with the head and beard of a sikh on the legs of a bengalee, and a thin bengalee at that. the audience which pressed close behind, looked and smelled calcutta and darjeeling, and a homesickness which was pain came over me, to be once more among the great himalayas. the flickering torch showed all my retinue threaded along the outer rim of onlookers; my following who formed a veritable racial tower of babel. there was nupee the akawai, and vingi the machusi and semmi the wapiano--red indians from forest and savannah. near them the broad, black african face of little mame, all eyes and mouth in the dim light. then de freitas the portuguese, and all the others of less certain lineage. meanwhile persaïd had brought forth an oily, vile-smelling liquid with which he coated a square yard of earth, and then with pounded maize and rice he marked out a mystic figure--two squares and diagonals. as the ceremony went on i lost much of the significance, and the coolies themselves seemed very vague. they were all of low caste and preserved more of the form than knowledge of the intricate rites. we were at the groom's end of the absurd street, and before long madhoo himself appeared and was led a few steps away by his female tormentors. this time they scrubbed and washed and rinsed him with water, and then dressed him in a soft white waist-cloth draped coolie-wise. then a long tight-sleeved pink dress was pulled with much difficulty over his head. madhoo now looked like a woman dressed in a fashion long extinct. next, a pink turban was wound wonderfully about his head and he was led to one side of the rice figure, where he sat down on a low stool. sam, my black factotum, sat close to me, translating when my slender knowledge of hindustani gave out. suddenly he stopped abruptly in the middle of a sentence. i saw that he was staring at the groom, the whites of his eyes glistening in astonishment. "chief," he whispered at last, "see where my socks, my shoes!" and sure enough, we saw persaïd pulling the purple-striped socks, which had been sam's delight, over the unaccustomed ankles of the groom. these were followed by cheap white tennis shoes, causing another ejaculation on the part of sam. "hello, shoes!" i heard him murmur to himself. sam always personified those parts of his environment which touched his feelings most deeply, whether clothes, curries, thorns, or gravitation. when unloading the tent-boat a few nights before, he had left his shoes on the bank; and during a trip up the hill to kalacoon they had vanished. for a moment i was not sure that sam, like the hero in some melodrama, would not rise and forbid the marriage. then i heard him chuckling and knew that his sense of humor and regard for our evening's entertainment had nobly overcome what must have been a very real desire to possess again those gorgeous articles of attire. and, besides, i felt sure that the morrow would witness a short, pithy interview regarding these same articles, between sam and either madhoo or persaïd. clad now in this added glory, the groom waited, like the tethered heifer, looking furtively at his circle of well-wishers. his little, shriveled mother came and squatted close behind him, toboggan-fashion, and flung a fold of her cloth over his back. then she waved various things three times over his head: a stone grain-crusher, a brass bowl of water, and tossed rice and pellets of dough in the four directions. red paint was put on her toes and feet and caste marks on her son. meanwhile the dancer had begun and his musicians were in full swing; but of these i shall speak later. the groom was backed into an elaborate head-dress, a high, open-work affair of long wired beads with dangling artificial flowers. first it was placed on the mother's head and then on the turban of the long-suffering young man. an outflaring of torches and a line of white-robed and turbaned coolies from the other end of the street of six houses roused the groom and his friends to new activity. he climbed upon one of the men, straddling his neck, and what appeared to be a best man, or boy, mounted another human steed. they were then carried the few feet to the house of the bride, the shiny, black-rubber soles of the filched tennis shoes sticking absurdly out in front. a third man carried a bundle,--very small, to which no one seemed to attach much importance,--which was said to contain clothes for the bride. after an undignified dismounting, the groom squatted by a new rice-and-maize square and removed his shoes and socks, to his own evident relief and sam's renewed excitement. then coppers passed to the priest and many symbolic gifts were put in the groom's hands; some of these he ate, and others he laid in the square. whenever money passed, it was hidden under sweet-smelling frangipani blossoms, or temple-flowers, as they are called in india. the bride's mother came out and performed numerous rites to and around the groom; finally, a small person in white also achieved one or two unimportant things and disappeared. while we waited for some culminating event, the groom stood up, skilfully lit a cigarette through the meshes of the dangling head-dress, and walked with his friends to the porch of the opposite house, where he squatted on the earthen floor in the semi-darkness. then came persaïd and announced, "marriage over; man wait until daylight, then carry off bride to honeymoon house"--the 'dobe hut plastered all over with the imprints of hundreds of white, outspread fingers and palms. the marriage over! this was a shock. the critical moment had come and passed, eluding us, and budhany, the little bride, had appeared and vanished so hurriedly that we had not recognized her. the dancer had throughout been the focus of interest for me. there was no perfunctory work or slurring over of the niceties of his part, and his sincerity and absorption inspired and stimulated his four assistants until they fairly lost themselves in _abandon_ to the rhythm and the chant. his name was gokool and he had come up from one of the great coastal sugar plantations. nowhere outside of india had i seen such conscientious devotion to the dancer's work. rammo the tent-boat captain played the cretinous violin; he it was who never tired of bringing us giant _buprestids_ and rails' eggs, and whose reward was to watch and listen to our typewriter machine through all the time that he dared prolong his visit to our laboratory. dusráte played the tiny clinking cymbals; mattora, he of the woman's voice, held the torch always close before the dancer's face; while the drummer--the most striking of them all--was a stranger, omeer by name. omeer, with the double-ended tom-tom in a neck-sling, followed gokool about, his eyes never leaving the latter's face. little by little he became wholly rapt, absorbed, and his face so expressive, so working with emotion, that i could watch nothing else. gokool was a real actor, a master of his art, with a voice deep, yet shifting easily to falsetto quavers, and with the controlled ability of emphasizing the slightest intonations and delicate semi-tones which made his singing full of emotional power. he got his little orchestra together, patting his palms in the _tempo_ he wished, then broke suddenly into the wailing, dynamic, abrupt phrases which i knew so well. had not my servants droned them over my camp-fires from kashmir to myitkyina, and itinerant ballad-singers chanted them from ceylon to the great snows! gokool's dress was wide and his skirt flaring, so that, when he whirled, it stood straight out, and it was stiff with embroidery and scintillating with tinsel. from his sleek, black hair came perfume, that musky, exciting scent which alone would summon india to mind as with a rub of aladdin's lamp. his anklets and bracelets clinked as he moved; and suddenly, and to our western senses always unexpectedly, he would begin the swaying, reeling motion, almost that of a cobra in hood. then after several more phrases, chanted with all the fire and temperamental vigor which marks hindu music, he would start the rigid little muscular steps which carried him over the ground with no apparent effort, though all the time he was wholly tense and working up into that ecstasy which would obsess him more and more. his songs were of love and riches and war, and all the things of life which can mean so little to these poor coolies. exhausted at last, he stopped; and i found that i too suddenly relaxed--that i had been sitting with every muscle tense in sympathy. gokool came and gave me a salaam, and as he turned away for a hand-hollowed puff of hemp i spoke a little word of thanks in his own tongue. he looked back, not believing that he had heard aright. i repeated it and asked if he knew "dar-i-parhadoor," this being my phonetic spelling of a certain ballad of ancient india. "koom, sahib," he said; and kneeling touched my foot with his head. then we talked as best we could, and i found he was from the hills, and knew and adored the parhadoor, and was even more homesick for the great snows than i. but once something had snapped in his head and he could not work in the sun, and could dance but rarely; so now he earned money for his daily rice only and could never return. then he gathered his musicians once more and sang part of the majestic parhadoor, which is full of romance and royal wars, and has much to do with the wonders of the early rajputs. and he sang more to me than to the groom, who neither looked nor listened, but kept busy with his clothes. out of all the pressing throng a little coolie boy came and squatted close, and his eyes grew large as he listened to the tale, and from time to time he smiled at me. he had once brought me a coral snake, but i could not call him by name. now i knew him for the one unlike the rest,--worthy perhaps of a place in my memory roll of supercoolies,--who worked at weeding day after day, like the rest of the men, but who thought other thoughts than those of mahabol and guiadeen. i wished i had known of him sooner. so gokool sang to us two, the coolie boy and me, a song of ancient india, and danced it by moonlight here in this american jungle, and i dotted his dancing circle with pence, and a few bits, and even a shilling or two. and gokool thanked me with dignity. and his face will long remain vivid, tense with feeling, forgetful of all but the loud-cadenced phrases, the quavering chant which broke in and out of falsetto so subtlely that no western voice may imitate it. and i like to think that he enjoyed dancing for a sahib who loved lucknow and the old ballads. and so we parted. * * * * * after i cached the vampire lantern behind its intrenched bulwark of books and magazines, i leaned far out of a window and thought over the night's happenings. it was long after midnight, and the steady throb of the tom-tom still kept rhythm with the beat of my temples, and i gave myself up to the lure of the hypnotic monotone. one thought kept recurring--of the little girl far back in the dark depths of the wattled hut. she was so little, so childish, and her part that evening had been so slight and perfunctory, not as much as that of any of the other women and girls who had slovenly performed the half-understood rites. she had brought us milk regularly, and smiled when we wished salaam to her. she knew less of india than i did. guiana, this alien land, as humid and luxuriant as the great plains were dry and parched--this was her native country. and this evening was her supreme moment; yet her part in it had not seemed fair. she would have liked so much to have worn that pink dress which made her future husband a caricature; she would have adored to place the shining, tinseled head-dress on her black hair--more with a child's delight than a woman's. and now she would live in a house of her own, and not a play-house, and obey this kind-faced young man--young, but not in comparison with her, whose father he could have been. and she would have anklets and bracelets and a gorgeous nose-button if he could save enough shillings,--i almost said rupees,--and ultimately she would go and cut grass with the other women, and each day take her little baby astride her hip down to the water and wash it, as she, so very short a time ago, had been washed. and so, close to the wonder windows, we had seen a marriage of strange peoples, who were yet of our own old aryan stock; whose ceremonies were already ancient when the christians first kept faith, now transported to a new land where life was infinitely easier for them than in their own overcrowded villages; immigrants to the tropical hinterland where they rubbed elbows with idle africans and stolid red indians. and i was glad of all their strange symbolic doings, for these showed imagination and a love of the long past in time and the distant in space. i wished a good wish for budhany, our little milkmaid, and forgot all in the sound, dreamless sleep which comes each night at kalacoon. viii the convict trail i am thinking of a very wonderful thing and words come laggardly. for it is a thing which more easily rests quietly in the deep pool of memory than stirred up and crystalized into words and phrases. it is of the making of a new trail, of the need and the planning and the achievement, of the immediate effects and the possible consequences. for the effects became manifest at once, myriad, unexpected, some sinister, others altogether thrilling and wholly delightful to the soul of a naturalist. and now, many months after, they are still spreading, like a forest fire which has passed beyond control. only in this case the land was no worse and untold numbers of creatures were better off because of our new trail. of the still more distant consequences i cannot write, for the book of the future is tightly sealed. but we may recall that a trail once was cut through coarse, high grass and belts of cedar, which in time became the appian way. and a herd of aurochs breasting in single file dense shrubby oaks and heather toward a salt lick may well have foreshadowed regent street; the place d'etoile was perhaps first adumbrated by wild boars concentrating on a root-filled marsh. and why should not the indian trail which became a dutch road and our fifth avenue, have had its first hint in a moose track down the heart of a wooded island, leading to some hidden spring! we left our boats stranded on the mazaruni river bank and climbed the steep ascent to our new home in the heart of british guiana. our outfit was unpacked, and the laboratory and kitchen and bedrooms in the big kalacoon house were at last more than names. and now we surveyed our little kingdom. one path led down to our boats, another meandered eastwards through the hills. but like the feathered end of the magnetic arrow, we drifted as with one will to the south. here at the edge of our cleared compound we were confronted by a tangle. it was not very high--twenty feet or so--but dense and unbroken. like newly trapped creatures we paced back and forth along it looking for an opening. it was without a break. we examined it more closely and saw a multitude of slender, graceful cane stems hung with festoons and grass-like drapery. one of us seized a wisp of this climbing grass and pulled downward. when he dropped it his hand dripped blood. he might as well have run a scroll saw over his fingers. the jungle had shown its teeth. we laughed and retreated to the upper floor for consultation. the sight we saw there decided us. in the distance "not too far," to use the hopelessly indefinite guiana vernacular, high over the tumbled lower growths towered the real jungle--the high bush. this was the edge of that mighty tropical ocean of foliage, that sea of life with its surface one hundred, two hundred feet above the earth, stretching unbroken to the andes: leagues of unknown wonderland. and here we were, after thousands of miles of voyaging to study the life of this great jungle, to find our last few yards blocked by a mass of vegetation. there was no dissenting voice. we must cut a trail, and at once, straight to the jungle. before we begin our trail, it will be wise to try to understand this twenty-foot tangle, stretching almost a mile back from kalacoon. three years before it was pure jungle. then man came with ax and saw and fire and one by one the great giants were felled--mora, greenheart, crabwood--each crashing its way to earth after centuries of upward growth. the underbrush in the dark, high jungle is comparatively scanty. light-starved and fungus-plagued, the shrubs and saplings are stunted and weak. so when only the great stumps were left standing, the erstwhile jungle showed as a mere shambles of raw wood and shriveled foliage. after a time fire was applied, and quickly, as in the case of resinous trees, or with long, slow smolderings of half-rotted, hollow giants, the huge boles were consumed. for a period, utter desolation reigned. charcoal and gray ash covered everything. no life stirred. birds had flown, reptiles and insects made their escape or succumbed. only the saffron-faced vultures swung past, on the watch for some half-charred creature. almost at once, however, the marvelous vitality of the tropical vegetation asserted itself. phoenix-like, from the very heart of the ashes, appeared leaves of strange shape and color. stumps whose tissues seemed wholly turned to charcoal sent forth adventitious shoots, and splintered boughs blossomed from their wounds. now was the lowest ebb of the jungle's life, when man for the success of his commercial aims, should take instant advantage. but plans miscarried and the ruin wrought was left to nature. the destruction of the jungle had been complete and the searing flames had destroyed all forest seeds. in their place, by some magic, there sprang up at once a maze of weeds, vines and woody shrubs, reeds, ferns and grasses, all foreign to the dark jungle and whose nearest congeners were miles away. yet here were their seeds and spores, baffling all attempts at tracing their migration or the time they had laid dormant. when we had begun to penetrate this newborn tangle we found it possible, by comparing various spots, to follow its growth in past time. the first things to appear in the burned jungle area were grasses or grass-like plants and prostrate vines. these latter climbed over the fallen tree-trunks and covered the charred stumps with a glory of blossoms--white convolvulus gleaming everywhere, then pale yellow allamandas, and later, orchid-like, violet, butterfly peas which at first flowered among the ashes on the ground, but climbed as soon as they found support. little by little, a five-finger vine flung whole chains of bloom over stumps, logs and bushes, a beautiful, blood-red passion flower, whose buds looked like strings of tiny chinese lanterns. soon another type of plant appeared, with hollow and jointed stems, pushing out fans of fingered leaves, swiftly, wasting no time in branching, but content with a single spike piercing up through strata of grass and reeds, through shrubs and bushes until it won to the open sky. this was the cecropia or trumpet tree, falsely appearing firm and solid stemmed, but quite dominant in the neglected tangle. we started early one morning with small axes and sharp machetes, and single file, began to cut and hew and tear a narrow trail southward. for some distance we found almost a pure culture of the cecropia trees, through which we made rapid progress which aroused entirely false hopes. it was a joy to crash obliquely through the crisp hollow stems at one blow from our great knives. the second man cut again at the base and the rest took the severed stems and threw or pushed them to one side, cutting away any smaller growths. we soon learned to be careful in handling the stems for they were sanctuary for scores of a small stinging ant, whose race had practiced preparedness for many generations and who rushed out when the stem was split by cutlass or ax. as we went on we learned that differences in soil which were not apparent when the great jungle covered everything, had now become of much importance. on high sandy spots the cecropias did not get that flying start which they needed for their vertical straightaway dash. here a community of hollow reeds or bamboo grass appeared from no one knows where. they had grown and multiplied until their stems fairly touched one another, forming a dense, impenetrable thicket of green, silicious tubes eight to twelve feet in length. these were smooth and hard as glass and tapered beautifully, making wonderfully light and strong arrows with which our akawai indians shot fish. slow indeed was our progress through this. the silica dulled and chipped our blades and the sharp points of the cut stems lamed us at a touch. but whatever the character of the vegetation, whether a tangle of various thorny nightshades, a grove of cecropias, or a serried phalanx of reeds, the terrible razor-grass overran all. gracefully it hung in emerald loops from branch to branch, festooning living foliage and dead stump alike, with masses of slender fronds. it appeared soft and loose-hung as if one could brush it away with a sweep of the hand. but it was the most punishing of all living things, insidiously cutting to the bone as we grasped it, and binding all this new growth together with bands more efficient than steel. an age-old jungle is kind to the intruder, its floor is smooth and open, one's footsteps fall upon soft moss, the air is cooled and shadowed by the foliage high overhead. here, in this mushroom growth of only three years, our progress became slower and ever more difficult. our hands bled and were cut until we could barely keep them gripped about the cutlass handles; our trail opened up a lane down which poured the seething heat of the sun's direct rays; thorns penetrated our moccasins and ants dropped down our necks and bit and stung simultaneously with opposite ends of their anatomy. five minutes' chopping and hacking was all that the leader could stand, who would then give way to another. fifty yards of a narrow lane represented our combined efforts the first day. direction was a constant source of trouble. every three or four feet we had to consult a compass, so confusing was the tangle. sudden gullies blocked us, a barren, half-open, sandy slope cheered us for a few yards. it was nature's defense and excelled any barbed-wire entanglement i have ever seen at the battle-front. once i came to a steep concealed gully. the razor-grass had been particularly bad, giving like elastic to blows of the cutlass and then flying back across my face. i was adrip with perspiration, panting in the heat when i slid part way down the bank, and chopping away a solid mass of huge elephant's ears, uncovered a tree-trunk bridging the swamp. it brought to mind the bridge from bad to worse in the terrible dubious land. strange insects fled from the great leaves, lizards whisked past me, hummingbirds whirred close to my face--the very sound seeming to increase the heat. i slipped and fell off the log, splashing into the hot water and warm mud, and sat in it for a while, too fagged to move. then the rest of the party came up and we clambered slowly to the top of the next rise, and there caught sight of the jungle's edge, and it seemed a trifle nearer and we went on with renewed courage. shortly afterwards two of us were resting in a patch of reeds while the third worked some distance ahead, when there came a sudden low growl and rush. instinctively we rose on the instant, just in time to see a jaguar swerve off on one side and disappear in a swish of swaying reed stems. i have never known one of these animals to attack a man, and in this case the jaguar had undoubtedly heard but not scented us, and the attack ceased the moment we proved to be other than deer or similar prey. the incident had come and passed too swiftly for thought, but now when we realized that this was a bit of the real wild life of the jungle, our enthusiasm never flagged, and we kept steadily at the heart-breaking work, resting only now and then for our cuts to heal. then a government official who was our guest, took pity on us, and for science' sake, obtained special dispensation. one morning we went out and found in our compound several huge, blue-uniformed policemen, who saluted and with real black magic, produced twenty convicts--negroes and coolies--armed with cutlasses. so began the second phase of what we now named the convict trail. we had already fought our painful way through a half-mile of the terrible maze, and now we heartily welcomed this new aid, whether good-natured murderers, and burglars, or like sippy, slorg and slith, mere thieves. we watched them strip to their black skins and begin a real assault. on a front of ten to fifteen feet, the tangle fairly dissolved before our eyes, and their great tough palms and soles made little moment of the razor-grass and thorns. in one of the slight-bodied coolies, whose task was to clear away the cut débris, i recognized ram narine, whose trial had been the cause of my traveling another trail. with my friend, hope, an honest forger, i went on far ahead and laid the course for the jungle. in especially dense parts we climbed to the summit of great jungle stumps and stretched a white sheet to guide the oncoming trail cutters. day after day the score of convicts returned with their guards and at last we saw the path unite with an old game and indian trail in the cool shade of the jungle, and kalacoon was in direct contact with the great tropical forest itself. i have passed lightly over the really frightful pain and exhaustion which we experienced in the initial part of this work, and which emphasized the tremendous difference between the age-old jungle untouched by man, and the terrible tangle which springs after he has destroyed the primeval vegetation. after this came our reward, and never a day passed but the trail yielded many wonderful facts. the creatures of the wilderness soon found this wide swath, and used it by day and night, making it an exciting thing for us to peer around a corner, to see what strange beings were sitting or feeding in our little street. before the trail was quite completed, it yielded one of the most exciting hunts of our trip--the noosing of a giant bushmaster--the most deadly serpent of the tropics. nupee--my akawai indian hunter, two nestling trogons and easter eve--these things led to the capture of the master of the bush: for nothing in the tropics is direct, premeditated. my thoughts were far from poisonous serpents when nupee came into our kalacoon laboratory late on a saturday afternoon. outdoors he had deposited the coarser game intended for the mess, consisting, today, of a small deer, a tinamou or maam and two agoutis. but now with his quiet smile, he held out his lesser booty, which he always brought in to me, offering in his slender, effeminate hands his contribution to science. usually this was a bird of brilliant plumage, or a nestful of maam's eggs with shells like great spheres of burnished emeralds. these he would carry in a basket so cunningly woven from a single palm frond that it shared our interest in its contents. today, he presented two nestling trogons, and this was against rules. for we desired only to know where such nests were, there to go and study and photograph. "nupee,--listen! you sabe we no want bird here. must go and show nest, eh?" "me sabe." accompanied by one of us, off he started again, without a murmur. in the slanting rays of the sun he walked lightly down the trail from kalacoon as if he had not been hunting since early dawn. an hour passed and the sun swung still lower when a panting voice gasped out: "huge labaria, yards long! big as leg!" the flight of queen bees and their swarms, the call to arms in a sleeping camp creates somewhat the commotion that the news of the bushmaster aroused with us. for he is really what his name implies. what the elephant is to the african jungles and the buffalo to malaysia, this serpent is to the guiana wilderness. he fears nothing--save one thing, hunting ants, before which all the world flees. and this was the first bushmaster of the rainy season. nupee had been left to mount guard over the serpent which had been found near the trogon tree. already the light was failing; so we walked rapidly with gun, snake-pole and canvas bag. parrakeets hurtled bamboowards to roost; doves scurried off and small rails flew from our path and flopped into the reeds. our route led from the open compound of kalacoon, through the freshly cut convict trail, toward the edge of the high bush, and we did not slacken speed until we were in the dim light which filtered through the western branches. at the top of the slope we heard a yell--a veritable red indian yell--and there our akawai hunter was dancing excitedly about, shouting to us to come on. "snake, he move! snake, he move!" we arrived panting, and he tremblingly led me along a fallen tree and pointed to the dead leaves. i well knew the color and pattern of the bushmaster. i had had them brought to me dead and had killed them myself, and i had seen them in their cage behind glass. but now, though i was thinking bushmaster and looking bushmaster, my eyes insisted on registering dead leaves. eager as i was to begin operations before darkness closed down, it was a full three minutes before i could honestly say, "this is leaf; that is snake." the pattern and pigment of the cunningly arranged coils were that of the jungle floor, anywhere; a design of dead leaves, reddish-yellow, pinkish, dark-brown, etched with mold, fungus and decay, and with all the shadows and high lights which the heaped-up plant tissues throw upon one another. in the center of this dread plaque, this reptilian mirage, silent and motionless, rested the head. i knew it was triangular and flattened, because i had dissected such heads in times past, but now my senses revealed to me only an irregularity in the contour, a central focus in this jungle mat, the unraveling of which spelt death. it was a big snake, seven or eight feet long, and heavy bodied--by no means a one-man job. again we carefully examined the screw-eyes on the pole, and each looked behind for a possible line of escape. i quickly formed my method of attack. nupee was sent to cut forked sticks, but his enthusiasm at having work to do away from the scene of immediate conflict was so sincere that he vanished altogether and returned with the sticks only when our shouts announced the end of the struggle. an indian will smilingly undergo any physical hardship, and he will face any creature in the jungle, except the bushmaster. we approached from three sides, bringing snake-pole, free noose and gun to bear. slowly the noose on the pole pushed nearer and nearer. i had no idea how he would react at the attack, whether he would receive it quietly, or, as i have seen the king cobra in burma, become enraged and attack in turn. the cord touched his nose, and he drew back close to some bushy stems. again it dangled against his head, and his tongue played like lightning. and now he sent forth the warning of his mastership--a sharp _whirrrrr!_ and the tip of his tail became a blur, the rough scales rasping and vibrating against the dead leaves, and giving out a sound not less sharp and sinister than the instrumental rattling of his near relatives. for a moment the head hung motionless, then the noose-man made a lunge and pulled his cord. the great serpent drew back like a flash, and turning, undulated slowly away toward the darker depths of the forest. there was no panic, no fear of pursuit in his movements. he had encountered something quite new to his experience, and the knowledge of his own power made it easy for him to gauge that of an opponent. he feared neither deer nor tapir, yet at their approach he would sound his warning as a reciprocal precaution, poison against hoofs. and now, when his warning had no effect on this new disturbing thing, he chose dignifiedly to withdraw. i crept quickly along on one side and with the gun-barrel slightly deflected his course so that he was headed toward an open space, free from brush and bush-ropes. here the pole-man awaited him, the noose spread and swaying a few inches from the leaves. steadily the snake held to his course, and without sensing any danger pushed his head cleanly into the circle of cord. a sudden snap of the taut line and pandemonium began. the snake lashed and curled and whipped up a whirlpool of débris, while one of us held grimly on to the noose and the rest tried to disentangle the whirling coils and make certain of a tight grip close behind the head, praying for the screw-eyes to hold fast. even with the scant inch of neck ahead of the noose, the head had such play that i had to pin it down with the gun-barrel before we dared seize it. when our fingers gained their safe hold and pressed, the great mouth opened wide, a gaping expanse of snowy white tissue, and the inch-long fangs appeared erect, each draped under the folds of its sheath like a rapier outlined beneath a courtier's cloak. when once the serpent felt himself conquered, he ceased to struggle; and this was fortunate, for in the dim light we stumbled more than once as we sidled and backed through the maze of lianas and over fallen logs. nupee now appeared, unashamed and wide-eyed with excitement. he followed and picked up the wreck of battle--gun, hats and bags which had been thrown aside or knocked off in the struggle. with locked step, so as not to wrench the long body, we marched back to kalacoon. now and then a great shudder would pass through the hanging loops and a spasm of muscular stress that tested our strength. it was no easy matter to hold the snake, for the scales on its back were as rough and hard as a file, and a sudden twist fairly took the skin off one's hand. i cleaned his mouth of all dirt and débris, and then we laid him upon the ground and, without stretching, found that he measured a good eight feet and a half. with no relaxing of care we slid him into the wired box which would be his home until he was liberated in his roomier quarters in the zoölogical park in new york. close to the very entrance of the convict trail behind kalacoon stood four sentinel trees. every day we passed and repassed them on the way to and from the jungle. for many days we paid very little attention to them, except to be grateful for the shade cast by their dense foliage of glossy leaves. their trunks were their most striking feature, the bark almost concealed by a maze of beautifully colored lichens, different forms overlapping one another in many places, forming a palimpsest of gray, white, pink, mauve and lilac. one day a streaked flycatcher chose the top of a branch for her nest, and this we watched and photographed and robbed for science' sake, and again we thought no more of the four trees. late in april, however, a change came over the trees. the leaves had been shed some time in january and the fallen foliage formed a dry mass on the ground which crackled under foot. now each branch and twig began to send out clusters of small buds, and one day,--a week after easter,--these burst into indescribable glory. every lichened bough and branch and twig was lined with a soft mass of bloom, clear, bright cerise, which reflected its brilliance on the foliage itself. after two days a rain of stamens began and soon the ground beneath the trees was solid cerise, a carpet of tens of thousands of fallen stamens, and within the length of a foot on one small branch were often a score of blooms. this feast of color was wonderful enough, and it made us want to know more of these trees. but all the information we could glean was that they were called french cashew. yet they had not nearly finished with the surprises they had in store. a hummingbird or two was not an uncommon sight along the trail at any time, but now we began to notice an increase in numbers. then it was observed that the tiny birds seemed to focus their flight upon one part of the clearing, and this proved to be the four cashew trees. the next few days made the trees ever memorable: they were the mecca of all the hummingbirds in the jungle. in early morning the air for many yards resounded with a dull droning, as of a swarming of giant bees. standing or sitting under the tree we could detect the units of this host and then the individuals forced themselves on our notice. back and forth the hummers swooped and swung, now poising in front of a mass of blossom and probing deeply among the stamens, now dashing off at a tangent, squeaking or chattering their loudest. the magnitude of the total sound made by these feathered atoms was astounding; piercing squeaks, shrill insect-like tones, and now and then a real song, diminutive trills and warbles as if from a flock of song birds a long distance away. combats and encounters were frequent, some mere sparring bouts, while, when two would go at it in earnest, their humming and squeaks and throb of wings were audible above the general noise. this being an effect, i looked for the cause. the massed cerise bloom gave forth comparatively little perfume, but at the base of each flower, hidden and protected by the twenty score densely ranked stamens, was a cup of honey; not a nectary with one or two delicately distilled drops, but a good thimbleful, a veritable stein of liquor. no creature without a long proboscis or bill could penetrate the chevaux-de-frise of stamens, and to reach the honey the hummingbirds had to probe to their eyes. they came out with forehead well dusted with pollen and carried it to the next blossom. the destiny of the flower was now fulfilled, the pot of honey might dry up, the stamens rain to the earth and the glory of tyrian rose pass into the dull hues of decay. day after day as we watched this kaleidoscope of vegetable and avian hues, we came to know more intimately the units which formed the mass. there were at least fifteen species and all had peculiarities of flight and plumage so marked that they soon became recognizable at sight. after our eyes had become accustomed to specific differences in these atoms of birds we began to notice the eccentricities of individuals. this was made easy by the persistence with which certain birds usurped and clung to favorite perches. one glowing hermit clad in resplendent emerald armor selected a bare twig on a nearby shrub and from there challenged every hummer that came in sight; whether larger, smaller or of his own kind made no difference. he considered the cashew trees as his own special property and as far as his side of them went he made good his claim. i have never seen such a concentration of virile combative force in so condensed a form. in some such way as vultures concentrate upon carrion, so news of the cashew sweets had passed through the jungle. not by any altruistic agency we may be certain, as we watch the selfish, irritable little beings, but by subtile scent, or as with the vultures, by the jealous watching of each other's actions. i observed closely for one hour and counted one hundred and forty-six hummingbirds coming to the tree. during the day at least one thousand must visit it. they did not have a monopoly of the cashew manna, for now and then a honey-creeper or flower-pecker flew into the tree and took toll of the sweets. but they were scarcely noticeable. we had almost a pure culture of hummingbirds to watch and vainly to attempt to study, for more elusive creatures do not exist. convict trail revealed no more beautiful a sight than this concentration of the smallest, most active and the most gorgeous birds in the world. such treats--floral and avian--were all that might be expected of any tree, but the cashews had still more treasures in store. the weeks passed and we had almost forgotten the flowers and hummingbirds, when a new odor greeted us, the sweet, intense smell of overripe fruit. we noticed a scattering of soft yellow cashews fallen here and there, and simultaneously there arrived the hosts of fruit-eating birds. from the most delicate turquoise honey-creepers to great red and black grosbeaks, they thronged the trees. all day a perfect stream of tanagers--green, azure and wine-colored--flew in and about the manna, callistes and silver-beaks, dacnis and palm tanagers. and for a whole week we gloried in this new feast of color, before the last riddled cashew dropped, to be henceforth the prize of great wasps and gauze-winged flies, who guzzled its fermented juice and helped in the general redistribution of its flesh--back to the elements of the tropic mold, to await the swarms of fingering rootlets, a renewed synthesis--to rise again for a time high in air, again to become part of blossom and bird and insect. it was along this convict trail that i sank the series of pits which trapped unwary walkers of the night, and halfway out at pit number five, the army ants waged their wonderful warfare. in fact it was while watching operations in another sector of this same battle-front that i found myself all unintentionally in the sleeping chamber of the heliconias. tired from a long day's work in the laboratory, i wandered slowly along the convict trail, aimlessly, in that wholly relaxed state which always seems to invite small adventures. it is a mental condition wholly desirable, but not to be achieved consciously. one cannot say, "lo, i will now be relaxed, receptive." it must come subconsciously, unnoticed, induced by a certain wearied content of body or mind--and then--many secret doors stand ajar, any one of which may be opened and passed if the gods approve. my stroll was marked at first, however, by only one quaint happening. for several weeks the jolly little trail-lizards had been carrying on most enthusiastic courtships, marked with much bowing and posing, and a terrific amount of scrambling about. the previous day--that of the first rains--numbers of lizardlets appeared, and at the same time the brown tree-lizards initiated their season of love-making. i had often watched them battle with one another--combats wholly futile as far as any damage was concerned. but the vanquished invariably gave up to his conqueror the last thing he had swallowed, the victor receiving it in a gluttonly rather than a gracious spirit, but allowing his captive to escape. i surprised one of these dark-brown chaps in the trail and seized him well up toward the head, to preserve his tail intact. hardly had i lifted him from the ground, when he turned his head, considered me calmly with his bright little eyes, and forthwith solemnly spat out a still living ant in my direction. the inquiring look he then gave me, was exceedingly embarrassing. who was i not to be bound in chivalry by the accredited customs of his race? with dignity and certainty of acceptance he had surrendered, calmly and without doubt he had proffered his little substitute of sword. it was, i felt, infinitely preferable to any guttural and cowardly "kamerad!" feeling rather shamefaced i accepted the weakly struggling ant, gently lowered the small saurian to the ground and opened my fingers. he went as he had surrendered, with steadiness and without terror. from the summit of a fallen log he turned and watched me walk slowly out of sight, and i at least felt the better for the encounter. of all tropical butterflies, heliconias seem the most casual and irresponsible. the background of the wings of many is jet-black, and on this sable canvas are splashed the boldest of yellow streaks and the most conspicuous of scarlet spots. unquestionably protected by nauseous body fluids, they flaunt their glaring colors in measured, impudent flight, weaving their way slowly through the jungle, in the face of lizard and bird. warningly colored they assuredly are. one cannot think of them except as flitting aimlessly on their way, usually threading the densest part of the undergrowth. no butterflies are more conspicuous or easier to capture. they must feed, they must pay court and mate, and they must stop long enough in their aimless wanderings to deposit their eggs on particular plants by an instinct which we have never fathomed. but these are consummations hidden from the casual observer. now, however, i am prepared for any unexpected meaningful trait, for i have surprised them in a habit, which presupposes memory, sociability and caution, manifested at least subconsciously. the afternoon had worn on, and after leaving my lizard, i had squatted at the edge of a small glade. this glade was my private property, and the way by which one reached it from the nearby convict trail was a pressure trail, not a cut one. one pushed one's way through the reeds, which flew back into place and revealed nothing. lifting my eyes from the tragedies of a hastening column of army ants, i saw that an unusual number of heliconias were flitting about the glade, both species, the reds and the yellows. all were fluttering slowly about and as i watched, one by one they alighted on the very tips of bare twigs, upside down with closed wings. in this position they were almost invisible, even a side view showing only the subdued under-wing pigments which blended with the pastel colors of twilight in the glade, reflected from variegated leaves and from the opening blossoms of the scarlet passion vine. perhaps the most significant fact of this sleeping posture, was the very evident protection it afforded to butterflies which in motion during their waking hours are undoubtedly warningly colored and advertised to the world as inedible. hanging perpendicularly beneath the twig, although they were almost in the open with little or no foliage overhead, yet they presented no surface to the rain of the night, and all faced northeast--the certain direction of both rain and wind. the first one or two roosting butterflies i thought must be due to accidental association, but i soon saw my error. i counted twelve of the red-spots and eight yellows on two small bushes and a few minutes' search revealed forty-three more. all were swung invariably from the tips of bare twigs, and there was very evident segregation of the two kinds, one on each side of the glade. when i disturbed them, they flew up in a colorful flurry, flapped about for a minute or less and returned, each to its particular perch. after two or three gentle waves of the wings and a momentary shifting of feet they settled again to perfect rest. this persistent choice of position was invariably the case, as i observed in a number of butterflies which had recognizable tears in their wings. no matter how often they were disturbed they never made a mistake in the number of their cabin. a certain section of a particular twig on a definite branch was the resting place of some one heliconia, and he always claimed it. several were bright and fresh, newly emerged, but the remainder were somewhat faded and chipped at the edges. the delicate little beings slept soundly. i waited until dusk began finally to settle down and crept gently toward a red-spot. i brought my face close and aroused no sign of life. then i reached up and slowly detached the butterfly from its resting place. it moved its feet slightly, but soon became quiet. then i gently replaced it, and at the touch of the twig, its feet took new hold. when i released its wings it did not fly but sank back into the same position as before. i wondered if i was the first scientist to pluck a sleepy butterfly from a jungle tree and replace it unawakened. at the time i was more impressed by the romantic beauty of it all than by its psychological significance. i wondered if heliconias ever dreamed, i compared the peacefulness of this little company with the fierce ants which even now were just disappearing from view. these were my thoughts rather than later meditations on whether this might not be a sort of atavistic social instinct, faintly reminiscent of the gregariousness of their caterpillar youth. from any point of view i shall think better of all butterflies for this discovery; their desire for company, the instinctive wisdom of place and posture, the gentleness and silence of the little foregathering in the jungle. as i walked back along the trail several late comers passed me, vibrating softly through the twilight, headed for their glade of dreams. subsequent visits to this glade emphasized the strength of association of this little fraternity, by realization of its temporal brevity. three weeks after i first discovered the glade, i returned in late afternoon and waited silently. for a time i feared that the mariposal friendship was a thing of the past. but a few minutes before five the first red-spot fluttered by, in and out among the twigs and leaves, as one slips an aeroplane through openings in drifting clouds. one by one, from all directions, the rest followed, until i counted twelve, twenty, thirty-four. many of the twigs were now vacant, and most of the heliconias were tattered and forlorn, just able to keep at their fluttering level. there was something infinitely pathetic in this little company, which in less than a month had become so out at elbow, so aged, with death close ahead, yet with all their remaining strength making their way from north and from south, from dense and from open jungle, to keep tryst for this silent, somnolent communion. i rose quietly and passed carefully from the glade, disturbing none of the paper-thin silhouettes, so like the foliage in outward seeming, yet so individual, each perhaps with dim dreams of flowers and little meetings and wind tossings; certainly with small adventures awaiting their awakening on the morrow, and a very certain kismet such a short way ahead. two weeks after this, only three butterflies came to the glade, one newly painted, freshly emerged, the other two old and tattered and very weary. i loitered on my homeward way and before i reached kalacoon found myself in the convict trail in full moonlight. at one turn of the path a peculiar tinkling reached my ear. it was a veritable silver wire of sound--so high, so tenuous that one had to think as well as listen to keep it in audible focus. i pushed through a growth of cecropias and at once lost the sound never to hear it again, but in its place there appeared a very wonderful thing--a good-sized tree standing alone and exposed, bathed in full moonlight, and yet gleaming, as brightly as if silhouetted against complete darkness, by the greenish light of numberless fireflies. after the first marvel of the sudden sight, i approached and pulled down a branch and counted twenty-six glowing insects, as close together as the blossoms on a japanese cherry branch. there were hundreds upon hundreds, all clustered together in candelabred glory, hidden from the view of all, at the farther side of this dense thicket. as i left i remembered with gratitude the silver wire of sound which had guided me, and in a far corner of my mind i stored a new memory--one which i could draw upon at need in distant times of pain, or of intolerance or perhaps in some lull of battle--the thought of a tree all aglow with living flames, in the moonlight of the convict trail. ix with army ants "somewhere" in the jungle pit number five had become a shambles. number five was one of the series of holes dug along the convict trail to entrap unwary walkers of the night--walkers or hoppers, for frogs and toads of strange tropical sorts were the most frequent victims. it was dug wide and deep on the slope of an ancient dune of pure white sand, a dune deep hidden in the guiana jungle, which had not heard the rush and slither of breaking waves for centuries untold. all around this quiet glade was an almost pure culture of young cecropia trees. day after day the pit had entrapped big beetles, rarely a mouse of some unknown species, more frequently a frog. now i stood on the brim, shocked at an unexpected sight. a horde of those huns of the jungle, army ants, had made their drive directly across the glade, and scores of fleeing insects and other creatures had fallen headlong into this deep pit. from my man's height it was a dreadful encounter, but squatting near the edge it became even more terrible; and when i flattened myself on the sand and began to distinguish individuals and perceive the details from an ant's point of view, i realized the full horror and irresistibility of an assault by these ants. one is not strongly affected by the dying struggles of a single grasshopper captured by a cuckoo or flycatcher. an individual roach being torn to pieces moves one but slightly. a batrachian, however, has more claim on our emotions, and my sympathy went out to a small, sandy-white frog who was making a brave fight for his life. the pit was alive with a host of the army ants, and wherever the little frog hopped, some soldier or heavy-jawed worker soon found him and sank jaws into his soft skin. with frantic scratching the frog would brush it off and leap again, only to be again attacked. the most horrible thing about these ants is their leaping ability. the hop of a bird or the jump of a toad when going about their usual business of life, if we think of it at all, is only amusing. but the sudden leap of a bulldog or tarantula, and the corresponding vicious attack of these ants, is particularly appalling. i saw a soldier leap a full inch and a half toward the landing thud of the frog and bite and sting at the instant of contact. i did not dare go into the pit. no warm-blooded creature could have stood the torture for more than a few seconds. so i opened my umbrella and reaching down, scooped up the sand-colored frog. a half-dozen ants came up in the same instrument, but i evaded them and tied up the tormented batrachian in my handkerchief. my next glance into the pit showed a large toad, squatted on a small shelf of sand, close to the edge of a crowded column of ants. he was a rough old-chap, covered with warts and corrugations, and pigmented in dark gray, with mottlings of chocolate and dull red and occasional glints of gold. he was crouched flat, with all his fingers and toes tucked in beneath him. his head was drawn in, his eyes closed, and all his exposed surface was sticky with his acid perspiration--the sweat of fear. he knew his danger--of that there was no doubt--and he was apparently aware of the fact that he could not escape. resignedly he had settled on the very line of traffic of the deadly foe, after intrenching himself and summoning to his aid all the defenses with which nature had endowed him. and he was winning out--the first vertebrate i have ever known to withstand the army ants. for a few minutes he would be ignored and his sides would vibrate as he breathed with feverish rapidity. then two or three ants would run toward him, play upon him with their antennæ, and examine him suspiciously. during this time he was immovable. even when a soldier sank his mandibles deep into the roughened skin and wrenched viciously, the toad never moved. he might have been a parti-colored pebble embedded in its matrix of sand. once, when three bit him simultaneously, he winced, and the whitish, acrid juice oozed from his pores. usually the ants were content with merely examining him. i left him when i saw that he was in no immediate danger. one other creature was quiescent in the pit and yet lived: a big, brown, hardbacked millipede. like the frog, he fully realized his danger and had sunk his bulk partly into the sand, bending down head and tail and presenting only mailed segments. a mob of ants were trying vainly to bite their way into this organic citadel. for the dozens of grasshoppers, crickets, roaches, beetles, spiders, ants, and harvest men, there was no escape. one daddy-long-legs did a pitiful dance of death. supported on his eight long legs, he stood high out of reach of his assailants. he was balanced so exactly that the instant a feeling antenna touched a leg, he would lift it out of reach. even when two or three were simultaneously threatened, he raised them, and at one time stood perfectly balanced on four legs, the other four waving in air. but his _kismet_ came with a concerted rush of half a dozen ants, which overbore him, and in a fraction of time his body, with two long legs trailing behind, was straddled by a small worker and borne rapidly away. i now flattened myself on an antless area at the edge of the pit and studied the field of battle. in another half-hour the massacre was almost over. five double, and often quadruple, columns were formed up the sandy cliffs, and the terrific labor of carrying out the dead victims began. the pit was five feet deep, with perfectly straight sides, which at the rim had been gutted by the rain, so that they actually overhung. yet the ants which had half-climbed, half-tumbled and rolled their way to the bottom in the wake of their victims, now set themselves to solving the problem of surmounting these cliffs of loose, crumbling grains, dragging loads which, in most cases, were much heavier than themselves. imagine a gang of men set to carrying bundles of one to two hundred pounds up perpendicular cliffs twelve hundred feet in height, and the task of the army ants is made more vivid. so swiftly did they work and so constantly shifted their formations and methods of meeting and surmounting difficulties, that i felt as i used when looking at a three-ring circus. i could perceive and record only a small part of the ingenious devices and the mutual assistance and sharing of the complicated conditions which arose at every step. among the frightened victims, even for those endowed with excellent eyesight and powerful flight, there was only hopeless confusion and blind terror. instead of directing their flight upward, they drove from side to side. those whose leaps should have carried them out, simply kicked out blindly and brought up against the sandy walls. if leaf-cutting ants had been at work here, there would have been a certain amount of cooperation. certain ones would have cut leaves, other individuals would have picked them up and transported them. but with the army ants this mutual assistance was sublimated, developed to a quintessence of excellence. if i, seated on the rim, overlooking the whole, had been an all-powerful spirit, gifted with the ability to guide by thought simultaneously all the ants within sight, such guidance could not have bettered the cunning cooperation, the unexpectedly clever anticipation of trouble, the marvelous singleness of purpose and manifold effectiveness exhibited by these astounding creatures. first, as to the personnel of the army ants. roughly i divided them into two categories, white-heads and black-heads. the latter were by far the more numerous and, as a rule, were smaller, with less powerful jaws. but this did not mean that the white-heads were all soldiers. most of them indeed were the hardest workers. between the great extremes of size in each of these two types, there seemed to exist only a difference of degree. the smallest black-head laborers, only a little more than one-fifth of an inch long, did their bit, flew like bull pups at any prey which showed signs of life, and staggered bravely along with any piece of loot which their short legs could straddle. the white-heads, twice as large, were the strong men of the community, putting all their activity into the labor, shouldering, pushing, dragging, lifting, singly or in unison. these persons had powerful jaws, but jaws which were stout and scissor-edged. the largest of the white-heads were armed with reaping-hooks, long inwardly-pronged jaws, curved like the tushes of ancient mammoths, too specialized for carrying loads, but well adapted for defense of the most powerful character. yet, as we shall see, even these were not too proud to work, when occasion demanded it. but their jaws were so enormous that they had to carry themselves very erect, and they could not make quite as good time as the other castes. all had reddish brown abdomens, with darker thoraxes and white or black heads. these heads bulged on each side like the domes of observatories. exactly in the center of each dome, looking like the jet-black head of a tiny pin, was the single remaining facet of the eye, the degenerate residue of the hundreds which were present in their ancestors, and which the perfect males and females still possess and look through. even this single eye is a sham, for its optic nerve dies out before the brain ganglion is reached; so we come to the astounding realization that these ants are totally blind, and carry on all their activities through the sense or senses residing in those marvelous quivering antennæ. here are beings spending all their lives in ceaseless changing activities, meeting and coping with constantly new conditions, yet wholly blind. their sense of smell dominates their judgment of substance, and the moment an army ant reached my moccasin he sank jaws and sting deep into the fabric as instinctively and instantly as when he executed the same manoeuvers more effectively on my hand. keeping this handicap in mind, the achievements of these little creatures assumed a still greater significance, and with renewed interest and appreciation i again surveyed the scene in the amphitheater before me. when the majority of the pit victims had been slain, the process of carrying them up to the surface began. the hordes of ravening ants resolved themselves, as i have said, into five distinct columns of traffic which, inch by inch, fought for a footing up three of the four sides. half of the bottom of the pit was a sort of flat table-land several inches higher than the rest, and the first thing the ants did was to carry all their booty to this steppe, in pieces or bodily, some of the unfortunate creatures still protesting weakly as they were dragged along. in fifteen minutes the lowest part of the pit bottom was deserted, and after much hesitation i vaulted down and found a footing reasonably safe from attack. two traffic columns had already reached the summit, and the others were forging rapidly ahead. all used a similar method of advance. a group of mixed castes led the way, acting as scouts, sappers, and miners. they searched out every slope, every helpful step or shelf of sand. they took advantage of every hurdle of white grass-roots as a welcome grip which would bind the shifting sand grains. now and then they had to cross a bare, barren slope with no natural advantages. behind them pressed a motley throng, some still obsessed with the sapper instinct, widening the trail, tumbling down loose, dangerous grains. some bore the first-fruits of victory, small ants and roaches which had been the first to succumb. these were carried by one, or at most by two ants, usually with the prey held in the jaws close beneath the body, the legs or hinderpart trailing behind. in this straddling fashion the burden was borne rapidly along, an opposite method from the overhead waving banners of the leaf-cutters. with these came a crowd of workers, both white and black-headed, and soldiers, all empty-jawed, active, but taking no part in the actual preparation of the trail. this second cohort or brigade had, it seemed to me, the most remarkable functions of any of the ants which i saw during my whole period of observation. they were the living implements of trail-making, and their ultimate functions and distribution were so astounding, so correlated, so synchronized with the activities of all the others that it was difficult not to postulate an all-pervading intelligence, to think of these hundreds and thousands of organisms as other than corpuscles in a dynamic stream of life controlled by some single, outside mind. here, then, were scores of ants scrambling up the steep uneven sides, over ground which they had never explored, with unknown obstacles confronting them at every step. to the eye they were ants of assorted sizes, but as they advanced, numbers fell out here and there and remained behind. this mob consisted of potential corduroy, rope-bridges, props, hand-rails, lattices, screens, fillers, stiles, ladders, and other unnamable adjuncts to the successful scaling of these apparently impregnable cliffs. if a stratum of hard sand appeared, on which no impression could be made, a line of ants strung themselves out, each elaborately fixing himself fast by means of jaws and feet. from that moment his feverish activity left him: he became a fixture, a single unit of a swaying bridge over a chasm; a beam, an organic plank, over which his fellows tramped by hundreds, some empty, some heavily laden. if a sudden ascent had to be made, one ant joined himself to others to form a hanging ladder, up which the columns climbed, partly braced against the sandy wall. at uncertain, unguarded turns a huge soldier would take up his station, with as many functions and duties as a member of the broadway traffic squad. stray, wandering ants would be set right by a single twiddle of antennæ; an over-burdened brother would be given a helping jaw and assisted for some distance to the end of his beat. i was especially interested in seeing, again and again, this willingness to help bear the burdens. it showed the remains of an instinct, inhibited by over-development, by ultra-specialization of fighting paraphernalia, still active when opportunity gave it play. at the first hint, by sound or smell, of danger, the big soldier whirled outward and, rearing high on his legs, brandished his mighty blades in mid-air. here was an ideal pacifist, who could turn his sword into a plowshare at will, and yet keep the former unsheathed for instant use. when i watched more closely, i detected more delicate gradations of mutual aid. at the same level in two columns of ascent, the same stratum of hard sand was encountered. to one column the sand presented a rough surface which gave good foothold. here the single line of ants which was ranged along the lower edge of the trail, in lieu of hand-rail, all faced downward, so that the ants passing above them walked partly on the abdomens and partly on the hind legs of their fellows. in the second column, the surface of the sand was smooth, and here the burdened ants found great difficulty in obtaining a foothold. in this instance the supporting gang of ants faced upward, keeping their place solely by their six sturdy legs. this left head and jaws free, and in almost every case they helped the passage of the booty by a system of passing from jaw to jaw, like a line of people handing buckets at a fire. the rightful carriers gave up their loads temporarily and devoted their attention to their own precarious footing. i learned as much from the failures of this particular formation as from its successes. once a great segment of a wood-roach was too much for the gallant line clinging to the sides of the pit, and the whole load broke loose and rolled to the bottom. of the hand-rail squad only two ants remained. yet in four minutes another line was formed of fresh ants,--ants who had never been to the spot before,--and again the traffic was uninterrupted. i saw one ant deliberately drop his burden, letting it bounce and roll far down to the bottom of the pit, and instantly take his place in the line of living guardrails. the former constituents of the line had clung to the roach segment through all its wild descent, and until it came to rest at the bottom. without a moment's pause, they all attacked it as if they thought it had come to life, then seized it and began tugging it upward. in a fraction of time, without signal or suggestion or order, the hand-rails had become porters. the huge piece of provender had rolled close to an ascending column on the opposite side of the pit, and up this new trail the bearers started, pulling and pushing in unison, as if they had been droghers and nothing else throughout the whole of their ant-existence. one climax of mutual assistance occurred near the rim of the pit on a level with my eyes, where one column passed over a surface which had been undermined by heavy rain, and which actually overhung. i watched the overcoming of this obstacle. all the ants which attempted to make their way up at this point lost their footing and rolled headlong to the bottom. by superformicine exertions a single small worker at last won a path to the rim at the top. around the edge of the pit innumerable ants were constantly running, trying, on their part, to find a way down. the single ant communicated at once with all which came past, and without hesitation a mass of the insects formed at this spot and began to work downward. this could be done only by clinging one to the other; but more and more clambered down this living ladder, until it swayed far out over the vastness of the pit, three inches in length. i had never lost sight of the small worker, who had turned on his tracks and was now near the bottom of the ladder, reaching wildly out for some support--ant, grass, or sand. i was astonished to see that, as the length and consequent weight of the dangling chain increased, the base support was correspondingly strengthened. ant after ant settled itself firmly on the sand at the top, until a mat of insects had been formed, spread out like animate guy-ropes. at last the ultimate ant in the rope touched the upraised jaws of the soldier far below. the contact acted like an electric shock. the farthest ant in the guy-rope gang quivered with emotion, a crowd of ants climbed down and another up, and bits of insect and spider prey began to appear from the depths of the pit, over the living carpet suspended from the brim. for an inch the droghers climbed over the bodies braced against the cliff. then, where the surface became smooth, the dangling chain came into use. before the rim of the pit was reached, the chain had become a veritable hollow tube of ants, all with heads inward, and through this organic shaft passed the host from the ascending column. but it was far more than any mechanically built tube. when an extra large piece of loot came up, the tube voluntarily enlarged, the swelling passing along until the booty and its bearers emerged at the top. within five minutes after this last column was completed, there passed over it, out of the pit, a daddy-long-legs with legs trailing, perhaps the same one which i had seen in the tragic little dance of death. there followed two silvery-gray ants, a wood-roach in two installments, part of a small frog, three roaches, and two beetles. these latter gave a great deal of trouble and tumbled down the cliff again and again. when all the columns were established and the provision trains in full movement, i leaped out and scouted round for the rest of the army. i found that the pit was only an incident. in all directions lines of ants poured past, carrying booty of all sizes and descriptions. here and there the huge soldiers walked slowly along the outskirts, directing stragglers, looking for danger, snapping at any roach or strange ant which rushed frantically by, and holding it until it was carried off by nearby workers. i followed a column over logs and leaves to where it ascended a cecropia tree. a harvest of small arboreal insects was being gleaned high overhead. as i watched, there came a heavy downpour of rain, a typical shower of the tropics, with a scattering of heavy drops out of the full sunshine and then a sudden clouding and a straight deluge for a few minutes. the reaction of the ants was interesting. they did not like the water, and it was comical to see them tumble over one another to get under shelter. like the doorways of city shops in a shower, every curled-up leaf was packed, and from every crevice of bark projected sundry abdomens and hind legs for which there was no room inside. when the bearer of a large bag of booty found a convenient corner, he backed into it and left his meat sticking out in the rain. after the shower all came forth at full speed, but for some minutes there was considerable confusion. the sluice of water had evidently washed away much of the scent which stood for guide-posts, directing signs, and pointing hands along the trail. only after many false starts were the old pathways discovered and again traversed. in one place the ants climbed a huge log and marched along the top for six or seven yards. i timed them carefully and found that on this straightaway track their average speed was two and a half feet in ten seconds. so they covered a mile in three hours and a half, and in all the army ants i have ever watched this rate of speed never slackens; in fact, it frequently greatly increases. when hot on the scent of prey they double their usual gait. there are as many ludicrous sights to be seen in the ranks of army ants as there are among the banner-decked processions of the leaf-cutters. along the tree-trunk track came three big white-heads straddling an inch-worm--in this case an inch-and-a-half-worm. they leaned forward and downward, the heads of those behind overlapping the abdomens in front, and they looked for all the world like the riders of an old-fashioned three-seated bicycle, spurting along the trail. another simile, even more vivid, evoked the vision of some weirdly constructed, elongated myriopod with eighteen legs. after a hard fight, in the course of which i was stung twice, i unseated the trio and took the measuring worm away from them. as i lifted it from where it had fallen, at least fifty ants hurled themselves at the spot, jaws snapping, trembling with violent rage. i walked ten feet away and dropped the worm in the midst of another column, and within an equal number of seconds three new white-heads had mounted it and were hustling it along--the replicas in appearance and method of the first team. many species of stranger ants were killed and carried off as food, but now and then i noted a most significant exception. in three different parts of the glade i saw good-sized, pale, flesh-colored ants which walked unharmed in the very ranks of the terrible host. unharmed they were, but not wholly above suspicion, and their progress was not an easy one. for every unburdened ant which passed leaped at the pale one, antennaed it fiercely for a moment and reluctantly released it. one could read their indecision as they slowly loosened their hold, turning again and again and waving their antennæ as if to make sure that it was not better to act on their suspicion and slay at once. finally, they always passed on. the pale ones had some strange inaudible password, some sensory parole which protected them. and their total lack of fear showed their knowledge of their immunity. even with the added sense of sight which they possessed, they chose voluntarily to accept this dubious, reluctantly accorded friendship. but it was probable that, even if they lived in the very community or nest of the army ants, theirs was the hard-earned dependence of neutrals who were liable to be knocked down at a moment's notice, and searched for any strange, inimical scent which would spell instant death. in one place the army column made a slight détour round a hillock of sandgrains upon which a host of tiny brown ants was laboring. i thought it remarkable that such immunity should be accorded these dwarfs, and i sought the reason. it was forthcoming at once when i gingerly lifted a big soldier with the forceps and dropped him on the ant-hill. what occurred was a replica of the usual army ant scene, but enacted as if viewed through the large end of an opera-glass. scores of the minute brown chaps rushed forth and for a moment fairly overbore the white-headed giant. indeed, before he could recover he was dragged partly down a sandy hole. his jaws brandished and champed, but his assailants were so small that they slipped through them unharmed. many actually seized the jaws themselves and were hurled through the air as they snapped together. regaining his feet, the great army ant staggered off and, fortunately for him, rolled down a slope into another column of his own kind. here he freed himself little by little, scraping off the minute fighting browns with the help of two very small workers, whose jaws, being much less in size, were better able to grip the diminutive furies. their assistance was half-hearted, and the odor of the dead and dying pygmies was distinctly disliked by them. they were apparently well aware of the capabilities of these small cousins, and held them in high respect. this outburst of successful defense on the part of the small ants was unexpected. i glanced back at their hill and saw them unconcernedly piling up grains as if nothing had occurred to disturb them. i wondered if, with senses perfectly attuned, with an enlarging-glass ability of observation, one might not find still lesser communities which would in their turn consider the little brown ants as giants, and on the space of a pin's head attack them and fly at their throats. a species of silvery-gray ant which was abundant in the glade was an object of special enmity, and even after one of these was killed and being carried along, passing army ants would rush up and give it a vicious, unnecessary nip. one such ant made its escape from the hold of a small worker; but before it had taken ten steps it was actually buried under a rolling mass of army ants. the flying leap with which these athletes make their tackle would delight the heart of any football coach, although their succeeding activities belong rather to savage warfare. termites, or so-called white ants, are, curiously enough, immune from attack. yet these slow-moving, fat-bodied creatures would seem first-rate food, and the fight which they could put up would not stand an instant before a concerted rush of battling army ants. the saving character is doubtless odor or taste. i dropped a tunnelful of these insects in the path of the army ants and they were quite ignored, although the black-and-white-headed fellows were terribly angry and excited. i coveted a small beetle of peculiar pattern which the ants were hurrying along, and in taking it from them i accidentally cut an army ant in two. his abdomen rolled down a small slope and caused considerable panic among his fellows. they formed a ring round it and waved their antennæ in mid-air, the scent of the blood of their own kind causing them to forget hurry and burdens and their normal activities. the front part of the ant seemed but little inconvenienced and endeavored to seize and carry the load it had dropped. little by little it began to realize that all was not right, and after one or two attempts to turn and investigate, it ran rapidly down the trail. i made a dab at it to put it out of what seems better called inconvenience than misery, but succeeded only in bisecting the thorax, so that there remained the head and front pair of legs. these lost nothing in activity, and by means of the single pair of legs the head rowed itself rapidly along, its antennæ twiddling vigorously those of every ant it met. this was uncanny, a little too much, and i ground the fraction of ant to powder. no wonder the army ant is such a virile creature, endowed with the most extreme emotions, when, with such a small section of its anatomy remaining it can continue to show such astounding activity. one could study for hours the interactions among the army ants themselves. more than once i saw a good-sized ant transporting one of its fellows, exactly as it would carry a bit of booty. i tried to examine this ant, and to my surprise, both attacked me ferociously. the one which was carried was neither dead, ill, nor disabled, but very much alive. i cannot even suggest an explanation of this phenomenon, as it did not seem an attempt to aid a comrade in distress. as dusk began to settle down, i found a column of ants which must have discovered and sacked the city of some stranger ants. they were laden with ant-booty: eggs, larvæ, and dead ants by the hundred. it was comprehensible, but what i did not at first understand was a dense line of ants moving solidly in one direction, all laden with large eggs and immature ants, which they were carrying with great care. a large number of the huge soldiers patrolled the outer flanks of the column, more than i had seen with all the other traffic lines together. i realized at last that i was looking at an actual moving of a portion of the army ant household itself. it was guarded and transported with all the care of which these insects were capable. the infant ants rested safely in the great jaws, the same jaws which all day had been busy slashing and biting and tearing, and carrying food for these same infants. and now the tropical night began to close down and i made my way back to the sandpit. the last of the columns was making its way out, systematically from the bottom up, each ant following in turn. the moment the last bit of prey passed up the column, by some wonderfully delicate and subtile sense, every ant knew of it, and the corduroy rose, the hand-rails unjointed themselves, the ropes unspliced, the embankments dislodged of their own volition, and stepping-stones took to themselves legs. after hours of total inactivity, these sentient paraphernalia of the _via formica_ became, once more, beings surcharged with ceaseless movement, alert and ready to become a useful cog in the next movement of this myriad-minded machine. i jumped down into the pit. the great gold-spotted toad stretched and scratched himself, looked at me, and trembled his throat. i was not an army ant! the millipede cautiously reared its head from the sand and felt timidly about. i looked out and saw the last of the mighty army disappearing into the undergrowth. i listened and heard no chirp of cricket, nor voice of any insect in the glade. silence brooded, significant of wholesale death. only at my feet two ants still moved, a small worker and a great white-headed soldier. both had been badly disabled in the struggles in the pit, and now vainly sought to surmount even the first step of the lofty cliff. they had been ruthlessly deserted. the rearing of new hosts was too easy a matter for nature to have evolved anything like stretchers or a red cross service among these social beings. the impotence of these two, struggling in the dusk, only emphasized the terrible vitality of their distant fellows. as the last twilight of day dimmed, i saw the twain still bravely striving, and now the toad was watching them intently. a poor-me-one called mournfully from a distance, and i walked slowly toward home. x a yard of jungle within five minutes the daily downpour of tropical rain would drench the jungle. at this moment the air was tense with electricity, absolutely motionless, and saturated with odorous moisture. the voices of all the wild creatures were hushed. the sense of mystery which is always so dominant in a tropical jungle seemed nearer, more vital, but more than ever a mystery. its insistency made one oblivious of the great heat. the beating of one's heart became a perceptible sound, absurdly loud. all the swamp and jungle seemed listening to it. suddenly a voice came out of the heart of this mystery, and fittingly enough, the voice seemed something a little more or less than human, and also fittingly it uttered but a single word, and that word a question. and the listener realized that the answer to the question was the only thing which made life and work worth while. the throb of the blood in his veins was forgotten, and all his senses reached out to the sights and sounds and scents about him. and again the great black frog called from its slimy seat hidden in the still blacker water of the jungle swamp. its voice was deep, guttural, and a little inhuman, but it asked as plainly as any honest man could ask, _wh--y?_ and after a minute, _wh--y?_ i squatted in the center of a trail. within walking distance behind me flowed the yellow waters of the amazon, and the igarapé from which the frog had called was even now feeling the tidal heave of the ocean. ahead, the jungle stretched without a break for three thousand miles or more. and here for a week i had suffered bodily torture, twisting into unhappy positions for hours at a time, watching the birds which crowded the berry-laden foliage of a single jungle tree. in the cool of early morning, throughout the terrible breathless heat of mid-day and the drenching downpour of afternoon, the frog and i put our questions. there was hope in our interrogation. and my five senses all gave aid, and my hand wrote down facts, and my mind pondered them. in the very suburbs of pará, at the mouth of the great amazon and within a hundred miles of the equator, i found a mecca of bird-life. it was a gastronomic mecca to be sure, a tall, slender, wild cinnamon tree,--_canella do matto_ the natives called it. for a full week i invited torture by attempting to study the bird-life of this single tree. this thing had not been done before; it might not be worth the doing. but testing such possibilities are as important to a naturalist's work as following along the more conventional and consequently more certain lines of investigation. i had no time for exploration of the surrounding country; so i had determined to risk all my precious hours upon intensive observation in one spot. the century before, a plantling had pushed up through the jungle mold and had won success in the terrible competition of the tropics--the helpless, motionless, silent strife of the vegetable folk. year by year the lichen-sculptured trunk had pushed its way upward toward light and air, miraculously saved from the deadly embraces of the lianas which crawled forever through the jungle. today it had gained an accepted place. although no forest giant, with no great buttresses or masses of parasitic growths, it held up its branches and twigs in full sunlight a hundred feet or more above the ground. and its twiggy fingers were laden with a wonderful harvest of fruit, uncounted berries which attracted the birds from distant roosts and drinking places. here, then, a thousand combinations of fate had led me, and here i suffered day by day. bound to the earth like other normal men, my eyes should have been directed forward. now i forced them upward for hours at a time, and all the muscles of neck and shoulders revolted. then eyestrain and headache and a touch of fever followed, and i cast about for means to ameliorate my bodily ills. i dragged a canvas steamer chair to my place of vigil and all my body was grateful. in memory, there now remain only the highlights of new discoveries, the colorful moments of unalloyed realization of success. nevertheless this new method of tropical work brought its own new delights and trials. one joy lay in the very difficulties to be overcome. every sense came into play. sight, first and foremost, had been put to the most severe of tests in attempting to record the happenings against the glare of the sky high up among the foliage of this bit of jungle. i strained through my high-power glasses, until, when i looked without them, the world seemed withdrawn, dwarfed, as in the horrid imaginings of fever. the glasses gained in weight as i held them pointing vertically until they fairly dropped from my aching arms. my ears strove to catch every song, every note which might prove a character of worth. the jungle scents played upon my emotions and sometimes dominated my work; the faint aroma from some invisible orchid overhead, the telltale musk from a passing mammal, the healthful scent of clean jungle mold. as for taste, i had tested the aromatic berries and fruit of my canella tree, and for science' sake had proved two warningly colored insects. my sense of feeling had operated involuntarily and wholly aside from my scientific desires. whether stimulated by dozens of mosquitoes, scores of ants, or hundreds of _bêtes rouges_ or "mucuims," the insistency of discomfort never discouraged a primary desire to delve as deeply as possible into the secrets of this small area of tropical jungle. as i walked slowly about beneath the tree or lay back resting in the chair, i seemed to be watching creatures of another world. whether i ogled them with glasses or now and then brought one down with a charge of small shot, i was a thing of no account to the berry-eating flocks high overhead. a vulture soaring lower than usual passed over the tree, and the shadow of his partial eclipse of the sun froze every bird to instant silence and complete immobility. but my terrestrial activities wrought no excitement. the shot whistled through the foliage, one of their number dropped from sight, and life for the rest went on without a tremor. to ancestral generations, danger had come always from above, not below. the very difficulty of observation rendered this mode of research full of excitement, and at the same time made my method of work very simple. against the sky, green, blue, or black feathers all appear black, and the first two days my glasses helped but little. for several minutes i would watch some tiny bird which might have been a yellow warbler had i been three thousand miles farther north. after memorizing personal characters, scrutinizing its flight and method of feeding, striving to fix its individuality, i would secure the bird, and find in all probability that it was a calliste, or tanager of brilliant plumage. tomorrow, if i were lucky, i might be able to tell off the numbers of this species, to watch them and to know that i was watching them. but recognition would not be by way of the cerulean or topaz or amethystine hues of plumage, but by the slight idiosyncrasies of flirting tail or wing or of general carriage. day by day, as i came to know better the jungle about me, i began to perceive a phase which did not change. even when the sun shone most brightly, when the coolness of early morning had not yet passed, the mood of the amazon jungle remained. it was consistent, this low swampy jungle, in its uniform, somber mystery. in spite of wholesale exaggeration it was the dangers which came to mind. of all places in the world this was probably fullest of life, both in numbers and diversity. yet it was death--or the danger of death--which seemed in waiting, always just concealed from view. beneath my tree i squatted silently. just overhead the foliage might have been almost northern. the finely cut leaves were like willow, and at one side an oak, unusual but still an oak, reached out a thousand thousand motionless leaves, breaking the glare into innumerable patches. but ahead, the terrible interlacing of vines and thorny ropes, the strangle-hold of serpentine lianas on every available trunk--all this could be only tropic. the ground glistened here and there with a film of black water which revealed the swamp. everywhere the mold and leaves of a hundred years lay scattered, the last fallen still green. many feet above, great fans dangled, rayed fronds dry and crackling, fallen from high overhead, and suspended, waiting for the interfering twigs and foliage to die in turn and permit them to seek dissolution in the mold. the jungle was bright with flowers, but it was a sinister brightness--a poisonous, threatening flash of pigment, set off by the blackness of the shadows. heliconia spikes gleamed like fixed scarlet lightning, zigzagging through the pungent air. now and then a bunch of pleasing, warm-hued berries reminded one of innocuous currants, but a second glance showed them ripening into swollen, liver-hued globes which offered no temptation to taste. one tree dangled hideous purple cups filled with vermilion fruits, and not far away the color sequence was reversed. a low-growing, pleasant-leaved plant lifted bursting masses of purple-black, all dripping like wounds upon the foliage below. many flowers were unrecognizable save by their fragrance and naked stamens, advertised neither by color nor form of blossom. i despaired of flowers worthy of the name, until close by my foot i saw a tiny plant with a comely, sweet-scented blossom, grateful to the eye and beautiful as our northern blooms are beautiful. the leaf was like scores lying about, and i realized that this was a sproutling of the giant tree. nothing but the death of this monster could give the light and air which the little plant needed. it was doomed, but it had performed its destiny. it had hinted that much of the beauty of the jungle lay far above the mold and stagnant water. and then i remembered the orchids high overhead. and the realization came that the low-growing blooms needed their glaring colors to outshine the dim, shadowy under-jungle, and their nauseous fumes to outscent the musky vapors of decay. the plants of the jungle won success either by elbowing their neighbors and fighting their path up to sunlight, or else by adapting their needs to the starvation meed of air and light allotted to the lowly growths. the big-leaved churacas had found another means of existence. they lived like permanent rockets, bursting in mid-air. a long, curved stem shot up and reached far out into space. it was so slender as to be almost invisible in the dim light. at its tip radiated a great burst of foliage, leaves springing out in all directions, and absorbing nutrition which a sapling growing amid the undergrowth could not possibly do. from daybreak to dark the canella tree was seldom deserted. usually a score or more birds fluttered and fed among its branches, and true to tropic laws, there were comparatively few individuals but a multitude of species. in the few hours i was able to devote to its study, i identified seventy-six different kinds, and together with those which i saw but could not name, i judge that more than a hundred species must have come to the berries during that week in early may. the first day i secured sixteen specimens, all different; and the following day yielded fourteen more, only one of which was a duplicate of the first day's results. the bird visitors to the tree arrived in one of two characteristic ways. many came direct and swiftly, singly or in pairs, flying straight and with decision. these came from a distance, with full knowledge of the berries. they fed quietly, and when satiated flew off. the second method of arrival was wholly casual,--loose flocks drifting slowly from the neighboring jungle, sifting into the tree, and feeding for a time before passing on. when these left it was rather hastily, and in answer to the chirps and calls of the members of their flock who had not been beguiled by the berries and hence had forged steadily ahead. these more or less well-defined flocks are very characteristic of all tropical jungles. little assemblages of flycatchers, callistes, tanagers, antbirds, manakins, woodhewers, and woodpeckers are drawn together by some intangible but very social instinct. day after day they unite in these fragile fraternities which drift along, gleaning from leaves, flowers, branches, trunks, or ground, each bird according to its structure and way of life. they are so held together by an intangible gregarious instinct that day after day the same heterogeneous flock may be observed, identifiable by peculiarities of one or several of its members. the only recognizable bond is vocal--a constant low calling; half unconscious, absent-minded little signals which keep the members in touch with one another, spurring on the laggards, retarding the overswift. while i watched, there came to my tree a single species of pigeon, two hawks, and two parrots, four hummingbirds, and an equal number of toucans and woodpeckers. the remaining fifty-nine were all passerine birds, of which there were eight each of the families of flycatchers, manakins, and cotingas. eleven were tanagers. the greedy, noisy parrakeets were always the center of commotion, wasting more berries than they ate. the toucans, those bizarre birds of whose lives we know so little, yelped and called and bathed in the water caught in the stubs of branches, and fed to repletion. all the flycatchers forgot their usual diet and took to berrying as ardently as the tanagers themselves. not all the birds came to feed on the berries. a wren hunted insects among the branches, and a hawk found a giant snail crawling up the trunk and devoured it. the insect-eaters of the trunk numbered nine and showed no interest in the berries. two were woodpeckers and seven woodhewers. these latter are a strange tropical family four hundred strong, and all the very essence of protective coloring. their habits of life make of them wandering bits of bark, easy to detect when they are in motion, but vanishing utterly when they are quiet. their similarity in dress is remarkable. they may be large or small, short or long-tailed, with beaks blunt, sharp, straight, curved, thick, or needle-pointed. in these characters they differ; by these points they must know one another. but their colors are almost identical. their olives or browns invariably warm into rich foxy rufous on wings and tail, while over head and shoulders a shower of light streaks has fallen, bits of sunlight fixed in down. further details belong to the literature of ornithology. but the colors of the berry-hunters--these baffle description, yet we cannot pass them by in silence. the blood and orange splashed on black of the toucans, the scarlet and yellow of woodpeckers, the soft greens and buffs of flycatchers, all these paled when a flock of manakins or tanagers or honey-creepers came to the tree. every precious stone found its counterpart in the metallic hues of these exquisite feathered folk. the glory of all was the opal-crowned manakin, a midget in green coat and sulphur waistcoat, with a cap of scaly, iridescent, silvery mother-of-pearl plates, in no way akin to feathers. until now the life of this hop o' my thumb, like those of all his ancestors, had gone smoothly on, with never a human to admire, to wonder, and vainly to echo the question of the great black frog, _wh--y?_ on the last day of my stay i walked slowly up the trail toward the _canella do matto_. for the last time i strained upward at the well-known branches, and with the very movement there came the voice of the swamp. its tone was insistent, with a tinge of accusation, a note of censure. _wh--y?_ and after a little time, _wh--y?_ i looked about me despairingly. what had i learned after all? was there any clearing up of the mystery of the jungle? had my week of scrutiny brought me any closer to the real intimacies of evolution? or--evading these questions for the time--was there nothing i could do in the few precious moments left? in five minutes i should turn my back on all this wildness, this jungle seething with profound truths, and great solutions within arm's reach. i should pass to the ocean where monotony compels introspection, and finally to the great center of civilization where the veneer covers up all truths. even if my studies had taught only the lesson of the tremendous insurgence of life, could i not emphasize this, make it a more compelling factor to be considered in future efforts toward the frog's question and mine? my eyes left the foliage overhead and sought the ground. acting on impulse, i brought from my camping stores an empty war-bag, and scraped together an armful of leaves, sticks, moss, earth, mold of all sorts. four square feet of jungle débris went into my bag, and i shouldered it. then i said adieu to my trail and my tree--a sorrowful leave-taking, as is always my misfortune. for the bonds which bind me to a place or a person are not easily broken. and, as usual when the trail passed from view, the ideal alone remained. the thoughts of mosquitoes, of drenchings, of hours of breathless disappointed waiting, all sank in the memory of the daily discoveries, the mental delights of new research. a week later, when the sky-line was unbroken by land, when a long ground-swell waved but did not disturb the deep blue of the open sea, i unlaced my bag of jungle mold. armed with forceps, lens, and vials i began my search. for days i had gazed upward; now my scrutiny was directed downward. with binoculars i had scanned without ceasing the myriad leaves of a great tree; now with lens or naked eye i sought for life or motion on single fallen leaves and dead twigs. when i studied the life of the great tree i was in the land of brobdingnag; now i was verily a gulliver in lilliput. the cosmos in my war-bag teemed with mystery as deep and as inviting as any in the jungle itself. when i began work i knew little of what i should find. my vague thoughts visualized ants and worms, and especially i anticipated unearthing myriads of the unpleasant "mucuims" or _bêtes rouges_, whose hosts had done all in their power to make life in the jungle unhappy. day by day my vials increased. scores of creatures evaded my search; many others, of whose kind i had captured a generous number, i allowed to escape. my lilliputian census was far from the mere aggregation of ants and worms which i had anticipated, and a review of the whole showed that hardly any great group of living creatures was unrepresented. as hinting of the presence of wild animals, a bunch of rufous hairs had in some way been tweaked from a passing agouti. man himself was represented in the shape of two wads which had dropped from my gun-shots some time during the week. one had already begun to disintegrate and sheltered half a dozen diminutive creatures. five feathers were the indications of birds, two of which were brilliant green plumes from a calliste. of reptiles there was a broken skull of some lizard, long since dead, and the eggshell of a lizardling which had hatched and gone forth upon his mission into the jungle. a third reptilian trace may have been his nemesis--a bit of shed snake-skin. the group of amphibians was present even in this square of four feet--a very tiny, dried, black, and wholly unrecognizable little frog. fishes were absent, though from my knees as i scraped up the débris, i could almost have seen a little igarapé in which dwelt scores of minnows. as i delved deeper and examined the mold more carefully for the diminutive inhabitants, i found that this thin film from the floor of the jungle appeared to have several layers, each with its particular fauna. the upper layer was composed of recently fallen leaves, nuts, seeds, and twigs, dry and quite fresh. here were colonies of small ants and huge, solitary ones; here lived in hiding small moths and beetles and bugs, awaiting dusk to fly forth through the jungle. the middle layer was by far the most important, and in it lived four fifths of all the small folk. the lowest layer was one of matted roots and clayey soil and its animal life was meager. between the upper and the middle strata were sprouting nuts and seeds, with their blanched roots threaded downward into the rich dark mold, and the greening cotyledons curling upward toward light and warmth. thus had the great bird-filled canella begun its life. in my war-bag were a score of potential forest giants doomed to death in the salt ocean. but for my efforts toward the _wh--y_, their fate might have been very different. some of the half-decayed leaves were very beautiful. vistas of pale, bleached fungus lace trailed over the rich mahogany-colored tissues, studded here and there with bits of glistening, transparent quartz. here i had many hints of a world of life beyond the power of the unaided eye. and here too the grosser fauna scrambled, hopped, or wriggled. everywhere were tiny chrysalides and cocoons, many empty. now and then a plaque of eggs, almost microscopic, showed veriest pin-pricks where still more minute parasites had made their escape. when one contracted the field of vision to this world where leaves were fields and fungi loomed as forests, competition, the tragedies, the mystery lessened not at all. minute seeds mimicked small beetles in shape and in exquisite tracery of patterns. bits of bark simulated insects, a patch of fungus seemed a worm, while the mites themselves were invisible until they moved. here and there i discovered a lifeless boulder of emerald or turquoise--the metallic cuirass of some long-dead beetle. some of the scenes which appeared as i picked over the mold, suddenly unfolding after an upheaval of débris, were like aladdin's cave. close to the eye appeared great logs and branches protruding in confusion from a heaped up bank of diamonds. brown, yellow, orange, and white colors played over the scene; and now over a steep hill came a horrid, ungainly creature, with enormous proboscis, eight legs, and a shining, liver-colored body, spotted with a sickly hue of yellow. it was studded with short, stiff, horny hairs--a mite by name, but under the lens a terrible monster. i put some of these on my arm, to see if they were the notorious "mucuims" which tortured us daily. under the lens i saw the hideous creature stop in its awkward progress, and as it prepared to sink its proboscis i involuntarily flinched, so fearful a thing seemed about to happen. the lesser organisms defy description. they are nameless except in the lists of specialists, and indeed most are of new, quite unnamed forms. the only social insects were small twigfuls of ant and termite colonies, with from five to fifteen members. all others were isolated, scattered. life here, so far beneath the sunlight, is an individual thing. flocks and herds are unknown; the mob has no place here. each tiny organism must live its life and meet its fate single-handed. little pseudo-scorpions were very abundant, and i could have vialed hundreds. they rushed out excitedly and, unlike all the other little beings, did not seek to hide. instead, when they were disturbed, they sought open spaces, walking slowly and brandishing and feeling ahead with their great pincer-tipped arms, as long as their entire body. when irritated or frightened, they scurried backwards, holding up their chelæ in readiness. mites were the most abundant creatures, equaling the ants in number, always crawling slowly along, tumbling over every obstacle in their path and feeling their way awkwardly. their kinds were numerous, all villainous in appearance. ticks were less common but equally repellent. small spiders and beetles were occasionally found, and hundred-legged wrigglers fled to shelter at every turn of a leaf. the smallest snails in the world crawled slowly about, some flat-shelled, others turreted. tiny earthworms, bright red and very active, crept slowly through fungus jungles until disturbed, when they became an amazingly active tangle of twisting curves, dancing all about. simple insects, which we shall have to call collembolas, were difficult to capture. they leaped with agility many times their own length, and when quiescent looked like bits of fungus. as for the rest, only adam and a few specialists hidden in museums could call them by name. they were a numerous company, some ornamented with weird horns and fringes and patterns, others long of legs or legless, swift of foot or curling up into minute balls of animate matter. one thing was evident early in my exploration: i was in a world of little people. no large insects were in any of the débris. the largest would be very small in comparison with a may beetle. and another thing was the durability of chitin. the remains of beetles, considering the rareness of living ones, were remarkable. the hard wing-cases, the thorax armor, the segments of wasps, eyeless head masks, still remained perfect in shape and vivid in color. even in the deepest layers where all else had disintegrated and returned to the elements, these shards of death were as new. and the smell of the mold, keen and strong as it came to my nostrils an inch away--it was pungent, rich, woody. it hinted of the age-old dissolution, century after century, which had been going on. leaves had fallen, not in a sudden autumnal downpour, but in a never-ending drift, day after day, month after month. with a daily rain for moisture, with a temperature of three figures, for the quicker increase of bacteria, and an excess of humidity to foster quick decay, the jungle floor was indeed a laboratory of vital work--where only analytic chemistry was allowed full sway, and the mystery of synthetic life was ever handicapped, and ever a mystery. before the vessel docked i had completed my task and had secured over five hundred creatures of this lesser cosmos. at least twice as many remained, but when i made my calculations i estimated that the mold had sheltered only a thousand organisms plainly visible to the eye. and when i had corked my last vial and the steward had removed the last pile of shredded débris, i leaned back and thought of the thousand creatures in my scant four square feet of mold. then there came to mind a square mile of jungle floor with its thin layer of fallen leaves sheltering more than six billion creatures. then i recalled the three thousand straight miles of jungle which had lain west of me, and the hundreds of miles of wonderful unbroken forest north and south, and my mind became a blank. and then from the mist of unnamable numerals, from this uncharted arithmetical census, there came to memory a voice, deep and guttural,--and this time the slow enunciation was jeering, hopeless of answer, _wh--y?_ and soon afterwards, _wh--y?_ and i packed up my last box of vials and went on deck to watch the sunset. xi jungle night within gun-reach in front of me trudged my little akawai indian hunter. he turned his head suddenly, his ears catching some sound which mine had missed, and i saw that his profile was rather like that of dante. instantly the thought spread and the simile deepened. were we two not all alone? and this unearthly hour and light--then i chuckled softly, but the silence that the chuckle shattered shrank away and made it a loud, coarse sound, so that i involuntarily drew in my breath. but it was really amusing, the thought of dante setting out on a hunt for kinkajous and giant armadillos. jeremiah looked at me wonderingly, and we went on in silence. and for the next mile dante vanished from my thoughts and i mused upon the sturdy little red man. jeremiah was his civilized name; he would never tell me his real one. it seemed so unsuited to him that i thought up one still less appropriate and called him nupee--which is the three-toed sloth; and in his quiet way he saw the humor of it, for a more agile human being never lived. nupee's face was unclouded, but his position as hunter to our expedition had brought decisions and responsibilities which he had not known before. the simple life,--the unruffled existence in the little open _benab_, with hammock, cassava field, and an occasional hunt,--this was of the past. a wife had come, slipping quietly into his life, indian-fashion; and now, before the baby arrived, decisions had to be made. nupee longed for some store shoes and a suit of black clothes. he had owned a big _benab_ which he himself had built; but a godmother, like the cowbird in a warbler's nest, had gradually but firmly ousted him and had filled it with diseased relatives, so that it was unpleasant to visit. he now, to my knowledge, owned a single shirt and a pair of short trousers. the shoes were achieved. i detected in him qualities which i knew that i should find in some one, as i do on every expedition, and i made him perform some unnecessary labor and gave him the shoes. but the clothes would cost five dollars, a month's wages, and he had promised to get married--white-fashion--in another month, and that would consume several times five dollars. i did not offer to help him decide. his akawai marriage ceremony seemed not without honor, and as for its sincerity--i had seen the two together. but my lips were sealed. i could not tell him that a recementing of the ritual of his own tribe did not seem quite the equal of a five-dollar suit of clothes. that was a matter for individual decision. but tonight i think that we both had put all our worries and sorrows far away, and i memory as well; and i felt sympathy in the quiet, pliant gait which carried him so swiftly over the sandy trail. i knew nupee now for what he was--the one for whom i am always on the lookout, the exceptional one, the super-servant, worthy of friendship as an equal. i had seen his uncle and his cousins. they were indians, nothing more. nupee had slipped into the place left vacant for a time by aladdin, and by satán and shimosaka, by drojak and trujillo--all exceptional, all faithful, all servants first and then friends. i say "for a time," for all hoped, and i think still hope with me, that we shall meet and travel and camp together again, whether in the cinghalese thornbush, or himalayan dâks, in dyak canoes or among the camphor groves of sakarajama. nupee and i had not been thrown together closely. this had proved a static expedition, settled in one place, with no dangers to speak of, no real roughing it, and we met only after each hunting trip. but the magic of a full moon had lured me from my laboratory table, and here we were, we two, plodding junglewards, becoming better acquainted in silence than i have often achieved with much talk. it was nearly midnight. we traversed a broad trail of white sand, between lines of saplings of pale-barked rubber trees, flooded, saturated, with milky-gray light. not a star appeared in the cloudless sky, which, in contrast to the great silver moon-plaque, was blue-black. these open sandy stretches, so recently etched into what had been primitive jungle, were too glowing with light for most of the nocturnal creatures who, in darkness, flew and ran and hunted about in them. and the lovers of twilight were already come and gone. the stage was vacant save for one actor--the nighthawk of the silvery collar, whose eerie _wheeeo!_ or more leisurely and articulate _who-are-you?_ was queried from stump and log. there was in it the same liquid tang, the virile ringing of skates on ice, which enriches the cry of the whip-poor-will in our country lanes. where the open trail skirted a hillside we came suddenly upon a great gathering of these goatsuckers, engaged in some strange midnight revel. usually they roost and hunt and call in solitude, but here at least forty were collected on the white sand within an area of a few yards. we stopped and watched. they were dancing--or, rather, popping, as corn pops in a hopper. one after another, or a half dozen at a time, they bounced up a foot or two from the ground and flopped back, at the instant of leaving and returning uttering a sudden, explosive _wop!_ this they kept up unceasingly for the five minutes we gave to them, and our passage interrupted them for only a moment. later we passed single birds which popped and wopped in solitary state; whether practicing, or snobbishly refusing to perform in public, only they could tell. it was a scene not soon forgotten. suddenly before us rose the jungle, raw-edged, with border zone of bleached, ashamed trunks and lofty branches white as chalk, of dead and dying trees. for no jungle tree, however hardy, can withstand the blasting of violent sun after the veiling of emerald foliage is torn away. as the diver plunges beneath the waves, so, after one glance backward over the silvered landscape, i passed at a single stride into what seemed by contrast inky blackness, relieved by the trail ahead, which showed as does a ray of light through closed eyelids. as the chirruping rails climbed among the roots of the tall cat-tails out yonder, so we now crept far beneath the level of the moonlit foliage. the silvery landscape had been shifted one hundred, two hundred feet above the earth. we had become lords of creation in name alone, threading our way humbly among the fungi and toadstools, able only to look aloft and wonder what it was like. and for a long time no voice answered to tell us whether any creature lived and moved in the tree-tops. the tropical jungle by day is the most wonderful place in the world. at night i am sure it is the most weirdly beautiful of all places outside the world. for it is primarily unearthly, unreal; and at last i came to know why. in the light of the full moon it was rejuvenated. the simile of theatrical scenery was always present to the mind, the illusion lying especially in the completeness of transformation from the jungle by daylight. the theatrical effect was heightened by the sense of being in some vast building. this was because of the complete absence of any breath of air. not a leaf moved; even the pendulous air-roots reaching down their seventy-foot plummets for the touch of soil did not sway a hair's breadth. the throb of the pulse set the rhythm for one's steps. the silence, for a time, was as perfect as the breathlessness. it was a wonderfully ventilated amphitheater; the air was as free from any feeling of tropical heat, as it lacked all crispness of the north. it was exactly the temperature of one's skin. heat and cold were for the moment as unthinkable as wind. one's body seemed wholly negligible. in soft padding moccasins and easy swinging gait close behind my naked indian hunter, and in such khaki browns that my body was almost invisible to my own downward glance, i was conscious only of the play of my senses--of two at first, sight and smell; later, of hearing. the others did not exist. we two were unattached, impersonal, moving without effort or exertion. it was magic, and i was glad that i had only my akawai for companion, for it was magic that a word would have shattered. yet there was this wonderfully satisfying thing about it, that most magic lacks: it exists at present, today perhaps, at least once a month, and i know that i shall experience it again. when i go to the window and look out upon the city night, i find all extraneous light emaciated and shattered by the blare of gas and electricity, but from one upreaching tower i can see reflected a sheen which is not generated in any power-house of earth. then i know that within the twenty-four hours the _terai_ jungles of garhwal, the tree-ferns of pahang, and the mighty _moras_ which now surround us, will stand in silvery silence and in the peace which only the wilderness knows. i soon took the lead and slackened the pace to a slow walk. every few minutes we stood motionless, listening with mouth as well as ears. for no one who has not listened in such silence can realize how important the mouth is. like the gill of old which gave it origin, our ear has still an entrance inward as well as outward, and the sweep of breath and throb of the blood are louder than we ever suspect. when at an opera or concert i see some one sitting rapt, listening with open mouth, i do not think of it as ill-bred. i know it for unconscious and sincere absorption based on an excellent physical reason. it was early spring in the tropics; insect life was still in the gourmand stage, or that of pupal sleep. the final period of pipe and fiddle had not yet arrived, so that there was no hum from the underworld. the flow of sap and the spread of petals were no less silent than the myriad creatures which, i knew, slumbered or hunted on every side. it was as if i had slipped back one dimension in space and walked in a shadow world. but these shadows were not all colorless. although the light was strained almost barren by the moon mountains, yet the glow from the distant lava and craters still kept something of color, and the green of the leaves, great and small, showed as a rich dark olive. the afternoon's rain had left each one filmed with clear water, and this struck back the light as polished silver. there was no tempered illumination. the trail ahead was either black, or a solid sheet of light. here and there in the jungle on each side, where a tree had fallen, or a flue of clear space led moonwards, the effect was of cold electric light seen through trees in city parks. when such a shaft struck down upon us, it surpassed simile. i have seen old paintings in belgian cathedrals of celestial light which now seems less imaginary. at last the silence was broken, and like the first breath of the tradewind which clouds the mazaruni surface, the mirror of silence was never quite clear again--or so it seemed. my northern mind, stored with sounds of memory, never instinctively accepted a new voice of the jungle for what it was. each had to go through a reference clearing-house of sorts. it was like the psychological reaction to words or phrases. any strange wail or scream striking suddenly upon my ear instantly crystallized some vision of the past--some circumstance or adventure fraught with similar sound. then, appreciably as a second thought, came the keen concentration of every sense to identify this new sound, to hear it again, to fix it in mind with its character and its meaning. perhaps at some distant place and time, in utterly incongruous surroundings, it may in turn flash into consciousness--a memory-simile stimulated by some sound of the future. i stood in a patch of moonlight listening to the baying of a hound, or so i thought: that musical ululation which links man's companion wolfwards. then i thought of the packs of wild hunting dogs, the dreaded "warracabra tigers," and i turned to the indian at my elbow, full of hopeful expectation. with his quiet smile he whispered, "_kunama_" and i knew i had heard the giant tree-frog of guiana--a frog of size and voice well in keeping with these mighty jungles. i knew these were powerful beenas with the indians, tokens of good hunting, and every fortunate benab would have its dried mummy frog hung up with the tail of the giant armadillo and other charms. well might these batrachians arouse profound emotions among the indians, familiar as they are with the strange beings of the forest. i could imagine the great goggle-eyed fellow sprawled high near the roof of the jungle, clutching the leaves with his vacuum-cupped toes. the moonlight would make him ghostly--a pastel frog; but in the day he flaunted splashes of azure and green on his scarlet body. at a turn in the trail we squatted and waited for what the jungle might send of sight or sound. and in whispers nupee told me of the big frog _kunama_, and its ways. it never came to the ground, or even descended part way down the trees; and by some unknown method of distillation it made little pools of its own in deep hollows and there lived. and this water was thick like honey and white like milk, and when stirred became reddish. besides which, it was very bitter. if a man drank of it, forever after he hopped each night and clasped all the trees which he encountered, endlessly endeavoring to ascend them and always failing. and yet, if he could once manage to reach a pool of _kunama_ water in an uncut tree and drink, his manhood would return and his mind be healed. when the indians desired this beena, they marked a tree whence a frog called at night, and in the daytime cut it down. forming a big circle, they searched and found the frog, and forthwith smoked it and rubbed it on arrows and bow before they went out. i listened gravely and found it all fitted in with the magic of the night. if an indian had appeared down the trail, hopping endlessly and gripping the trunks, gazing upward with staring eyes, i should not have thought it more strange than the next thing that really happened. we had settled on our toes in another squatting-place--a dark aisle with only scattered flecks of light. the silence and breathlessness of the mooncraters could have been no more complete than that which enveloped us. my eye wandered from spot to spot, when suddenly i began to think of that great owl-like goatsucker, the "poor-me-one." we had shot one at kalacoon a month before and no others had called since, and i had not thought of the species again. quite without reason i began to think of the bird, of its wonderful markings, of the eyes which years ago in trinidad i had made to glow like iridescent globes in the light of a flash, and then--a poor-me-one called behind us, not fifty feet away. even this did not seem strange among these surroundings. it was an interesting happening, one which i have experienced many times in my life. it may have been just another coincidence. i am quite certain it was not. in any event it was a dantesque touch, emphasized by the character of the call--the wail of a lost soul being as good a simile as any other. it started as a high, trembling wail, the final cry being lost in the depths of whispered woe:-_oo----ooh! oh! oh! oh! oh! oh!_ nupee never moved; only his lips formed the name by which he knew it--_halawoe_. whatever else characterized the sounds of the jungle at night, none became monotonous or common. five minutes later the great bird called to us from far, far away, as if from another round of purgatory--an eerie lure to enter still deeper into the jungle depths. we never heard it again. nature seems to have apportioned the voices of many of her creatures with sensitive regard for their environment. somber voices seem fittingly to be associated with subdued light, and joyous notes with the blaze of sunlit twigs and open meadows. a bobolink's bubbling carol is unthinkable in a jungle, and the strain of a wood pewee on a sunny hillside would be like an organ playing dance music. this is even more pronounced in the tropics, where, quite aside from any mental association on my part, the voices and calls of the jungle reflect the qualities of that twilight world. the poor-me-one proves too much. he is the very essence of night, his wings edged with velvet silence, his plumage the mingled concentration of moss and lichens and dead wood. i was about to rise and lead nupee farther into the gloom when the jungle showed another mood--a silent whimsy, the humor of which i could not share with the little red man. close to my face, so near that it startled me for a moment, over the curved length of a long narrow caladium leaf, there came suddenly two brilliant lights. steadily they moved onward, coming up into view for all the world like two tiny headlights of a motor-car. they passed, and the broadside view of this great elater was still absurdly like the profile of a miniature tonneau with the top down. i laughingly thought to myself how perfect the illusion would be if a red tail-light should be shown, when to my amazement a rosy red light flashed out behind, and my bewildered eyes all but distinguished a number! naught but a tropical forest could present such contrasts in such rapid succession as the poor-me-one and this parody of man's invention. i captured the big beetle and slid him into a vial, where in his disgust he clicked sharply against the glass. the vial went into my pocket and we picked up our guns and crept on. as we traversed a dark patch, dull gleams like heat lightning flashed over the leaves, and, looking down, i saw that my khaki was aglow from the illuminated insect within. this betrayed every motion, so i wrapped the vial in several sheets of paper and rolled it up in my handkerchief. the glow was duller but almost as penetrating. at one time or another i have had to make use of all my garments, from topee to moccasins, in order to confine captives armed with stings, beaks, teeth, or fangs, but now i was at a complete loss. i tried a gun-barrel with a handkerchief stopper, and found i now carried an excellent, long-handled flashlight. besides, i might have sudden use for the normal function of the gun. i had nothing sufficiently opaque to quench those flaring headlights, and i had to own myself beaten and release him. he spread his wings and flew swiftly away, his red light glowing derisively; and even in the flood of pure moonlight he moved within an aura which carried far through the jungle. i knew that killing him was of no use, for a week after death from chloroform i have seen the entire interior of a large insect box brilliantly lighted by the glow of these wonderful candles, still burning on the dead shoulders of the same kind of insect. twice, deeper in the jungle we squatted and listened, and twice the silence remained unbroken and the air unmoved. happening to look up through a lofty, narrow canyon of dark foliage, i was startled as by some sudden sound by seeing a pure white cloud, moonlit, low down, pass rapidly across. it was first astounding, then unreal: a bit of exceedingly poor work on the part of the property man, who had mixed the hurricane scenery with that of the dog-days. even the elements seemed to have been laved with magic. the zone of high wind with its swift flying clouds must have been flowing like a river just above the motionless foliage of the tree-tops. this piece of ultra-unnaturalism seemed to break part of the spell and the magic silence was lifted. two frogs boomed again, close at hand, and now all the hound similitude was gone, and in its place another, still more strange, when we think of the goggle-eyed author far up in the trees. the sound now was identical with the short cough or growl of a hungry lion, and though i have heard the frogs many times since that night, this resemblance never changed or weakened. it seemed as if the volume, the roaring outburst, could come only from the throat of some large, full-lunged mammal. a sudden tearing rush from the trail-side, and ripping of vines and shrubs, was mingled with deep, hoarse snorts, and we knew that we had disturbed one of the big red deer--big only in comparison with the common tiny brown brockets. a few yards farther the leaves rustled high overhead, although no breath of wind had as yet touched the jungle. i began a slow, careful search with my flashlight, and, mingled with the splotches and specks of moonlight high overhead, i seemed to see scores of little eyes peering down. but at last my faint electric beam found its mark and evolved the first bit of real color which the jungle had shown--always excepting the ruby tail-light. two tiny red globes gleamed down at us, and as they gleamed, moved without a sound, apparently unattached, slowly through the foliage. then came a voice, as wandering, as impersonal as the eyes--a sharp, incisive _wheeeeeat!_ with a cat-like timbre; and from the eyes and voice i reconstructed a night monkey--a kinkajou. then another notch was slipped and the jungle for a time showed something of the exuberance of its life. a paca leaped from its meal of nuts and bounced away with quick, repeated pats; a beetle with wings tuned to the bass clef droned by; some giant tree-cricket tore the remaining intervals of silence to shreds with unmuted wing-fiddles, _cricks_ so shrill and high that they well-nigh passed beyond the upper register of my ear out again into silence. the roar of another frog was comforting to my eardrums. then silence descended again, and hours passed in our search for sound or smell of the animal we wished chiefest to find--the giant armadillo. these rare beings have a distinct odor. months of work in the open had sharpened my nostrils so that on such a tramp as this they were not much inferior to those of nupee. this sense gave me as keen pleasure as eye or ear, and furnished quite as much information. the odors of city and civilization seemed very far away: gasoline, paint, smoke, perfumery, leather--all these could hardly be recalled. and how absurd seemed society's unwritten taboo on discussion of this admirable, but pitifully degenerate sense! why may you look at your friend's books, touch his collection of _netsukés_, listen to his music, yet dare sniff at naught but his blossoms! in the open spaces of the earth, and more than anywhere in this conservatory of unblown odors, we come more and more to appreciate and to envy a dog's sensitive muzzle. here we sniffed as naturally as we turned ear, and were able to recognize many of our nasal impressions, and even to follow a particularly strong scent to its source. few yards of trail but had their distinguishable scent, whether violent, acrid smell or delectable fragrance. long after a crab-jackal had passed, we noted the stinging, bitter taint in the air, and now and then the pungent wake of some big jungle-bug struck us like a tangible barrier. the most tantalizing odors were the wonderfully delicate and penetrating ones from some great burst of blossoms, odors heavy with sweetness, which seeped down from vine or tree high overhead, wholly invisible from below even in broad daylight. these odors remained longest in memory, perhaps because they were so completely the product of a single sense. there were others too, which were unforgetable, because, like the voice of the frog, they stirred the memory a fraction before they excited curiosity. such i found the powerful musk from the bed of leaves which a fawn had just left. for some reason this brought vividly to mind the fearful compound of smells arising from the decks of chinese junks. along the moonlit trail there came wavering whiffs of orchids, ranging from attar of roses and carnations to the pungence of carrion, the latter doubtless distilled from as delicate and beautiful blossoms as the former. there were, besides, the myriad and bewildering smells of sap, crushed leaves, and decaying wood; acrid, sweet, spicy and suffocating, some like musty books, others recalling the paint on the noah's ark of one's nursery. but the scent of the giant armadillo eluded us. when we waded through some new, strange odor i looked back at nupee, hoping for some sign that it was the one we sought. but that night the great armored creatures went their way and we ours, and the two did not cross. nupee showed me a track at the trail-side made long ago, as wide and deep as the spoor of a dinosaur, and i fingered it reverently as i would have touched the imprint of a recently alighted pterodactyl, taking care not to spoil the outlines of the huge claw-marks. all my search for him had been in vain thus far, though i had been so close upon his trail as to have seen fresh blood. i had made up my mind not to give up, but it seemed as if success must wait for another year. we watched and called the ghostly kinkajous and held them fascinated with our stream of light; we roused unnamable creatures which squawked companionably at us and rustled the tree-top leaves; we listened to the whispered rush of passing vampires skimming our faces and were soothed by the hypnotic droning hum which beetles left in their swift wake. finally we turned and circled through side trails so narrow and so dark that we walked with outstretched arms, feeling for the trunks and lianas, choosing a sloth's gait and the hope of new adventures rather than the glare of my flash on our path. when we entered the convict trail, we headed toward home. within sight of the first turn a great black limb of a tree had recently fallen across the trail in a patch of moonlight. before we reached it, the branch had done something it should not have done--it had straightened slightly. we strained our eyes to the utmost but could not, in this eerie light, tell head from tail end of this great serpent. it moved very slowly, and with a motion which perfectly confounded our perception. its progress seemed no faster than the hour hand of a watch, but we knew that it moved, yet so close to the white sand that the whole trail seemed to move with it. the eye refused to admit any motion except in sudden shifts, like widely separated films of a motion-picture. for minute after minute it seemed quiescent; then we would blink and realize that it was two feet higher up the bank. one thing we could see--a great thickening near the center of the snake: it had fed recently and to repletion, and slowly it was making its way to some hidden lair, perhaps to lie motionless until another moon should silver the jungle. was there any stranger life in the world? whether it was a giant bushmaster or a constrictor, we could not tell in the diffused light. i allowed it to go unharmed, for the spell of silence and the jungle night was too strongly woven to be shattered again by the crash of gun or rifle. nupee had been quite willing to remain behind, and now, as so often with my savage friends, he looked at me wonderingly. he did not understand and i could not explain. we were at one in the enjoyment of direct phenomena; we could have passed months of intimate companionship in the wilds as i had done with his predecessors; but at the touch of abstract things, of letting a deadly creature live for any reason except for lack of a gun--then they looked at me always with that puzzled look, that straining to grasp the something which they knew must be there. and at once always followed instant acceptance, unquestioning, without protest. the transition was smooth, direct, complete; the sahib had had opportunity to shoot; he had not done so; what did the sahib wish to do now--to squat longer or to go on? we waited for many minutes at the edge of the small glade, and the event which seemed most significant to me was in actual spectacle one of the last of the night's happenings. i sat with chin on knees, coolie-fashion--a position which, when once mastered, and with muscles trained to withstand the unusual flexion for hour after hour, is one of the most valuable assets of the wilderness lover and the watcher of wild things. it enables one to spend long periods of time in the lowest of umbrella tents, or to rest on wet ground or sharp stones where actual sitting down would be impossible. thus is one insulated from _bêtes rouges_ and enthusiastic ants whose sole motto is eternal preparedness. thus, too, one slips as it were, under the visual guard of human-shy creatures, whose eyes are on the lookout for their enemy at human height. from such a position, a single upward leap prepares one instantly for advance or retreat, either of which manoeuvers is well within instant necessity at times. then there were always the two positions to which one could change if occasion required--flat-footed, with arm-pits on knees, or on the balls of the feet with elbows on knees. thus is every muscle shifted and relaxed. squatting is one of the many things which a white man may learn from watching his _shikarees_ and guides, and which, in the wilderness, he may adopt without losing caste. we are a chair-ridden people, and dare hardly even cross our knees in public. yet how many of us enjoy sitting buddha-fashion, or as near to it as we can attain, when the ban of society is lifted! a chairless people, however, does not necessarily mean a more simple, primitive type. the japanese method of sitting is infinitely more difficult and complex than ours. the characters of our weak-thighed, neolithic forbears are as yet too pronounced in our own bodies for us to keep an upright position for long. witness the admirable admittance of this anthropological fact by the architects of our subway cars, who know that only a tithe of their patrons will be fortunate enough to find room on the cane-barked seats which have come to take the place of the stumps and fallen logs of a hundred thousand years ago. so they have thoughtfully strung upper reaches of the cars with imitation branches and swaying lianas, to which the last-comers cling jealously, and swing with more or less of the grace of their distant forbears. their fur, to be sure, is rubbed thinner; nuts and fruits have given place to newspapers and novels, and the roar and odors are not those of the wind among the leaves and blossoms. but the simile is amusing enough to end abruptly, and permit individual imagination to complete it. when i see an overtired waiter or clerk swaying from foot to foot like a rocking elephant, i sometimes place the blame further back than immediate impatience for the striking of the closing hour. it were more true to blame the gentlemen whose habits were formed before caste, whose activities preceded speech. we may be certain that chairs will never go out of fashion. we are at the end of bodily evolution in that direction. but to see a white-draped, lanky hindu, or a red-cloaked lama of the hills, quietly fold up, no matter where he may be, is to witness the perfection of chairless rest. one can read or write or doze comfortably, swaying slightly with a bird's unconscious balance, or, as in my case at present, wholly disarm suspicion on the part of the wild creatures by sinking from the height of a man to that of a jungle deer. and still i had lost nothing of the insulation which my moccasins provided from all the inconveniences of the forest floor. looking at nupee after this rush of chaotic thoughts which came between jungle and happenings, i chuckled as i hugged my knees, for i knew that nupee had noticed and silently considered my little accomplishment, and that he approved, and i knew that i had acquired merit in his sight. thus may we revel in the approval of our super-servants, but they must never know it. from this eulogy of squatting, my mind returned to the white light of the glade. i watched the motionless leaves about me, many of them drooping and rich maroon by daylight, for they were just unbudded. reaching far into the dark mystery of the upper jungle stretched the air-roots, held so straight by gravity, so unheeding of the whirling of the planet through space. only one mighty liana--a monkey-ladder--had revolted against this dominance of the earth's pull and writhed and looped upon itself in fantastic whorls, while along its length rippled ever the undulations which mark this uneasy growth, this crystallized saint vitus plant. a momentary shiver of leaves drew our eyes to the left, and we began to destroy the optical images evolved by the moon-shadows and to seek for the small reality which we knew lived and breathed somewhere on that branch. then a sharp crack like a rifle lost whatever it was to us forever, and we half leaped to our feet as something swept downward through the air and crashed length after length among the plants and fallen logs. the branches overhead rocked to and fro, and for many minutes, like the aftermath of a volcanic eruption, came a shower, first of twigs and swirling leaves, then of finer particles, and lastly of motes which gleamed like silver dust as they sifted down to the trail. when the air cleared i saw that the monkey-ladder had vanished and i knew that its yards upon yards of length lay coiled and crushed among the ferns and sprouting palms of the jungle floor. it seemed most fitting that the vegetable kingdom, whose silence and majesty gave to the jungle night its magic qualities, should have contributed this memorable climax. long before the first spaniard sailed up the neighboring river, the monkey ladder had thrown its spirals aloft, and through all the centuries, all the years, it had seen no change wrought beneath it. the animal trail was trod now and then by indian hunters, and lately we had passed several times. the sound of our guns was less than the crashing fall of an occasional forest tree. now, with no leaf moved by the air, with only the two of us squatting in the moonlight for audience, the last cell had given way. the sap could no longer fight the decay which had entered its heart; and at the appointed moment, the moment set by the culmination of a greater nexus of forces than our human mind could ever hope to grasp, the last fiber parted and the massive growth fell. in the last few minutes, as it hung suspended, gracefully spiraled in the moonlight, it had seemed as perfect as the new-sprouted _moras_ at my feet. as i slowly walked out of the jungle i saw in this the explanation of the simile of artificial scenery, of all the strange magic which had come to me as i entered. the alchemy of moonlight turned all the jungle to perfect growth, growth at rest. in the silvery light was no trace of gnawing worm, of ravening ant, or corroding fungus. the jungle was rejuvenated and made a place more wonderful than any fairyland of which i have read or which i have conceived. the jungle by day, as i have said--that, too, is wonderful. we may have two friends, quite unlike in character, whom we love each for his own personality, and yet it would be a hideous and unthinkable thing to see one transformed into the other. so, with the mist settling down and tarnishing the great plaque of silver, i left the jungle, glad that i could be far away before the first hint of dawn came to mar the magic. thus in memory i can always keep the dawn away until i return. and some time in the future, when the lure of the full moon comes, and i answer, i shall be certain of finding the same silence, the same wonderful light, and the waiting trees and the magic. but nupee may not be there. he will perhaps have slipped into memory, with drojak and aladdin. and if i find no one as silently friendly as nupee, i shall have to watch alone through my jungle night. index abary, 99 agouti, 189 allamandas, 85, 182 amazon, 240 anaquas, 115 anchor, observation from, 22, 23 anis, 47, 100, 118 antbirds, 249 ants, 183, 256, 258; immunity from killing, 231; silvery gray, 223; "white," 233 army ants, behavior in rain, 228, 229; castes, 217; eyes, 219; leap, 212, 213, 223; methods of transportation, 215, 229; moving of nest, 235, 236; tube, 227; trail makers, 221, 222; virility, 234; weight lifted, 216 barbados, 59-65 bartica, 141 basseterre, 45 bat, vampire, 104, 152 batrachian, 212 beach, 62, 63, 70, 74, 75 beckett, mr., 124 beena, 274 beetles, 211, 227, 234, 256, 277; mimicry, 257; tiger, 63 bell bird, 159 berbice, 102, 103, 124 bête rouge, 243, 255 blackbirds, 98, 99 blackfish, 12 bougainvillea, 85 british guiana, mission to, 67; coast lands, 92-102 bunduri pimpler, 125 bunyahs, yellow-backed, 100 bushmaster, noosing, 188-195; protective coloration, 191, 192; fangs, 194; size, 195 butterflies, on st. thomas, 38; on st. kitts, 48; migration of sulphur, 158 caciques, 100 cadouries, 146 callistes, 201, 249 _canella do matto_, 241 cashew, french, 197-200 caterpillars, aquatic, 128 catfish, armored, 112 cecropia, 182 centipedes, 152 cetaceans, 11 chachalacas, 157 churacas, 248 coal-carriers, st. lucia, 55 convolvulus, 182 coolie, trial, 80-84; marriage, 163-176 cotton-birds, 88 crabs, 16; land, 62 cricket, tree, 281 crows, carrion, 88 cuckoos, 212; black, 88 cuyuni, 144 dacnis, 201 daddy-long-legs, 215, 227 dance, hindu, 170 débris, jungle, 253 deer, 280 dikes, 97 dogs, wild hunting, 273 dolphins, 44, 45 doves, ground, 48 ducks, muscovy, 88 eclipse, in barbados, 61 egrets, 88 elater, 277 essequibo, 144, 148 falcons, laughing, 88 fireflies, cluster, 210 fish, angel, 50, 56; four-eyed, 128; frog, 18; photographing of flying, 23; pipe, 18 flower, passion, 182 flycatchers, 249; fork-tailed, 122, 159; golden-crowned crested, 150; streaked, 196 frangipani, 85 frog, 211, 212, 240, 273; call, 240 gannets, 40 grass, bamboo, 183 grasshopper, 128, 212 grass-quits, 157 grass, razor, 179, 184 guide, for cutting trail, 187, 188 hanaquas, 119 hawks, 99 heliconias, 202; color, 204; reds, 205; sleeping glade, 205, 206; sleeping position, 205; yellows, 205 herons, guiana green, 127; tri-colored, 88 hoatzins, 118, 119; call, 130; food of young, 126; home life, 123-139; nest, 126, 129; nestlings, 131; odor, 129; photographing young, 102, 103 honey creepers, 47, 252; turquoise, 201 hummingbirds, 38, 113, 197, 198, 199, 200 ibis, scarlet, 122 jackal, crab, 282 jaguar, 186 jungle, animals obtained from, 282; trail through, 89; yard of, 255 kaburi trail, 148 kalacoon, 142, 143 kingbirds, 47 kinkajous, 263, 281 kiskadees, 86, 104, 127, 157 kunama, 273; habits, 274 laboratory, wilderness, 141-153 lianas, 246 library, new amsterdam, 105, 110 lichens, 196 lizards, in barbados, 60; method of capture, 41-43; surrender of, 203; trail, 202 lucannani, 157 maam, 189 mafolie, 38 mahaica, 99 manakins, 249, 252; opal-crowned, 252 martinique, 27-32, 49-54; market, 49-51 martins, 69, 79, 158 mazaruni, 144, 148 millipede, 38, 214 mimicry, 257 mites, 259 monkey hill, 47 monkeys, 48; howling, 155-156 mont pelee, 27-32 moths, 256 mouse, 211 muckamucka, 125 new amsterdam, 110, 124 nighthawk, call, 267; gathering, 267 noctiluca, 65 nuts, 75 opossum, 73, 74 orioles, black-throated, 88; yellow, nest of, 100 paca, 281 palms, cocoanut, 100 pará, 241 parrakeets, 250 peas, butterfly, 182 perai, 90 phosphorescence, 20, 65 phosphorescent animals, method of capturing, 20, 21 pigeons, 48 pits, 201; number five, 211 pomeroon, 89, 90 rain, tropical, 120, 121 rainbow, lunar, 58 roaches, wood, 277 roosevelt, colonel, 146-150 roosevelt, mrs., 147, 148 sandpiper, 47 sargasso weed, animals associated with, 18; fate of, 19; method of grappling, 13-16; origin, 16 scorpions, 152; pseudo, 259 sea-birds, 11 sea, color of, 24; swimming in, 45, 46 sea-horses, 18 second-growth, 180 seeds, 75 sharks, harmlessness of, 46 shrimps, 18 skimmers, 97 sloth, name of, 264 snails, 259 snake, 285; green, 72; water constrictor, 72 spiders, 259 spine-tail, 119 station, zoölogical, 141, 153; tropical research, 67 st. eustatius, 44 st. kitts, 44-49 st. lucia, 54-59; coal-carriers, 55 st. pierre, 30 st. thomas, 35-44 suddy, 70 swifts, palm, 47, 159; collared, 159 tamarind tree, 38 tanagers, 201, 249, 252 tapir, 90 tarantula, 152 termites, 258; flight, 158; immunity from attack, 233 tinamou, 189; eggs, 189 toads, 161, 213 tody-flycatchers, 127 toucans, 250, 251 trail, convict, 177-210; pomeroon, 84-91 trees, silk cotton, 100; sentinel, 196; wild cinnamon, 241 trogons, 188 trois pitons, 58 tropic-bird, 37 trumpet tree, 182 warracabra tiger, 273 wasp, 63, 83 wharf, dutch, 71 woodhewers, 249, 251 woodpeckers, 249, 251, 252 worm, inch, 229 wrens, 157, 250 zoölogical society, new york, 67 * * * * * modern library of the world's best books complete list of titles in the modern library _for convenience in ordering please use number at right of title_ author title and number aiken, conrad a comprehensive anthology of american verse 101 aiken, conrad modern american poetry 127 anderson, sherwood poor white 115 anderson, sherwood winesburg, ohio 104 andreyev, leonid the seven that were hanged, and the red laugh 45 apuleius, lucius the golden ass 88 balzac short stories 40 baudelaire prose and poetry 70 beardsley, aubrey 64 reproductions 42 beebe, william jungle peace 30 beerbohm, max zuleika dobson 116 bierce, ambrose in the midst of life 133 blake, william poems 91 brontë, emily wuthering heights 106 brown, geo. douglas the house with the green shutters 129 butler, samuel erewhon 136 butler, samuel the way of all flesh 13 cabell, james branch beyond life 25 cabell, james branch the cream of the jest 126 carpenter, edward love's coming of age 51 carroll, lewis alice in wonderland, etc. 79 casanova, jacques memoirs of casanova 165 cellini, benvenuto autobiography of benvenuto cellini 3 cervantes don quixote 174 chaucer the canterbury tales 161 chesterton, g. k. man who was thursday 35 crane, stephen men, women and boats 102 d'annunzio, gabriele flame of life 65 d'annunzio, gabriele the child of pleasure 98 d'annunzio, gabriele the triumph of death 112 daudet, alphonse sappho 85 defoe, daniel moll flanders 122 dewey, john human nature and conduct 173 dostoyevsky, fyodor the brothers karamazov 151 dostoyevsky, fyodor poor people 10 douglas, norman old calabria 141 douglas, norman south wind 5 dowson, ernest poems and prose 74 dreiser, theodore free, and other stories 50 dreiser, theodore twelve men 148 dumas, alexandre camille 69 dumas, alexandre the three musketeers 143 dunsany, lord a dreamer's tales 34 ellis, havelock the dance of life 160 ellis, havelock the new spirit 95 flaubert, gustave madame bovary 28 flaubert, gustave salammbo 118 flaubert, gustave temptation of st. anthony 92 france, anatole crime of sylvestre bonnard 22 france, anatole the queen pedauque 110 france, anatole the red lily 7 france, anatole the revolt of the angels 11 france, anatole thais 67 gautier, theophile mlle. de maupin 53 george, w. l. a bed of roses 75 gilbert, w. s. the mikado, iolanthe, etc. 26 gilbert, w. s. pinafore and other plays 113 gissing, george new grub street 125 gissing, george private papers of henry ryecroft 46 goncourt, e. and j. de renee mauperin 76 gorky, maxim creatures that once were men and other stories 48 gourmont, remy de a night in the luxembourg 120 gourmont, remy de a virgin heart 131 hardy, thomas jude the obscure 135 hardy, thomas the mayor of casterbridge 17 hardy, thomas the return of the native 121 hauptmann, gerhart the heretic of soana 149 hawthorne, nathaniel the scarlet letter 93 hearn, lafcadio some chinese ghosts 130 hecht, ben erik dorn 29 hemingway, ernest the sun also rises 170 homer the iliad 166 homer the odyssey 167 hudson, w. h. green mansions 89 hudson, w. h. the purple land 24 huneker, james g. painted veils 43 huxley, aldous a virgin heart 131 ibsen, henrik a doll's house, ghosts, etc. 6 ibsen, henrik hedda gabler, pillars of society, the master builder 36 ibsen, henrik the wild duck, rosmersholm, the league of youth 54 james, henry daisy miller, etc. 63 james, henry the turn of the screw 169 james, william the philosophy of william james 114 joyce, james dubliners 124 joyce, james a portrait of the artist as a young man 145 kipling, rudyard soldiers three 71 komroff, manuel oriental romances 55 lawrence, d. h. the rainbow 128 lawrence, d. h. sons and lovers 109 lewisohn, ludwig upstream 123 loti, pierre mme. chrysantheme 94 macy, john the spirit of american literature 56 maupassant, guy de love and other stories 72 maupassant, guy de mademoiselle fifi, and twelve other stories 8 maupassant, guy de une vie 57 menken, h. l. selected prejudices 107 melville, herman moby dick 119 meredith, george diana of the crossways 14 meredith, george the ordeal of richard feverel 134 merejkowski, dmitri the death of the gods 153 merejkowski, dmitri peter and alexis 175 merejkowski, dmitri the romance of leonardo da vinci 138 miscellaneous an anthology of american negro literature 163 a modern book of criticism 81 best ghost stories 73 best american humorous short stories 87 best russian short stories 18 four famous greek plays 158 fourteen great detective stories 144 great modern short stories 168 edited by grant overton and including stories by joseph conrad, d. h. lawrence, katherine mansfield, sherwood anderson, glenway westcott, e. m. forster, etc. outline of abnormal psychology 152 outline of psychoanalysis 66 moliere plays 78 moore, george confessions of a young man 16 morrison, arthur tales of mean streets 100 nietzsche, friedrich beyond good and evil 20 nietzsche, friedrich ecce homo and the birth of tragedy 68 nietzsche, friedrich genealogy of morals 62 nietzsche, friedrich thus spake zarathustra 9 o'neill, eugene the emperor jones and the straw 146 o'neill, eugene seven plays of the sea 111 paine, thomas writings 108 pater, walter the renaissance 86 pater, walter marius the epicurean 90 pepys, samuel samuel pepys' diary 103 petronius arbiter the satyricon 156 poe, edgar allan best tales 82 prevost, antoine manon lescaut 85 proust, marcel swann's way 59 proust, marcel within a budding grove 172 rabelais gargantua and pantagruel 4 renan, ernest the life of jesus 140 rodin 64 reproductions 41 rostand, edmond cyrano de bergerac 154 russell, bertrand selected papers of bertrand russell 137 saltus, edgar the imperial orgy 139 schnitzler, arthur anatol, green cockatoo, etc. 32 schnitzler, arthur bertha garlan 39 schopenhauer the philosophy of schopenhauer 52 schopenhauer studies in pessimism 12 schreiner, olive the story of an african farm 132 shaw, g. b. an unsocial socialist 15 smollett, tobias humphrey clinker 159 spinoza the philosophy of spinoza 60 stendhal the red and the black 157 sterne, laurence tristram shandy 147 strindberg, august married 2 sudermann, hermann dame care 33 sudermann, hermann the song of songs 162 swinburne, charles poems 23 symonds, john a. the life of michelangelo 49 tchekov rothschild's fiddle, etc. 31 tchekov sea gull, cherry orchard, three sisters, etc. 171 thompson, francis complete poems 38 tolstoy, leo anna karenina 37 tolstoy, leo redemption and other plays 77 tolstoy, leo the death of ivan ilyitch and four other stories 64 tomlinson, h. m. the sea and the jungle 99 turgenev, ivan fathers and sons 21 turgenev, ivan smoke 80 van loon, hendrik w. ancient man 105 van vechten, carl peter whiffle 164 villon, francois poems 58 voltaire candide 47 wells, h. g. ann veronica 27 whistler, j. mcneil the art of whistler with 32 reproductions 150 whitman, walt leaves of grass 97 wilde, oscar an ideal husband, a woman of no importance 84 wilde, oscar de profundis 117 wilde, oscar dorian gray 1 wilde, oscar poems 19 wilde, oscar fairy tales, poems in prose 61 wilde, oscar salome, the importance of being earnest, etc. 83 wilder, thornton the cabala 155 woolf, virginia mrs. dalloway 96 yeats, w. b. irish fairy and folk tales 44 zola, emile nana 142 transcriber's note: spelling and punctuation inaccuracies were silently corrected. hyphenation and accented words were standardised. archaic and variable spelling is preserved. author's punctuation style is preserved. text in italics is denoted by _underscores_. [illustration: william beebe author of edge of the jungle, jungle days, gallapagos, world's end, the arcturus adventure, etc.] by the author of "jungle days," "the log of the sun," etc. edge of the jungle by william beebe _honorary curator of birds and director of the tropical research station of the new york zoological society._ garden city, new york garden city publishing co., inc. copyright, 1921 by henry holt and company * * * * * to the birds and butterflies, the ants and tree-frogs who have tolerated me in their jungle ante-chambers i offer this volume of friendly words * * * * * note this second series of essays, following those in _jungle peace_, are republished by the kindness of the editors of _the atlantic monthly_, _harper's magazine_ and _house and garden_. with the exception of _a tropic garden_ which refers to the botanical gardens of georgetown, all deal with the jungle immediately about the tropical research station of the new york zoological society, situated at kartabo, at the junction of the cuyuni and mazaruni rivers, in british guiana. for the accurate identification of the more important organisms mentioned, a brief appendix of scientific names has been prepared. * * * * * contents chapter page i the lure of kartabo 3 ii a jungle clearing 34 iii the home town of the army ants 58 iv a jungle beach 90 v a bit of uselessness 112 vi guinevere the mysterious 123 vii a jungle labor union 149 viii the attas at home 172 ix hammock nights 195 x a tropic garden 230 xi the bay of butterflies 252 xii sequels 274 appendix of scientific names 295 index 299 * * * * * edge of the jungle "for the true scientific method is this: to trust no statements without verification, to test all things as rigorously as possible, to keep no secrets, to attempt no monopolies, to give out one's best modestly and plainly, serving no other end but knowledge." h. g. wells. i the lure of kartabo a house may be inherited, as when a wren rears its brood in turn within its own natal hollow; or one may build a new home such as is fashioned from year to year by gaunt and shadowy herons; or we may have it built to order, as do the drones of the wild jungle bees. in my case, i flitted like a hermit crab from one used shell to another. this little crustacean, living his oblique life in the shallows, changes doorways when his home becomes too small or hinders him in searching for the things which he covets in life. the difference between our estates was that the hermit crab sought only for food, i chiefly for strange new facts--which was a distinction as trivial as that he achieved his desires sideways and on eight legs, while i traversed my environment usually forward and generally on two. the word of finance went forth and demanded the felling of the second growth around kalacoon, and for the second time the land was given over to cutlass and fire. but again there was a halting in the affairs of man, and the rubber saplings were not planted or were smothered; and again the jungle smiled patiently through a knee-tangle of thorns and blossoms, and the charred clumps of razor-grass sent forth skeins of saws and hanks of living barbs. i stood beneath the familiar cashew trees, which had yielded for me so bountifully of their crops of blossoms and hummingbirds, of fruit and of tanagers, and looked out toward the distant jungle, which trembled through the expanse of palpitating heat-waves; and i knew how a hermit crab feels when its home pinches, or is out of gear with the world. and, too, nupee was dead, and the jungle to the south seemed to call less strongly. so i wandered through the old house for the last time, sniffing the agreeable odor of aged hypo still permeating the dark room, re-covering the empty stains of skins and traces of maps on the walls, and re-filling in my mind the vacant shelves. the vampires had returned to their chosen roost, the martins still swept through the corridors, and as i went down the hill, a moriche oriole sent a silver shaft of song after me from the sentinel palm, just as he had greeted me four years ago. then i gathered about me all the strange and unnameable possessions of a tropical laboratory--and moved. a wren reaches its home after hundreds of miles of fast aerial travel; a hermit crab achieves a new lease with a flip of his tail. between these extremes, and in no less strange a fashion, i moved. a great barge pushed off from the penal settlement, piled high with my zoölogical lares and penates, and along each side squatted a line of paddlers,--white-garbed burglars and murderers, forgers and fighters,--while seated aloft on one of my ammunition trunks, with a microscope case and a camera close under his watchful eye, sat case, king of the warders, the biggest, blackest, and kindest-hearted man in the world. three miles up river swept my moving-van; and from the distance i could hear the half-whisper--which was yet a roar--of case as he admonished his children. "mon," he would say to a shirking, shrinking coolie second-story man, "mon, do you t'ink dis the time to sleep? what toughts have you in your bosom, dat you delay de professor's household?" and then a chanty would rise, the voice of the leader quavering with that wild rhythm which had come down to him, a vocal heritage, through centuries of tom-toms and generations of savages striving for emotional expression. but the words were laughable or pathetic. i was adjured to "blow de mon down with a bottle of rum, oh, de mon--mon--blow de mon down." or the jungle reëchoed the edifying reiteration of "sardines--and bread--oh! sardines--and bread, sardines--and bread--and! sardines--and bread." the thrill that a whole-lunged chanty gives is difficult to describe. it arouses some deep emotional response, as surely as a military band, or the reverberating cadence of an organ, or a suddenly remembered theme of opera. as my aquatic van drew up to the sandy landing-beach, i looked at the motley array of paddlers, and my mind went back hundreds of years to the first spanish crew which landed here, and i wondered whether these pirates of early days had any fewer sins to their credit than case's convicts--and i doubted it. across my doorstep a line of leaf-cutting ants was passing, each bearing aloft a huge bit of green leaf, or a long yellow petal, or a halberd of a stamen. a shadow fell over the line, and i looked up to see an anthropomorphic enlargement of the ants,--the convicts winding up the steep bank, each with cot, lamp, table, pitcher, trunk, or aquarium balanced on his head,--all my possessions suspended between earth and sky by the neck-muscles of worthy sinners. the first thing to be brought in was a great war-bag packed to bursting, and number 214, with eight more years to serve, let it slide down his shoulder with a grunt--the self-same sound that i have heard from a tibetan woman carrier, and a mexican peon, and a japanese porter, all of whom had in past years toted this very bag. i led the way up the steps, and there in the doorway was a tenant, one who had already taken possession, and who now faced me and the trailing line of convicts with that dignity, poise, and perfect self-possession which only a toad, a giant grandmother of a toad, can exhibit. i, and all the law-breakers who followed, recognized the nine tenths involved in this instance and carefully stepped around. when the heavy things began to arrive, i approached diffidently, and half suggested, half directed her deliberate hops toward a safer corner. my feelings toward her were mingled, but altogether kindly,--as guest in her home, i could not but treat her with respect,--while my scientific soul revelled in the addition of _bufo guttatus_ to the fauna of this part of british guiana. whether flashing gold of oriole, or the blinking solemnity of a great toad, it mattered little--kartabo had welcomed me with as propitious an omen as had kalacoon. * * * * * houses have distinct personalities, either bequeathed to them by their builders or tenants, absorbed from their materials, or emanating from the general environment. neither the mind which had planned our kartabo bungalow, nor the hands which fashioned it; neither the mahogany walls hewn from the adjoining jungle, nor the white-pine beams which had known many decades of snowy winters--none of these were obtrusive. the first had passed into oblivion, the second had been seasoned by sun and rain, papered by lichens, and gnawed and bored by tiny wood-folk into a neutral inconspicuousness as complete as an indian's deserted _benab_. the wide verandah was open on all sides, and from the bamboos of the front compound one looked straight through the central hall-way to bamboos at the back. it seemed like a happy accident of the natural surroundings, a jungle-bound cave, or the low rambling chambers of a mighty hollow tree. no thought of who had been here last came to us that first evening. we unlimbered the creaky-legged cots, stiff and complaining after their three years' rest, and the air was filled with the clean odor of micaceous showers of naphthalene from long-packed pillows and sheets. from the rear came the clatter of plates, the scent of ripe papaws and bananas, mingled with the smell of the first fire in a new stove. then i went out and sat on my own twelve-foot bank, looking down on the sandy beach and out and over to the most beautiful view in the guianas. down from the right swept slowly the mazaruni, and from the left the cuyuni, mingling with one wide expanse like a great rounded lake, bounded by solid jungle, with only kalacoon and the penal settlement as tiny breaks in the wall of green. the tide was falling, and as i sat watching the light grow dim, the water receded slowly, and strange little things floated past downstream. and i thought of the no less real human tide which long years ago had flowed to my very feet and then ebbed, leaving, as drift is left upon the sand, the convicts, a few scattered indians, and myself. in the peace and quiet of this evening, time seemed a thing of no especial account. the great jungle trees might always have been lifeless emerald water-barriers, rather than things of a few centuries' growth; the ripple-less water bore with equal disregard the last mora seed which floated past, as it had held aloft the keel of an unknown spanish ship three centuries before. these men came up-river and landed on a little island a few hundred yards from kartabo. here they built a low stone wall, lost a few buttons, coins, and bullets, and vanished. then came the dutch in sturdy ships, cleared the islet of everything except the spanish wall, and built them a jolly little fort intended to command all the rivers, naming it kyk-over-al. to-day the name and a strong archway of flat holland bricks survive. in this wilderness, so wild and so quiet to-day, it was amazing to think of dutch soldiers doing sentry duty and practising with their little bell-mouthed cannon on the islet, and of scores of negro and indian slaves working in cassava fields all about where i sat. and this not fifty or a hundred or two hundred years ago, but about the year 1613, before john smith had named new england, while the hudson was still known as the maurice, before the mayflower landed with all our ancestors on board. for many years the story of this settlement and of the handful of neighboring sugar-plantations is one of privateer raids, capture, torture, slave-revolts, disease, bad government, and small profits, until we marvel at the perseverance of these sturdy hollanders. from the records still extant, we glean here and there amusing details of the life which was so soon to falter and perish before the onpressing jungle. exactly two hundred and fifty years ago one hendrik rol was appointed commander of kyk-over-al. he was governor, captain, store-keeper and indian trader, and his salary was thirty guilders, or about twelve dollars, a month--about what i paid my cook-boy. the high tide of development at kartabo came two hundred and three years ago, when, as we read in the old records, a colony house was erected here. it went by the name of huis naby (the house nearby), from its situation near the fort. kyk-over-al was now left to the garrison, while the commander and the civil servants lived in the new building. one of its rooms was used as a council chamber and church, while the lower floor was occupied by the company's store. the land in the neighborhood was laid out in building lots, with a view to establishing a town; it even went by the name of stad cartabo and had a tavern and two or three small houses, but never contained enough dwellings to entitle it to the name of town, or even village. the ebb-tide soon began, and in 1739 kartabo was deserted, and thirty years before the united states became a nation, the old fort on kyk-over-al was demolished. the rivers and rolling jungle were attractive, but the soil was poor, while the noisome mud-swamps of the coast proved to be fertile and profitable. some fatality seemed to attach to all future attempts in this region. gold was discovered, and diamonds, and to-day the wilderness here and there is powdering with rust and wreathing with creeping tendrils great piles of machinery. pounds of gold have been taken out and hundreds of diamonds, but thus far the negro pork-knocker, with his pack and washing-pan, is the only really successful miner. the jungle sends forth healthy trees two hundred feet in height, thriving for centuries, but it reaches out and blights the attempts of man, whether sisal, rubber, cocoa, or coffee. so far the ebb-tide has left but two successful crops to those of us whose kismet has led us hither--crime and science. the concentration of negroes, coolies, chinese and portuguese on the coast furnishes an unfailing supply of convicts to the settlement, while the great world of life all about affords to the naturalist a bounty rich beyond all conception. so here was i, a grateful legatee of past failures, shaded by magnificent clumps of bamboo, brought from java and planted two or three hundred years ago by the dutch, and sheltered by a bungalow which had played its part in the development and relinquishment of a great gold mine. * * * * * for a time we arranged and adjusted and shifted our equipment,--tables, books, vials, guns, nets, cameras and microscopes,--as a dog turns round and round before it composes itself to rest. and then one day i drew a long breath and looked about, and realized that i was at home. the newness began to pass from my little shelves and niches and blotters; in the darkness i could put my hand on flash or watch or gun; and in the morning i settled snugly into my woolen shirt, khakis, and sneakers, as if they were merely accessory skin. in the beginning we were three white men and four servants--the latter all young, all individual, all picked up by instinct, except sam, who was as inevitable as the tides. our cook was too good-looking and too athletic to last. he had the reputation of being the fastest sprinter in guiana, with a record, so we were solemnly told, of 9-1/5 seconds for the hundred--a veritable mercury, as the last world's record of which i knew was 9-3/5. his stay with us was like the orbit of some comets, which make a single lap around the sun never to return, and his successor edward, with unbelievably large and graceful hands and feet, was a better cook, with the softest voice and gentlest manner in the world. but bertie was our joy and delight. he too may be compared to a star--one which, originally bright, becomes temporarily dim, and finally attains to greater magnitude than before. ultimately he became a fixed ornament of our culinary and taxidermic cosmic system, and whatever he did was accomplished with the most remarkable contortions of limbs and body. to watch him rake was to learn new anatomical possibilities; when he paddled, a surgeon would be moved to astonishment; when he caught butterflies, a teacher of physical culture would not have believed his eyes. at night, when our servants had sealed themselves hermetically in their room in the neighboring thatched quarters, and the last squeak from our cots had passed out on its journey to the far distant goal of all nocturnal sounds, we began to realize that our new home held many more occupants than our three selves. stealthy rustlings, indistinct scrapings, and low murmurs kept us interested for as long as ten minutes; and in the morning we would remember and wonder who our fellow tenants could be. some nights the bungalow seemed as full of life as the tiny french homes labeled, "_hommes 40: chevaux 8_," when the hastily estimated billeting possibilities were actually achieved, and one wondered whether it were not better to be the _cheval premier_, than the _homme quarantième_. for years the bungalow had stood in sun and rain unoccupied, with a watchman and his wife, named hope, who lived close by. the aptness of his name was that of the little barbadian mule-tram which creeps through the coral-white streets, striving forever to divorce motion from progress and bearing the name alert. hope had done his duty and watched the bungalow. it was undoubtedly still there and nothing had been taken from it; but he had received no orders as to accretions, and so, to our infinite joy and entertainment, we found that in many ways it was not only near jungle, it _was_ jungle. i have compared it with a natural cave. it was also like a fallen jungle-log, and we some of the small folk who shared its dark recesses with hosts of others. through the air, on wings of skin or feathers or tissue membrane; crawling or leaping by night; burrowing underground; gnawing up through the great supporting posts; swarming up the bamboos and along the pliant curving stems to drop quietly on the shingled roof;--thus had the jungle-life come past hope's unseeing eyes and found the bungalow worthy residence. the bats were with us from first to last. we exterminated one colony which spent its inverted days clustered over the center of our supply chamber, but others came immediately and disputed the ownership of the dark room. little chaps with great ears and nose-tissue of sensitive skin, spent the night beneath my shelves and chairs, and even my cot. they hunted at dusk and again at dawn, slept in my room and vanished in the day. even for bats they were ferocious, and whenever i caught one in a butterfly-net, he went into paroxysms of rage, squealing in angry passion, striving to bite my hand and, failing that, chewing vainly on his own long fingers and arms. their teeth were wonderfully intricate and seemed adapted for some very special diet, although beetles seemed to satisfy those which i caught. for once, the systematist had labeled them opportunely, and we never called them anything but _furipterus horrens_. in the evening, great bats as large as small herons swept down the long front gallery where we worked, gleaning as they went; but the vampires were long in coming, and for months we neither saw nor heard of one. then they attacked our servants, and we took heart, and night after night exposed our toes, as conventionally accepted vampire-bait. when at last they found that the color of our skins was no criterion of dilution of blood, they came in crowds. for three nights they swept about us with hardly a whisper of wings, and accepted either toe or elbow or finger, or all three, and the cots and floor in the morning looked like an emergency hospital behind an active front. in spite of every attempt at keeping awake, we dropped off to sleep before the bats had begun, and did not waken until they left. we ascertained, however, that there was no truth in the belief that they hovered or kept fanning with their wings. instead, they settled on the person with an appreciable flop and then crawled to the desired spot. one night i made a special effort and, with bared arm, prepared for a long vigil. in a few minutes bats began to fan my face, the wings almost brushing, but never quite touching my skin. i could distinguish the difference between the smaller and the larger, the latter having a deeper swish, deeper and longer drawn-out. their voices were so high and shrill that the singing of the jungle crickets seemed almost contralto in comparison. finally, i began to feel myself the focus of one or more of these winged weasels. the swishes became more frequent, the returnings almost doubling on their track. now and then a small body touched the sheet for an instant, and then, with a soft little tap, a vampire alighted on my chest. i was half sitting up, yet i could not see him, for i had found that the least hint of light ended any possibility of a visit. i breathed as quietly as i could, and made sure that both hands were clear. for a long time there was no movement, and the renewed swishes made me suspect that the bat had again taken flight. not until i felt a tickling on my wrist did i know that my visitor had shifted and, unerringly, was making for the arm which i had exposed. slowly it crept forward, but i hardly felt the pushing of the feet and pulling of the thumbs as it crawled along. if i had been asleep, i should not have awakened. it continued up my forearm and came to rest at my elbow. here another long period of rest, and then several short, quick shifts of body. with my whole attention concentrated on my elbow, i began to imagine various sensations as my mind pictured the long, lancet tooth sinking deep into the skin, and the blood pumping up. i even began to feel the hot rush of my vital fluid over my arm, and then found that i had dozed for a moment and that all my sensations were imaginary. but soon a gentle tickling became apparent, and, in spite of putting this out of my mind and with increasing doubts as to the bat being still there, the tickling continued. it changed to a tingling, rather pleasant than otherwise, like the first stage of having one's hand asleep. it really seemed as if this were the critical time. somehow or other the vampire was at work with no pain or even inconvenience to me, and now was the moment to seize him, call for a lantern, and solve his supersurgical skill, the exact method of this vespertilial anæsthetist. slowly, very slowly, i lifted the other hand, always thinking of my elbow, so that i might keep all the muscles relaxed. very slowly it approached, and with as swift a motion as i could achieve, i grasped at the vampire. i felt a touch of fur and i gripped a struggling, skinny wing; there came a single nip of teeth, and the wing-tip slipped through my fingers. i could detect no trace of blood by feeling, so turned over and went to sleep. in the morning i found a tiny scratch, with the skin barely broken; and, heartily disappointed, i realized that my tickling and tingling had been the preliminary symptoms of the operation. marvelous moths which slipped into the bungalow like shadows; pet tarantulas; golden-eyed gongasocka geckos; automatic, house-cleaning ants; opossums large and small; tiny lizards who had tongues in place of eyelids; wasps who had doorsteps and watched the passing from their windows;--all these were intimates of my laboratory table, whose riches must be spread elsewhere; but the sounds of the bungalow were common to the whole structure. one of the first things i noticed, as i lay on my cot, was the new voice of the wind at night. now and then i caught a familiar sound,--faint, but not to be forgotten,--the clattering of palm fronds. but this came from boom-boom point, fifty yards away (an out jutting of rocks where we had secured our first giant catfish of that name). the steady rhythm of sound which rose and fell with the breeze and sifted into my window with the moonbeams, was the gentlest _shussssss_ing, a fine whispering, a veritable fern of a sound, high and crisp and wholly apart from the moaning around the eaves which arose at stronger gusts. it brought to mind the steep mountain-sides of pahang, and windy nights which presaged great storms in high passes of yunnan. but these wonder times lived only through memory and were misted with intervening years, while it came upon me during early nights, again and again, that this was now, and that into the hour-glass neck of now was headed a maelstrom of untold riches of the future--minutes and hours and sapphire days ahead---a now which was wholly unconcerned with leagues and liquor, with strikes and salaries. so i turned over with the peace which passes all telling--the forecast of delving into the private affairs of birds and monkeys, of great butterflies and strange frogs and flowers. the seeping wind had led my mind on and on from memory and distant sorrows to thoughts of the joy of labor and life. at half-past five a kiskadee shouted at the top of his lungs from the bamboos, but he probably had a nightmare, for he went to sleep and did not wake again for half-an-hour. the final swish of a bat's wing came to my ear, and the light of a fog-dimmed day slowly tempered the darkness among the dusty beams and rafters. from high overhead a sprawling tarantula tossed aside the shriveled remains of his night's banquet, the emerald cuirass and empty mahogany helmet of a long-horned beetle, which eddied downward and landed upon my sheet. immediately around the bungalow the bamboos held absolute sway, and while forming a very tangible link between the roof and the outliers of the jungle, yet no plant could obtain foothold beneath their shade. they withheld light, and the mat of myriads of slender leaves killed off every sprouting thing. this was of the utmost value to us, providing shade, clear passage to every breeze, and an absolute dearth of flies and mosquitoes. we found that the clumps needed clearing of old stems, and for two days we indulged in the strangest of weedings. the dead stems were as hard as stone outside, but the ax bit through easily, and they were so light that we could easily carry enormous ones, which made us feel like giants, though, when i thought of them in their true botanical relationship, i dwarfed in imagination as quickly as alice, to a pigmy tottering under a blade of grass. it was like a brobdingnagian game of jack-straws, as the cutting or prying loose of a single stem often brought several others crashing to earth in unexpected places, keeping us running and dodging to avoid their terrific impact. the fall of these great masts awakened a roaring swish ending in a hollow rattling, wholly unlike the crash and dull boom of a solid trunk. when we finished with each clump, it stood as a perfect giant bouquet, looking, at a distance, like a tuft of green feathery plumes, with the bungalow snuggled beneath as a toadstool is overshadowed by ferns. scores of the homes of small folk were uncovered by our weeding out--wasps, termites, ants, bees, wood-roaches, centipedes; and occasionally a small snake or great solemn toad came out from the débris at the roots, the latter blinking and swelling indignantly at this sudden interruption of his siesta. in a strong wind the stems bent and swayed, thrashing off every imperfect leaf and sweeping low across the roof, with strange scrapings and bamboo mutterings. but they hardly ever broke and fell. in the evening, however, and in the night, after a terrific storm, a sharp, unexpected _rat-tat-tat-tat_, exactly like a machine-gun, would smash in on the silence, and two or three of the great grasses, which perhaps sheltered dutchmen generations ago, would snap and fall. but the indians and bovianders who lived nearby, knew this was no wind, nor yet weakness of stem, but sinclair, who was abroad and who was cutting down the bamboos for his own secret reasons. he was evil, and it was well to be indoors with all windows closed; but further details were lacking, and we were driven to clothe this imperfect ghost with history and habits of our own devising. the birds and other inhabitants of the bamboos, were those of the more open jungle,--flocks drifting through the clumps, monkeys occasionally swinging from one to another of the elastic tips, while toucans came and went. at evening, flocks of parrakeets and great black orioles came to roost, courting the safety which they had come to associate with the clearings of human pioneers in the jungle. a box on a bamboo stalk drew forth joyous hymns of praise from a pair of little god-birds, as the natives call the house-wrens, who straightway collected all the grass and feathers in the world, stuffed them into the tiny chamber, and after a time performed the ever-marvelous feat of producing three replicas of themselves from this trash-filled box. the father-parent was one concentrated mite of song, with just enough feathers for wings to enable him to pursue caterpillars and grasshoppers as raw material for the production of more song. he sang at the prospect of a home; then he sang to attract and win a mate; more song at the joy of finding wonderful grass and feathers; again melody to beguile his mate, patiently giving the hours and days of her body-warmth in instinct-compelled belief in the future. he sang while he took his turn at sitting; then he nearly choked to death trying to sing while stuffing a bug down a nestling's throat; finally, he sang at the end of a perfect nesting season; again, in hopes of persuading his mate to repeat it all, and this failing, sang in chorus in the wren quintette--i hoped, in gratitude to us. at least from april to september he sang every day, and if my interpretation be anthropomorphic, why, so much the better for anthropomorphism. at any rate, before we left, all five wrens sat on a little shrub and imitated the morning stars, and our hearts went out to the little virile featherlings, who had lost none of their enthusiasm for life in this tropical jungle. their one demand in this great wilderness was man's presence, being never found in the jungle except in an inhabited clearing, or, as i have found them, clinging hopefully to the vanishing ruins of a dead indian's _benab_, waiting and singing in perfect faith, until the jungle had crept over it all and they were compelled to give up and set out in search of another home, within sound of human voices. bare as our leaf-carpeted bamboo-glade appeared, yet a select little company found life worth living there. the dry sand beneath the house was covered with the pits of ant-lions, and as we watched them month after month, they seemed to have more in common with the grains of quartz which composed their cosmos than with the organic world. by day or night no ant or other edible thing seemed ever to approach or be entrapped; and month after month there was no sign of change to imago. yet each pit held a fat, enthusiastic inmate, ready at a touch to turn steam-shovel, battering-ram, bayonet, and gourmand. among the first thousand-and-one mysteries of kartabo i give a place to the source of nourishment of the sub-bungalow ant-lions. walking one day back of the house, i observed a number of small holes, with a little shining head just visible in each, which vanished at my approach. looking closer, i was surprised to find a colony of tropical doodle-bugs. straightway i chose a grass-stem and squatting, began fishing as i had fished many years ago in the southern states. soon a nibble and then an angry pull, and i jerked out the irate little chap. he had the same naked bumpy body and the fierce head, and when two or three were put together, they fought blindly and with the ferocity of bulldogs. * * * * * to write of pets is as bad taste as to write in diary form, and, besides, i had made up my mind to have no pets on this expedition. they were a great deal of trouble and a source of distraction from work while they were alive; and one's heart was wrung and one's concentration disturbed at their death. but kib came one day, brought by a tiny copper-bronze indian. he looked at me, touched me tentatively with a mobile little paw, and my firm resolution melted away. a young coati-mundi cannot sit man-fashion like a bear-cub, nor is he as fuzzy as a kitten or as helpless as a puppy, but he has ways of winning to the human heart, past all obstacles. the small indian thought that three shillings would be a fair exchange; but i knew the par value of such stock, and kib changed hands for three bits. a week later a thousand shillings would have seemed cheap to his new master. a coati-mundi is a tropical, arboreal raccoon of sorts, with a long, ever-wriggling snout, sharp teeth, eyes that twinkle with humor, and clawed paws which are more skilful than many a fingered hand. by the scientists of the world he is addressed as _nasua nasua nasua_--which lays itself open to the twin ambiguity of stuttering latin, or the echoes of a princetonian football yell. the natural histories call him coati-mundi, while the indian has by far the best of it, with the ringing, climactic syllables, _kibihée!_ and so, in the case of a being who has received much more than his share of vitality, it was altogether fitting to shorten this to kib--dunsany's giver of life upon the earth. my heart's desire is to run on and tell many paragraphs of kib; but that, as i have said, would be bad taste, which is one form of immorality. for in such things sentiment runs too closely parallel to sentimentality,--moderation becomes maudlinism,--and one enters the caste of those who tell anecdotes of children, and the latest symptoms of their physical ills. and the deeper one feels the joys of friendship with individual small folk of the jungle, the more difficult it is to convey them to others. and so it is not of the tropical mammal coati-mundi, nor even of the humorous kib that i think, but of the soul of him galloping up and down his slanting log, of his little inner ego, which changed from a wild thing to one who would hurl himself from any height or distance into a lap, confident that we would save his neck, welcome him, and waste good time playing the game which he invented, of seeing whether we could touch his little cold snout before he hid it beneath his curved arms. so, in spite of my resolves, our bamboo groves became the homes of numerous little souls of wild folk, whose individuality shone out and dominated the less important incidental casement, whether it happened to be feathers, or fur, or scales. it is interesting to observe how the adam in one comes to the surface in the matter of names for pets. i know exactly the uncomfortable feeling which must have perturbed the heart of that pioneer of nomenclaturists, to be plumped down in the midst of "the greatest aggregation of animals ever assembled" before the time of noah, and to be able to speak of them only as _this_ or _that_, _he_ or _she_. so we felt when inundated by a host of pets. it is easy to speak of the species by the lawful latin or greek name; we mention the specimen on our laboratory table by its common natural-history appellation. but the individual who touches our pity, or concern, or affection, demands a special title--usually absurdly inapt. soon, in the bamboo glade about our bungalow, ten little jungle friends came to live; and to us they will always be kib and gawain, george and gregory, robert and grandmother, raoul and pansy, jennie and jellicoe. gawain was not a double personality--he was an intermittent reincarnation, vibrating between the inorganic and the essence of vitality. in a reasonable scheme of earthly things he filled the niche of a giant green tree-frog, and one of us seemed to remember that the knight gawain was enamored of green, and so we dubbed him. for the hours of daylight gawain preferred the role of a hunched-up pebble of malachite; or if he could find a leaf, he drew eighteen purple vacuum toes beneath him, veiled his eyes with opalescent lids, and slipped from the mineral to the vegetable kingdom, flattened by masterly shading which filled the hollows and leveled the bumps; and the leaf became more of a leaf than it had been before gawain was merged with it. night, or hunger, or the merciless tearing of sleep from his soul wrought magic and transformed him into a glowing, jeweled specter. he sprouted toes and long legs; he rose and inflated his sleek emerald frog-form; his sides blazed forth a mother-of-pearl waist-coat--a myriad mosaics of pink and blue and salmon and mauve; and from nowhere if not from the very depths of his throat, there slowly rose twin globes,--great eyes,--which stood above the flatness of his head, as mosques above an oriental city. gone were the neutralizing lids, and in their place, strange upright pupils surrounded with vermilion lines and curves and dots, like characters of ancient illuminated persian script. and with these appalling eyes gawain looked at us, with these unreal, crimson-flecked globes staring absurdly from an expressionless emerald mask, he contemplated roaches and small grasshoppers, and correctly estimated their distance and activity. we never thought of demanding friendship, or a hint of his voice, or common froggish activities from gawain. we were content to visit him now and then, to arouse him, and then leave him to disincarnate his vertebral outward phase into chlorophyll or lifeless stone. to muse upon his courtship or emotions was impossible. his life had a feeling of sphinx-like duration--gawain as a tadpole was unthinkable. he seemed ageless, unreal, wonderfully beautiful, and wholly inexplicable. ii a jungle clearing within six degrees of the equator, shut in by jungle, on a cloudless day in mid-august, i found a comfortable seat on a slope of sandy soil sown with grass and weeds in the clearing back of kartabo laboratory. i was shaded only by a few leaves of a low walnut-like sapling, yet there was not the slightest hint of oppressive heat. it might have been a warm august day in new england or canada, except for the softness of the air. in my little cleared glade there was no plant which would be wholly out of place on a new england country hillside. with debotanized vision i saw foliage of sumach, elm, hickory, peach, and alder, and the weeds all about were as familiar as those of any new jersey meadow. the most abundant flowers were mazaruni daisies, cheerful little pale primroses, and close to me, fairly overhanging the paper as i wrote, was the spindling button-weed, a wanderer from the states, with its clusters of tiny white blossoms bouqueted in the bracts of its leaves. a few yards down the hillside was a clump of real friends--the rich green leaves of vervain, that humble little weed, sacred in turn to the druids, the romans, and the early christians, and now brought inadvertently in some long-past time, in an overseas shipment, and holding its own in this breathing-space of the jungle. i was so interested by this discovery of a superficial northern flora, that i began to watch for other forms of temperate-appearing life, and for a long time my ear found nothing out of harmony with the plants. the low steady hum of abundant insects was so constant that it required conscious effort to disentangle it from silence. every few seconds there arose the cadence of a passing bee or fly, the one low and deep, the other shrill and penetrating. and now, just as i had become wholly absorbed in this fascinating game,--the kind of game which may at any moment take a worth-while scientific turn,--it all dimmed and the entire picture shifted and changed. i doubt if any one who has been at a modern battle-front can long sit with closed eyes in a midsummer meadow and not have his blood leap as scene after scene is brought back to him. three bees and a fly winging their way past, with the rise and fall of their varied hums, were sufficient to renew vividly for me the blackness of night over the sticky mud of souville, and to cloud for a moment the scent of clover and dying grass, with that terrible sickly sweet odor of human flesh in an old shell-hole. in such unexpected ways do we link peace and war--suspending the greatest weights of memory, imagination, and visualization on the slenderest cobwebs of sound, odor, and color. but again my bees became but bees--great, jolly, busy yellow-and-black fellows, who blundered about and squeezed into blossoms many sizes too small for them. cicadas tuned up, clearing their drum-heads, tightening their keys, and at last rousing into the full swing of their ecstatic theme. and my relaxed, uncritical mind at present recorded no difference between the sound and that which was vibrated from northern maples. the tamest bird about me was a big yellow-breasted white-throated flycatcher, and i had seen this melancholy tyrant, as his technical name describes him, in such distant lands that he fitted into the picture without effort. white butterflies flitted past, then a yellow one, and finally a real monarch. in my boy-land, smudgy specimens of this were pinned, earnestly but asymetrically, in cigar-boxes, under the title of _danais archippus_. at present no reputable entomologist would think of calling it other than _anosia plexippus_, nor should i; but the particular thrill which it gave to-day was that this self-same species should wander along at this moment to mosaic into my boreal muse. after a little time, with only the hum of the bees and the staccato cicadas, a double deceit was perpetrated, one which my sentiment of the moment seized upon and rejoiced in, but at which my mind had to conceal a smile and turn its consciousness quickly elsewhere, to prevent an obtrusive reality from dimming this last addition to the picture. the gentle, unmistakable, velvet warble of a bluebird came over the hillside, again and again; and so completely absorbed and lulled was i by the gradual obsession of being in the midst of a northern scene, that the sound caused not the slightest excitement, even internally and mentally. but the sympathetic spirit who was directing this geographic burlesque overplayed, and followed the soft curve of audible wistfulness with an actual bluebird which looped across the open space in front. the spell was broken for a moment, and my subconscious autocrat thrust into realization the instantaneous report--apparent bluebird call is the note of a small flycatcher and the momentary vision was not even a mountain bluebird but a red-breasted blue chatterer! so i shut my eyes very quickly and listened to the soft calls, which alone would have deceived the closest analyzer of bird songs. and so for a little while longer i still held my picture intact, a magic scape, a hundred yards square and an hour long, set in the heart of the guiana jungle. and when at last i had to desert canada, and relinquish new jersey, i slipped only a few hundred miles southward. for another twenty minutes i clung to virginia, for the enforced shift was due to a great papilio butterfly which stopped nearby and which i captured with a lucky sweep of my net. my first thought was of the orange-tree swallow-tail, _née_ _papilio cresphontes_. then the first lizards appeared, and by no stretch of my willing imagination could i pretend that they were newts, or fit the little emerald scales into a new england pasture. and so i chose for a time to live again among the virginian butterflies and mockingbirds, the wild roses and the jasmine, and the other splendors of memory which a single butterfly had unloosed. as i looked about me, i saw the flowers and detected their fragrance; i heard the hum of bees and the contented chirp of well-fed birds; i marveled at great butterflies flapping so slowly that it seemed as if they must have cheated gravitation in some subtle way to win such lightness and disregard of earth-pull. i heard no ugly murmur of long hours and low wages; the closest scrutiny revealed no strikes or internal clamorings about wrongs; and i unconsciously relaxed and breathed more deeply at the thought of this nature world, moving so smoothly, with directness and simplicity as apparently achieved ideals. * * * * * then i ceased this superficial glance and looked deeper, and without moralizing or dragging in far-fetched similes or warnings, tried to comprehend one fundamental reality in wild nature--the universal acceptance of opportunity. from this angle it is quite unimportant whether one believes in vitalism (which is vitiating to our "will to prove"), or in mechanism (whose name itself is a symbol of ignorance, or deficient vocabulary, or both). evolution has left no chink or crevice unfilled, unoccupied, no probability untried, no possibility unachieved. the nearest weed suggested this trend of thought and provided all i could desire of examples; but the thrill of discovery and the artistic delight threatened to disturb for the time my solemn application of these ponderous truisms. the weed alongside had had a prosperous life, and its leaves were fortunate in the unadulterated sun and rain to which they had access. at the summit all was focusing for the consummation of existence: the little blossoms would soon open and have their one chance. to all the winds of heaven they would fling out wave upon wave of delicate odor, besides enlisting a subtle form of vibration and refusing to absorb the pink light--thereby enhancing the prospects of insect visitors, on whose coming the very existence of this race of weeds depended. every leaf showed signs of attack: scallops cut out, holes bored, stains of fungi, wreaths of moss, and the insidious mazes of leaf-miners. but, like an old-fashioned ship of the line which wins to port with the remnants of shot-ridden sails, the plant had paid toll bravely, although unable to defend itself or protect its tissues; and if i did not now destroy it, which i should assuredly not do, this weed would justify its place as a worthy link in the chain of numberless generations, past and to come. more complex, clever, subtle methods of attack transcended those of the mere devourer of leaf-tissue, as radically as an inventor of most intricate instruments differs from the plodding tiller of the soil. in the center of one leaf, less disfigured than some of its fellows, i perceived four tiny ivory spheres, a dozen of which might rest comfortably within the length of an inch. to my eye they looked quite smooth, although a steady oblique gaze revealed hints of concentric lines. before the times of leeuwenhoek i should perhaps have been unable to see more than this, although, as a matter of fact, in those happy-go-lucky days my ancestors would doubtless have trounced me soundly for wasting my time on such useless and ungodly things as butterfly eggs. i thought of the coming night when i should sit and strain with all my might, striving, without the use of my powerful stereos, to separate from translucent mist of gases the denser nucleus of the mighty cosmos in andromeda. and i alternately bemoaned my human limitation of vision, and rejoiced that i could focus clearly, both upon my butterfly eggs a foot away, and upon the spiral nebula swinging through the ether perhaps four hundred and fifty light-years from the earth. i unswung my pocket-lens,--the infant of the microscope,--and my whole being followed my eyes; the trees and sky were eclipsed, and i hovered in mid-air over four glistening mars-like planets--seamed with radiating canals, half in shadow from the slanting sunlight, and silhouetted against pure emerald. the sculpturing was exquisite. near the north poles which pointed obliquely in my direction, the lines broke up into beads, and the edges of these were frilled and scalloped; and here again my vision failed and demanded still stronger binoculars. here was indeed complexity: a butterfly, one of those black beauties, splashed with jasper and beryl, hovering nearby, with taste only for liquid nectar, yet choosing a little weed devoid of flower or fruit on which to deposit her quota of eggs. she neither turned to look at their beauties nor trusted another batch to this plant. somehow, someway, her caterpillar wormhood had carried, through the mummified chrysalid and the reincarnation of her present form, knowledge of an earlier, infinitely coarser diet. together with the pure artistic joy which was stirred at the sight of these tiny ornate globes, there was aroused a realization of complexity, of helpless, ignorant achievement; the butterfly blindly pausing in her flower-to-flower fluttering--a pause as momentous to her race as that of the slow daily and monthly progress of the weed's struggle to fruition. i took a final glance at the eggs before returning to my own larger world, and i detected a new complication, one which left me with feelings too involved for calm scientific contemplation. as if a martian should suddenly become visible to an astronomer, i found that one of the egg planets was inhabited. perched upon the summit--quite near the north pole--was an insect, a wasp, much smaller than the egg itself. and as i looked, i saw it at the climax of its diminutive life; for it reared up, resting on the tips of two legs and the iridescent wings, and sunk its ovipositor deep into the crystalline surface. as i watched, an egg was deposited, about the latitude of new york, and with a tremor the tiny wasp withdrew its instrument and rested. on the same leaf were casually blown specks of dust, larger than the quartette of eggs. to the plant the cluster weighed nothing, meant nothing more than the dust. yet a moment before they contained the latent power of great harm to the future growth of the weed--four lusty caterpillars would work from leaf to leaf with a rapidity and destructiveness which might, even at the last, have sapped the maturing seeds. now, on a smaller scale, but still within the realm of insect life, all was changed--the plant was safe once more and no caterpillars would emerge. for the wasp went from sphere to sphere and inoculated every one with the promise of its kind. the plant bent slightly in a breath of wind, and knew nothing; the butterfly was far away to my left, deep-drinking in a cluster of yellow cassia; the wasp had already forgotten its achievement, and i alone--an outsider, an interloper--observed, correlated, realized, appreciated, and--at the last--remained as completely ignorant as the actors themselves of the real driving force, of the certain beginning, of the inevitable end. only a momentary cross-section was vouchsafed, and a wonder and a desire to know fanned a little hotter. i had far from finished with my weed: for besides the cuts and tears and disfigurements of the leaves, i saw a score or more of curious berry-like or acorn-like growths, springing from both leaf and stem. i knew, of course, that they were insect-galls, but never before had they meant quite so much, or fitted in so well as a significant phenomenon in the nexus of entangling relationships between the weed and its environment. this visitor, also a minute wasp of sorts, neither bit nor cut the leaves, but quietly slipped a tiny egg here and there into the leaf-tissue. and this was only the beginning of complexity. for with the quickening of the larva came a reaction on the part of the plant, which, in defense, set up a greatly accelerated growth about the young insect. this might have taken the form of some distorted or deformed plant organ--a cluster of leaves, a fruit or berry or tuft of hairs, wholly unlike the characters of the plant itself. my weed was studded with what might well have been normal seed-fruits, were they not proved nightmares of berries, awful pseudo-fruits sprouting from horridly impossible places. and this excess of energy, expressed in tumorous outgrowths, was all vitally useful to the grub--just as the skilful jiu-jitsu wrestler accomplishes his purpose with the aid of his opponent's strength. the insect and plant were, however, far more intricately related than any two human competitors: for the grub in turn required the continued health and strength of the plant for its existence; and when i plucked a leaf, i knew i had doomed all the hidden insects living within its substance. the galls at my hand simulated little acorns, dull greenish in color, matching the leaf-surface on which they rested, and rising in a sharp point. i cut one through and, when wearied and fretted with the responsibilities of independent existence, i know i shall often recall and envy my grub in his palatial parasitic home. outside came a rather hard, brown protective sheath; then the main body of the gall, of firm and dense tissue; and finally, at the heart, like the queen's chamber in cheops, the irregular little dwelling-place of the grub. this was not empty and barren; but the blackness and silence of this vegetable chamber, this architecture fashioned by the strangest of builders for the most remarkable of tenants, was filled with a nap of long, crystalline hairs or threads like the spun-glass candy in our christmas sweetshops--white at the base and shading from pale salmon to the deepest of pinks. this exquisite tapestry, whose beauties were normally forever hidden as well from the blind grub as from the outside world, was the ambrosia all unwittingly provided by the antagonism of the plant; the nutrition of resentment, the food of defiance; and day by day the grub gradually ate his way from one end to the other of his suite, laying a normal, healthful physical foundation for his future aerial activities. the natural history of galls is full of romance and strange unrealities, but to-day it meant to me only a renewed instance of an opportunity seized and made the most of; the success of the indirect, the unreasonable--the long chance which so few of us humans are willing to take, although the reward is a perpetual enthusiasm for the happening of the moment, and the honest gambler's joy for the future. how much more desirable to acquire merit as a footless grub in the heart of a home, erected and precariously nourished by a worthy opponent, with a future of unnumbered possibilities, than to be a queen-mother in nest or hive--cared-for, fed, and cleansed by a host of slaves, but with less prospect of change or of adventure than an average toadstool. * * * * * thus i sat for a long time, lulled by similitudes of northern plants and bees and birds, and then gently shifted southward a few hundred miles, the transition being smooth and unabrupt. with equal gentleness the dead calm stirred slightly and exhaled the merest ghost of a breeze; it seemed as if the air was hardly in motion, but only restless: the wings of the bees and the flycatcher might well have caused it. but, judged by the sequence of events, it was the almost imperceptible signal given by some great jungle spirit, who had tired of playing with my dreams and pleasant fancies of northern life, and now called upon her legions to disillusion me. and the response was immediate. three great shells burst at my very feet,--one of sound, one of color, and the third of both plus numbers,--and from that time on, tropical life was dominant whichever way i looked. that is the way with the wilderness, and especially the tropical wilderness--to surprise one in the very field with which one is most familiar. while in my own estimation my chief profession is ignorance, yet i sign my passport applications and my jury evasions as ornithologist. and now this playful spirit of the jungle permitted me to meditate cheerfully on my ability to compare the faunas of new york and guiana, and then proceeded to startle me with three salvos of birds, first physically and then emotionally. from the monotone of under-world sounds a strange little rasping detached itself, a reiterated, subdued scraping or picking. it carried my mind instantly to the throbbing theme of the niebelungs, onomatopoetic of the little hammers forever busy in their underground work. i circled a small bush at my side, and found that the sound came from one of the branches near the top; so with my glasses i began a systematic search. it was at this propitious moment, when i was relaxed in every muscle, steeped in the quiet of this hillside, and keen on discovering the beetle, that the first shell arrived. if i had been less absorbed i might have heard some distant chattering or calling, but this time it was as if a spad had shut off its power, volplaned, kept ahead of its own sound waves, and bombed me. all that actually happened was that a band of little parrakeets flew down and alighted nearby. when i discovered this, it seemed a disconcerting anti-climax, just as one can make the bravest man who has been under rifle-fire flinch by spinning a match swiftly past his ear. i have heard this sound of parrakeet's wings, when the birds were alighting nearby, half a dozen times; but after half a hundred i shall duck just as spontaneously, and for a few seconds stand just as immobile with astonishment. from a volcano i expect deep and sinister sounds; when i watch great breakers i would marvel only if the accompanying roar were absent; but on a calm sunny august day i do not expect a noise which, for suddenness and startling character, can be compared only with a tremendous flash of lightning. imagine a wonderful tapestry of strong ancient stuff, which had only been woven, never torn, and think of this suddenly ripped from top to bottom by some sinister, irresistible force. in the instant that the sound began, it ceased; there was no echo, no bell-like sustained overtones; both ends were buried in silence. as it came to-day it was a high tearing crash which shattered silence as a very light destroys darkness; and at its cessation i looked up and saw twenty little green figures gazing intently down at me, from so small a sapling that their addition almost doubled the foliage. that their small wings could wring such a sound from the fabric of the air was unbelievable. at my first movement, the flock leaped forth, and if their wings made even a rustle, it was wholly drowned in the chorus of chattering cries which poured forth unceasingly as the little band swept up and around the sky circle. as an alighting morpho butterfly dazzles the eyes with a final flash of his blazing azure before vanishing behind the leaves and fungi of his lower surface, so parrakeets change from screaming motes in the heavens to silence, and then to a hurtling, roaring boomerang, whose amazing unexpectedness would distract the most dangerous eyes from the little motionless leaf-figures in a neighboring treetop. when i sat down again, the whole feeling of the hillside was changed. i was aware that my weed was a northern weed only in appearance, and i should not have been surprised to see my bees change to flies or my lizards to snakes--tropical beings have a way of doing such things. the next phenomenon was color,--unreal, living pigment,--which seemed to appeal to more than one sense, and which satisfied, as a cooling drink or a rare, delicious fragrance satisfies. a medium-sized, stocky bird flew with steady wing-beats over the jungle, in black silhouette against the sky, and swung up to an outstanding giant tree which partly overhung the edge of my clearing. the instant it passed the zone of green, it flashed out brilliant turquoise, and in the same instant i recognized it and reached for my gun. before i retrieved the bird, a second, dull and dark-feathered, flew from the tree. i had watched it for some time, but now, as it passed over, i saw no yellow and knew it too was of real scientific interest to me; and with the second barrel i secured it. picking up my first bird, i found that it was not turquoise, but beryl; and a few minutes later i was certain that it was aquamarine; on my way home another glance showed the color of forget-me-nots on its plumage, and as i looked at it on my table, it was nile green. yet the feathers were painted in flat color, without especial sheen or iridescence, and when i finally analyzed it, i found it to be a delicate calamine blue. it actually had the appearance of a too strong color, as when a glistening surface reflects the sun. from beak to tail it threw off this glowing hue, except for its chin and throat, which were a limpid amaranth purple; and the effect on the excited rods and cones in one's eyes was like the power of great music or some majestic passage in the bible. you, who think my similes are overdone, search out in the nearest museum the dustiest of purple-throated cotingas,--_cotinga cayana,_--and then, instead, berate me for inadequacy. sheer color alone is powerful enough, but when heightened by contrast, it becomes still more effective, and i seemed to have secured, with two barrels, a cotinga and its shadow. the latter was also a full-grown male cotinga, known to a few people in this world as the dark-breasted mourner (_lipaugus simplex_). in general shape and form it was not unlike its cousin, but in color it was its shadow, its silhouette. not a feather upon head or body, wings or tail showed a hint of warmth, only a dull uniform gray; an ash of a bird, living in the same warm sunlight, wet by the same rain, feeding on much the same food, and claiming relationship with a blazing-feathered turquoise. there is some very exact and very absorbing reason for all this, and for it i search with fervor, but with little success. but we may be certain that the causes of this and of the host of other unreasonable realities which fill the path of the evolutionist with never-quenched enthusiasm, will extend far beyond the colors of two tropical birds. they will have something to do with flowers and with bright butterflies, and we shall know why our "favorite color" is more than a whim, and why the greeks may not have been able to distinguish the full gamut of our spectrum, and why rainbows are so narrow to our eyes in comparison to what they might be. finally, there was thrown aside all finesse, all delicacy of presentation, and the last lingering feeling of temperate life and nature was erased. from now on there was no confusion of zones, no concessions, no mental palimpsest of resolving images. the spatial, the temporal,--the hillside, the passing seconds,--the vibrations and material atoms stimulating my five senses, all were tropical, quickened with the unbelievable vitality of equatorial life. a rustling came to my ears, although the breeze was still little more than a sensation of coolness. then a deep whirr sounded overhead, and another, and another, and with a rush a dozen great toucans were all about me. monstrous beaks, parodies in pastels of unheard-of blues and greens, breasts which glowed like mirrored suns,--orange overlaid upon blinding yellow,--and at every flick of the tail a trenchant flash of intense scarlet. all these colors set in frames of jet-black plumage, and suddenly hurled through blue sky and green foliage, made the hillside a brilliant moving kaleidoscope. some flew straight over, with several quick flaps, then a smooth glide, flaps and glide. a few banked sharply at sight of me, and wheeled to right or left. others alighted and craned their necks in suspicion; but all sooner or later disappeared eastward in the direction of a mighty jungle tree just bursting into a myriad of berries. they were sulphur-breasted toucans, and they were silent, heralded only by the sound of their wings and the crash of their pigments. i can think of no other assemblage of jungle creatures more fitted to impress one with the prodigality of tropical nature. four years before, we set ourselves to work to discover the first eggs and young of toucans, and after weeks of heartbreaking labor and disappointments we succeeded. out of the five species of toucans living in this part of guiana we found the nests of four, and the one which eluded us was the big sulphur-breasted fellow. i remembered so vividly the painstaking care with which, week after week, we and our indians tramped the jungle for miles,--through swamps and over rolling hills,--at last having to admit failure; and now i sat and watched thirty, forty, fifty of the splendid birds whirr past. as the last of the fifty-four flew on to their feast of berries, i recalled with difficulty my faded visions of northern birds. and so ended, as in the great finale of a pyrotechnic display, my two hours on a hillside clearing. i can neither enliven it with a startling escape, nor add a thrill of danger, without using as many "ifs" as would be needed to make a jersey meadow untenable. for example, _if_ i had fallen over backwards and been powerless to rise or move, i should have been killed within half an hour, for a stray column of army ants was passing within a yard of me, and death would await any helpless being falling across their path. but by searching out a copperhead and imitating cleopatra, or with patience and persistence devouring every toadstool, the same result could be achieved in our home-town orchard. when on the march, the army ants are as innocuous at two inches as at two miles. had i sat where i was for days and for nights, my chief danger would have been demise from sheer chagrin at my inability to grasp the deeper significance of life and its earthly activities. iii the home town of the army ants from uniform to civilian clothes is a change transcending mere alteration of stuffs and buttons. it is scarcely less sweeping than the shift from civilian clothes to bathing-suit, which so often compels us to concentrate on remembered mental attributes, to avoid demanding a renewed introduction to estranged personality. in the home life of the average soldier, the relaxation from sustained tension and conscious routine results in a gentleness and quietness of mood for which warrior nations are especially remembered. army ants have no insignia to lay aside, and their swords are too firmly hafted in their own beings to be hung up as post-bellum mural decorations, or--as is done only in poster-land--metamorphosed into pruning-hooks and plowshares. i sat at my laboratory table at kartabo, and looked down river to the pink roof of kalacoon, and my mind went back to the shambles of pit number five.[1] i was wondering whether i should ever see the army ants in any guise other than that of scouting, battling searchers for living prey, when a voice of the jungle seemed to hear my unexpressed wish. the sharp, high notes of white-fronted antbirds--those white-crested watchers of the ants--came to my ears, and i left my table and followed up the sound. physically, i merely walked around the bungalow and approached the edge of the jungle at a point where we had erected a small outhouse a day or two before. but this two hundred feet might just as well have been a single step through quicksilver, hand in hand with alice, for it took me from a world of hyoids and syrinxes, of vials and lenses and clean-smelling xylol, to the home of the army ants. [footnote 1: see _jungle peace_, p. 211.] the antbirds were chirping and hopping about on the very edge of the jungle, but i did not have to go that far. as i passed the doorless entrance of the outhouse i looked up, and there was an immense mass of some strange material suspended in the upper corner. it looked like stringy, chocolate-colored tow, studded with hundreds of tiny ivory buttons. i came closer and looked carefully at this mushroom growth which had appeared in a single night, and it was then that my eyes began to perceive and my mind to record, things that my reason besought me to reject. such phenomena were all right in a dream, or one might imagine them and tell them to children on one's knee, with wind in the eaves--wild tales to be laughed at and forgotten. but this was daylight and i was a scientist; my eyes were in excellent order, and my mind rested after a dreamless sleep; so i had to record what i saw in that little outhouse. this chocolate-colored mass with its myriad ivory dots was the home, the nest, the hearth, the nursery, the bridal suite, the kitchen, the bed and board of the army ants. it was the focus of all the lines and files which ravaged the jungle for food, of the battalions which attacked every living creature in their path, of the unnumbered rank and file which made them known to every indian, to every inhabitant of these vast jungles. louis quatorze once said, "_l'etat, c'est moi!_" but this figure of speech becomes an empty, meaningless phrase beside what an army ant could boast,--"_la maison, c'est moi!_" every rafter, beam, stringer, window-frame and door-frame, hall-way, room, ceiling, wall and floor, foundation, superstructure and roof, all were ants--living ants, distorted by stress, crowded into the dense walls, spread out to widest stretch across tie-spaces. i had thought it marvelous when i saw them arrange themselves as bridges, walks, handrails, buttresses, and sign-boards along the columns; but this new absorption of environment, this usurpation of wood and stone, this insinuation of themselves into the province of the inorganic world, was almost too astounding to credit. all along the upper rim the sustaining structure was more distinctly visible than elsewhere. here was a maze of taut brown threads stretching in places across a span of six inches, with here and there a tiny knot. these were actually tie-strings of living ants, their legs stretched almost to the breaking-point, their bodies the inconspicuous knots or nodes. even at rest and at home, the army ants are always prepared, for every quiescent individual in the swarm was standing as erect as possible, with jaws widespread and ready, whether the great curved mahogany scimitars of the soldiers, or the little black daggers of the smaller workers. and with no eyelids to close, and eyes which were themselves a mockery, the nerve shriveling and never reaching the brain, what could sleep mean to them? wrapped ever in an impenetrable cloak of darkness and silence, life was yet one great activity, directed, ordered, commanded by scent and odor alone. hour after hour, as i sat close to the nest, i was aware of this odor, sometimes subtle, again wafted in strong successive waves. it was musty, like something sweet which had begun to mold; not unpleasant, but very difficult to describe; and in vain i strove to realize the importance of this faint essence--taking the place of sound, of language, of color, of motion, of form. i recovered quickly from my first rapt realization, for a dozen ants had lost no time in ascending my shoes, and, as if at a preconcerted signal, all simultaneously sank their jaws into my person. thus strongly recalled to the realities of life, i realized the opportunity that was offered and planned for my observation. no living thing could long remain motionless within the sphere of influence of these six-legged boches, and yet i intended to spend days in close proximity. there was no place to hang a hammock, no overhanging tree from which i might suspend myself spider-wise. so i sent sam for an ordinary chair, four tin cans, and a bottle of disinfectant. i filled the tins with the tarry fluid, and in four carefully timed rushes i placed the tins in a chair-leg square. the fifth time i put the chair in place beneath the nest, but i had misjudged my distances and had to retreat with only two tins in place. another effort, with spartan-like disregard of the fiery bites, and my haven was ready. i hung a bag of vials, notebook, and lens on the chairback, and, with a final rush, climbed on the seat and curled up as comfortably as possible. all around the tins, swarming to the very edge of the liquid, were the angry hosts. close to my face were the lines ascending and descending, while just above me were hundreds of thousands, a bushel-basket of army ants, with only the strength of their threadlike legs as suspension cables. it took some time to get used to my environment, and from first to last i was never wholly relaxed, or quite unconscious of what would happen if a chair-leg broke, or a bamboo fell across the outhouse. i swiveled round on the chair-seat and counted eight lines of army ants on the ground, converging to the post at my elbow. each was four or five ranks wide, and the eight lines occasionally divided or coalesced, like a nexus of capillaries. there was a wide expanse of sand and clay, and no apparent reason why the various lines of foragers should not approach the nest in a single large column. the dividing and redividing showed well how completely free were the columns from any individual dominance. there was no control by specific individuals or soldiers, but, the general route once established, the governing factor was the odor of contact. the law to pass where others have passed is immutable, but freedom of action or individual desire dies with the malleable, plastic ends of the foraging columns. again and again came to mind the comparison of the entire colony or army with a single organism; and now the home, the nesting swarm, the focus of central control, seemed like the body of this strange amorphous organism--housing the spirit of the army. one thinks of a column of foragers as a tendril with only the tip sensitive and growing and moving, while the corpuscle-like individual ants are driven in the current of blind instinct to and fro, on their chemical errands. and then this whole theory, this most vivid simile, is quite upset by the sights that i watch in the suburbs of this ant home! the columns were most excellent barometers, and their reaction to passing showers was invariable. the clay surface held water, and after each downfall the pools would be higher, and the contour of the little region altered. at the first few drops, all the ants would hasten, the throbbing corpuscles speeding up. then, as the rain came down heavier, the column melted away, those near each end hurrying to shelter and those in the center crawling beneath fallen leaves and bits of clod and sticks. a moment before, hundreds of ants were trudging around a tiny pool, the water lined with ant handrails, and in shallow places, veritable formicine pontoons,--large ants which stood up to their bodies in water, with the booty-laden host passing over them. now, all had vanished, leaving only a bare expanse of splashing drops and wet clay. the sun broke through and the residue rain tinkled from the bamboos. as gradually as the growth of the rainbow above the jungle, the lines reformed themselves. scouts crept from the jungle-edge at one side, and from the post at my end, and felt their way, fan-wise, over the rain-scoured surface; for the odor, which was both sight and sound to these ants, had been washed away--a more serious handicap than mere change in contour. swiftly the wandering individuals found their bearings again. there was deep water where dry land had been, but, as if by long-planned study of the work of sappers and engineers, new pontoon bridges were thrown across, washouts filled in, new cliffs explored, and easy grades established; and by the time the bamboos ceased their own private after-shower, the columns were again running smoothly, battalions of eager light infantry hastening out to battle, and equal hosts of loot-laden warriors hurrying toward the home nest. four minutes was the average time taken to reform a column across the ten feet of open clay, with all the road-making and engineering feats which i have mentioned, on the part of ants who had never been over this new route before. leaning forward within a few inches of the post, i lost all sense of proportion, forgot my awkward human size, and with a new perspective became an equal of the ants, looking on, watching every passer-by with interest, straining with the bearers of the heavy loads, and breathing more easily when the last obstacle was overcome and home attained. for a period i plucked out every bit of good-sized booty and found that almost all were portions of scorpions from far-distant dead logs in the jungle, creatures whose strength and poisonous stings availed nothing against the attacks of these fierce ants. the loads were adjusted equably, the larger pieces carried by the big, white-headed workers, while the smaller ants transported small eggs and larvæ. often, when a great mandibled soldier had hold of some insect, he would have five or six tiny workers surrounding him, each grasping any projecting part of the loot, as if they did not trust him in this menial capacity,--as an anxious mother would watch with doubtful confidence a big policeman wheeling her baby across a crowded street. these workers were often diminutive marcelines, hindering rather than aiding in the progress. but in every phase of activity of these ants there was not an ounce of intentionally lost power, or a moment of time wilfully gone to waste. what a commentary on bolshevism! now that i had the opportunity of quietly watching the long, hurrying columns, i came hour by hour to feel a greater intimacy, a deeper enthusiasm for their vigor of existence, their unfailing life at the highest point of possibility of achievement. in every direction my former desultory observations were discounted by still greater accomplishments. elsewhere i have recorded the average speed as two and a half feet in ten seconds, estimating this as a mile in three and a half hours. an observant colonel in the american army has laid bare my congenitally hopeless mathematical inaccuracy, and corrected this to five hours and fifty-two seconds. now, however, i established a wholly new record for the straight-away dash for home of the army ants. with the handicap of gravity pulling them down, the ants, both laden and unburdened, averaged ten feet in twenty seconds, as they raced up the post. i have now called in an artist and an astronomer to verify my results, these two being the only living beings within hailing distance as i write, except a baby red howling monkey curled up in my lap, and a toucan, sloth, and green boa, beyond my laboratory table. our results are identical, and i can safely announce that the amateur record for speed of army ants is equivalent to a mile in two hours and fifty-six seconds; and this when handicapped by gravity and burdens of food, but with the incentive of approaching the end of their long journey. as once before, i accidentally disabled a big worker that i was robbing of his load, and his entire abdomen rolled down a slope and disappeared. hours later in the afternoon, i was summoned to view the same soldier, unconcernedly making his way along an outward-bound column, guarding it as carefully as if he had not lost the major part of his anatomy. his mandibles were ready, and the only difference that i could see was that he could make better speed than others of his caste. that night he joined the general assemblage of cripples quietly awaiting death, halfway up to the nest. i know of no highway in the world which surpasses that of a big column of army ants in exciting happenings, although i usually had the feeling which inspired kim as he watched the great white road, of understanding so little of all that was going on. early in the morning there were only outgoing hosts; but soon eddies were seen in the swift current, vortexes made by a single ant here and there forcing its way against the stream. unlike penguins and human beings, army ants have no rule of the road as to right and left, and there is no lessening of pace or turning aside for a heavily laden drogher. their blindness caused them to bump squarely into every individual, often sending load and carrier tumbling to the bottom of a vertical path. another constant loss of energy was a large cockroach leg, or scorpion segment, carried by several ants. their insistence on trying to carry everything beneath their bodies caused all sorts of comical mishaps. when such a large piece of booty appeared, it was too much of a temptation, and a dozen outgoing ants would rush up and seize hold for a moment, the consequent pulling in all directions reducing progress at once to zero. until late afternoon few ants returned without carrying their bit. the exceptions were the cripples, which were numerous and very pitiful. from such fierce strenuousness, such virile activity, as unending as elemental processes, it seemed a very terrible drop to disability, to the utilizing of every atom of remaining strength to return to the temporary home nest--that instinct which drives so many creatures to the same homing, at the approach of death. even in their helplessness they were wonderful. to see a big black-headed worker struggling up a post with five short stumps and only one good hind leg, was a lesson in achieving the impossible. i have never seen even a suspicion of aid given to any cripple, no matter how slight or how complete the disability; but frequently a strange thing occurred, which i have often noticed but can never explain. one army ant would carry another, perhaps of its own size and caste, just as if it were a bit of dead provender; and i always wondered if cannibalism was to be added to their habits. i would capture both, and the minute they were in the vial, the dead ant would come to life, and with equal vigor and fury both would rush about their prison, seeking to escape, becoming indistinguishable in the twinkling of an eye. very rarely an ant stopped and attempted to clean another which had become partly disabled through an accumulation of gummy sap or other encumbering substance. but when a leg or other organ was broken or missing, the odor of the ant-blood seemed to arouse only suspicion and to banish sympathy, and after a few casual wavings of antennæ, all passed by on the other side. not only this, but the unfortunates were actually in danger of attack within the very lines of traffic of the legionaries. several times i noticed small rove-beetles accompanying the ants, who paid little attention to them. whenever an ant became suspicious and approached with a raised-eyebrow gesture of antennæ, the beetles turned their backs quickly and raised threatening tails. but i did not suspect the vampire or thug-like character of these guests--tolerated where any other insect would have been torn to pieces at once. a large crippled worker, hobbling along, had slipped a little away from the main line, when i was astonished to see two rove-beetles rush at him and bite him viciously, a third coming up at once and joining in. the poor worker had no possible chance against this combination, and he went down after a short, futile struggle. two small army ants now happened to pass, and after a preliminary whiffing with waving antennæ, rushed joyously into the _mêlée_. the beetles had a cowardly weapon, and raising their tails, ejected a drop or two of liquid, utterly confusing the ants, which turned and hastened back to the column. for the next few minutes, until the scent wore off, they aroused suspicion wherever they went. meanwhile, the hyena-like rove-beetles, having hedged themselves within a barricade of their malodor, proceeded to feast, quarreling with one another as such cowards are wont to do. thus i thought, having identified myself with the army ants. from a broader, less biased point of view, i realized that credit should be given to the rove-beetles for having established themselves in a zone of such constant danger, and for being able to live and thrive in it. the columns converged at the foot of the post, and up its surface ran the main artery of the nest. halfway up, a flat board projected, and here the column divided for the last time, half going on directly into the nest, and the other half turning aside, skirting the board, ascending a bit of perpendicular canvas, and entering the nest from the rear. the entrance was well guarded by a veritable moat and drawbridge of living ants. a foot away, a flat mat of ants, mandibles outward, was spread, over which every passing individual stepped. six inches farther, and the sides of the mat thickened, and in the last three inches these sides met overhead, forming a short tunnel at the end of which the nest began. and here i noticed an interesting thing. into this organic moat or tunnel, this living mouth of an inferno, passed all the booty-laden foragers, or those who for some reason had returned empty-mouthed. but the outgoing host seeped gradually from the outermost nest-layer--a gradual but fundamental circulation, like that of ocean currents. scorpions, eggs, caterpillars, glass-like wasp pupæ, roaches, spiders, crickets,--all were drawn into the nest by a maelstrom of hunger, funneling into the narrow tunnel; while from over all the surface of the swarm there crept forth layer after layer of invigorated, implacable seekers after food. the mass of ants composing the nest appeared so loosely connected that it seemed as if a touch would tear a hole, a light wind rend the supports. it was suspended in the upper corner of the doorway, rounded on the free sides, and measured roughly two feet in diameter--an unnumbered host of ants. those on the surface were in very slow but constant motion, with legs shifting and antennæ waving continually. this quivering on the surface of the swarm gave it the appearance of the fur of some terrible animal--fur blowing in the wind from some unknown, deadly desert. yet so cohesive was the entire mass, that i sat close beneath it for the best part of two days and not more than a dozen ants fell upon me. there was, however, a constant rain of egg-cases and pupa-skins and the remains of scorpions and grasshoppers, the residue of the booty which was being poured in. these wrappings and inedible casing were all brought to the surface and dropped. this was reasonable, but what i could not comprehend was a constant falling of small living larvæ. how anything except army ants could emerge alive from such a sinister swarm was inconceivable. it took some resolution to stand up under the nest, with my face only a foot away from this slowly seething mass of widespread jaws. but i had to discover where the falling larvæ came from, and after a time i found that they were immature army ants. here and there a small worker would appear, carrying in its mandibles a young larva; and while most made their way through the maze of mural legs and bodies and ultimately disappeared again, once in a while the burden was dropped and fell to the floor of the outhouse. i can account for this only by presuming that a certain percentage of the nurses were very young and inexperienced workers and dropped their burdens inadvertently. there was certainly no intentional casting out of these offspring, as was so obviously the case with the débris from the food of the colony. the eleven or twelve ants which fell upon me during my watch were all smaller workers, no larger ones losing their grip. while recording some of these facts, i dropped my pencil, and it was fully ten minutes before the black mass of enraged insects cleared away, and i could pick it up. leaning far over to secure it, i was surprised by the cleanliness of the floor around my chair. my clothes and note-paper had been covered with loose wings, dry skeletons of insects and the other débris, while hundreds of other fragments had sifted down past me. yet now that i looked seeingly, the whole area was perfectly clean. i had to assume a perfect jack-knife pose to get my face near enough to the floor; but, achieving it, i found about five hundred ants serving as a street-cleaning squad. they roamed aimlessly about over the whole floor, ready at once to attack anything of mine, or any part of my anatomy which might come close enough, but otherwise stimulated to activity only when they came across a bit of rubbish from the nest high overhead. this was at once seized and carried off to one of two neat piles in far corners. before night these kitchen middens were an inch or two deep and nearly a foot in length, composed, literally, of thousands of skins, wings, and insect armor. there was not a scrap of dirt of any kind which had not been gathered into one of the two piles. the nest was nine feet above the floor, a distance (magnifying ant height to our own) of nearly a mile, and yet the care lavished on the cleanliness of the earth so far below was as thorough and well done as the actual provisioning of the colony. as i watched the columns and the swarm-nest hour after hour, several things impressed me;--the absolute silence in which the ants worked;--such ceaseless activity without sound one associates only with a cinema film; all around me was tremendous energy, marvelous feats of achievement, super-human instincts, the ceaseless movement of tens of thousands of legionaries; yet no tramp of feet, no shouts, no curses, no welcomes, no chanties. it was uncanny to think of a race of creatures such as these, dreaded by every living being, wholly dominant in their continent-wide sphere of action, yet born, living out their lives, and dying, dumb and blind, with no possibility of comment on life and its fullness, of censure or of applause. the sweeping squad on the floor was interesting because of its limited field of work at such a distance from the nest; but close to my chair were a number of other specialized zones of activity, any one of which would have afforded a fertile field for concentrated study. beneath the swarm on the white canvas, i noticed two large spots of dirt and moisture, where very small flies were collected. an examination showed that this was a second, nearer dumping-ground for all the garbage and refuse of the swarm which could not be thrown down on the kitchen middens far below. and here were tiny flies and other insects acting as scavengers, just as the hosts of vultures gather about the slaughter-house of georgetown. the most interesting of all the phases of life of the ants' home town, were those on the horizontal board which projected from the beam and stretched for several feet to one side of the swarm. this platform was almost on a level with my eyes, and by leaning slightly forward on the chair, i was as close as i dared go. here many ants came from the incoming columns, and others were constantly arriving from the nest itself. it was here that i realized my good fortune and the achievement of my desires, when i first saw an army ant at rest. one of the first arrivals after i had squatted to my post, was a big soldier with a heavy load of roach meat. instead of keeping on straight up the post, he turned abruptly and dropped his load. it was instantly picked up by two smaller workers and carried on and upward toward the nest. two other big fellows arrived in quick succession, one with a load which he relinquished to a drogher-in-waiting. then the three weary warriors stretched their legs one after another and commenced to clean their antennæ. this lasted only for a moment, for three or four tiny ants rushed at each of the larger ones and began as thorough a cleaning as masseurs or turkish-bath attendants. the three arrivals were at once hustled away to a distant part of the board and there cleaned from end to end. i found that the focal length of my 8-diameter lens was just out of reach of the ants, so i focused carefully on one of the soldiers and watched the entire process. the small ants scrubbed and scraped him with their jaws, licking him and removing every particle of dirt. one even crawled under him and worked away at his upper leg-joints, for all the world as a mechanic will creep under a car. finally, i was delighted to see him do what no car ever does, turn completely over and lie quietly on his back with his legs in air, while his diminutive helpers overran him and gradually got him into shape for future battles and foraging expeditions. on this resting-stage, within well-defined limits, were dozens of groups of two cleaning one another, and less numerous parties of the tiny professionals working their hearts out on battle-worn soldiers. it became more and more apparent that in the creed of the army ants, cleanliness comes next to military effectiveness. here and there i saw independent individuals cleaning themselves and going through the most un-ant-like movements. they scraped their jaws along the board, pushing forward like a dog trying to get rid of his muzzle; then they turned on one side and passed the opposite legs again and again through the mandibles; while the last performance was to turn over on their backs and roll from side to side, exactly as a horse or donkey loves to do. one ant, i remember, seemed to have something seriously wrong. it sat up on its bent-under abdomen in a most comical fashion, and was the object of solicitude of every passing ant. sometimes there were thirty in a dense group, pushing and jostling; and, like most of our city crowds, many seemed to stop only long enough to have a moment's morbid sight, or to ask some silly question as to the trouble, then to hurry on. others remained, and licked and twiddled him with their antennæ for a long time. he was in this position for at least twenty minutes. my curiosity was so aroused that i gathered him up in a vial, whereat he became wildly excited and promptly regained full use of his legs and faculties. later, when i examined him under the lens, i could find nothing whatever wrong. off at one side of the general cleaning and reconstruction areas was a pitiful assemblage of cripples which had had enough energy to crawl back, but which did not attempt, or were not allowed, to enter the nest proper. some had one or two legs gone, others had lost an antenna or had an injured body. they seemed not to know what to do--wandering around, now and then giving one another a half-hearted lick. in the midst was one which had died, and two others, each badly injured, were trying to tug the body along to the edge of the board. this they succeeded in doing after a long series of efforts, and down and down fell the dead ant. it was promptly picked up by several kitchen-middenites and unceremoniously thrown on the pile of nest-débris. a load of booty had been dumped among the cripples, and as each wandered close to it, he seemed to regain strength for a moment, picked up the load, and then dropped it. the sight of that which symbolized almost all their life-activity aroused them to a momentary forgetfulness of their disabilities. there was no longer any place for them in the home or in the columns of the legionaries. they had been court-martialed under the most implacable, the most impartial law in the world--the survival of the fit, the elimination of the unfit. the time came when we had to get at our stored supplies, over which the army ants were such an effective guard. i experimented on a running column with a spray of ammonia and found that it created merely temporary inconvenience, the ants running back and forming a new trail. formaline was more effective, so i sprayed the nest-swarm with a fifty-per-cent solution, strong enough, one would think, to harden the very boards. it certainly created a terrible commotion, and strings of the ants, two feet long, hung dangling from the nest. the heart of the colony came into view, with thousands of eggs and larvæ, looking like heaps of white rice-grains. every ant seized one or the other and sought escape by the nearest way, while the soldiers still defied the world. the gradual disintegration revealed an interior meshed like a wasp's nest, chambered and honeycombed with living tubes and walls. little by little the taut guy-ropes, lathes, braces, joists, all sagged and melted together, each cell-wall becoming dynamic, now expanding, now contracting; the ceilings vibrant with waving legs, the floors a seething mass of jaws and antennæ. by the time it was dark, the swarm was dropping in sections to the floor. on the following morning new surprises awaited me. the great mass of the ants had moved in the night, vanishing with every egg and immature larva; but there was left in the corner of the flat board a swarm of about one-quarter of the entire number, enshrouding a host of older larvæ. the cleaning zones, the cripples' gathering-room, all had given way to new activities, on the flat board, down near the kitchen middens, and in every horizontal crack. the cause of all this strange excitement, this braving of the terrible dangers of fumes which had threatened to destroy the entire colony the night before, suddenly was made plain as i watched. a critical time was at hand in the lives of the all-precious larvæ, when they could not be moved--the period of spinning, of beginning the transformation from larvæ to pupæ. this evidently was an operation which had to take place outside the nest and demanded some sort of light covering. on the flat board were several thousand ants and a dozen or more groups of full-grown larvæ. workers of all sizes were searching everywhere for some covering for the tender immature creatures. they had chewed up all available loose splinters of wood, and near the rotten, termite-eaten ends, the sound of dozens of jaws gnawing all at once was plainly audible. this unaccustomed, unmilitary labor produced a quantity of fine sawdust, which was sprinkled over the larvæ. i had made a partition of a bit of a british officer's tent which i had used in india and china, made of several layers of colored canvas and cloth. the ants found a loose end of this, teased it out and unraveled it, so that all the larvæ near by were blanketed with a gay, parti-colored covering of fuzz. all this strange work was hurried and carried on under great excitement. the scores of big soldiers on guard appeared rather ill at ease, as if they had wandered by mistake into the wrong department. they sauntered about, bumped into larvæ, turned and fled. a constant stream of workers from the nest brought hundreds more larvæ; and no sooner had they been planted and débris of sorts sifted over them, than they began spinning. a few had already swathed themselves in cocoons--exceedingly thin coverings of pinkish silk. as this took place out of the nest,--in the jungle they must be covered with wood and leaves. the vital necessity for this was not apparent, for none of this débris was incorporated into the silk of the cocoons, which were clean and homogeneous. yet the hundreds of ants gnawed and tore and labored to gather this little dust, as if their very lives depended upon it. with my hand-lens focused just beyond mandible reach of the biggest soldier, i leaned forward from my insulated chair, hovering like a great astral eye looking down at this marvelously important business of little lives. here were thousands of army ants, not killing, not carrying booty, nor even suspended quiescent as organic molecules in the structure of the home, yet in feverish activity equaled only by battle, making ready for the great change of their foster offspring. i watched the very first thread of silk drawn between the larva and the outside world, and in an incredibly short time the cocoon was outlined in a tissue-thin, transparent aura, within which the tenant could be seen skilfully weaving its own shroud. when first brought from the nest, the larvæ lay quite straight and still; but almost at once they bent far over in the spinning position. then some officious worker would come along, and the unfortunate larva would be snatched up, carried off, and jammed down in some neighboring empty space, like a bolt of cloth rearranged upon a shelf. then another ant would approach, antennæ the larva, disapprove, and again shift its position. it was a real survival of the lucky, as to who should avoid being exhausted by kindness and over-solicitude. i uttered many a chuckle at the half-ensilked unfortunates being toted about like mummies, and occasionally giving a sturdy, impatient kick which upset their tormentors and for a moment created a little swirl of mild excitement. there was no order of packing. the larvæ were fitted together anyway, and meagerly covered with dust of wood and shreds of cloth. one big tissue of wood nearly an inch square was too great a temptation to be let alone, and during the course of my observation it covered in turn almost every group of larvæ in sight, ending by being accidentally shunted over the edge and killing a worker near the kitchen middens. there was only a single layer of larvæ; in no case were they piled up, and when the platform became crowded, a new column was formed and hundreds taken outside. to the casual eye there was no difference between these legionaries and a column bringing in booty of insects, eggs, and pupæ; yet here all was solicitude, never a bite too severe, or a blunder of undue force. the sights i saw in this second day's accessible nest-swarm would warrant a season's meditation and study, but one thing impressed me above all others. sometimes, when i carefully pried open one section and looked deep within, i could see large chambers with the larvæ in piles, besides being held in the mandibles of the components of the walls and ceilings. now and then a curious little ghost-like form would flit across the chamber, coming to rest, gnome-like, on larva or ant. again and again i saw these little springtails skip through the very scimitar mandibles of a soldier, while the workers paid no attention to them. i wondered if they were not quite odorless, intangible to the ants, invisible guests which lived close to them, going where, doing what they willed, yet never perceived by the thousands of inhabitants. they seemed to live in a kind of fourth dimensional state, a realm comparable to that which we people with ghosts and spirits. it was a most uncanny, altogether absorbing, intensely interesting relationship; and sometimes, when i ponder on some general aspect of the great jungle,--a forest of greenheart, a mighty rushing river, a crashing, blasting thunderstorm,--my mind suddenly reverts by way of contrast to the tiny ghosts of springtails flitting silently among the terrible living chambers of the army ants. on the following morning i expected to achieve still greater intimacy in the lives of the mummy soldier embryos; but at dawn every trace of nesting swarm, larvæ, pupæ and soldiers was gone. a few dead workers were being already carried off by small ants which never would have dared approach them in life. a big blue morpho butterfly flapped slowly past out of the jungle, and in its wake came the distant notes--high and sharp--of the white-fronted antbirds; and i knew that the legionaries were again abroad, radiating on their silent, dynamic paths of life from some new temporary nest deep in the jungle. iv a jungle beach a jungle moon first showed me my beach. for a week i had looked at it in blazing sunlight, walked across it, even sat on it in the intervals of getting wonted to the new laboratory; yet i had not perceived it. colonel roosevelt once said to me that he would rather perceive things from the point of view of a field-mouse, than be a human being and merely see them. and in my case it was when i could no longer see the beach that i began to discern its significance. this british guiana beach, just in front of my kartabo bungalow, was remarkably diversified, and in a few steps, or strokes of a paddle, i could pass from clean sand to mangroves and muckamucka swamp, thence to out-jutting rocks, and on to the edge of the world, all within a distance of a hundred yards. for a time my beach walks resulted in inarticulate reaction. after months in the blindfolded canyons of new york's streets, a hemicircle of horizon, a hemisphere of sky, and a vast expanse of open water lent itself neither to calm appraisal nor to impromptu cuff-notes. it was recalled to my mind that the miracle of sunrise occurred every morning, and was not a rather belated alternation of illumination, following the quenching of broadway's lights. and the moon i found was as dependable as when i timed my himalayan expeditions by her shadowings. to these phenomena i soon became re-accustomed, and could watch a bird or outwit an insect in the face of a foreglow and silent burst of flame that shamed all the barrages ever laid down. but cosmic happenings kept drawing my attention and paralyzing my activities for long afterward. with a double rainbow and four storms in action at once; or a wall of rain like sawn steel slowly drawing up one river while the mazaruni remains in full sunlight; with pegasus galloping toward the zenith at midnight and the pleiades just clearing the penal settlement, i could not always keep on dissecting, or recording, or verifying the erroneousness of one of my recently formed theories. there was thuban, gazing steadily upon my little mahogany bungalow, as, six millenniums ago, he had shone unfalteringly down the little stone tube that led his rays into the queen's chamber, in the very heart of great cheops. just clearing a low palm was the present north star, while, high above, vega shone, patiently waiting to take her place half a million years hence. when beginning her nightly climb, vega drew a thin, trembling thread of argent over the still water, just as in other years she had laid for me a slender silver strand of wire across frozen snow, and on one memorable night traced the ghost of a reflection over damp sand near the nile--pale as the wraiths of the early pharaohs. low on the eastern horizon, straight outward from my beach, was the beginning and end of the great zodiac band--the golden hamal of aries and the paired stars of pisces; and behind, over the black jungle, glowed the southern cross. but night after night, as i watched on the beach, the sight which moved me most was the dull speck of emerald mist, a merest smudge on the slate of the heavens,--the spiral nebula in andromeda,--a universe in the making, of a size unthinkable to human minds. the power of my jungle beach to attract and hold attention was not only direct and sensory,--through sight and sound and scent,--but often indirect, seemingly by occult means. time after time, on an impulse, i followed some casual line of thought and action, and found myself at last on or near the beach, on a lead that eventually would take me to the verge or into the water. once i did what for me was a most unusual thing. i woke in the middle of the night without apparent reason. the moonlight was pouring in a white flood through the bamboos, and the jungle was breathless and silent. through my window i could see jennie, our pet monkey, lying aloft, asleep on her little verandah, head cushioned on both hands, tail curled around her dangling chain, as a spider guards her web-strands for hint of disturbing vibrations. i knew that the slightest touch on that chain would awaken her, and indeed it seemed as if the very thought of it had been enough; for she opened her eyes, sent me the highest of insect-like notes and turned over, pushing her head within the shadow of her little house. i wondered if animals, too, were, like the malays and so many savage tribes, afraid of the moonlight--the "luna-cy" danger in those strange color-strained rays, whose power must be greater than we realize. beyond the monkey roosted robert, the great macaw, wide-awake, watching me with all that broadside of intensive gaze of which only a parrot is capable. the three of us seemed to be the only living things in the world, and for a long time we--monkey, macaw, and man--listened. then all but the man became uneasy. the monkey raised herself and listened, uncurled her tail, shifted, and listened. the macaw drew himself up, feathers close, forgot me, and listened. they, unlike me, were not merely listening--they were hearing something. then there came, very slowly and deliberately, as if reluctant to break through the silent moonlight, a sound, low and constant, impossible to identify, but clearly audible even to my ears. for just an instant longer it held, sustained and quivering, then swiftly rose into a crashing roar--the sound of a great tree falling. i sat up and heard the whole long descent; but at the end, after the moment of silence, there was no deep boom--the sound of the mighty bole striking and rebounding from the earth itself. i wondered about this for a while; then the monkey and i went to sleep, leaving the macaw alone conscious in the moonlight, watching through the night with his great round, yellow orbs, and thinking the thoughts that macaws always think in the moonlight. the next day the macaw and the monkey had forgotten all about the midnight sound, but i searched and found why there was no final boom. and my search ended at my beach. a bit of overhanging bank had given way and a tall tree had fallen headlong into the water, its roots sprawling helplessly in mid-air. like rats deserting a sinking ship, a whole noah's ark of tree-living creatures was hastening along a single cable shorewards: tree-crickets; ants laden with eggs and larvæ; mantids gesticulating as they walked, like old men who mumble to themselves; wood-roaches, some green and leaf-like, others, facsimiles of trilobites--but fleet of foot and with one goal. what was a catastrophe for a tree and a shift of home for the tenants was good fortune for me, and i walked easily out along the trunk and branches and examined the strange parasitic growths and the homes which were being so rapidly deserted. the tide came up and covered the lower half of the prostrate tree, drowning what creatures had not made their escape and quickening the air-plants with a false rain, which in course of time would rot their very hearts. but the first few days were only the overture of changes in this shift of conditions. tropic vegetation is so tenacious of life that it struggles and adapts itself with all the cunning of a japanese wrestler. we cut saplings and thrust them into mud or the crevices of rocks at low tide far from shore, to mark our channel, and before long we have buoys of foliage banners waving from the bare poles above water. we erect a tall bamboo flagpole on the bank, and before long our flag is almost hidden by the sprouting leaves, and the pulley so blocked that we have occasionally to lower and lop it. so the fallen tree, still gripping the nutritious bank with a moiety of roots, turned slowly in its fibrous stiffness and directed its life and sap and hopes upward. during the succeeding weeks i watched trunk and branches swell and bud out new trunks, new branches, guided, controlled, by gravity, light, and warmth; and just beyond the reach of the tides, leaves sprouted, flowers opened and fruit ripened. weeks after the last slow invertebrate plodder had made his escape shorewards, the taut liana strand was again crowded with a mass of passing life--a maze of vines and creepers, whose tendrils and suckers reached and curled and pressed onward, fighting for gangway to shore, through days and weeks, as the animal life which preceded them had made the most of seconds and minutes. the half-circle of exposed raw bank became in its turn the center of a myriad activities. great green kingfishers began at once to burrow; tiny emerald ones chose softer places up among the wreckage of wrenched roots; wasps came and chopped out bits for the walls and partitions of their cells; spiders hung their cobwebs between ratlines of rootlets; and hummingbirds promptly followed and plucked them from their silken nets, and then took the nets to bind their own tiny air-castles. finally, other interests intervened, and like jennie and robert, i gradually forgot the tree that fell without an echo. in the jungle no action or organism is separate, or quite apart, and this thing which came to the three of us suddenly at midnight led by devious means to another magic phase of the shore. a little to the south along my beach is the edge of the world. at least, it looks very much as i have always imagined that place must look, and i have never been beyond it; so that, after listening to many arguments in courts of law, and hearing the reasoning of bolsheviki, teetotalers, and pacifists, i feel that i am quite reasonable as human beings go. and best of all, it hurts no one, and annoys only a few of my scientific friends, who feel that one cannot indulge in such ideas at the wonderful hour of twilight, and yet at eight o'clock the following morning describe with impeccable accuracy the bronchial semi-rings, and the intricate mosaic of cartilage which characterizes and supports the _membranis tympaniformis_ of _attila thamnophiloides_; a dogma which halves life and its interests. the edge of the world has always meant a place where usual things are different; and my southern stretch of beach was that, because of roots. whenever in digging i have come across a root and seen its living flesh, perhaps pink or rose or pale green, so far underground, i have desired to know roots better; and now i found my opportunity. i walked along the proper trail, through right and usual trees, with reasonable foliage and normal trunks, and suddenly i stepped down over the edge. overhead and all around there was still the foliage. it shut out the sun except for greenish, moderated spots and beams. the branches dipped low in front over the water, shutting out the sky except along the tops of the cross-river jungle. thus a great green-roofed chamber was formed; and here, between jungle and the water-level of the world, was the kingdom of the roots. great trees had in their youth fallen far forward, undermined by the water, then slowly taken a new reach upward and stretched forth great feet and hands of roots, palms pressing against the mud, curved backs and thews of shoulders braced against one another and the drag of the tides. little by little the old prostrate trunks were entirely obliterated by this fantastic network. there were no fine fibers or rootlets here; only great beams and buttresses, bridges and up-ended spirals, grown together or spreading wide apart. root merged with trunk, and great boles became roots and then boles again in this unreasonable land. for here, in place of damp, black mold and soil, water alternated with dark-shadowed air; and so i was able for a time to live the life of a root, resting quietly among them, watching and feeling them, and moving very slowly, with no thought of time, as roots must. i liked to wait until the last ripple had lapped against the sand beneath, and then slip quietly in from the margin of the jungle and perch--like a great tree-frog--on some convenient shelf. seumas and brigid would have enjoyed it, in spite of the fact that the leprechauns seemed to have just gone. i found myself usually in a little room, walled with high-arched, thin sheets of living roots, some of which would form solid planks three feet wide and twelve long, and only an inch or two in thickness. these were always on edge, and might be smooth and sheer, or suddenly sprout five stubby, mittened fingers, or pairs of curved and galloping legs--and this thought gave substance to the simile which had occurred again and again: these trees reminded me of centaurs with proud, upright man torsos, and great curved backs. in one, a root dropped down and rested on the back, as a centaur who turns might rest his hand on his withers. when i chanced upon an easy perch, and a stray idea came to mind, i squatted or sat or sprawled, and wrote, and strange things often happened to me. once, while writing rapidly on a small sheet of paper, i found my lines growing closer and closer together until my fingers cramped, and the consciousness of the change overlaid the thoughts that were driving hand and pen. i then realized that, without thinking, i had been following a succession of faint lines, cross-ruled on my white paper, and looking up, i saw that a leaf-filtered opening had reflected strands of a spider-web just above my head, and i had been adapting my lines to the narrow spaces, my chirography controlled by cobweb shadows. the first unreality of the roots was their rigidity. i stepped from one slender tendon of wood to the next, expecting a bending which never occurred. they might have been turned to stone, and even little twigs resting on the bark often proved to have grown fast. and this was the more unexpected because of the grace of curve and line, fold upon fold, with no sharp angles, but as full of charm of contour as their grays and olives were harmonious in color. photographs showed a little of this; sketches revealed more; but the great splendid things themselves, devoid of similes and human imagination, were soul-satisfying in their simplicity. i seldom sat in one spot more than a few minutes, but climbed and shifted, tried new seats, couches, perches, grips, sprawling out along the tops of two parallel monsters, or slipping under their bellies, always finding some easy way to swing up again. two openings just permitted me to squeeze through, and i wondered whether, in another year, or ten, or fifty, the holes would have grown smaller. i became imbued with the quiet joy of these roots, so that i hated to touch the ground. once i stepped down on the beach after something i had dropped, and the soft yielding of the sand was so unpleasant that i did not afterwards leave this strange mid-zone until i had to return. unlike antæus, i seemed to gain strength and poise by disassociation with the earth. here and there were pockets in the folds of the sweeping draperies, and each pocket was worth picking. when one tried to paint the roots, these pockets seemed made expressly to take the place of palette cups, except that now and then a crab resented the infusion of hooker's green with his vandyke brown puddle, and seized the end of the brush. the crabs were worthy tenants of such strange architecture, with comical eyes twiddling on the end of their stalks, and their white-mittened fists feinting and threatening as i looked into their little dark rain or tide-pools. i found three pockets on one wall, which seemed as if they must have been "salted" for my benefit; and in them, as elsewhere on my beach, the two extremes of life met. the topmost one, curiously enough, contained a small crab, together with a large water-beetle at the farther end. both seemed rather self-conscious, and there was no hint of fraternizing. the beetle seemed to be merely existing until darkness, when he could fly to more water and better company; and the crab appeared to be waiting for the beetle to go. the next pocket was a long, narrow, horizontal fold, and i hoped to find real excitement among its aquatic folk; but to my surprise it had no bottom, but was a deep chute or socket, opening far below to the sand. however, this was not my discovery, and i saw dimly a weird little head looking up at me--a gecko lizard, which called this crevice home and the crabs neighbors. i hailed him as the only other backboned friend who shared the root-world with me, and then listened to a high, sweet tone, which came forth in swinging rhythm. it took some time for my eyes to become accustomed to the semi-darkness, and then i saw what the gecko saw--a big yellow-bodied fly humming in this cavern, and swinging in a small orbit as she sang. now and then she dashed out past me and hovered in mid-air, when her note sank to a low, dull hum. back again, and the sound rose and fell, and gained ten times in volume from the echo or reverberations. each time she passed, the little lizard licked his chops and swallowed--a sort of vicarious expression of faith or desire; or was he in a christian science frame of mind, saying, "my, how good that fly tasted!" each time the dipteron passed? the fly was just as inexplicable, braving danger and darkness time after time, to leave the sunshine and vibrate in the dusk to the enormously magnified song of its wings. with eyes that had forgotten the outside light, i leaned close to the opening and rested my forehead against the lichens of the wall of wood. the fly was frightened away, the gecko slipped lower, seemingly without effort, and in a hollowed side of the cavernous root i saw a mist, a quivering, so tenuous and indistinct that at first it might have been the dancing of motes. i saw that they were living creatures--the most delicate of tiny crane-flies--at rest looking like long-legged mosquitoes. deep within this root, farther from the light than even the singing fly had ventured, these tiny beings whirled madly in mid-air--subterranean dervishes, using up energy for their own inexplicable ends, of which one very interested naturalist could make nothing. three weeks afterward i happened to pass at high tide in the canoe and peered into this pocket. the gecko was where geckos go in the space of three weeks, and the fly also had vanished, either within or without the gecko. but the crane-flies were still there: to my roughly appraising eyes the same flies, doing the same dance in exactly the same place. three weeks later, and again i returned, this time intentionally, to see whether the dance still continued; and it was in full swing. that same night at midnight i climbed down, flashed a light upon them, and there they whirled and vibrated, silently, incredibly rapid, unceasingly. after a thousand hours all the surroundings had changed. new leaves had sprouted, flowers faded and turned to fruit, the moon had twice attained her full brightness, our earth and sun and the whole solar system had swept headlong a full two-score million miles on the endless swing toward vega. only the roots and the crane-flies remained. a thousand hours had apparently made no difference to them. the roots might have been the granite near by, fashioned by primeval earth-flame, and the flies but vibrating atoms within the granite, made visible by some alchemy of elements in this weird rim of the world. and so a new memory is mine; and when one of these insects comes to my lamp in whatever part of the world, fluttering weakly, legs breaking off at the slightest touch, i shall cease to worry about the scientific problems that loom too great for my brain, or about the imperfection of whatever i am doing, and shall welcome the crane-fly and strive to free him from this fatal passion for flame, directing him again into the night; for he may be looking for a dark pocket in a root, a pocket on the edge of the world, where crane-flies may vibrate with their fellows in an eternal dance. and so, in some ordained way, he will fulfil his destiny and i acquire merit. * * * * * to write of sunrises and moonlight is to commit literary harikiri; but as that terminates life, so may i end this. and i choose the morning and the midnight of the sixth of august, for reasons both greater and less than cosmic. early that morning, looking out from the beach over the mazacuni, as we called the union of the two great rivers, there was wind, yet no wind, as the sun prepared to lift above the horizon. the great soft-walled jungle was clear and distinct. every reed at the landing had its unbroken counterpart in the still surface. but at the apex of the waters, the smoke of all the battles in the world had gathered, and upon this the sun slowly concentrated his powers, until he tore apart the cloak of mist, turning the dark surface, first to oxidized, and then to shining quicksilver. instantaneously the same shaft of light touched the tips of the highest trees, and as if in response to a poised bâton, there broke forth that wonder of the world--the zoroastrian chorus of tens of thousands of jungle creatures. over the quicksilver surface little individual breezes wandered here and there. i could clearly see the beginning and the end of them, and one that drifted ashore and passed me felt like the lightest touch of a breath. one saw only the ripple on the water; one thought of invisible wings and trailing unseen robes. with the increasing warmth the water-mist rose slowly, like a last quiet breath of night; and as it ascended,--the edges changing from silvery gray to grayish white,--it gathered close its shredded margins, grew smaller as it rose higher, and finally became a cloud. i watched it and wondered about its fate. before the day was past, it might darken in its might, hurl forth thunders and jagged light, and lose its very substance in down-poured liquid. or, after drifting idly high in air, the still-born cloud might garb itself in rich purple and gold for the pageant of the west, and again descend to brood over the coming marvel of another sunrise. the tallest of bamboos lean over our low, lazy spread of bungalow; and late this very night, in the full moonlight, i leave my cot and walk down to the beach over a shadow carpet of japanese filigree. the air over the white sand is as quiet and feelingless to my skin as complete, comfortable clothing. on one side is the dark river; on the other, the darker jungle full of gentle rustlings, low, velvety breaths of sound; and i slip into the water and swim out, out, out. then i turn over and float along with the almost tangible moonlight flooding down on face and water. suddenly the whole air is broken by the chorus of big red baboons, which rolls and tumbles toward me in masses of sound along the surface and goes trembling, echoing on over shore and jungle, till hurled back by the answering chorus of another clan. it stirs one to the marrow, for there is far more in it than the mere roaring of monkeys; and i turn uneasily, and slowly surge back toward the sand, overhand now, making companionable splashes. and then again i stop, treading water softly, with face alone between river and sky; for the monkeys have ceased, and very faint and low, but blended in wonderful minor harmony, comes another chorus--from three miles down the river: the convicts singing hymns in their cells at midnight. and i ground gently and sit in the silvered shadows with little bewildered shrimps flicking against me, and unlanguaged thoughts come and go--impossible similes, too poignant phrases to be stopped and fettered with words, and i am neither scientist nor man nor naked organism, but just mind. with the coming of silence i look around and again consciously take in the scene. i am very glad to be alive, and to know that the possible dangers of jungle and water have not kept me armed and indoors. i feel, somehow, as if my very daring and gentle slipping-off of all signs of dominance and protection on entering into this realm had made friends of all the rare but possible serpents and scorpions, sting-rays and perai, vampires and electric eels. for a while i know the happiness of mowgli. and i think of people who would live more joyful lives in dense communities, who would be more tolerant, and more certain of straightforward friendship, if they could have as a background a fundamental hour of living such as this, a leaven for the rest of what, in comparison, seems mere existence. at last i go back between the bamboos and their shadows, from unreal reality into a definiteness of cot and pajamas and electric torch. but wild nature still keeps touch with me; for as i write these lines, curled up on the edge of the cot, two vampires hawk back and forth so close that the wind from their wings dries my ink. and the soundness of my sleep is such that time does not exist between their last crepuscular squeak and the first wiry twittering of a blue tanager, in full sunshine, from a palm overhanging my beach. v a bit of uselessness a most admirable servant of mine once risked his life to reach a magnificent bornean orchid, and tried to poison me an hour later when he thought i was going to take the plant away from him. this does not mean necessarily that we should look with suspicion upon all gardeners and lovers of flowers. it emphasizes, rather, the fact of the universal and deep-rooted appreciation of the glories of the vegetable kingdom. long before the fatal harvest time, i am certain that eve must have plucked a spray of apple blossoms with perfect impunity. a vast amount of bad poetry and a much less quantity of excellent verse has been written about flowers, much of which follows to the letter mark twain's injunction about truth. it must be admitted that the relations existing between the honeysuckle and the bee are basely practical and wholly selfish. a butterfly's admiration of a flower is no whit less than the blossom's conscious appreciation of its own beauties. there are ants which spend most of their life making gardens, knowing the uses of fertilizers, mulching, planting seeds, exercising patience, recognizing the time of ripeness, and gathering the edible fruit. but this is underground, and the ants are blind. there is a bird, however--the bower bird of australia--which appears to take real delight in bright things, especially pebbles and flowers for their own sake. its little lean-to, or bower of sticks, which has been built in our own zoological park in new york city, is fronted by a cleared space, which is usually mossy. to this it brings its colorful treasures, sometimes a score of bright star blossoms, which are renewed when faded and replaced by others. all this has, probably, something to do with courtship, which should inspire a sonnet. from the first pre-egyptian who crudely scratched a lotus on his dish of clay, down to the jolly feckenham men, the human race has given to flowers something more than idle curiosity, something less than mere earnest of fruit or berry. at twelve thousand feet i have seen one of my tibetans with nothing but a few shreds of straw between his bare feet and the snow, probe around the south edge of melting drifts until he found brilliant little primroses to stick behind his ears. i have been ushered into the little-used, musty best-parlor of a new england farmhouse, and seen fresh vases of homely, old-fashioned flowers--so recently placed for my edification, that drops of water still glistened like dewdrops on the dusty plush mat beneath. i have sat in the seat of honor of a dyak communal house, looked up at the circle of all too recent heads, and seen a gay flower in each hollow eye socket, placed there for my approval. with a cluster of colored petals swaying in the breeze, one may at times bridge centuries or span the earth. and now as i sit writing these words in my jungle laboratory, a small dusky hand steals around an aquarium and deposits a beautiful spray of orchids on my table. the little face appears, and i can distinguish the high cheek bones of indian blood, the flattened nose and slight kink of negro, and the faint trace of white--probably of some long forgotten dutch sailor, who came and went to guiana, while new york city was still a browsing ground for moose. so neither race nor age nor mélange of blood can eradicate the love of flowers. it would be a wonderful thing to know about the first garden that ever was, and i wish that "best beloved" had demanded this. i am sure it was long before the day of dog, or cow, or horse, or even she who walked alone. the only way we can imagine it, is to go to some wild part of the earth, where are fortunate people who have never heard of seed catalogs or lawn mowers. here in british guiana i can run the whole gamut of gardens, within a few miles of where i am writing. a mile above my laboratory up-river, is the thatched _benab_ of an akawai indian--whose house is a roof, whose rooms are hammocks, whose estate is the jungle. degas can speak english, and knows the use of my 28-gauge double barrel well enough to bring us a constant supply of delicious bushmeat--peccary, deer, monkey, bush turkeys and agoutis. but grandmother has no language but her native akawai. she is a good friend of mine, and we hold long conversations, neither of us bothering with the letter, but only the spirit of communication. she is a tiny person, bowed and wrinkled as only an old indian squaw can be, always jolly and chuckling to herself, although degas tells me that the world is gradually darkening for her. and she vainly begs me to clear the film which is slowly closing over her eyes. she labors in a true landscape garden--the small circle wrested with cutlass and fire from the great jungle, and kept free only by constant cutting of the vines and lianas which creep out almost in a night, like sinister octopus tentacles, to strangle the strange upstarts and rejungle the bit of sunlit glade. although to the eye a mass of tangled vegetation, an indian's garden may be resolved into several phases--all utterly practical, with color and flowers as mere by-products. first come the provisions, for if degas were not hunting for me, and eating my rations, he would be out with bow and blowpipe, or fish-hooks, while the women worked all day in the cassava field. it is his part to clear and burn the forest, it is hers to grub up the rich mold, to plant and to weed. plots and beds are unknown, for in every direction are fallen trees, too large to burn or be chopped up, and great sprawling roots. between these, sprouts of cassava and banana are stuck, and the yams and melons which form the food of these primitive people. cassava is as vital to these indians as the air they breathe. it is their wheat and corn and rice, their soup and salad and dessert, their ice and their wine, for besides being their staple food, it provides _casareep_ which preserves their meat, and _piwarie_ which, like excellent wine, brightens life for them occasionally, or dims it if overindulged in--which is equally true of food, or companionship, or the oxygen in the air we breathe. besides this cultivation, grandmother has a small group of plants which are only indirectly concerned with food. one is _kunami_, whose leaves are pounded into pulp, and used for poisoning the water of jungle streams, with the surprising result that the fish all leap out on the bank and can be gathered as one picks up nuts. when i first visited grandmother's garden, she had a few pitiful little cotton plants from whose stunted bolls she extracted every fiber and made a most excellent thread. in fact, when she made some bead aprons for me, she rejected my spool of cotton and chose her own, twisted between thumb and finger. i sent for seed of the big sea island cotton, and her face almost unwrinkled with delight when she saw the packets with seed larger than she had ever known. far off in one corner i make certain i have found beauty for beauty's sake, a group of exquisite caladiums and amaryllis, beautiful flowers and rich green leaves with spots and slashes of white and crimson. but this is the hunter's garden, and grandmother has no part in it, perhaps is not even allowed to approach it. it is the _beena_ garden--the charms for good luck in hunting. the similarity of the leaves to the head or other parts of deer or peccary or red-gilled fish, decides the most favorable choice, and the acrid, smarting juice of the tuber rubbed into the skin, or the hooks and arrows anointed, is considered sufficient to produce the desired result. long ago i discovered that this demand for immediate physical sensation was a necessary corollary of doctoring, so i always give two medicines--one for its curative properties, and the other, bitter, sour, acid or anything disagreeable, for arousing and sustaining faith in my ability. the indian's medicine plants, like his true name, he keeps to himself, and although i feel certain that grandmother had somewhere a toothache bush, or pain leaves--yarbs and simples for various miseries--i could never discover them. half a dozen tall tobacco plants brought from the far interior, eked out the occasional tins of cigarettes in which degas indulged, and always the flame-colored little buck-peppers lightened up the shadows of the _benab_, as hot to the palate as their color to the eye. one day just as i was leaving, grandmother led me to a palm nearby, and to one of its ancient frond-sheaths was fastened a small brown branch to which a few blue-green leaves were attached. i had never seen anything like it. she mumbled and touched it with her shriveled, bent fingers. i could understand nothing, and sent for degas, who came and explained grudgingly, "me no know what for--_toko-nook_ just name--have got smell when yellow." and so at last i found the bit of uselessness, which, carried onward and developed in ages to come, as it had been elsewhere in ages past, was to evolve into botany, and back-yard gardens, and greenhouses, and wars of roses, and beautiful paintings, and music with a soul of its own, and verse more than human. to degas the _toko-nook_ was "just name," "and it was nothing more." but he was forgiven, for he had all unwittingly sowed the seeds of religion, through faith in his glowing caladiums. but grandmother, though all the sunlight seemed dusk, and the dawn but as night, yet clung to her little plant, whose glory was that it was of no use whatsoever, but in months to come would be yellow, and would smell. farther down river, in the small hamlets of the bovianders--the people of mixed blood--the practical was still necessity, but almost every thatched and wattled hut had its swinging orchid branch, and perhaps a hideous painted tub with picketed rim, in which grew a golden splash of croton. this ostentatious floweritis might furnish a theme for a wholly new phase of the subject--for in almost every respect these people are less worthy human beings--physically, mentally and morally--than the indians. but one cannot shift literary overalls for philosophical paragraphs in mid-article, so let us take the little river steamer down stream for forty miles to the coast of british guiana, and there see what nature herself does in the way of gardens. we drive twenty miles or more before we reach georgetown, and the sides of the road are lined for most of the distance with huts and hovels of east indian coolies and native guiana negroes. some are made of boxes, others of bark, more of thatch or rough-hewn boards and barrel staves, and some of split bamboo. but they resemble one another in several respects--all are ramshackle, all lean with the grace of pisa, all have shutters and doors, so that at night they may be hermetically closed, and all are half-hidden in the folds of a curtain of flowers. the most shiftless, unlovely hovel, poised ready to return to its original chemical elements, is embowered in a mosaic of color, which in a northern garden would be worth a king's ransom--or to be strictly modern, should i not say a labor foreman's or a comrade's ransom! the deep trench which extends along the front of these sad dwellings is sometimes blue with water hyacinths; next the water disappears beneath a maze of tall stalks, topped with a pink mist of lotus; then come floating lilies and more hyacinths. wherever there is sufficient clear water, the wonderful curve of a cocoanut palm is etched upon it, reflection meeting palm, to form a dendritic pattern unequaled in human devising. over a hut of rusty oil-cans, bougainvillia stretches its glowing branches, sometimes cerise, sometimes purple, or allamanders fill the air with a golden haze from their glowing search-lights, either hiding the huts altogether, or softening their details into picturesque ruins. i remember one coolie dwelling which was dirtier and less habitable than the meanest stable, and all around it were hundreds upon hundreds of frangipanni blooms--the white and gold temple flowers of the east--giving forth of scent and color all that a flower is capable, to alleviate the miserable blot of human construction. now and then a flamboyant tree comes into view, and as, at night, the head-lights of an approaching car eclipse all else, so this tree of burning scarlet draws eye and mind from adjacent human-made squalor. in all the tropics of the world i scarcely remember to have seen more magnificent color than in these unattended, wilful-grown gardens. in tropical cities such as georgetown, there are very beautiful private gardens, and the public one is second only to that of java. but for the most part one is as conscious of the very dreadful borders of brick, or bottles, or conchs, as of the flowers themselves. some one who is a master gardener will some day write of the possibilities of a tropical garden, which will hold the reader as does desire to behold the gardens of carcassonne itself. vi guinevere the mysterious again the guiana jungle comes wonderfully to the eye and mysteriously to the mind; again my khakis and sneakers are skin-comfortable; again i am squatted on a pleasant mat of leaves in a miniature gorge, miles back of my kartabo bungalow. life elsewhere has already become unthinkable. i recall a place boiling with worried people, rent with unpleasing sounds, and beset with unsatisfactory pleasures. in less than a year i shall long for a sight of these worried people, my ears will strain to catch the unpleasing sounds, and i shall plunge with joy into the unsatisfactory pleasures. to-day, however, all these have passed from mind, and i settle down another notch, head snuggled on knees, and sway, elephant-fashion, with sheer joy, as a musky, exciting odor comes drifting, apparently by its own volition, down through the windless little gorge. if i permit a concrete, scientific reaction, i must acknowledge the source to be a passing bug,--a giant bug,--related distantly to our malodorous northern squash-bug, but emitting a scent as different as orchids' breath from grocery garlic. but i accept this delicate volatility as simply another pastel-soft sense-impression--as an earnest of the worthy, smelly things of old jungles. there is no breeze, no slightest shift of air-particles; yet down the gorge comes this cloud,--a cloud unsensible except to nostrils,--eddying as if swirling around the edges of leaves, riding on the air as gently as the low, distant crooning of great, sleepy jungle doves. with two senses so perfectly occupied, sight becomes superfluous and i close my eyes. and straightway the scent and the murmur usurp my whole mind with a vivid memory. i am still squatting, but in a dark, fragrant room; and the murmur is still of doves; but the room is in the cool, still heart of the queen's golden monastery in northern burma, within storm-sound of tibet, and the doves are perched among the glitter and tinkling bells of the pagoda roofs. i am squatting very quietly, for i am tired, after photographing carved peacocks and junglefowl in the marvelous fretwork of the outer balconies, there are idols all about me--or so it would appear to a missionary; for my part, i can think only of the wonderful face of the old lama who sits near me, a face peaceful with the something for which most of us would desert what we are doing, if by that we could attain it. near him are two young priests, sitting as motionless as the buddha in front of them. after a half-hour of the strange thing that we call time, the lama speaks, very low and very; softly: "the surface of the mirror is clouded with a breath." out of a long silence one of the neophytes replies, "the mirror can be wiped clear." again the world becomes incense and doves,--in the silence and peace of that monastery, it may have been a few minutes or a decade,--and the second tibetan whispers, "there is no need to wipe the mirror." when i have left behind the world of inharmonious colors, of polluted waters, of soot-stained walls and smoke-tinged air, the green of jungle comes like a cooling bath of delicate tints and shades. i think of all the green things i have loved--of malachite in matrix and table-top; of jade, not factory-hewn baubles, but age-mellowed signets, fashioned by lovers of their craft, and seasoned by the toying yellow fingers of generations of forgotten chinese emperors--jade, as dunsany would say, of the exact shade of the right color. i think too, of dainty emerald scarves that are seen and lost in a flash at a dance; of the air-cooled, living green of curling breakers; of a lonely light that gleams to starboard of an unknown passing vessel, and of the transparent green of northern lights that flicker and play on winter nights high over the garish glare of broadway. now, in late afternoon, when i opened my eyes in the little gorge, the soft green vibrations merged insensibly with the longer waves of the doves' voices and with the dying odor. soon the green alone was dominant; and when i had finished thinking of pleasant, far-off green things, the wonderful emerald of my great tree-frog of last year came to mind,--gawain the mysterious,--and i wondered if i should ever solve his life. in front of me was a little jungle rainpool. at the base of the miniature precipice of the gorge, this pool was a thing of clay. it was milky in consistence, from the roiling of suspended clay; and when the surface caught a glint of light and reflected it, only the clay and mud walls about came to the eye. it was a very regular pool, a man's height in diameter, and, for all i knew, from two inches to two miles deep. i became absorbed in a sort of subaquatic mirage, in which i seemed to distinguish reflections beneath the surface. my eyes refocused with a jerk, and i realized that something had unconsciously been perceived by my rods and cones, and short-circuited to my duller brain. where a moment before was an unbroken translucent surface, were now thirteen strange beings who had appeared from the depths, and were mumbling oxygen with trembling lips. in days to come, through all the months, i should again and again be surprised and cheated and puzzled--all phases of delight in the beings who share the earth's life with me. this was one of the first of the year, and i stiffened into one large eye. i did not know whether they were fish, fairy shrimps, or frogs; i had never seen anything like them, and they were wholly unexpected. i so much desired to know what they were, that i sat quietly--as i enjoy keeping a treasured letter to the last, or reserving the frosting until the cake is eaten. it occurred to me that, had it not been for the kaiser, i might have been forbidden this mystery; a chain of occurrences: kaiser--war--submarines--glass-shortage for dreadnoughts--mica port-holes needed--guiana prospector--abandoned pits--rainy season--mysterious tenants--me! when i squatted by the side of the pool, no sign of life was visible. far up through the green foliage of the jungle i could see a solid ceiling of cloud, while beneath me the liquid clay of the pool was equally opaque and lifeless. as a seer watches the surface of his crystal ball, so i gazed at my six-foot circle of milky water. my shift forward was like the fall of a tree: it brought into existence about it a temporary circle of silence and fear--a circle whose periphery began at once to contract; and after a few minutes the gorge again accepted me as a part of its harmless self. a huge bee zoomed past, and just behind my head a hummingbird beat the air into a froth of sound, as vibrant as the richest tones of a cello. my concentrated interest seemed to become known to the life of the surrounding glade, and i was bombarded with sight, sound, and odor, as if on purpose to distract my attention. but i remained unmoved, and indications of rare and desirable beings passed unheeded. a flotilla of little water-striders came rowing themselves along, racing for a struggling ant which had fallen into the milky quicksand. these were in my line of vision, so i watched them for a while, letting the corner of my eye keep guard for the real aristocrats of the milky sea--whoever they were. my eye was close enough, my elevation sufficiently low to become one with the water-striders, and to become excited over the adventures of these little petrels; and in my absorption i almost forgot my chief quest. as soaring birds seem at times to rest against the very substance of cloud, as if upheld by some thin lift of air, so these insects glided as easily and skimmed as swiftly upon the surface film of water. i did not know even the genus of this tropical form; but insect taxonomists have been particularly happy in their given names--i recalled _hydrobates_, _aquarius_, and _remigis_. the spur-winged jacanas are very skilful in their dainty treading of water-lily leaves; but here were good-sized insects rowing about on the water itself. they supported themselves on the four hinder legs, rowing with the middle pair, and steering with the hinder ones, while the front limbs were held aloft ready for the seizing of prey. i watched three of them approach the ant, which was struggling to reach the shore, and the first to reach it hesitated not a moment, but leaped into the air from a take-off of mere aqueous surface film, landed full upon the drowning unfortunate, grasped it, and at the same instant gave a mighty sweep with its oars, to escape from its pursuing, envious companions. off went the twelve dimples, marking the aquatic footprints of the trio of striders; and as the bearer of the ant dodged one of its own kind, it was suddenly threatened by a small, jet submarine of a diving beetle. at the very moment when the pursuit was hottest, and it seemed anybody's ant, i looked aside, and the little water-bugs passed from my sight forever--for scattered over the surface were seven strange, mumbling mouths. close as i was, their nature still eluded me. at my slightest movement all vanished, not with the virile splash of a fish or the healthy roll and dip of a porpoise, but with a weird, vertical withdrawing--the seven dissolving into the milk to join their six fellows. this was sufficient to banish further meditative surmising, and i crept swiftly to a point of vantage, and with sweep-net awaited their reappearance. it was five minutes before faint, discolored spots indicated their rising, and at least two minutes more before they actually disturbed the surface. with eight or nine in view, i dipped quickly and got nothing. then i sank my net deeply and waited again. this time ten minutes passed, and then i swept deep and swiftly, and drew up the net with four flopping, struggling super-tadpoles. they struggled for only a moment, and then lay quietly waiting for what might be sent by the guardian of the fate of tadpoles--surely some quaint little god-relation of neptune, pan, and st. vitus. gently shunted into a glass jar, these surprising tads accepted the new environment with quiet philosophy; and when i reached the laboratory and transferred them again, they dignifiedly righted themselves in the swirling current, and hung in mid-aquarium, waiting--forever waiting. it was difficult to think of them as tadpoles, when the word brought to mind hosts of little black wrigglers filling puddles and swamps of our northern country. these were slow-moving, graceful creatures, partly transparent, partly reflecting every hue of the spectrum, with broad, waving scarlet and hyaline fins, and strange, fish-like mouths and eyes. their habits were as unpollywoglike as their appearance. i visited their micaceous pool again and again; and if i could have spent days instead of hours with them, no moment of ennui would have intervened. my acquaintanceship with tadpoles in the past had not aroused me to enthusiasm in the matter of their mental ability; as, for example, the inmates of the next aquarium to that of the redfins, where i kept a herd or brood or school of short-tailed blacks--pollywogs of the giant toad (_bufo marinus_). at earliest dawn they swam aimlessly about and mumbled; at high noon they mumbled and still swam; at midnight they refused to be otherwise occupied. it was possible to alarm them; but even while they fled they mumbled. in bodily form my redfins were fish, but mentally they had advanced a little beyond the usual tadpole train of reactions, reaching forward toward the varied activities of the future amphibian. one noticeable thing was their segregation, whether in the mica pools, or in two other smaller ones near by, in which i found them. each held a pure culture of redfins, and i found that this was no accident, but aided and enforced by the tads themselves. twice, while i watched them, i saw definite pursuit of an alien pollywog,--the larva of the scarlet-thighed leaf-walker (_phyllobates inguinalis_),--which fled headlong. the second time the attack was so persistent that the lesser tadpole leaped from the water, wriggled its way to a damp heap of leaves, and slipped down between them. for tadpoles to take such action as this was as reasonable as for an orchid to push a fellow blossom aside on the approach of a fertilizing hawk-moth. this momentary co-operation, and the concerted elimination of the undesired tadpole, affected me as the thought of the first consciousness of power of synchronous rhythm coming to ape men: it seemed a spark of tadpole genius--an adumbration of possibilities which now would end in the dull consciousness of the future frog, but which might, in past ages, have been a vital link in the development of an ancestral ereops. my redfins were assuredly no common tadpoles, and an intolerant pollywog offers worthy research for the naturalist. straining their medium of its opacity, i drew off the clayey liquid and replaced it with the clearer brown, wallaba-stained water of the mazaruni; and thereafter all their doings, all their intimacies, were at my mercy. i felt as must have felt the first aviator who flew unheralded over an oriental city, with its patios and house-roofs spread naked beneath him. it was on one of the early days of observation that an astounding thought came to me--before i had lost perspective in intensive watching, before familiarity had assuaged some of the marvel of these super-tadpoles. most of those in my jar were of a like size, just short of an inch; but one was much larger, and correspondingly gorgeous in color and graceful in movement. as she swept slowly past my line of vision, she turned and looked, first at me, then up at the limits of her world, with a slow deliberateness and a hint of expression which struck deep into my memory. green came to mind,--something clad in a smock of emerald, with a waist-coat of mother-of-pearl, and great sprawling arms,--and i found myself thinking of gawain, our mystery frog of a year ago, who came without warning, and withheld all the secrets of his life. and i glanced again at this super-tad,--as unlike her ultimate development as the grub is unlike the beetle,--and one of us exclaimed, "it is the same, or nearly, but more delicate, more beautiful; it must be guinevere." and so, probably for the first time in the world, there came to be a pet tadpole, one with an absurd name which will forever be more significant to us than the term applied by a forgotten herpetologist many years ago. and guinevere became known to all who had to do with the laboratory. her health and daily development and color-change were things to be inquired after and discussed; one of us watched her closely and made notes of her life, one painted every radical development of color and pattern, another photographed her, and another brought her delectable scum. she was waited upon as sedulously as a termite queen. and she rewarded us by living, which was all we asked. it is difficult for a diver to express his emotions on paper, and verbal arguments with a dentist are usually one-sided. so must the spirit of a tadpole suffer greatly from handicaps of the flesh. a mumbling mouth and an uncontrollable, flagellating tail, connected by a pinwheel of intestine, are scant material wherewith to attempt new experiments, whereon to nourish aspirations. yet the redfins, as typified by guinevere, have done both, and given time enough, they may emulate or surpass the achievements of larval axolotls, or the astounding egg-producing maggots of certain gnats, thus realizing all the possibilities of froghood while yet cribbed within the lowly casing of a pollywog. in the first place guinevere had ceased being positively thigmotactic, and, writing as a technical herpetologist, i need add no more. in fact, all my readers, whether batrachologists or casuals, will agree that this is an unheard-of achievement. but before i loosen the technical etymology and become casually more explicit, let me hold this term in suspense a moment, as i once did, fascinated by the sheer sound of the syllables, as they first came to my ears years ago in a university lecture. there is that of possibility in being positively thigmotactic which makes one dread the necessity of exposing and limiting its meaning, of digging down to its mathematically accurate roots. it could never be called a flower of speech: it is an over-ripe fruit rather: heavy-stoned, thin-fleshed--an essentially practical term. it is eminently suited to its purpose, and so widely used that my friend the editor must accept it; not looking askance as he did at my definition of a vampire as a vespertilial anæsthetist, or breaking into open but wholly ineffectual rebellion, at the past tense of the verb to candelabra. i admit that the conjugation i candelabra you candelabra he candelabras arouses a ripple of confusion in the mind; but it is far more important to use words than to parse them, anyway, so i acclaim perfect clarity for "the fireflies candelabraed the trees!" not to know the precise meaning of being positively thigmotactic is a stimulant to the imagination, which opens the way to an entire essay on the disadvantages of education--a thought once strongly aroused by the glorious red-and-gold hieroglyphic signs of the peking merchants--signs which have always thrilled me more than the utmost efforts of our modern psychological advertisers. having crossed unconsciously by such a slender etymological bridge from my jungle tadpole to china, it occurs to me that the chinese are the most positively thigmotactic people in the world. i have walked through block after block of subterranean catacombs, beneath city streets which were literally packed full of humanity, and i have seen hot mud pondlets along the min river wholly eclipsed by shivering chinamen packed sardinewise, twenty or thirty in layers, or radiating like the spokes of a great wheel which has fallen into the mud. from my brood of short-tailed blacks, a half-dozen tadpoles wandered off now and then, each scum-mumbling by himself. shortly his positivism asserted itself and back he wriggled, twisting in and out of the mass of his fellows, or at the approach of danger nuzzling into the dead leaves at the bottom, content only with the feeling of something pressing against his sides and tail. his physical make-up, simple as it is, has proved perfectly adapted to this touch system of life: flat-bottomed, with rather narrow, paddle-shaped tail-fins which, beginning well back of the body, interfere in no way with the pollywog's instincts, he can thigmotact to his heart's content. his eyes are also adapted to looking upward, discerning dimly dangers from above, and whatever else catches the attention of a bottom-loving pollywog. his mouth is well below, as best suits bottom mumbling. compared with these _polloi_ pollywogs, redfins were as hummingbirds to quail. their very origin was unique; for while the toad tadpoles wriggled their way free from egg gelatine deposited in the water itself, the redfins were literally rained down. within a folded leaf the parents left the eggs--a leaf carefully chosen as overhanging a suitable ditch, or pit, or puddle. if all signs of weather and season failed and a sudden drought set in, sap would dry, leaf would shrivel, and the pitiful gamble for life of the little jungle frogs would be lost; the spoonful of froth would collapse bubble by bubble, and, finally, a thin dry film on the brown leaf would in turn vanish, and guinevere and her companions would never have been. but untold centuries of unconscious necessity have made these tree-frogs infallible weather prophets, and the liberating rain soon sifted through the jungle foliage. in the streaming drops which funneled from the curled leaf, tadpole after tadpole hurtled downward and splashed headlong into the water; their parents and the rain and gravitation had performed their part, and from now on fate lay with the super-tads themselves--except when a passing naturalist brought new complications, new demands of karma, as strange and unpredictable as if from another planet or universe. only close examination showed that these were tadpoles, not fish, judged by the staring eyes, and broad fins stained above and below with orange-scarlet--colors doomed to oblivion in the native, milky waters, but glowing brilliantly in my aquarium. although they were provided with such an expanse of fin, the only part used for ordinary progression was the extreme tip, a mere threadlike streamer, which whipped in never-ending spirals, lashing forward, backward, and sideways. so rapid was this motion, and so short the flagellum, that the tadpole did not even tremble or vibrate as it moved, but forged steadily onward, without a tremor. the head was buffy yellow, changing to bittersweet orange back of the eyes and on the gills. the body was dotted with a host of minute specks of gold and silver. on the sides and below, this gave place to a rich bronze, and then to a clear, iridescent silvery blue. the eye proper was silvery white, but the upper part of the eyeball fairly glowed with color. in front it was jet black flecked with gold, merging behind into a brilliant blue. yet this patch of jeweled tissue was visible only rarely as the tadpole turned forward, and in the opaque liquid of the mica pool must have ever been hidden. and even if plainly seen, of what use was a shred of rainbow to a sexless tadpole in the depths of a shady pool! with high-arched fins, beginning at neck and throat, body compressed as in a racing yacht, there could be no bottom life for guinevere. whenever she touched a horizontal surface,--whether leaf or twig,--she careened; when she sculled through a narrow passage in the floating algæ, her fins bent and rippled as they were pressed bodywards. so she and her fellow brood lived in mid-aquarium, or at most rested lightly against stem or glass, suspended by gentle suction of the complex mouth. once, when i inserted a long streamer of delicate water-weed, it remained upright, like some strange tree of carboniferous memory. after an hour i found this the perching-place of fourteen redfin tads, and at the very summit was guinevere. the rest were arranged nearly in altitudinal size--two large tadpoles being close below guinevere, and a bevy of six tiny chaps lowest down. all were lightly poised, swaying in mid-water, at a gently sloping angle, like some unheard-of, orange-stained, aquatic autumn foliage. for two weeks guinevere remained almost as i have described her, gaining slightly in size, but with little alteration of color or pattern. then came the time of the great change: we felt it to be imminent before any outward signs indicated its approach. and for four more days there was no hint except the sudden growth of the hind legs. from tiny dangling appendages with minute toes and indefinite knees, they enlarged and bent, and became miniature but perfect frog's limbs. she had now reached a length of two inches, and her delicate colors and waving fins made her daily more marvelous. the strange thing about the hind limbs was that, although so large and perfect, they were quite useless. they could not even be unflexed; and other mere pollywogs near by were wriggling toes, calves, and thighs while yet these were but imperfect buds. when she dived suddenly, the toes occasionally moved a little; but as a whole, they merely sagged and drifted like some extraneous things entangled in the body. smoothly and gracefully guinevere moved about the aquarium. her gills lifted and closed rhythmically--twice as slowly as compared with the three or four times every second of her breathless young tadpolehood. several times on the fourteenth day, she came quietly to the surface for a gulp of air. looking at her from above, two little bulges were visible on either side of the body--the ensheathed elbows pressing outward. twice, when she lurched forward in alarm, i saw these front limbs jerk spasmodically; and when she was resting quietly, they rubbed and pushed impatiently against their mittened tissue. and now began a restless shifting, a slow, strange dance in mid-water, wholly unlike any movement of her smaller companions; up and down, slowly revolving on oblique planes, with rhythmical turns and sinkings--this continued for an hour, when i was called for lunch. and as if to punish me for this material digression and desertion, when i returned, in half an hour, the miracle had happened. guinevere still danced in stately cadence, with the other redfins at a distance going about their several businesses. she danced alone--a dance of change, of happenings of tremendous import, of symbolism as majestic as it was age-old. here in this little glass aquarium the tadpole guinevere had just freed her arms--she, with waving scarlet fins, watching me with lidless white and staring eyes, still with fish-like, fin-bound body. she danced upright, with new-born arms folded across her breast, tail-tip flagellating frenziedly, stretching long fingers with disks like cymbals, reaching out for the land she had never trod, limbs flexed for leaps she had never made. a few days before and guinevere had been a fish, then a helpless biped, and now suddenly, somewhere between my salad and coffee, she became an aquatic quadruped. strangest of all, her hands were mobile, her feet useless; and when the dance was at an end, and she sank slowly to the bottom, she came to rest on the very tips of her two longest fingers; her legs and toes still drifting high and useless. just before she ceased, her arms stretched out right froggily, her weird eyes rolled about, and she gulped a mighty gulp of the strange thin medium that covered the surface of her liquid home. at midnight of this same day only three things existed in the world--on my table i turned from the _bhagavad-gita_ to drinkwater's _reverie_ and back again; then i looked up to the jar of clear water and watched guinevere hovering motionless. at six the next morning she was crouched safely on a bit of paper a foot from the aquarium. she had missed the open window, the four-foot drop to the floor, and a neighboring aquarium stocked with voracious fish: surely the gods of pollywogs were kind to me. the great fins were gone--dissolved into blobs of dull pink; the tail was a mere stub, the feet drawn close, and a glance at her head showed that guinevere had become a frog almost within an hour. three things i hastened to observe: the pupils of her eyes were vertical, revealing her genus _phyllomedusa_ (making apt our choice of the feminine); by a gentle urging i saw that the first and second toes were equal in length; and a glance at her little humped back showed a scattering of white calcareous spots, giving the clue to her specific personality--_bicolor_: thus were we introduced to _phyllomedusa bicolor_, alias guinevere, and thus was established beyond doubt her close relationship to gawain. during that first day, within three hours, during most of which i watched her closely, guinevere's change in color was beyond belief. for an hour she leaped from time to time; but after that, and for the rest of her life, she crept in strange unfroglike fashion, raised high on all four limbs, with her stubby tail curled upward, and reaching out one weird limb after another. if one's hand approached within a foot, she saw it and stretched forth appealing, skinny fingers. at two o'clock she was clad in a general cinnamon buff; then a shade of glaucous green began to creep over head and upper eyelids, onward over her face, finally coloring body and limbs. beneath, the little pollyfrog fairly glowed with bright apricot orange, throat and tail amparo purple, mouth green, and sides rich pale blue. to this maze of color we must add a strange, new expression, born of the prominent eyes, together with the line of the mouth extending straight back with a final jeering, upward lift; in front, the lower lip thick and protruding, which, with the slanting eyes, gave a leering, devilish smirk, while her set, stiff, exact posture compelled a vivid thought of the sphinx. never have i seen such a remarkable combination. it fascinated us. we looked at guinevere, and then at the tadpoles swimming quietly in their tank, and evolution in its wildest conceptions appeared a tame truism. this was the acme of guinevere's change, the pinnacle of her development. thereafter her transformations were rhythmical, alternating with the day and night. through the nights of activity she was garbed in rich, warm brown. with the coming of dawn, as she climbed slowly upward, her color shifted through chestnut to maroon; this maroon then died out on the mid-back to a delicate, dull violet-blue, which in turn became obscured in the sunlight by turquoise, which crept slowly along the sides. carefully and laboriously she clambered up, up to the topmost frond, and there performed her little toilet, scraping head and face with her hands, passing the hinder limbs over her back to brush off every grain of sand. the eyes had meanwhile lost their black-flecked, golden, nocturnal iridescence, and had gradually paled to a clear silvery blue, while the great pupil of darkness narrowed to a slit. little by little her limbs and digits were drawn in out of sight, and the tiny jeweled being crouched low, hoping for a day of comfortable clouds, a little moisture, and a swift passage of time to the next period of darkness, when it was fitting and right for guineveres to seek their small meed of sustenance, to grow to frog's full estate, and to fulfil as well as might be what destiny the jungle offered. to unravel the meaning of it all is beyond even attempting. the breath of mist ever clouds the mirror, and only as regards a tiny segment of the life-history of guinevere can i say, "there is no need to wipe the mirror." vii a jungle labor-union pterodactyl pups led me to the wonderful attas--the most astounding of the jungle labor-unions. we were all sitting on the mazaruni bank, the night before the full moon, immediately in front of my british guiana laboratory. all the jungle was silent in the white light, with now and then the splash of a big river fish. on the end of the bench was the monosyllabic scot, who ceased the exquisite painting of mora buttresses and jungle shadows only for the equal fascination of searching bats for parasites. then the great physician, who had come six thousand miles to peer into the eyes of birds and lizards in my dark-room, working with a gentle hypnotic manner that made the little beings seem to enjoy the experience. on my right sat an army captain, who had given more thought to the possible secrets of french chaffinches than to the approaching barrage. there was also the artist, who could draw a lizard's head like a japanese print, but preferred to depict impressionistic laocoön roots. these and others sat with me on the long bench and watched the moonpath. the conversation had begun with possible former life on the moon, then shifted to conan doyle's _the lost world_, based on the great roraima plateau, a hundred and fifty miles west of where we were sitting. then we spoke of the amusing world-wide rumor, which had started no one knows how, that i had recently discovered a pterodactyl. one delightful result of this had been a letter from a little english girl, which would have made a worthy chapter-subject for _dream days_. for years she and her little sister had peopled a wood near her home with pterodactyls, but had somehow never quite seen one; and would i tell her a little about them--whether they had scales, or made nests; so that those in the wood might be a little easier to recognize. when strange things are discussed for a long time, in the light of a tropical moon, at the edge of a dark, whispering jungle, the mind becomes singularly imaginative and receptive; and, as i looked through powerful binoculars at the great suspended globe, the dead craters and precipices became very vivid and near. suddenly, without warning, there flapped into my field, a huge shapeless creature. it was no bird, and there was nothing of the bat in its flight--the wings moved with steady rhythmical beats, and drove it straight onward. the wings were skinny, the body large and of a pale ashy hue. for a moment i was shaken. one of the others had seen it, and he, too, did not speak, but concentrated every sense into the end of the little tubes. by the time i had begun to find words, i realized that a giant fruit bat had flown from utter darkness across my line of sight; and by close watching we soon saw others. but for a very few seconds these pterodactyl pups, as i nicknamed them, gave me all the thrill of a sudden glimpse into the life of past ages. the last time i had seen fruit bats was in the gardens of perideniya, ceylon. i had forgotten that they occurred in guiana, and was wholly unprepared for the sight of bats a yard across, with a heron's flight, passing high over the mazaruni in the moonlight. the talk ended on the misfortune of the configuration of human anatomy, which makes sky-searching so uncomfortable a habit. this outlook was probably developed to a greater extent during the war than ever before; and i can remember many evenings in paris and london when a sinister half-moon kept the faces of millions turned searchingly upward. but whether in city or jungle, sky-scanning is a neck-aching affair. the following day my experience with the pterodactyl pups was not forgotten, and as a direct result of looking out for soaring vultures and eagles, with hopes of again seeing a white-plumaged king and the regal harpy, i caught sight of a tiny mote high up in mid-sky. i thought at first it was a martin or swift; but it descended, slowly spiraling, and became too small for any bird. with a final, long, descending curve, it alighted in the compound of our bungalow laboratory and rested quietly--a great queen of the leaf-cutting attas returning from her marriage flight. after a few minutes she stirred, walked a few steps, cleaned her antennæ, and searched nervously about on the sand. a foot away was a tiny sprig of indigo, the offspring of some seed planted two or three centuries ago by a thrifty dutchman. in the shade of its three leaves the insect paused, and at once began scraping at the sand with her jaws. she loosened grain after grain, and as they came free they were moistened, agglutinated, and pressed back against her forelegs. when at last a good-sized ball was formed, she picked it up, turned around and, after some fussy indecision, deposited it on the sand behind her. then she returned to the very shallow, round depression, and began to gather a second ball. i thought of the first handful of sand thrown out for the base of cheops, of the first brick placed in position for the great wall, of a fresh-cut trunk, rough-hewn and squared for a log-cabin on manhattan; of the first shovelful of earth flung out of the line of the panama canal. yet none seemed worthy of comparison with even what little i knew of the significance of this ant's labor, for this was earnest of what would make trivial the engineering skill of egyptians, of chinese patience, of municipal pride and continental schism. imagine sawing off a barn-door at the top of a giant sequoia, growing at the bottom of the grand cañon, and then, with five or six children clinging to it, descending the tree, and carrying it up the cañon walls against a subway rush of rude people, who elbowed and pushed blindly against you. this is what hundreds of leaf-cutting ants accomplish daily, when cutting leaves from a tall bush, at the foot of the bank near the laboratory. there are three dominant labor-unions in the jungle, all social insects, two of them ants, never interfering with each other's field of action, and all supremely illustrative of conditions resulting from absolute equality, free-and-equalness, communalism, socialism carried to the (forgive me!) anth power. the army ants are carnivorous, predatory, militant nomads; the termites are vegetarian scavengers, sedentary, negative and provincial; the attas, or leaf-cutting ants, are vegetarians, active and dominant, and in many ways the most interesting of all. the casual observer becomes aware of them through their raids upon gardens; and indeed the attas are a very serious menace to agriculture in many parts of the tropics, where their nests, although underground, may be as large as a house and contain millions of individuals. while their choice among wild plants is exceedingly varied, it seems that there are certain things they will not touch; but when any human-reared flower, vegetable, shrub, vine, or tree is planted, the attas rejoice, and straightway desert the native vegetation to fall upon the newcomers. their whims and irregular feeding habits make it difficult to guard against them. they will work all round a garden for weeks, perhaps pass through it _en route_ to some tree that they are defoliating, and then suddenly, one night, every atta in the world seems possessed with a desire to work havoc, and at daylight the next morning, the garden looks like winter stubble--a vast expanse of stems and twigs, without a single remaining leaf. volumes have been written, and a whole chemist's shop of deadly concoctions devised, for combating these ants, and still they go steadily on, gathering leaves which, as we shall see, they do not even use for food. although essentially a tropical family, attas have pushed as far north as new jersey, where they make a tiny nest, a few inches across, and bring to it bits of pine needles. in a jungle baedeker, we should double-star these insects, and paragraph them as "_atta_, named by fabricius in 1804; the kartabo species, _cephalotes_; leaf-cutting or cushie or parasol ants; very abundant. _atta_, a subgenus of _atta_, which is a genus of _attii_, which is a tribe of _myrmicinæ_, which is a subfamily of _formicidæ_," etc. with a feeling of slightly greater intimacy, of mental possession, we set out, armed with a name of one hundred and seventeen years' standing, and find a big atta worker carving away at a bit of leaf, exactly as his ancestors had done for probably one hundred and seventeen thousand years. we gently lift him from his labor, and a drop of chloroform banishes from his ganglia all memory of the hundred thousand years of pruning. under the lens his strange personality becomes manifest, and we wonder whether the old danish zoölogist had in mind the slender toe-tips which support him, or in a chuckling mood made him a namesake of c. quintius atta. a close-up shows a very comic little being, encased in a prickly, chestnut-colored armor, which should make him fearless in a den of a hundred anteaters. the front view of his head is a bit mephistophelian, for it is drawn upward into two horny spines; but the side view recalls a little girl with her hair brushed very tightly up and back from her face. the connection between atta and the world about him is furnished by this same head: two huge, flail-shaped antennæ arching up like aerial, detached eyebrows--vehicles, through their golden pile, of senses which foil our most delicate tests. outside of these are two little shoe-button eyes; and we are not certain whether they reflect to the head ganglion two or three hundred bits of leaf, or one large mosaic leaf. below all is swung the pair of great scythes, so edged and hung that they can function as jaws, rip-saws, scissors, forceps, and clamps. the thorax, like the head of a titanothere, bears three pairs of horns--a great irregular expanse of tumbled, rock-like skin and thorn, a foundation for three pairs of long legs, and sheltering somewhere in its heart a thread of ant-life; finally, two little pedicels lead to a rounded abdomen, smaller than the head. this third-of-an-inch is a worker atta to the physical eye; and if we catch another, or ten, or ten million, we find that some are small, others much larger, but that all are cast in the same mold, all indistinguishable except, perhaps, to the shoe-button eyes. when a worker has traveled along the atta trails, and has followed the temporary mob-instinct and climbed bush or tree, the same irresistible force drives him out upon a leaf. here, apparently, instinct slightly loosens its hold, and he seems to become individual for a moment, to look about, and to decide upon a suitable edge or corner of green leaf. but even in this he probably has no choice. at any rate, he secures a good hold and sinks his jaws into the tissue. standing firmly on the leaf, he measures his distance by cutting across a segment of a circle, with one of his hind feet as a center. this gives a very true curve, and provides a leaf-load of suitable size. he does not scissor his way across, but bit by bit sinks the tip of one jaw, hook-like, into the surface, and brings the other up to it, slicing through the tissue with surprising ease. he stands upon the leaf, and i always expect to see him cut himself and his load free, irishman-wise. but one or two of his feet have invariably secured a grip on the plant, sufficient to hold him safely. even if one or two of his fellows are at work farther down the leaf, he has power enough in his slight grip to suspend all until they have finished and clambered up over him with their loads. holding his bit of leaf edge-wise, he bends his head down as far as possible, and secures a strong purchase along the very rim. then, as he raises his head, the leaf rises with it, suspended high over his back, out of the way. down the stem or tree-trunk he trudges, head first, fighting with gravitation, until he reaches the ground. after a few feet, or, measured by his stature, several hundred yards, his infallible instinct guides him around pebble boulders, mossy orchards, and grass jungles to a specially prepared path. thus in words, in sentences, we may describe the cutting of a single leaf; but only in the imagination can we visualize the cell-like or crystal-like duplication of this throughout all the great forests of guiana and of south america. as i write, a million jaws snip through their stint; as you read, ten million attas begin on new bits of leaf. and all in silence and in dim light, legions passing along the little jungle roads, unending lines of trembling banners, a political parade of ultra socialism, a procession of chlorophyll floats illustrating unreasoning unmorality, a fairy replica of "birnam forest come to dunsinane." in their leaf-cutting, attas have mastered mass, but not form. i have never seen one cut off a piece too heavy to carry, but many a hard-sliced bit has had to be deserted because of the configuration of the upper edge. on almost any trail, an ant can be found with a two-inch stem of grass, attempting to pass under a twig an inch overhead. after five or ten minutes of pushing, backing, and pulling, he may accidentally march off to one side, or reach up and climb over; but usually he drops his burden. his little works have been wound up, and set at the mark "home"; and though he has now dropped the prize for which he walked a dozen ant-miles, yet any idea of cutting another stem, or of picking up a slice of leaf from those lying along the trail, never occurs to him. he sets off homeward, and if any emotion of sorrow, regret, disappointment, or secret relief troubles his ganglia, no trace of it appears in antennæ, carriage, or speed. i can very readily conceive of his trudging sturdily all the way back to the nest, entering it, and going to the place where he would have dumped his load, having fulfilled his duty in the spirit at least. then, if there comes a click in his internal time-clock, he may set out upon another quest--more cabined, cribbed, and confined than any member of a cook's tourist party. i once watched an ant with a piece of leaf which had a regular shepherd's crook at the top, and if his adventures of fifty feet could have been caught on a moving-picture film, charlie chaplin would have had an arthropod rival. it hooked on stems and pulled its bearer off his feet, it careened and ensnared the leaves of other ants, at one place mixing up with half a dozen. a big thistledown became tangled in it, and well-nigh blew away with leaf and all; hardly a foot of his path was smooth-going. but he persisted, and i watched him reach the nest, after two hours of tugging and falling and interference with traffic. occasionally an ant will slip in crossing a twiggy crevasse, and his leaf become tightly wedged. after sprawling on his back and vainly clawing at the air for a while, he gets up, brushes off his antennæ, and sets to work. for fifteen minutes i have watched an atta in this predicament, stodgily endeavoring to lift his leaf while standing on it at the same time. the equation of push equaling pull is fourth dimensional to the attas. with all this terrible expenditure of energy, the activities of these ants are functional within very narrow limits. the blazing sun causes them to drop their burdens and flee for home; a heavy wind frustrates them, for they cannot reef. when a gale arises and sweeps an exposed portion of the trail, their only resource is to cut away all sail and heave it overboard. a sudden downpour reduces a thousand banners and waving, bright-colored petals to débris, to be trodden under foot. sometimes, after a ten-minute storm, the trails will be carpeted with thousands of bits of green mosaic, which the outgoing hordes will trample in their search for more leaves. on a dark night little seems to be done; but at dawn and dusk, and in the moonlight or clear starlight, the greatest activity is manifest. attas are such unpalatable creatures that they are singularly free from dangers. there is a tacit armistice between them and the other labor-unions. the army ants occasionally make use of their trails when they are deserted; but when the two great races of ants meet, each antennæs the aura of the other, and turns respectfully aside. when termites wish to traverse an atta trail, they burrow beneath it, or build a covered causeway across, through which they pass and repass at will, and over which the attas trudge, uncaring and unconscious of its significance. only creatures with the toughest of digestions would dare to include these prickly, strong-jawed, meatless insects in a bill of fare. now and then i have found an ani, or black cuckoo, with a few in its stomach: but an ani can swallow a stinging-haired caterpillar and enjoy it. the most consistent feeder upon attas is the giant marine toad. two hundred attas in a night is not an uncommon meal, the exact number being verifiable by a count of the undigested remains of heads and abdomens. _bufo marinus_ is the gardener's best friend in this tropic land, and besides, he is a gentleman and a philosopher, if ever an amphibian was one. while the cutting of living foliage is the chief aim in life of these ants, yet they take advantage of the flotsam and jetsam along the shore, and each low tide finds a column from some nearby nest salvaging flowerets, leaves, and even tiny berries. a sudden wash of tide lifts a hundred ants with their burdens and then sets them down again, when they start off as if nothing had happened. the paths or trails of the attas represent very remarkable feats of engineering, and wind about through jungle and glade for surprising distances. i once traced a very old and wide trail for well over two hundred yards. taking little third-of-an-inch for a type (although he would rank as a rather large atta), and comparing him with a six-foot man, we reckon this trail, ant-ratio, as a full twenty-five miles. belt records a leaf-cutter's trail half a mile long, which would mean that every ant that went out, cut his tiny bit of leaf, and returned, would traverse a distance of a hundred and sixteen miles. this was an extreme; but our atta may take it for granted, speaking antly, that once on the home trail, he has, at the least, four or five miles ahead of him. the atta roads are clean swept, as straight as possible, and very conspicuous in the jungle. the chief high-roads leading from very large nests are a good foot across, and the white sand of their beds is visible a long distance away. i once knew a family of opossums living in a stump in the center of a dense thicket. when they left at evening, they always climbed along as far as an atta trail, dropped down to it, and followed it for twenty or thirty yards. during the rains i have occasionally found tracks of agoutis and deer in these roads. so it would be very possible for the attas to lay the foundation for an animal trail, and this, _à la_ calf-path, for the street of a future city. the part that scent plays in the trails is evidenced if we scatter an inch or two of fresh sand across the road. a mass of ants banks against the strange obstruction on both sides, on the one hand a solid phalanx of waving green banners, and on the other a mob of empty-jawed workers with wildly waving antennæ. scouts from both sides slowly wander forward, and finally reach one another and pass across. but not for ten minutes does anything like regular traffic begin again. when carrying a large piece of leaf, and traveling at a fair rate of speed, the ants average about a foot in ten seconds, although many go the same distance in five. i tested the speed of an atta, and then i saw that its leaf seemed to have a peculiar-shaped bug upon it, and picked it up with its bearer. finding the blemish to be only a bit of fungus, i replaced it. half an hour later i was seated by a trail far away, when suddenly my ant with the blemished spot appeared. it was unmistakable, for i had noticed that the spot was exactly that of the egyptian symbol of life. i paced the trail, and found that seventy yards away it joined the spot where i had first seen my friend. so, with occasional spurts, he had done two hundred and ten feet in thirty minutes, and this in spite of the fact that he had picked up a supercargo. two parts of hydrogen and one of oxygen, under the proper stimulus, invariably result in water; two and two, considered calmly and without passion, combine into four; the workings of instinct, especially in social insects, is so mechanical that its results can almost be demonstrated in formula; and yet here was my atta leaf-carrier burdened with a minim. the worker attas vary greatly in size, as a glance at a populous trail will show. they have been christened _macrergates, desmergates_ and _micrergates_; or we may call the largest maxims, the average middle class mediums, and the tiny chaps minims, and all have more or less separate functions in the ecology of the colony. the minims are replicas in miniature of the big chaps, except that their armor is pale cinnamon rather than chestnut. although they can bite ferociously, they are too small to cut through leaves, and they have very definite duties in the nest; yet they are found with every leaf-cutting gang, hastening along with their larger brethren, but never doing anything, that i could detect, at their journey's end. i have a suspicion that the little minims, who are very numerous, function as light cavalry; for in case of danger they are as eager at attack as the great soldiers, and the leaf-cutters, absorbed in their arduous labor, would benefit greatly from the immunity ensured by a flying corps of their little bulldog comrades. i can readily imagine that these nestling minims become weary and foot-sore (like bank-clerks guarding a reservoir), and if instinct allows such abominable individuality, they must often wish themselves back at the nest, for every mile of a medium is three miles to them. here is where our mechanical formula breaks down; for, often, as many as one in every five leaves that pass bears aloft a minim or two, clinging desperately to the waving leaf and getting a free ride at the expense of the already overburdened medium. ten is the extreme number seen, but six to eight minims collected on a single leaf is not uncommon. several times i have seen one of these little banner-riders shift deftly from leaf to leaf, when a swifter carrier passed by, as a circus bareback rider changes steeds at full gallop. once i saw enacted above ground, and in the light of day, something which may have had its roots in an _anlage_ of divine discontent. if i were describing the episode half a century ago, i should entitle it, "the battle of the giants, or emotion enthroned." a quadruple line of leaf-carriers was disappearing down a hole in front of the laboratory, bumped and pushed by an out-pouring, empty-jawed mass of workers. as i watched them, i became aware of an area of great excitement beyond the hole. getting down as nearly as possible to ant height, i witnessed a terrible struggle. two giants--of the largest soldier maxim caste--were locked in each other's jaws, and to my horror, i saw that each had lost his abdomen. the antennæ and the abdomen petiole are the only vulnerable portions of an atta, and long after he has lost these apparently dispensable portions of his anatomy, he is able to walk, fight, and continue an active but erratic life. these mighty-jawed fellows seem never to come to the surface unless danger threatens; and my mind went down into the black, musty depths, where it is the duty of these soldiers to walk about and wait for trouble. what could have raised the ire of such stolid neuters against one another? was it sheer lack of something to do? or was there a cell or two of the winged caste lying fallow within their bodies, which, stirring at last, inspired a will to battle, a passing echo of romance, of the activities of the male atta? their unnatural combat had stirred scores of smaller workers to the highest pitch of excitement. now and then, out of the mêlée, a medium would emerge, with a tiny minim in his jaws. one of these carried his still living burden many feet away, along an unused trail, and dropped it. i examined the small ant, and found that it had lost an antenna, and its body was crushed. when the ball of fighters cleared, twelve small ants were seen clinging to the legs and heads of the mutilated giants, and now and then these would loosen their hold on each other, turn, and crush one of their small tormenters. several times i saw a medium rush up and tear a small ant away, apparently quite insane with excitement. occasionally the least exhausted giant would stagger to his four and a half remaining legs, hoist his assailant, together with a mass of the midgets, high in air, and stagger for a few steps, before falling beneath the onrush of new attackers. it made me wish to help the great insect, who, for aught i knew, was doomed because he was different--because he had dared to be an individual. i left them struggling there, and half an hour later, when i returned, the episode was just coming to a climax. my atta hero was exerting his last strength, flinging off the pile that assaulted him, fighting all the easier because of the loss of his heavy body. he lurched forward, dragging the second giant, now dead, not toward the deserted trail or the world of jungle around him, but headlong into the lines of stupid leaf-carriers, scattering green leaves and flower-petals in all directions. only when dozens of ants threw themselves upon him, many of them biting each other in their wild confusion, did he rear up for the last time, and, with the whole mob, rolled down into the yawning mouth of the atta nesting-hole, disappearing from view, and carrying with him all those hurrying up the steep sides. it was a great battle. i was breathing fast with sympathy, and whatever his cause, i was on his side. the next day both giants were lying on the old, disused trail; the revolt against absolute democracy was over; ten thousand ants passed to and fro without a dissenting thought, or any thought, and the spirit of the attas was content. viii the attas at home clambering through white, pasty mud which stuck to our boots by the pound, peering through bitter cold mist which seemed but a thinner skim of mud, drenched by flurries of icy drops shaken from the atmosphere by a passing moan and a crash, breathing air heavy with a sweet, horrible, penetrating odor--such was the world as it existed for an hour one night, while i and the commandant of _douaumont_ wandered about completely lost, on the top of his own fort. we finally stumbled on the little grated opening through which the lookout peered unceasingly over the landscape of mud. the mist lifted and we rediscovered the cave-like entrance, watched for a moment the ominous golden dumb-bells rising from the premier ligne, scraped our boots on a german helmet and went down again into the strangest sanctuary in the world. this was the vision which flashed through my mind as i began vigil at an enormous nest of attas--the leaf-cutting ants of the british guiana jungle. in front of me was a glade, about thirty feet across, devoid of green growth, and filled with a great irregular expanse of earth and mud. relative to the height of the attas, my six feet must seem a good half mile, and from this height i looked down and saw again the same inconceivably sticky clay of france. there were the rain-washed gullies, the half-roofed entrances to the vast underground fortresses, clean-swept, perfect roads, as efficient as the arteries of verdun, flapping dead leaves like the omnipresent, worn-out scare-crows of camouflage, and over in one corner, to complete the simile, were a dozen shell-holes, the homes of voracious ant-lions, which, for passing insects, were unexploded mines, set at hair trigger. my atta city was only two hundred feet away from the laboratory, in fairly high jungle, within sound of the dinner triangle, and of the lapping waves on the mazaruni shore. to sit near by and concentrate solely upon the doings of these ant people, was as easy as watching a single circus ring of performing elephants, while two more rings, a maze of trapezes, a race track and side-shows were in full swing. the jungle around me teemed with interesting happenings and distracting sights and sounds. the very last time i visited the nest and became absorbed in a line of incoming ants, i heard the shrill squeaking of an angry hummingbird overhead. i looked up, and there, ten feet above, was a furry tamandua anteater slowly climbing a straight purpleheart trunk, while around and around his head buzzed and swore the little fury--a pinch of cinnamon feathers, ablaze with rage. the curved claws of the unheeding anteater fitted around the trunk and the strong prehensile tail flattened against the bark, so that the creature seemed to put forth no more exertion than if walking along a fallen log. now and then it stopped and daintily picked at a bit of termite nest. with such side-shows it was sometimes difficult to concentrate on the attas. yet they offered problems for years of study. the glade was a little world in itself, with visitors and tenants, comedy and tragedy, sounds and silences. it was an ant-made glade, with all new growths either choked by upflung, earthen hillocks, or leaves bitten off as soon as they appeared. the casual visitors were the most conspicuous, an occasional trogon swooping across--a glowing, feathered comet of emerald, azurite and gold; or, slowly drifting in and out among the vines and coming to rest with waving wings, a yellow and red spotted ithomiid,--or was it a heliconiid or a danaiid?--with such bewildering models and marvelous mimics it was impossible to tell without capture and close examination. giant, purple tarantula-hawks hummed past, scanning the leaves for their prey. another class of glade haunters were those who came strictly on business,--plasterers and sculptors, who found wet clay ready to their needs. great golden and rufous bees blundered down and gouged out bucketsful of mud; while slender-bodied, dainty, ebony wasps, after much fastidious picking of place, would detach a tiny bit of the whitest clay, place it in their snuff-box holder, clean their feet and antennæ, run their rapier in and out and delicately take to wing. little black trigonid bees had their special quarry, a small deep valley in the midst of a waste of interlacing bad lands, on the side of a precipitous butte. here they picked and shoveled to their hearts' content, plastering their thighs until their wings would hardly lift them. they braced their feet, whirred, lifted unevenly, and sank back with a jar. then turning, they bit off a piece of ballast, and heaving it over the precipice, swung off on an even keel. close examination of some of the craters and volcanic-like cones revealed many species of ants, beetles and roaches searching for bits of food--the scavengers of this small world. but the most interesting were the actual parasites, flies of many colors and sizes, humming past like little planes and zeppelins over this hidden city, ready to drop a bomb in the form of an egg deposited on the refuse heaps or on the ants themselves. the explosion might come slowly, but it would be none the less deadly. once i detected a hint of the complexity of the glade life--beautiful metallic green flies walking swiftly about on long legs, searching nervously, whose eggs would be deposited near those of other flies, their larvæ to feed upon the others--parasites upon parasites. as i had resolutely put the doings of the treetops away from my consciousness, so now i forgot visitors and parasites, and armed myself for the excavation of this buried metropolis. i rubbed vaseline on my high boots, and about the tops bound a band of teased-out absorbent cotton. my pick and shovel i treated likewise, and thus i was comparatively insulated. without precautions no living being could withstand the slow, implacable attack of disturbed attas. at present i walked unmolested across the glade. the millions beneath my feet were as unconscious of my presence as they were of the breeze in the palm fronds overhead. at the first deep shovel thrust, a slow-moving flood of reddish-brown began to pour forth from the crumbled earth--the outposts of the atta maxims moving upward to the attack. for a few seconds only workers of various sizes appeared, then an enormous head heaved upward and there came into the light of day the first atta soldier. he was twice as large as a large worker and heavy in proportion. instead of being drawn up into two spines, the top of his head was rounded, bald and shiny, and only at the back were the two spines visible, shifted downward. the front of the head was thickly clothed with golden hair, which hung down bang-like over a round, glistening, single, median eye. one by one, and then shoulder to shoulder, these cyclopean maxims lumbered forth to battle, and soon my boots were covered in spite of the grease, all sinking their mandibles deep into the leather. when i unpacked these boots this year i found the heads and jaws of two attas still firmly attached, relics of some forgotten foray of the preceding year. this mechanical, vise-like grip, wholly independent of life or death, is utilized by the guiana indians. in place of stitching up extensive wounds, a number of these giant atta maxims are collected, and their jaws applied to the edges of the skin, which are drawn together. the ants take hold, their bodies are snipped off, and the row of jaws remains until the wound is healed. over and around the out-pouring soldiers, the tiny workers ran and bit and chewed away at whatever they could reach. dozens of ants made their way up to the cotton, but found the utmost difficulty in clambering over the loose fluff. now and then, however, a needle-like nip at the back of my neck, showed that some pioneer of these shock troops had broken through, when i was thankful that attas could only bite and not sting as well. at such a time as this, the greatest difference is apparent between these and the eciton army ants. the eciton soldier with his long, curved scimitars and his swift, nervous movements, was to one of these great insects as a fighting d'artagnan would be to an armored tank. the results were much the same however,--perfect efficiency. i now dug swiftly and crashed with pick down through three feet of soil. the great entrance arteries of the nest branched and bifurcated, separated and anastomosed, while here and there were chambers varying in size from a cocoanut to a football. these were filled with what looked like soft grayish sponge covered with whitish mold, and these somber affairs were the _raison d'être_ for all the leaf-cutting, the trails, the struggles through jungles, the constant battling against wind and rain and sun. but the labors of the attas are only renewed when a worker disappears down a hole with his hard-earned bit of leaf. he drops it and goes on his way. we do not know what this way is, but my guess is that he turns around and goes after another leaf. whatever the nests of attas possess, they are without recreation rooms. these sluggard-instructors do not know enough to take a vacation; their faces are fashioned for biting, but not for laughing or yawning. i once dabbed fifteen mediums with a touch of white paint as they approached the nest, and within five minutes thirteen of them had emerged and started on the back track again. the leaf is taken in charge by another medium, hosts of whom are everywhere. once after a spadeful, i placed my eye as close as possible to a small heap of green leaves, and around one oblong bit were five mediums, each with a considerable amount of chewed and mumbled tissue in front of him. this is the only time i have ever succeeded in finding these ants actually at this work. the leaves are chewed thoroughly and built up into the sponge gardens, being used neither for thatch nor for food, but as fertilizer. and not for any strange subterranean berry or kernel or fruit, but for a fungus or mushroom. the spores sprout and proliferate rapidly, the gray mycelia covering the garden, and at the end of each thread is a little knobbed body filled with liquid. this forms the sole food of the ants in the nest, but a drop of honey placed by a busy trail will draw a circle of workers at any time--both mediums and minims, who surround it and drink their fill. when the fungus garden is in full growth, the nest labors of the minims begin, and until the knobbed bodies are actually ripe, they never cease to weed and to prune, thus killing off the multitude of other fungi and foreign organisms, and by pruning they keep their particular fungus growing, and prevent it from fructifying. the fungus of the attas is a particular species with the resonant, dunsanyesque name of _rozites gongylophora_. it is quite unknown outside of the nests of these ants, and is as artificial as a banana. only in calcutta bazaars at night, and in underground streets of pekin, have i seen stranger beings than i unearthed in my atta nest. now and then there rolled out of a shovelful of earth, an unbelievably big and rotund cicada larva--which in the course of time, whether in one or in seventeen years, would emerge as the great marbled winged _cicada gigas_, spreading five inches from tip to tip. small tarantulas, with beautiful wine-colored cephalothorax, made their home deep in the nest, guarded, perhaps, by their dense covering of hair; slender scorpions sidled out from the ruins. they were bare, with vulnerable joints, but they had the advantage of a pair of hands, and long, mobile arms, which could quickly and skilfully pluck an attacking ant from any part of their anatomy. the strangest of all the tenants were the tiny, amber-colored roaches which clung frantically to the heads of the great soldier ants, or scurried over the tumultuous mounds, searching for a crevice sanctuary. they were funny, fat little beings, wholly blind, yet supremely conscious of the danger that threatened, and with only the single thought of getting below the surface as quickly as possible. the attas had very few insect guests, but this cockroach is one which had made himself perfectly at home. through century upon century he had become more and more specialized and adapted to atta life, eyes slipping until they were no more than faint specks, legs and antennæ changing, gait becoming altered to whatever speed and carriage best suited little guests in big underground halls and galleries. he and his race had evolved unseen and unnoticed even by the maxim policemen. but when nineteen hundred humanly historical years had passed, a man with a keen sense of fitness named him little friend of the attas; and so for a few more years, until scientists give place to the next caste, _attaphila_ will, all unconsciously, bear a name. attaphilas have staked their whole gamble of existence on the continued possibility of guest-ship with the attas. although they lived near the fungus gardens they did not feed upon them, but gathered secretions from the armored skin of the giant soldiers, who apparently did not object, and showed no hostility to their diminutive masseurs. a summer boarder may be quite at home on a farm, and safe from all ordinary dangers, but he must keep out of the way of scythes and sickles if he chooses to haunt the hay-fields. and so attaphila, snug and safe, deep in the heart of the nest, had to keep on the qui vive when the ant harvesters came to glean in the fungus gardens. snip, snip, snip, on all sides in the musty darkness, the keen mandibles sheared the edible heads, and though the little attaphilas dodged and ran, yet most of them, in course of time, lost part of an antenna or even a whole one. thus the little friend of the leaf-cutters lives easily through his term of weeks or months, or perhaps even a year, and has nothing to fear for food or mate, or from enemies. but attaphilas cannot all live in a single nest, and we realize that there must come a crisis, when they pass out into a strange world of terrible light and multitudes of foes. for these pampered, degenerate roaches to find another atta nest unaided, would be inconceivable. in the big nest which i excavated i observed them on the back and heads not only of the large soldiers, but also of the queens which swarmed in one portion of the galleries; and indeed, of twelve queens, seven had roaches clinging to them. this has been noted also of a brazilian species, and we suddenly realize what splendid sports these humble insects are. they resolutely prepare for their gamble--_l'aventure magnifique_--the slenderest fighting chance, and we are almost inclined to forget the irresponsible implacability of instinct, and cheer the little fellows for lining up on this forlorn hope. when the time comes, the queens leave, and are off up into the unheard-of sky, as if an earthworm should soar with eagle's feathers; past the gauntlet of voracious flycatchers and hawks, to the millionth chance of meeting an acceptable male of the same species. after the mating, comes the solitary search for a suitable site, and only when the pitifully unfair gamble has been won by a single fortunate queen, does the attaphila climb tremblingly down and accept what fate has sent. his ninety and nine fellows have met death in almost as many ways. with the exception of these strange inmates there are very few tenants or guests in the nests of the attas. unlike the termites and ecitons, who harbor a host of weird boarders, the leaf-cutters are able to keep their nest free from undesirables. once, far down in the nest, i came upon three young queens, recently emerged, slow and stupid, with wings dull and glazed, who crawled with awkward haste back into darkness. and again twelve winged females were grouped in one small chamber, restless and confused. this was the only glimpse i ever had of atta royalty at home. good fortune was with me, however, on a memorable fifth of may, when returning from a monkey hunt in high jungle. as i came out into the edge of a clearing, a low humming attracted my attention. it was ventriloquial, and my ear refused to trace it. it sounded exactly like a great aerodrome far in the distance, with a score or more of planes tuning up. i chanced to see a large bee-like insect rising through the branches, and following back along its path, i suddenly perceived the rarest of sights--an atta nest entrance boiling with the excitement of a flight of winged kings and queens. so engrossed were the ants that they paid no attention to me, and i was able to creep up close and kneel within two feet of the hole. the main nest was twenty feet away, and this was a special exit made for the occasion--a triumphal gateway erected far away from the humdrum leaf traffic. the two-inch, arched hole led obliquely down into darkness, while brilliant sunshine illumined the earthen take-off and the surrounding mass of pink mazaruni primroses. up this corridor was coming, slowly, with dignity, as befitted the occasion, a pageant of royalty. the king males were more active, as they were smaller in size than the females, but they were veritable giants in comparison with the workers. the queens seemed like beings of another race, with their great bowed thorax supporting the folded wings, heads correspondingly large, with less jaw development, but greatly increased keenness of vision. in comparison with the minims, these queens were as a human being one hundred feet in height. i selected one large queen as she appeared and watched her closely. slowly and with great effort she climbed the steep ascent into the blazing sunlight. five tiny minims were clinging to her body and wings, all scrubbing and cleaning as hard as they could. she chose a clear space, spread her wings, wide and flat, stood high upon her six legs and waited. i fairly shouted at this change, for slight though it was, it worked magic, and the queen atta was a queen no more, but a miniature, straddle-legged aeroplane, pushed into position, and overrun by a crowd of mechanics, putting the finishing touches, tightening the wires, oiling every pliable crevice. a medium came along, tugged at a leg and the obliging little plane lifted it for inspection. for three minutes this kept up, and then the plane became a queen and moved restlessly. without warning, as if some irresponsible mechanic had turned the primed propellers, the four mighty wings whirred--and four minims were hurled head over heels a foot away, snapped from their positions. the sound of the wings was almost too exact an imitation of the snarl of a starting plane--the comparison was absurd in its exactness of timbre and resonance. it was only a test, however, and the moment the queen became quiet the upset mechanics clambered back. they crawled beneath her, scraped her feet and antennæ, licked her eyes and jaws, and went over every shred of wing tissue. then again she buzzed, this time sending only a single minim sprawling. again she stopped after lifting herself an inch, but immediately started up, and now rose rather unsteadily, but without pause, and slowly ascended above the nest and the primroses. circling once, she passed through green leaves and glowing balls of fruit, into the blue sky. thus i followed the passing of one queen atta into the jungle world, as far as human eyes would permit, and my mind returned to the mote which i had detected at an equally great height--the queen descending after her marriage--as isolated as she had started. we have seen how the little blind roaches occasionally cling to an emerging queen and so are transplanted to a new nest. but the queen bears something far more valuable. more faithfully than ever virgin tended temple fires, each departing queen fills a little pouch in the lower part of her mouth with a pellet of the precious fungus, and here it is carefully guarded until the time comes for its propagation in the new nest. when she has descended to earth and excavated a little chamber, she closes the entrance, and for forty days and nights labors at the founding of a new colony. she plants the little fungus cutting and tends it with the utmost solicitude. the care and feeding in her past life have stored within her the substance for vast numbers of eggs. nine out of ten which she lays she eats to give her the strength to go on with her labors, and when the first larvæ emerge, they, too, are fed with surplus eggs. in time they pupate and at the end of six weeks the first workers--all tiny minims--hatch. small as they are, born in darkness, yet no education is needed. the spirit of the attas infuses them. play and rest are the only things incomprehensible to them, and they take charge at once, of fungus, of excavation, of the care of the queen and eggs, the feeding of the larvæ, and as soon as the huskier mediums appear, they break through into the upper world and one day the first bit of green leaf is carried down into the nest. the queen rests. henceforth, as far as we know, she becomes a mere egg-producing machine, fed mechanically by mechanical workers, the food transformed by physiological mechanics into yolk and then deposited. the aeroplane has become transformed into an incubator. one wonders whether, throughout the long hours, weeks and months, in darkness which renders her eyes a mockery, there ever comes to her dull ganglion a flash of memory of the day, of the rushing wind, the escape from pursuing puff-birds, the jungle stretching away for miles beneath, her mate, the cool tap of drops from a passing shower, the volplane to earth, and the obliteration of all save labor. did she once look behind her, did she turn aside for a second, just to feel the cool silk of petals? as we have seen, an atta worker is a member of the most implacable labor-union in the world: he believes in a twenty-four hour day, no pay, no play, no rest--he is a cog in a machine-driven good-for-the-greatest-number. after studying these beings for a week, one longs to go out and shout for kaisers and tsars, for selfishness and crime--anything as a relief from such terrible unthinking altruism. all atta workers are born free and equal--which is well; and they remain so--which is what a buddhist priest once called "gashang"--or so it sounded, and which he explained as a state where plants and animals and men were crystal-like in growth and existence. what a welcome sight it would be to see a medium mount a bit of twig, antennæ a crowd of minims about him, and start off on a foray of his own! we may jeer or condemn the attas for their hard-shell existence, but there comes to mind again and again, the wonder of it all. are the hosts of little beings really responsible; have they not evolved into a pocket, a mental cul-de-sac, a swamping of individuality, pooling their personalities? and what is it they have gained--what pledge of success in food, in safety, in propagation? they are not separate entities, they have none of the freedom of action, of choice, of individuality of the solitary wasps. they are the somatic cells of the body politic, while deep within the nest are the guarded sexual cells--the winged kings and queens, which from time to time, exactly as in isolated organisms, are thrown off to propagate, and to found new nests. they, no less than the workers, are parts of something more subtle than the visible attas and their material nest. whether i go to the ant as sluggard, or myrmocologist, or accidentally, via pterodactyl pups, a day spent with them invariably leaves me with my whole being concentrated on this mysterious atta ego. call it vibration, aura, spirit of the nest, clothe ignorance in whatever term seems appropriate, we cannot deny its existence and power. as with the army ants, the flowing lines of leaf-cutters always brought to mind great arteries, filled with pulsating, tumbling corpuscles. when an obstruction appeared, as a fallen leaf, across the great sandy track, a dozen, or twenty or a hundred workers gathered--like leucocytes--and removed the interfering object. if i injured a worker who was about to enter the nest, i inoculated the atta organism with a pernicious, foreign body. even the victim himself was dimly aware of the law of fitness. again and again he yielded to the call of the nest, only to turn aside at the last moment. from a normal link in the endless atta chain, he had become an outcast--snapped at by every passing ant, self-banished, wandering off at nightfall to die somewhere in the wilderness of grass. when well, an atta has relations but no friends, when ill, every jaw is against him. as i write this seated at my laboratory table, by turning down my lamp and looking out, i can see the star dust of orion's nebula, and without moving from my chair, rigel, sirius, capella and betelgeuze--the blue, white, yellow and red evolution of so-called lifeless cosmic matter. a few slides from the aquarium at my side reveal an evolutionary sequence to the heavenly host--the simplest of earthly organisms playing fast and loose with the borderland, not only of plants and animals, but of the one and of the many-celled. first a swimming lily, stentor, a solitary animal bloom, twenty-five to the inch; cothurnia, a double lily, and gonium, with a quartet of cells clinging tremulously together, progressing unsteadily--materially toward the rim of my field of vision--in the evolution of earthly life toward sponges, peripatus, ants and man. i was interrupted in my microcosmus just as it occurred to me that chesterton would heartily approve of my approximation of sirius and stentor, of capella and cothurnia--the universe balanced. my attention was drawn from the atom gonium--whose brave little spirit was striving to keep his foursome one--a primordial struggle toward unity of self and division of labor; my consciousness climbed the microscope tube and came to rest upon a slim glass of amber liquid on my laboratory table: a servant had brought a cocktail, for it was new year's eve. (now the thought came that there were a number of worthy people who would also approve of this approximation!) i looked at the small spirituous luxury, and i thought of my friends in new york, and then of the attas in front of the laboratory. with my electric flash i went out into the starlight, and found the usual hosts struggling nestward with their chlorophyll burdens, and rushing frantically out into the black jungle for more and yet more leaves. my mind swept back over evolution from star-dust to kartabo compound, from gonium to man, and to these leaf-cutting ants. and i wondered whether the attas were any the better for being denied the stimulus of temptation, or whether i was any the worse for the opportunity of refusing a second glass. i went back into the house, and voiced a toast to tolerance, to temperance, and--to pterodactyls--and drank my cocktail. ix hammock nights there is a great gulf between pancakes and truffles: an eternal, fixed, abysmal cañon. it is like the chasm between beds and hammocks. it is not to be denied and not to be traversed; for if pancakes with syrup are a necessary of life, then truffles with anything must be, by the very nature of things, a supreme and undisputed luxury, a regal food for royalty and the chosen of the earth. there cannot be a shadow of a doubt that these two are divided; and it is not alone a mere arbitrary division of poverty and riches as it would appear on the surface. it is an alienation brought about by profound and fundamental differences; for the gulf between them is that gulf which separates the prosaic, the ordinary, the commonplace, from all that is colored and enlivened by romance. the romance of truffles endows the very word itself with a halo, an aristocratic halo full of mystery and suggestion. one remembers the hunters who must track their quarry through marshy and treacherous lands, and one cannot forget their confiding catspaw, that desolated pig, created only to be betrayed and robbed of the fungi of his labors. he is one of the pathetic characters of history, born to secret sorrow, victimized by those superior tastes which do not become his lowly station. born to labor and to suffer, but not to eat. to this day he commands my sympathy; his ghost--lean, bourgeois, reproachful--looks out at me from every market-place in the world where the truffle proclaims his faithful service. but the pancake is a pancake, nothing more. it is without inherent or artificial glamour; and this unfortunately, when you come right down to it, is true of food in general. for food, after all, is one of the lesser considerations; the connoisseur, the gourmet, even the gourmand, spends no more than four hours out of the day at his table. from the cycle, he may select four in which to eat; but whether he will or not, he must set aside seven of the twenty-four in which to sleep. sleeping, then, as opposed to eating, is of almost double importance, since it consumes nearly twice as much time--and time, in itself, is the most valuable thing in the world. considered from this angle, it seems incredible that we have no connoisseurs of sleep. for we have none. therefore it is with some temerity that i declare sleep to be one of the romances of existence, and not by any chance the simple necessary it is reputed to be. however, this romance, in company with whatever is worthy, is not to be discovered without the proper labor. life is not all truffles. neither do they grow in modest back-yards to be picked of mornings by the maid-of-all-work. a mere bed, notwithstanding its magic camouflage of coverings, of canopy, of disguised pillows, of shining brass or fluted carven posts, is, pancake like, never surrounded by this aura of romance. no, it is hammock sleep which is the sweetest of all slumber. not in the hideous, dyed affairs of our summer porches, with their miserable curved sticks to keep the strands apart, and their maddening creaks which grow in length and discord the higher one swings--but in a hammock woven by carib indians. an indian hammock selected at random will not suffice; it must be a carib and none other. for they, themselves, are part and parcel of the romance, since they are not alone a quaint and poetic people, but the direct descendants of those remote americans who were the first to see the caravels of columbus. indeed, he paid the initial tribute to their skill, for in the diary of his first voyage he writes,-"a great many indians in canoes came to the ship to-day for the purpose of bartering their cotton, and _hamacas_ or nets in which they sleep." it is supposed that this name owes its being to the hamack tree, from the bark of which they were woven. however that may be, the modern hammock of these tropical red men is so light and so delicate in texture that during the day one may wear it as a sash, while at night it forms an incomparable couch. but one does not drop off to sleep in this before a just and proper preparation. this presents complexities. first, the hammock must be slung with just the right amount of tautness; then, the novice must master the knack of winding himself in his blanket that he may slide gently into his aerial bed and rest at right angles to the tied ends, thus permitting the free side-meshes to curl up naturally over his feet and head. this cannot be taught. it is an art; and any art is one-tenth technique, and nine-tenths natural talent. however, it is possible to acquire a certain virtuosity, which, after all is said, is but pure mechanical skill as opposed to sheer genius. one might, perhaps, get a hint by watching the living chrysalid of a potential moon-moth wriggle back into its cocoon--but little is to be learned from human teaching. however, if, night after night, one observes his indians, a certain instinctive knowledge will arise to aid and abet him in his task. then, after his patient apprenticeship, he may reap as he has sowed. if it is to be disaster, it is as immediate as it is ignominious; but if success is to be his portion, then he is destined to rest, wholly relaxed, upon a couch encushioned and resilient beyond belief. he finds himself exalted and supreme above all mundane disturbances, with the treetops and the stars for his canopy, and the earth a shadowy floor far beneath. this gentle aerial support is distributed throughout hundreds of fine meshes, and the sole contact with the earth is through twin living boles, pulsing with swift running sap, whose lichened bark and moonlit foliage excel any tapestry of man's devising. perhaps it is atavistic--this desire to rest and swing in a hamaca. for these are not unlike the treetop couches of our arboreal ancestors, such a one as i have seen an orang-utan weave in a few minutes in the swaying crotch of a tree. at any rate, the hammock is not dependent upon four walls, upon rooms and houses, and it partakes altogether of the wilderness. its movement is æolian--yielding to every breath of air. it has even its own weird harmony--for i have often heard a low, whistling hum as the air rushed through the cordage mesh. in a sudden tropical gale every taut strand of my hamaca has seemed a separate, melodious, orchestral note, while i was buffeted to and fro, marking time to some rhythmic and reckless tune of the wind playing fortissimo on the woven strings about me. the climax of this musical outburst was not without a mild element of danger--sufficient to create that enviable state of mind wherein the sense of security and the knowledge that a minor catastrophe may perhaps be brought about are weighed one against the other. special, unexpected, and interesting minor dangers are also the province of the hamaca. once, in the tropics, a great fruit fell on the elastic strands and bounced upon my body. there was an ominous swish of the air in the sweeping arc which this missile described, also a goodly shower of leaves; and since the fusillade took place at midnight, it was, all in all, a somewhat alarming visitation. however, there were no honorable scars to mark its advent; and what is more important, from all my hundreds of hammock nights, i have no other memory of any actual or threatened danger which was not due to human carelessness or stupidity. it is true that once, in another continent, by the light of a campfire, i saw the long, liana-like body of a harmless tree-snake wind down from one of my fronded bed-posts and, like a living woof following its shuttle, weave a passing pattern of emerald through the pale meshes. but this heralded no harm, for the poisonous reptiles of that region never climb; and so, since i was worn out by a hard day, i shut my eyes and slept neither better nor worse because of the transient confidence of a neighborly serpent. as a matter of fact, the wilderness provides but few real perils, and in a hammock one is safely removed from these. one lies in a stratum above all damp and chill of the ground, beyond the reach of crawling tick and looping leech; and with an enveloping _mosquitaro_, or mosquito shirt, as the venezuelans call it, one is fortified even in the worst haunts of these most disturbing of all pests. once my ring rope slipped and the hammock settled, but not enough to wake me up and force me to set it to rights. i was aware that something had gone wrong, but, half asleep, i preferred to leave the matter in the lap of the gods. later, as a result, i was awakened several times by the patting of tiny paws against my body, as small jungle-folk, standing on their hind-legs, essayed to solve the mystery of the swaying, silent, bulging affair directly overhead. i was unlike any tree or branch or liana which had come their way before; i do not doubt that they thought me some new kind of ant-nest, since these structures are alike only as their purpose in life is identical--for they express every possible variation in shape, size, color, design, and position. as for their curiosity, i could make no complaint, for, at best, my visitors could not be so inquisitive as i, inasmuch as i had crossed one ocean and two continents with no greater object than to pry into their personal and civic affairs as well as those of their neighbors. to say nothing of their environment and other matters. that my rope slipped was the direct result of my own inefficiency. the hammock protects one from the dangers of the outside world, but like any man-made structure, it shows evidences of those imperfections which are part and parcel of human nature, and serve, no doubt, to make it interesting. but one may at least strive for perfection by being careful. therefore tie the ropes of your hammock yourself, or examine and test the job done for you. the master of hammocks makes a knot the name of which i do not know--i cannot so much as describe it. but i would like to twist it again--two quick turns, a push and a pull; then, the greater the strain put upon it, the greater its resistance. this trustworthiness commands respect and admiration, but it is in the morning that one feels the glow of real gratitude; for, in striking camp at dawn, one has but to give a single jerk and the rope is straightened out, without so much as a second's delay. it is the tying, however, which must be well done--this i learned from bitter experience. it was one morning, years ago, but the memory of it is with me still, vivid and painful. one of the party had left her hammock, which was tied securely since she was skilful in such matters, to sit down and rest in another, belonging to a servant. this was slung at one end of a high, tropical porch, which was without the railing that surrounds the more pretentious verandahs of civilization, so that the hammock swung free, first over the rough flooring, then a little out over the yard itself. a rope slipped, the faulty knot gave way, and she fell backward--a seven-foot fall with no support of any kind by which she might save herself. a broken wrist was the price she had to pay for another's carelessness--a broken wrist which, in civilization, is perhaps, one of the lesser tragedies; but this was in the very heart of the guiana wilderness. many hours from ether and surgical skill, such an accident assumes alarming proportions. therefore, i repeat my warning: tie your knots or examine them. it is true, that, when all is said and done, a dweller in hammocks may bring upon himself any number of diverse dangers of a character never described in books or imagined in fiction. a fellow naturalist of mine never lost an opportunity to set innumerable traps for the lesser jungle-folk, such as mice and opossums, all of which he religiously measured and skinned, so that each, in its death, should add its mite to human knowledge. as a fisherman runs out set lines, so would he place his traps in a circle under his hammock, using a cord to tie each and every one to the meshes. this done, it was his custom to lie at ease and wait for the click below which would usher in a new specimen,--perhaps a new species,--to be lifted up, removed, and safely cached until morning. this strategic method served a double purpose: it conserved natural energy, and it protected the catch. for if the traps were set in the jungle and trustfully confided to its care until the break of day, the ants would leave a beautifully cleaned skeleton, intact, all unnecessarily entrapped. now it happened that once, when he had set his nocturnal traps, he straightway went to sleep in the midst of all the small jungle people who were calling for mates and new life, so that he did not hear the click which was to warn him that another little beast of fur had come unawares upon his death. but he heard, suddenly, a disturbance in the low ferns beneath his hammock. he reached over and caught hold of one of the cords, finding the attendant trap heavy with prey. he was on the point of feeling his way to the trap itself, when instead, by some subconscious prompting, he reached over and snapped on his flashlight. and there before him, hanging in mid-air, striking viciously at his fingers which were just beyond its reach, was a young fer-de-lance--one of the deadliest of tropical serpents. his nerves gave way, and with a crash the trap fell to the ground where he could hear it stirring and thrashing about among the dead leaves. this ominous rustling did not encourage sleep; he lay there for a long time listening,--and every minute is longer in the darkness,--while his hammock quivered and trembled with the reaction. guided by this, i might enter into a new field of naturalizing and say to those who might, in excitement, be tempted to do otherwise, "look at your traps before lifting them." but my audience would be too limited; i will refrain from so doing. it is true that this brief experience might be looked upon as one illustration of the perils of the wilderness, since it is not customary for the fer-de-lance to frequent the city and the town. but this would give rise to a footless argument, leading nowhere. for danger is everywhere--it lurks in every shadow and is hidden in the bright sunlight, it is the uninvited guest, the invisible pedestrian who walks beside you in the crowded street ceaselessly, without tiring. but even a fer-de-lance should rather add to the number of hammock devotees than diminish them; for the three feet or more of elevation is as good as so many miles between the two of you. and three miles from any serpent is sufficient. it may be that the very word danger is subjected to a different interpretation in each one of our mental dictionaries. it is elastic, comprehensive. to some it may include whatever is terrible, terrifying; to others it may symbolize a worthy antagonist, one who throws down the gauntlet and asks no questions, but who will make a good and fair fight wherein advantage is neither taken nor given. i suppose, to be bitten by vampires would be thought a danger by many who have not graduated from the mattress of civilization to this cubiculum of the wilderness. this is due, in part, to an ignorance, which is to be condoned; and this ignorance, in turn, is due to that lack of desire for a knowledge of new countries and new experiences, which lack is to be deplored and openly mourned. many years ago, in mexico, when i first entered the vampire zone, i was apprised of the fact by the clotted blood on my horse's neck in the early morning. in actually seeing this evidence, i experienced the diverse emotions of the discoverer, although as a matter of fact i had discovered nothing more than the verification of a scientific commonplace. it so happened that i had read, at one time, many conflicting statements of the workings of this aerial leech; therefore, finding myself in his native habitat, i went to all sorts of trouble to become a victim to his sorceries. the great toe is the favorite and stereotyped point of attack, we are told; so, in my hammock, my great toes were conscientiously exposed night after night, but not until a decade later was my curiosity satisfied. i presume that this was a matter of ill luck, rather than a personal matter between the vampire and me. therefore, as a direct result of this and like experiences, i have learned to make proper allowances for the whims of the fates. i have learned that it is their pleasure to deluge me with rainstorms at unpropitious moments, also to send me, with my hammock, to eminently desirable countries, which, however, are barren of trees and scourged of every respectable shrub. that the showers may not find me unprepared, i pack with my hamaca an extra length of rope, to be stretched taut from foot-post to head-post, that a tarpaulin or canvas may be slung over it. when a treeless country is presented to me in prospect, i have two stout stakes prepared, and i do not move forward without them. it is a wonderful thing to see an experienced hammocker take his stakes, first one, then the other, and plunge them into the ground three or four times, measuring at one glance the exact distance and angle, and securing magically that mysterious "give" so essential to well-being and comfort. any one can sink them like fence-posts, so that they stand deep and rigid, a reproach and an accusation; but it requires a particular skill to judge by the pull whether or not they will hold through the night and at the same time yield with gentle and supple swing to the least movement of the sleeper. a carib knows, instantly, worthy and unworthy ground. i have seen an indian sink his hamaca posts into sand with one swift, concentrated motion, mathematical in its precision and surety, so that he might enter at once into a peaceful night of tranquil and unbroken slumber, while i, a tenderfoot then, must needs beat my stakes down into the ground with tremendous energy, only to come to earth with a resounding thwack the moment i mounted my couch. the red man made his comment, smiling: "yellow earth, much squeeze." which, being translated, informed me that the clayey ground i had chosen, hard though it seemed, was more like putty in that it would slip and slip with the prolonged pressure until the post fell inward and catastrophe crowned my endeavor. so it follows that the hammock, in company with an adequate tarpaulin and two trustworthy stakes, will survive the heaviest downpour as well as the most arid and uncompromising desert. but since it is man-made, with finite limitations, nature is not without means to defeat its purpose. the hammock cannot cope with the cold--real cold, that is, not the sudden chill of tropical night which a blanket resists, but the cold of the north or of high altitudes. this is the realm of the sleeping-bag, the joy of which is another story. more than once i have had to use a hammock at high levels, since there was nothing else at hand; and the numbness of the arctic was mine. every mesh seemed to invite a separate draught. the winds of heaven--all four--played unceasingly upon me, and i became in due time a swaying mummy of ice. it was my delusion that i was a dead indian cached aloft upon my arboreal bier--which is not a normal state of mind for the sleeping explorer. anything rather than this helpless surrender to the elements. better the lowlands and that fantastic shroud, the mosquitaro. for even to wind one's self into this is an experience of note. it is ingenious, and called the mosquito shirt because of its general shape, which is as much like a shirt as anything else. a large round center covers the hammock, and two sleeves extend up the supporting strands and inclose the ends, being tied to the ring-ropes. if at sundown swarms of mosquitoes become unbearable, one retires into his netting funnel, and there disrobes. clothes are rolled into a bundle and tied to the hammock, that one may close one's eyes reasonably confident that the supply will not be diminished by some small marauder. it is then that a miracle is enacted. for one is at last enabled, under these propitious circumstances, to achieve the impossible, to control and manipulate the void and the invisible, to obey that unforgotten advice of one's youth, "oh, g'wan--crawl into a hole and pull the hole in after you!" at an early age, this unnatural advice held my mind, so that i devised innumerable means of verifying it; i was filled with a despair and longing whenever i met it anew. but it was an ambition appeased only in maturity. and this is the miracle of the tropics: climb up into the hamaca, and, at this altitude, draw in the hole of the mosquitaro funnel, making it fast with a single knot. it is done. one is at rest, and lying back, listens to the humming of all the mosquitoes in the world, to be lulled to sleep by the sad, minor singing of their myriad wings. but though i have slung my hammock in many lands, on all the continents, i have few memories of netting nights. usually, both in tropics and in tempered climes, one may boldly lie with face uncovered to the night. and this brings us to the greatest joy of hammock life, admission to the secrets of the wilderness, initiation to new intimacies and subtleties of this kingdom, at once welcomed and delicately ignored as any honored guest should be. for this one must make unwonted demands upon one's nocturnal senses. from habit, perhaps, it is natural to lie with the eyes wide open, but with all the faculties concentrated on the two senses which bring impressions from the world of darkness--hearing and smell. in a jungle hut a loud cry from out of the black treetops now and then reaches the ear; in a tent the faint noises of the night outside are borne on the wind, and at times the silhouette of a passing animal moves slowly across the heavy cloth; but in a hamaca one is not thus set apart to be baffled by hidden mysteries--one is given the very point of view of the creatures who live and die in the open. through the meshes which press gently against one's face comes every sound which our human ears can distinguish and set apart from the silence--a silence which in itself is only a mirage of apparent soundlessness, a testimonial to the imperfection of our senses. the moaning and whining of some distant beast of prey is brought on the breeze to mingle with the silken swishing of the palm fronds overhead and the insistent chirping of many insects--a chirping so fine and shrill that it verges upon the very limits of our hearing. and these, combined, unified, are no more than the ground surge beneath the countless waves of sound. for the voice of the jungle is the voice of love, of hatred, of hope, of despair--and in the night-time, when the dominance of sense-activity shifts from eye to ear, from retina to nostril, it cries aloud its confidences to all the world. but the human mind is not equal to a true understanding of these; for in a tropical jungle the birds and the frogs, the beasts and the insects are sending out their messages so swiftly one upon the other, that the senses fail of their mission and only chaos and a great confusion are carried to the brain. the whirring of invisible wings and the movement of the wind in the low branches become one and the same: it is an epic, told in some strange tongue, an epic filled to overflowing with tragedy, with poetry and mystery. the cloth of this drama is woven from many-colored threads, for nature is lavish with her pigment, reckless with life and death. she is generous because there is no need for her to be miserly. and in the darkness, i have heard the working of her will, translating as best i could. in the darkness, i have at times heard the tramping of many feet; in a land traversed only by indian trails i have listened to an overloaded freight train toiling up a steep grade; i have heard the noise of distant battle and the cries of the victor and the vanquished. hard by, among the trees, i have heard a woman seized, have heard her crying, pleading for mercy, have heard her choking and sobbing till the end came in a terrible, gasping sigh; and then, in the sudden silence, there was a movement and thrashing about in the topmost branches, and the flutter and whirr of great wings moving swiftly away from me into the heart of the jungle--the only clue to the author of this vocal tragedy. once, a pan of the woods tuned up his pipes--striking a false note now and then, as if it were his whim to appear no more than the veriest amateur; then suddenly, with the full liquid sweetness of his reeds, bursting into a strain so wonderful, so silvery clear, that i lay with mouth open to still the beating of blood in my ears, hardly breathing, that i might catch every vibration of his song. when the last note died away, there was utter stillness about me for an instant--nothing stirred, nothing moved; the wind seemed to have forsaken the leaves. from a great distance, as if he were going deeper into the woods, i heard him once more tuning up his pipes; but he did not play again. beside me, i heard the low voice of one of my natives murmuring, "_muerte ha pasado_." my mind took up this phrase, repeating it, giving it the rhythm of pan's song--a rhythm delicate, sustained, full of color and meaning in itself. i was ashamed that one of my kind could translate such sweet and poignant music into a superstition, could believe that it was the song of death,--the death that passes,--and not the voice of life. but it may have been that he was wiser in such matters than i; superstitions are many times no more than truth in masquerade. for i could call it by no name--whether bird or beast, creature of fur or feather or scale. and not for one, but for a thousand creatures within my hearing, any obscure nocturnal sound may have heralded the end of life. song and death may go hand in hand, and such a song may be a beautiful one, unsung, unuttered until this moment when nature demands the final payment for what she has given so lavishly. in the open, the dominant note is the call to a mate, and with it, that there may be color and form and contrast, there is that note of pure vocal exuberance which is beauty for beauty and for nothing else; but in this harmony there is sometimes the cry of a creature who has come upon death unawares, a creature who has perhaps been dumb all the days of his life, only to cry aloud this once for pity, for mercy, or for faith, in this hour of his extremity. of all, the most terrible is the death-scream of a horse,--a cry of frightful timbre,--treasured, according to some secret law, until this dire instant when for him death indeed passes. it was years ago that i heard the pipes of pan; but one does not forget these mysteries of the jungle night: the sounds and scents and the dim, glimpsed ghosts which flit through the darkness and the deepest shadow mark a place for themselves in one's memory, which is not erased. i have lain in my hammock looking at a tapestry of green draped over a half-fallen tree, and then for a few minutes have turned to watch the bats flicker across a bit of sky visible through the dark branches. when i looked back again at the tapestry, although the dusk had only a moment before settled into the deeper blue of twilight, a score of great lustrous stars were shining there, making new patterns in the green drapery; for in this short time, the spectral blooms of the night had awakened and flooded my resting-place with their fragrance. and these were but the first of the flowers; for when the brief tropic twilight is quenched, a new world is born. the leaves and blossoms of the day are at rest, and the birds and insects sleep. new blooms open, strange scents pour forth. even our dull senses respond to these; for just as the eye is dimmed, so are the other senses quickened in the sudden night of the jungle. nearby, so close that one can reach out and touch them, the pale cereus moons expand, exhaling their sweetness, subtle breaths of fragrance calling for the very life of their race to the whirring hawkmoths. the tiny miller who, through the hours of glare has crouched beneath a leaf, flutters upward, and the trail of her perfume summons her mate perhaps half a mile down wind. the civet cat, stimulated by love or war, fills the glade with an odor so pungent that it seems as if the other senses must mark it. although there may seem not a breath of air in motion, yet the tide of scent is never still. one's moistened finger may reveal no cool side, since there is not the vestige of a breeze; but faint odors arrive, become stronger, and die away, or are wholly dissipated by an onrush of others, so musky or so sweet that one can almost taste them. these have their secret purposes, since nature is not wasteful. if she creates beautiful things, it is to serve some ultimate end; it is her whim to walk in obscure paths, but her goal is fixed and immutable. however, her designs are hidden and not easy to decipher; at best, one achieves, not knowledge, but a few isolated facts. sport in a hammock might, by the casual thinker, be considered as limited to dreams of the hunt and chase. yet i have found at my disposal a score of amusements. when the dusk has just settled down, and the little bats fill every glade in the forest, a box of beetles or grasshoppers--or even bits of chopped meat--offers the possibility of a new and neglected sport, in effect the inversion of baiting a school of fish. toss a grasshopper into the air and he has only time to spread his wings for a parachute to earth, when a bat swoops past so quickly that the eyes refuse to see any single effort--but the grasshopper has vanished. as for the piece of meat, it is drawn like a magnet to the fierce little face. once i tried the experiment of a bit of blunted bent wire on a long piece of thread, and at the very first cast i entangled a flutter-mouse and pulled him in. i was aghast when i saw what i had captured. a body hardly as large as that of a mouse was topped with the head of a fiend incarnate. between his red puffed lips his teeth showed needle-sharp and ivory-white; his eyes were as evil as a caricature from _simplicissimus_, and set deep in his head, while his ears and nose were monstrous with fold upon fold of skinny flaps. it was not a living face, but a mask of frightful mobility. i set him free, deeming anything so ugly well worthy of life, if such could find sustenance among his fellows and win a mate for himself somewhere in this world. but he, for all his hideousness and unseemly mien, is not the vampire; the blood-sucking bat has won a mantle of deceit from the hands of nature--a garb that gives him a modest and not unpleasing appearance, and makes it a difficult matter to distinguish him from his guileless confrères of our summer evenings. but in the tropics,--the native land of the hammock,--not only the mysteries of the night, but the affairs of the day may be legitimately investigated from this aerial point of view. it is a fetish of belief in hot countries that every unacclimatized white man must, sooner or later, succumb to that sacred custom, the siesta. in the cool of the day he may work vigorously, but this hour of rest is indispensable. to a healthful person, living a reasonable life, the siesta is sheer luxury. however, in camp, when the sun nears the zenith and the hush which settles over the jungle proclaims that most of the wild creatures are resting, one may swing one's hammock in the very heart of this primitive forest and straightway be admitted into a new province, where rare and unsuspected experiences are open to the wayfarer. this is not the province of sleep or dreams, where all things are possible and preëminently reasonable; for one does not go through sundry hardships and all manner of self-denial, only to be blindfolded on the very threshold of his ambition. no naturalist of a temperament which begrudges every unused hour will, for a moment, think of sleep under such conditions. it is not true that the rest and quiet are necessary to cool the northern blood for active work in the afternoon, but the eye and the brain can combine relaxation with keenest attention. in the northlands the difference in the temperature of the early dawn and high noon is so slight that the effect on birds and other creatures, as well as plants of all kinds, is not profound. but in the tropics a change takes place which is as pronounced as that brought about by day and night. above all, the volume of sound becomes no more than a pianissimo melody; for the chorus of birds and insects dies away little by little with the increase of heat. there is something geometrical about this, something precise and fine in this working of a natural law--a law from which no living being is immune, for at length one unconsciously lies motionless, overcome by the warmth and this illusion of silence. the swaying of the hammock sets in motion a cool breeze, and lying at full length, one is admitted at high noon to a new domain which has no other portal but this. at this hour, the jungle shows few evidences of life, not a chirp of bird or song of insect, and no rustling of leaves in the heat which has descended so surely and so inevitably. but from hidden places and cool shadows come broken sounds and whisperings, which cover the gamut from insects to mammals and unite to make a drowsy and contented murmuring--a musical undertone of amity and goodwill. for pursuit and killing are at the lowest ebb, the stifling heat being the flag of truce in the world-wide struggle for life and food and mate--a struggle which halts for naught else, day or night. lying quietly, the confidence of every unconventional and adventurous wanderer will include your couch, since courage is a natural virtue when the spirit of friendliness is abroad in the land. i felt that i had acquired merit that eventful day when a pair of hummingbirds--thimblefuls of fluff with flaming breastplates and caps of gold--looked upon me with such favor that they made the strands of my hamaca their boudoir. i was not conscious of their designs upon me until i saw them whirring toward me, two bright, swiftly moving atoms, glowing like tiny meteors, humming like a very battalion of bees. they betook themselves to two chosen cords and, close together, settled themselves with no further demands upon existence. a hundred of them could have rested upon the pair of strands; even the dragon-flies which dashed past had a wider spread of wing; but for these two there were a myriad glistening featherlets to be oiled and arranged, two pairs of slender wings to be whipped clean of every speck of dust, two delicate, sharp bills to be wiped again and again and cleared of microscopic drops of nectar. then--like the great eagles roosting high overhead in the clefts of the mountainside--these mites of birds must needs tuck their heads beneath their wings for sleep; thus we three rested in the violent heat. on other days, in borneo, weaver birds have brought dried grasses and woven them into the fabric of my hammock, making me indeed feel that my couch was a part of the wilderness. at times, some of the larger birds have crept close to my glade, to sleep in the shadows of the low jungle-growth. but these were, one and all, timid folk, politely incurious, with evident respect for the rights of the individual. but once, some others of a ruder and more barbaric temperament advanced upon me unawares, and found me unprepared for their coming. i was dozing quietly, glad to escape for an instant the insistent screaming of a cicada which seemed to have gone mad in the heat, when a low rustling caught my ear--a sound of moving leaves without wind; the voice of a breeze in the midst of breathless heat. there was in it something sinister and foreboding. i leaned over the edge of my hammock, and saw coming toward me, in a broad, irregular front, a great army of ants, battalion after battalion of them flowing like a sea of living motes over twigs and leaves and stems. i knew the danger and i half sat up, prepared to roll out and walk to one side. then i gaged my supporting strands; tested them until they vibrated and hummed, and lay back, watching, to see what would come about. i knew that no creature in the world could stay in the path of this horde and live. to kill an insect or a great bird would require only a few minutes, and the death of a jaguar or a tapir would mean only a few more. against this attack, claws, teeth, poison-fangs would be idle weapons. in the van fled a cloud of terrified insects--those gifted with flight to wing their way far off, while the humbler ones went running headlong, their legs, four, six, or a hundred, making the swiftest pace vouchsafed them. there were foolish folk who climbed up low ferns, achieving the swaying, topmost fronds only to be trailed by the savage ants and brought down to instant death. even the winged ones were not immune, for if they hesitated a second, an ant would seize upon them, and, although carried into the air, would not loosen his grip, but cling to them, obstruct their flight, and perhaps bring them to earth in the heart of the jungle, where, cut off from their kind, the single combat would be waged to the death. from where i watched, i saw massacres innumerable; terrible battles in which some creature--a giant beside an ant--fought for his life, crushing to death scores of the enemy before giving up. they were a merciless army and their number was countless, with host upon host following close on each other's heels. a horde of warriors found a bird in my game-bag, and left of it hardly a feather. i wondered whether they would discover me, and they did, though i think it was more by accident than by intention. nevertheless a half-dozen ants appeared on the foot-strands, nervously twiddling their antennæ in my direction. their appraisal was brief; with no more than a second's delay they started toward me. i waited until they were well on their way, then vigorously twanged the cords under them harpwise, sending all the scouts into mid-air and headlong down among their fellows. so far as i know, this was a revolutionary maneuver in military tactics, comparable only to the explosion of a set mine. but even so, when the last of this brigade had gone on their menacing, pitiless way, and the danger had passed to a new province, i could not help thinking of the certain, inexorable fate of a man who, unable to move from his hammock or to make any defense, should be thus exposed to their attack. there could be no help for him if but one of this great host should scent him out and carry the word back to the rank and file. it was after this army had been lost in the black shadows of the forest floor, that i remembered those others who had come with them--those attendant birds of prey who profit by the evil work of this legion. for, hovering over them, sometimes a little in advance, there had been a flying squadron of antbirds and others which had come to feed, not on the ants, but on the insects which had been frightened into flight. at one time, three of these dropped down to perch on my hammock, nervous, watchful, and alert, waiting but a moment before darting after some ill-fated moth or grasshopper which, in its great panic, had escaped one danger only to fall an easy victim to another. for a little while, the twittering and chirping of these camp-followers, these feathered profiteers, was brought back to me on the wind; and when it had died away, i took up my work again in a glade in which no voice of insect reached my ears. the hunting ants had done their work thoroughly. and so it comes about that by day or by night the hammock carries with it its own reward to those who have learned but one thing--that there is a chasm between pancakes and truffles. it is an open door to a new land which does not fail of its promise, a land in which the prosaic, the ordinary, the everyday have no place, since they have been shouldered out, dethroned, by a new and competent perspective. the god of hammocks is unfailingly kind, just, and generous to those who have found pancakes wanting and have discovered by inspiration, or what-not, that truffles do not grow in back-yards to be served at early breakfast by the maid-of-all-work. which proves, i believe, that a mere bed may be a block in the path of philosophy, a commonplace, and that truffles and hammocks--hammocks unquestionably--are twin doors to the land of romance. the swayer in hammocks may find amusement and may enrich science by his record of observations; his memory will be more vivid, his caste the worthier, for the intimacy with wild things achieved when swinging between earth and sky, unfettered by mattress or roof. x a tropic garden take an automobile and into it pile a superman, a great evolutionist, an artist, an ornithologist, a poet, a botanist, a photographer, a musician, an author, adorable youngsters of fifteen, and a tired business man, and within half an hour i shall have drawn from them superlatives of appreciation, each after his own method of emotional expression--whether a flood of exclamations, or silence. this is no light boast, for at one time or another, i have done all this, but in only one place--the botanical gardens of georgetown, british guiana. as i hold it sacrilege to think of dying without again seeing the taj mahal, or the hills from darjeeling, so something of ethics seems involved in my soul's necessity of again watching the homing of the herons in these tropic gardens at evening. in the busy, unlovely streets of the waterfront of georgetown, one is often jostled; in the markets, it is often difficult at times to make one's way; but in the gardens a solitary laborer grubs among the roots, a coolie woman swings by with a bundle of grass on her head, or, in the late afternoon, an occasional motor whirrs past. mankind seems almost an interloper, rather than architect and owner of these wonder-gardens. his presence is due far more often to business, his transit marked by speed, than the slow walking or loitering which real appreciation demands. a guide-book will doubtless give the exact acreage, tell the mileage of excellent roads, record the date of establishment, and the number of species of palms and orchids. but it will have nothing to say of the marvels of the slow decay of a victoria regia leaf, or of the spiral descent of a white egret, or of the feelings which roosevelt and i shared one evening, when four manatees rose beneath us. it was from a little curved japanese bridge, and the next morning we were to start up-country to my jungle laboratory. there was not a ripple on the water, but here i chose to stand still and wait. after ten minutes of silence, i put a question and roosevelt said, "i would willingly stand for two days to catch a good glimpse of a wild manatee." and st. francis heard, and, one after another, four great backs slowly heaved up; then an ill-formed head and an impossible mouth, with the unbelievable harelip, and before our eyes the sea-cows snorted and gamboled. again, four years later, i put my whole soul into a prayer for manatees, and again with success. during a few moments' interval of a tropical downpour, i stood on the same little bridge with henry fairfield osborn. we had only half an hour left in the tropics; the steamer was on the point of sailing; what, in ten minutes, could be seen of tropical life! i stood helpless, waiting, hoping for anything which might show itself in this magic garden, where to-day the foliage was glistening malachite and the clouds a great flat bowl of oxidized silver. the air brightened, and a tree leaning far across the water came into view. on its under side was a long silhouetted line of one and twenty little fish-eating bats, tiny spots of fur and skinny web, all so much alike that they might well have been one bat and twenty shadows. a small crocodile broke water into air which for him held no moisture, looked at the bats, then at us, and slipped back into the world of crocodiles. a cackle arose, so shrill and sudden, that it seemed to have been the cause of the shower of drops from the palm-fronds; and then, on the great leaves of the regia, which defy simile, we perceived the first feathered folk of this single tropical glimpse--spur-winged jacanas, whose rich rufus and cool lemon-yellow no dampness could deaden. with them were gallinules and small green herons, and across the pink mist of lotos blossoms just beyond, three egrets drew three lines of purest white--and vanished. it was not at all real, this onrush of bird and blossom revealed by the temporary erasing of the driven lines of gray rain. like a spendthrift in the midst of a winning game, i still watched eagerly and ungratefully for manatees. kiskadees splashed rather than flew through the drenched air, an invisible black witch bubbled somewhere to herself, and a wren sang three notes and a trill which died out in a liquid gurgle. then came another crocodile, and finally the manatees. not only did they rise and splash and roll and indolently flick themselves with their great flippers, but they stood upright on their tails, like alice's carpenter's companion, and one fondled its young as a water-mamma should. then the largest stretched up as far as any manatee can ever leave the water, and caught and munched a drooping sprig of bamboo. watching the great puffing lips, we again thought of walruses; but only a caterpillar could emulate that sideways mumbling--the strangest mouth of any mammal. but from behind, the rounded head, the shapely neck, the little baby manatee held carefully in the curve of a flipper, made legends of mermaids seem very reasonable; and if i had been an early _voyageur_, i should assuredly have had stories to tell of mer-kiddies as well. as we watched, the young one played about, slowly and deliberately, without frisk or gambol, but determinedly, intently, as if realizing its duty to an abstract conception of youth and warm-blooded mammalness. the earth holds few breathing beings stranger than these manatees. their life is a slow progression through muddy water from one bed of lilies or reeds to another. every few minutes, day and night, year after year, they come to the surface for a lungful of the air which they must have, but in which they cannot live. in place of hands they have flippers, which paddle them leisurely along, which also serve to hold the infant manatee, and occasionally to scratch themselves when leeches irritate. the courtship of sea-cows, the qualities which appeal most to their dull minds, the way they protect the callow youngsters from voracious crocodiles, how or where they sleep--of all this we are ignorant. we belong to the same class, but the line between water and air is a no man's land which neither of us can pass for more than a few seconds. when their big black hulks heaved slowly upward, it brought to my mind the huge glistening backs of elephants bathing in indian streams; and this resemblance is not wholly fantastic. not far from the oldest egyptian ruins, excavations have brought to light ruins millions of years more ancient--the fossil bones of great creatures as strange as any that live in the realm of fairyland or fiction. among them was revealed the ancestry of elephants, which was also that of manatees. far back in geological times the tapir-like moeritherium, which wandered through eocene swamps, had within itself the prophecy of two diverse lines. one would gain great tusks and a long, mobile trunk and live its life in distant tropical jungles; and another branch was to sink still deeper into the swamp-water, where its hind-legs would weaken and vanish as it touched dry land less and less. and here to-day we watched a quartette of these manatees, living contented lives and breeding in the gardens of georgetown. the mist again drifted its skeins around leaf and branch, gray things became grayer, drops formed in mid-air and slipped slowly through other slower forming drops, and a moment later rain was falling gently. we went away, and to our mind's eye the manatees behind that gray curtain still munch bamboos, the spur-wings stretch their colorful wings cloudward, and the bubble-eyed crocodiles float intermittently between two watery zones. to say that these are beautiful botanical gardens is like the statement that sunsets are admirable events. it is better to think of them as a setting, focusing about the greatest water-lily in the world, or, as we have seen, the strangest mammal; or as an exhibit of roots--roots as varied and as exquisite as a hall of famous sculpture; or as a wilderness of tapestry foliage, in texture from cobweb to burlap; or as a heaven-roofed, sun-furnaced greenhouse of blossoms, from the tiniest of dull-green orchids to the fifty-foot spike of taliput bloom. with this foundation of vegetation recall that the demerara coast is a paradise for herons, egrets, bitterns, gallinules, jacanas, and hawks, and think of these trees and foliage, islands and marsh, as a nesting and roosting focus for hundreds of such birds. thus, considering the gardens indirectly, one comes gradually to the realization of their wonderful character. the victoria regia has one thing in common with a volcano--no amount of description or of colored plates prepares one for the plant itself. in analysis we recall its dimensions, colors, and form. standing by a trench filled with its leaves and flowers, we discard the records of memory, and cleansing the senses of pre-impressions, begin anew. the marvel is for each of us, individually, an exception to evolution; it is a special creation, like all the rainbows seen in one's life--a thing to be reverently absorbed by sight, by scent, by touch, absorbed and realized without precedent or limit. only ultimately do we find it necessary to adulterate this fine perception with definitive words and phrases, and so attempt to register it for ourselves or others. i have seen many wonderful sights from an automobile,--such as my first boche barrage and the tree ferns of martinique,--but none to compare with the joys of vision from prehistoric _tikka gharries_, ancient victorias, and aged hacks. it was from the low curves of these equine rickshaws that i first learned to love paris and calcutta and the water-lilies of georgetown. one of the first rites which i perform upon returning to new york is to go to the lafayette and, after dinner, brush aside the taxi men and hail a victoria. the last time i did this, my driver was so old that two fellow drivers, younger than he and yet grandfatherly, assisted him, one holding the horse and the other helping him to his seat. slowly ascending fifth avenue close to the curb and on through central park is like no other experience. the vehicle is so low and open that all resemblance to bus or taxi is lost. everything is seen from a new angle. one learns incidentally that there is a guild of cab-drivers--proud, restrained, jealous. a hundred cars rush by without notice. suddenly we see the whip brought up in salute to the dingy green top-hat, and across the avenue we perceive another victoria. and we are thrilled at the discovery, as if we had unearthed a new codex of some ancient ritual. and so, initiated by such precedent, i have found it a worthy thing to spend hours in decrepit cabs loitering along side roads in the botanical gardens, watching herons and crocodiles, lilies and manatees, from the rusty leather seats. at first the driver looked at me in astonishment as i photographed or watched or wrote; but later he attended to his horse, whispering strange things into its ears, and finally deserted me. my writing was punctuated by graceful flourishes, resulting from an occasional lurch of the vehicle as the horse stepped from one to another patch of luscious grass. like fujiyama, the victoria regia changes from hour to hour, color-shifted, wind-swung, and the mechanism of the blossoms never ceasing. in northern greenhouses it is nursed by skilled gardeners, kept in indifferent vitality by artificial heat and ventilation, with gaged light and selected water; here it was a rank growth, in its natural home, and here we knew of its antiquity from birds whose toes had been molded through scores of centuries to tread its great leaves. in the cool fragrance of early morning, with the sun low across the water, the leaves appeared like huge, milky-white platters, with now and then little dancing silhouettes running over them. in another slant of light they seemed atolls scattered thickly through a dark, quiet sea, with new-blown flowers filling the whole air with slow-drifting perfume. best of all, in late afternoon, the true colors came to the eye--six-foot circles of smooth emerald, with up-turned hem of rich wine-color. each had a tell-tale cable lying along the surface, a score of leaves radiating from one deep hidden root. up through mud and black trench-water came the leaf, like a tiny fist of wrinkles, and day by day spread and uncurled, looking like the unwieldy paw of a kitten or cub. the keels and ribs covering the under-side increased in size and strength, and finally the great leaf was ironed out by the warm sun into a mighty sheet of smooth, emerald chlorophyll. then, for a time,--no one has ever taken the trouble to find out how long,--it was at its best, swinging back and forth at its moorings with deep upright rim, a notch at one side revealing the almost invisible seam of the great lobes, and serving, also, as drainage outlet for excess of rain. a young leaf occasionally came to grief by reaching the surface amid several large ones floating close together. such a leaf expanded, as usual, but, like a beached boat, was gradually forced high and dry, hardening into a distorted shape and sinking only with the decay of the underlying leaves. the deep crimson of the outside of the rim was merely a reflection tint, and vanished when the sun shone directly through; but the masses of sharp spines were very real, and quite efficient in repelling boarders. the leaf offered safe haven to any creature that could leap or fly to its surface; but its life would be short indeed if the casual whim of every baby crocodile or flipper of a young manatee met with no opposition. insects came from water and from air and called the floating leaf home, and, from now on, its surface was one of the most interesting and busy arenas in this tropical landscape. in late september i spread my observation chair at the very edge of one of the dark tarns and watched the life on the leaves. out at the center a fussy jacana was feeding with her two spindly-legged babies, while, still nearer, three scarlet-helmeted gallinules lumbered about, now and then tipping over a silvery and black infant which seemed puzzled as to which it should call parent. here was a clear example, not only of the abundance of life in the tropics, but of the keen competition. the jacana invariably lays four eggs, and the gallinule, at this latitude, six or eight, yet only a fraction of the young had survived even to this tender age. as i looked, a small crocodile rose, splashed, and sank, sending terror among the gallinules, but arousing the spur-wing jacana to a high pitch of anger. it left its young and flew directly to the widening circles and hovered, cackling loudly. these birds have ample ability to cope with the dangers which menace from beneath; but their fear was from above, and every passing heron, egret, or harmless hawk was given a quick scrutiny, with an instinctive crouch and half-spread wings. but still the whole scene was peaceful; and as the sun grew warmer, young herons and egrets crawled out of their nests on the island a few yards away and preened their scanty plumage. kiskadees splashed and dipped along the margin of the water. everywhere this species seems seized with an aquatic fervor, and in localities hundreds of miles apart i have seen them gradually desert their fly-catching for surface feeding, or often plunging, kingfisher-like, bodily beneath, to emerge with a small wriggling fish--another certain reflection of overpopulation and competition. as i sat i heard a rustle behind me, and there, not eight feet away, narrow snout held high, one tiny foot lifted, was that furry fiend, rikki-tikki. he was too quick for me, and dived into a small clump of undergrowth and bamboos. but i wanted a specimen of mongoose, and the artist offered to beat one end of the bush. soon i saw the gray form undulating along, and as the rustling came nearer, he shot forth, moving in great bounds. i waited until he had covered half the distance to the next clump and rolled him over. going back to my chair, i found that neither jacana, nor gallinules, nor herons had been disturbed by my shot. while the introduction of the mongoose into guiana was a very reckless, foolish act, yet he seems to be having a rather hard time of it, and with islands and lily-pads as havens, and waterways in every direction, rikki is reduced chiefly to grasshoppers and such small game. he has spread along the entire coast, through the cane-fields and around the rice-swamps, and it will not be his fault if he does not eventually get a foothold in the jungle itself. no month or day or hour fails to bring vital changes--tragedies and comedies--to the network of life of these tropical gardens; but as we drive along the broad paths of an afternoon, the quiet vistas show only waving palms, weaving vultures, and swooping kiskadees, with bursts of color from bougainvillea, flamboyant, and queen of the flowers. at certain times, however, the tide of visible change swelled into a veritable bore of life, gently and gradually, as quiet waters become troubled and then pass into the seething uproar of rapids. in late afternoon, when the long shadows of palms stretched their blue-black bars across the terra-cotta roads, the foliage of the green bamboo islands was dotted here and there with a scattering of young herons, white and blue and parti-colored. idly watching them through glasses, i saw them sleepily preening their sprouting feathers, making ineffectual attempts at pecking one another, or else hunched in silent heron-dream. they were scarcely more alive than the creeping, hour-hand tendrils about them, mere double-stemmed, fluffy petaled blossoms, no more strange than the nearest vegetable blooms--the cannon-ball mystery, the sand-box puzzle, sinister orchids, and the false color-alarms of the white-bracted silver-leaf. compared with these, perching herons are right and seemly fruit. as i watched them i suddenly stiffened in sympathy, as i saw all vegetable sloth drop away and each bird become a detached individual, plucked by an electric emotion from the appearance of a thing of sap and fiber to a vital being of tingling nerves. i followed their united glance, and overhead there vibrated, lightly as a thistledown, the first incoming adult heron, swinging in from a day's fishing along the coast. it went on and vanished among the fronds of a distant island; but the calm had been broken, and through all the stems there ran a restless sense of anticipation, a zeitgeist of prophetic import. one felt that memory of past things was dimming, and content with present comfort was no longer dominant. it was the future to which both the baby herons and i were looking, and for them realization came quickly. the sun had sunk still lower, and great clouds had begun to spread their robes and choose their tints for the coming pageant. and now the vanguard of the homing host appeared,--black dots against blue and white and salmon,--thin, gaunt forms with slow-moving wings which cut the air through half the sky. the little herons and i watched them come--first a single white egret, which spiralled down, just as i had many times seen the first returning spad eddy downward to a cluster of great hump-backed hangars; then a trio of tricolored herons, and six little blues, and after that i lost count. it seemed as if these tiny islands were magnets drawing all the herons in the world. parrakeets whirl roostwards with machine-like synchronism of flight; geese wheel down in more or less regular formation; but these herons concentrated along straight lines, each describing its individual radius from the spot where it caught its last fish or shrimp to its nest or the particular branch on which it will spend the night. with a hemicircle of sufficient size, one might plot all of the hundreds upon hundreds of these radii, and each would represent a distinct line, if only a heron's width apart. at the height of the evening's flight there were sometimes fifty herons in sight at once, beating steadily onward until almost overhead, when they put on brakes and dropped. some, as the little egrets, were rather awkward; while the tricolors were the most skilful, sometimes nose-diving, with a sudden flattening out just in time to reach out and grasp a branch. once or twice, when a fitful breeze blew at sunset, i had a magnificent exhibition of aeronautics. the birds came upwind slowly, beating their way obliquely but steadily, long legs stretched out far behind the tail and swinging pendulum-like whenever a shift of ballast was needed. they apparently did not realize the unevenness of the wind, for when they backed air, ready to descend, a sudden gust would often undercut them and over they would go, legs, wings, and neck sprawling in mid-air. after one or two somersaults or a short, swift dive, they would right themselves, feathers on end, and frantically grasp at the first leaf or twig within reach. panting, they looked helplessly around, reorientation coming gradually. at each arrival, a hoarse chorus went up from hungry throats, and every youngster within reach scrambled wildly forward, hopeful of a fish course. they received but scant courtesy and usually a vicious peck tumbled them off the branch. i saw a young bird fall to the water, and this mishap was from no attack, but due to his tripping over his own feet, the claws of one foot gripping those of the other in an insane clasp, which overbalanced him. he fell through a thin screen of vines and splashed half onto a small regia leaf. with neck and wings he struggled to pull himself up, and had almost succeeded when heron and leaf sank slowly, and only the bare stem swung up again. a few bubbles led off in a silvery path toward deeper water, showing where a crocodile swam slowly off with his prey. for a time the birds remained still, and then crept within the tangles, to their mates or nests, or quieted the clamor of the young with warm-storage fish. how each one knew its own offspring was beyond my ken, but on three separate evenings scattered through one week, i observed an individual, marked by a wing-gap of two lost feathers, come, within a quarter-hour of six o'clock, and feed a great awkward youngster which had lost a single feather from each wing. so there was no hit-or-miss method--no luck in the strongest birds taking toll from more than two of the returning parents. observing this vesper migration in different places, i began to see orderly segregation on a large scale. all the smaller herons dwelt together on certain islands in more or less social tolerance; and on adjoining trees, separated by only a few yards, scores of hawks concentrated and roosted, content with their snail diet, and wholly ignoring their neighbors. on the other side of the gardens, in aristocratic isolation, was a colony of stately american egrets, dainty and graceful. their circumference of radiation was almost or quite a circle, for they preferred the ricefields for their daily hunting. here the great birds, snowy white, with flowing aigrettes, and long, curving necks, settled with dignity, and here they slept and sat on their rough nests of sticks. when the height of homing flight of the host of herons had passed, i noticed a new element of restlessness, and here and there among the foliage appeared dull-brown figures. there occurred the comic explanation of white herons who had crept deep among the branches, again emerging in house coat of drab! these were not the same, however, and the first glance through binoculars showed the thick-set, humped figures and huge, staring eyes of night herons. as the last rays of the sun left the summit of the royal palms, something like the shadow of a heron flashed out and away, and then the import of these facts was impressed upon me. the egret, the night heron, the vampire--here were three types of organisms, characterizing the actions and reactions in nature. the islands were receiving and giving up. their heart was becoming filled with the many day-feeding birds, and now the night-shift was leaving, and the very branch on which a night heron might have been dozing all day was now occupied, perhaps, by a sleeping egret. with eyes enlarged to gather together the scanty rays of light, the night herons were slipping away in the path of the vampires--both nocturnal, but unlike in all other ways. and i wondered if, in the very early morning, infant night herons would greet their returning parents; and if their callow young ever fell into the dark waters, what awful deathly alternates would night reveal; or were the slow-living crocodiles sleepless, with cruel eyes which never closed so soundly but that the splash of a young night heron brought instant response? xi the bay of butterflies butterflies doing strange things in very beautiful ways were in my mind when i sat down, but by the time my pen was uncapped my thoughts had shifted to rocks. the ink was refractory and a vigorous flick sent a shower of green drops over the sand on which i was sitting, and as i watched the ink settle into the absorbent quartz--the inversions of our grandmothers' blotters--i thought of what jolly things the lost ink might have been made to say about butterflies and rocks, if it could have flowed out slowly in curves and angles and dots over paper--for the things we might have done are always so much more worthy than those which we actually accomplish. when at last i began to write, a song came to my ears and my mind again looped backward. at least, there came from the very deeps of the water beyond the mangroves a low, metallic murmur; and my stormouth says that in icelandic _sangra_ means to murmur. so what is a murmur in iceland may very well be a song in guiana. at any rate, my pen would have to do only with words of singing catfish; yet from butterflies to rock, to fish, all was logical looping--mental giant-swings which came as relaxation after hours of observation of unrelated sheer facts. the singing cats, so my pen consented to write, had serenaded me while i crossed the cuyuni in a canoe. there arose deep, liquid, vibrating sounds, such as those i now heard, deep and penetrating, as if from some submarine gong--a gong which could not be thought of as wet, for it had never been dry. as i stopped paddling the sound became absolute vibration, the canoe itself seemed to tremble, the paddle tingled in my hands. it was wholly detached; it came from whatever direction the ear sought it. then, without dying out, it was reinforced by another sound, rhythmical, abrupt, twanging, filling the water and air with a slow measure on four notes. the water swirled beside the canoe, and a face appeared--a monstrous, complacent face, such as böcklin would love--a face inhuman in possessing the quality of supreme contentment. framed in the brown waters, the head of the great, grinning catfish rose, and slowly sank, leaving outlines discernible in ripples and bubbles with almost cheshire persistency. one of my indians, passing in his dugout, smiled at my peering down after the fish, and murmured, "boom-boom." then came a day when one of these huge, amiable, living smiles blundered into our net, a smile a foot wide and six feet long, and even as he lay quietly awaiting what fate brought to great catfish, he sang, both theme and accompaniment. his whole being throbbed with the continuous deep drumming as the thin, silky walls of his swim-bladder vibrated in the depths of his body. the oxygen in the air was slowly killing him, and yet his swan song was possible because of an inner atmosphere so rich in this gas that it would be unbreathable by a creature of the land. nerve and muscle, special expanse of circling bones, swim-bladder and its tenuous gas--all these combined to produce the aquatic harmony. but as if to load this contented being with largesse of apparently useless abilities, the two widespreading fin spines--the fins which correspond to our arms--were swiveled in rough-ridged cups at what might have been shoulders, and when moved back and forth the stridulation troubled all the water, and the air, too, with the muffled, twanging, _rip_, _rip_, _rip_, _rip_. the two spines were tuned separately, the right being a full tone lower, and the backward drawing of the bow gave a higher note than its forward reach. so, alternately, at a full second tempo, the four tones rose and fell, carrying out some strange silurian theme: a muffled cadence of undertones, which, thrilled with the mystery of their author and cause, yet merged smoothly with the cosmic orchestra of wind and ripples and distant rain. so the great, smooth, arching lift of granite rocks at our bungalow's shore, where the giant catfish sang, was ever afterward boom-boom point. and now i sat close by on the sand and strove to think anew of my butterflies, for they were the reason of my being there that brilliant october afternoon. but still my pen refused, hovering about the thing of ultimate interest as one leaves the most desired book to the last. for again the ear claimed dominance, and i listened to a new little refrain over my shoulder. i pictured a tiny sawhorse, and a midget who labored with might and main to cut through a never-ending stint of twigs. i chose to keep my image to the last, and did not move or look around, until there came the slightest of tugs at my knee, and into view clambered one of those beings who are so beautiful and bizarre that one almost thinks they should not be. my second singer was a beetle--an awkward, enormous, serious, brilliant beetle, with six-inch antennæ and great wing covers, which combined the hues of the royal robes of queen thi, tempered by thousands of years of silent darkness in the underground tombs at sakhara, with the grace of curve and angle of equally ancient characters on the hill tombs of fokien. on a background of olive ochre there blazed great splashes and characters of the red of jasper framed in black. toward the front nature had tried heavy black stippling, but it clouded the pattern and she had given it up in order that i might think of egypt and cathay. but the thing which took the beetle quite out of a world of reasonable things was his forelegs. they were outrageous, and he seemed to think so, too, for they got in his way, and caught in wrong things and pulled him to one side. they were three times the length of his other limbs, spreading sideways a full thirteen inches, long, slender, beautifully sculptured, and forever reaching out in front for whatever long-armed beetles most desire. and his song, as he climbed over me, was squeaky and sawlike, and as he walked he doddered, head trembling as an old man's shakes in final acquiescence in the futility of life. but in this great-armed beetle it was a nodding of necessity, a doddering of desire, the drawing of the bow across the strings in a hymn of hope which had begun in past time with the first stridulation of ancient insects. to-day the fiddling vibrations, the song of the beetle, reached out in all directions. to the majority of jungle ears it was only another note in the day's chorus: i saw it attract a flycatcher's attention, hold it a moment, and then lose it. to me it came as a vitally interesting tone of deep significance, for whatever emotions it might arouse in casual ears, its goal was another great-armed beetle, who might or might not come within its radius. with unquestioning search the fiddler clambered on and on, over me and over flowers and rocks, skirting the ripples and vanishing into a maelstrom of waving grass. long after the last awkward lurch, there came back zizzing squeaks of perfect faith, and i hoped, as i passed beyond the periphery of sound, that instinct and desire might direct their rolling ball of vibrations toward the one whose ear, whether in antenna, or thorax or femoral tympanum had, through untold numbers of past lives, been attuned to its rhythm. two thousand miles north of where i sat, or ten million, five hundred and sixty thousand feet (for, like bunker bean's book-keeper, i sometimes like to think of things that way), i would look out of the window one morning in days to come, and thrill at the sight of falling flakes. the emotion would very probably be sentiment--the memory of wonderful northland snowstorms, of huge fires, of evenings with roosevelt, when discussions always led to unknowable fields, when book after book yielded its phrase or sentence of pure gold thought. on one of the last of such evenings i found a forgotten joy-of-battle-speech of huxley's, which stimulated two full days and four books re-read--while flakes swirled and invisible winds came swiftly around the eaves over the great trophies--_poussant des soupirs_,--we longing with our whole souls for an hour of talk with that splendid old fighting scientist. these are thoughts which come at first-snow, thoughts humanly narrow and personal compared to the later delights of snow itself--crystals and tracks, the strangeness of freezing and the mystery of melting. and they recurred now because for days past i had idly watched scattered flurries of lemon-yellow and of orange butterflies drift past kartabo. down the two great guiana rivers they came, steadily progressing, yet never hurrying; with zigzag flickering flight they barely cleared the trees and shrubs, and then skimmed the surface, vanishing when ripples caught the light, redoubled by reflection when the water lay quiet and polished. for month after month they passed, sometimes absent for days or weeks, but soon to be counted at earliest sunup, always arousing renewed curiosity, always bringing to mind the first flurry of winter. we watch the autumn passing of birds with regret, but when the bluebirds warble their way southward we are cheered with the hope and the knowledge that some, at least, will return. here, vast stretches of country, perhaps all guiana, and how much of brazil and venezuela no one knows, poured forth a steady stream of yellow and orange butterflies. they were very beautiful and they danced and flickered in the sunlight, but this was no temporary shifting to a pleasanter clime or a land of more abundant flowers, but a migration in the grim old sense which cicero loved, _non dubitat_ ... _migrare de vita_. no butterfly ever turned back, or circled again to the glade, with its yellow cassia blooms where he had spent his caterpillarhood. nor did he fly toward the north star or the sunset, but between the two. twelve years before, as i passed up the essequibo and the cuyuni, i noticed hundreds of yellow butterflies each true to his little compass variation of nnw. there are times and places in guiana where emigrating butterflies turn to the north or the south; sometimes for days at a time, but sooner or later the eddies straighten out, their little flotillas cease tacking, and all swing again nnw. to-day the last of the migration stragglers of the year--perhaps the fiftieth great-grandsons of those others--held true to the catopsilian lodestone. my masculine pronouns are intentional, for of all the thousands and tens of thousands of migrants, all, as far as i know, were males. catch a dozen yellows in a jungle glade and the sexes may be equal. but the irresistible maelstrom impels only the males. whence they come or why they go is as utterly unknown to us as why the females are immune. once, from the deck of a steamer, far off the guiana coast, i saw hosts of these same great saffron-wings flying well above the water, headed for the open sea. behind them were sheltering fronds, nectar, soft winds, mates; before were corroding salt, rising waves, lowering clouds, a storm imminent. their course was nnw, they sailed under sealed orders, their port was death. looking out over the great expanse of the mazaruni, the fluttering insects were usually rather evenly distributed, each with a few yards of clear space about it, but very rarely--i have seen it only twice--a new force became operative. not only were the little volant beings siphoned up in untold numbers from their normal life of sleeping, feeding, dancing about their mates, but they were blindly poured into an invisible artery, down which they flowed in close association, _véritables corpuscules de papillons_, almost touching, forming a bending ribbon, winding its way seaward, with here and there a temporary fraying out of eddying wings. it seemed like a wayward cloud still stained with last night's sunset yellow, which had set out on its own path over rivers and jungles to join the sea mists beyond the uttermost trees. such a swarm seemed imbued with an ecstasy of travel which surpassed discomfort. deep cloud shadows might settle down, but only dimmed the painted wings; under raindrops the ribbon sagged, the insects flying closer to the water. on the other hand, the scattered hosts of the more ordinary migrations, while they turned neither to the north nor to the west, yet fled at the advent of clouds and rain, seeking shelter under the nearest foliage. so much loitering was permitted, but with the coming of the sun again they must desert the pleasant feel of velvet leaves, the rain-washed odors of streaming blossoms, and set their antennæ unquestioningly upon the strange last turn of their wheel of life. what crime of ancestors are they expiating? in some forgotten caterpillardom was an act committed, so terrible that it can never be known, except through the working out of the karma upon millions of butterflies? or does there linger in the innumerable little ganglion minds a memory of long-lost atlantis, so compelling to masculine catopsilias that the supreme effort of their lives is an attempt to envisage it? "absurd fancies, all," says our conscious entomological sense, and we agree and sweep them aside. and then quite as readily, more reasonable scientific theories fall asunder, and we are left at last alone with the butterflies, a vast ignorance, and a great unfulfilled desire to know what it all means. on this october day the migration of the year had ceased. to my coarse senses the sunlight was of equal intensity, the breeze unchanged, the whole aspect the same--and yet something as intangible as thought, as impelling as gravitation, had ceased to operate. the tension once slackened, the butterflies took up their more usual lives. but what could i know of the meaning of "normal" in the life of a butterfly--i who boasted a miserable single pair of eyes and no greater number of legs, whose shoulders supported only shoulder blades, and whose youth was barren of caterpillarian memories! as i have said, migration was at an end, yet here i had stumbled upon a bay of butterflies. no matter whether one's interest in life lay chiefly with ornithology, teetotalism, arrowheads, politics, botany, or finance, in this bay one's thoughts would be sure to be concentrated on butterflies. and no less interesting than the butterflies were their immediate surroundings. the day before, i had sat close by on a low boulder at the head of the tiny bay, with not a butterfly in sight. it occurred to me that my ancestor, eryops, would have been perfectly at home, for in front of me were clumps of strange, carboniferous rushes, lacking leaves and grace, and sedges such as might be fashioned in an attempt to make plants out of green straw. here and there an ancient jointed stem was in blossom, a pinnacle of white filaments, and hour after hour there came little brown trigonid visitors, sting-less bees, whose nests were veritable museums of flower extracts--tubs of honey, hampers of pollen, barrels of ambrosia, hoarded in castles of wax. scirpus-sedge or orchid, all was the same to them. all odor evaded me until i had recourse to my usual olfactory crutch, placing the flower in a vial in the sunlight. delicate indeed was the fragrance which did not yield itself to a few minutes of this distillation. as i removed the cork there gently arose the scent of thyme, and of rose petals long pressed between the leaves of old, old books--a scent memorable of days ancient to us, which in past lives of sedges would count but a moment. in an instant it passed, drowned in the following smell of bruised stem. but i had surprised the odor of this age-old growth, as evanescent as the faint sound of the breeze sifting through the cluster of leafless stalks. i felt certain that eryops, although living among horserushes and ancient sedges, never smelled or listened to them, and a glow of satisfaction came over me at the thought that perhaps i represented an advance on this funny old forebear of mine; but then i thought of the little bees, drawn from afar by the scent, and i returned to my usual sense of human futility, which is always dominant in the presence of insect activities. i leaned back, crowding into a crevice of rock, and strove to realize more deeply the kinship of these fine earth neighbors. bone of my bone indeed they were, but their quiet dignity, their calmness in storm and sun, their poise, their disregard of all small, petty things, whether of mechanics, whether chemical or emotional--these were attributes to which i could only aspire, being the prerogatives of superiors. these rocks, in particular, seemed of the very essence of earth. three elements fought over them. the sand and soil from which they lifted their splendid heads sifted down, or was washed up, in vain effort to cover them. more subtly dead tree trunks fell upon them, returned to earth, and strove to encloak them. for six hours at a time the water claimed them, enveloping them slowly in a mantle of quicksilver, or surging over with rough waves. algal spores took hold, desmids and diatoms swam in and settled down, little fish wandered in and out of the crevices, while large ones nosed at the entrances. then mother earth turned slowly onward; the moon, reaching down, beckoned with invisible fingers, and the air again entered this no man's land. breezes whispered where a few moments before ripples had lapped; with the sun as ally, the last remaining pool vanished and there began the hours of aerial dominion. the most envied character of our lesser brethren is their faith. no matter how many hundreds of thousands of tides had ebbed and flowed, yet to-day every pinch of life which was blown or walked or fell or flew to the rocks during their brief respite from the waves, accepted the good dry surface without question. seeds and berries fell, and rolled into hollows rich in mulcted earth; parachutes, buoyed on thistle silk, sailed from distant jungle plants; every swirl of breeze brought spores of lichens and moss, and even the retreating water unwittingly aided, having transported hither and dropped a cargo of living things, from tiniest plant to seeds of mightiest mora. though in the few allotted hours these might not sprout, but only quicken in their heart, yet blue-winged wasps made their faith more manifest, and worked with feverish haste to gather pellets of clay and fashion cells. i once saw even the beginning of storage--a green spider, which an hour later was swallowed by a passing fish instead of nourishing an infant wasp. spiders raised their meshes where shrimps had skipped, and flies hummed and were caught by singing jungle vireos, where armored catfish had passed an hour or two before. so the elements struggled and the creatures of each strove to fulfil their destiny, and for a little time the rocks and i wondered at it together. in this little arena, floored with sand, dotted with rushes and balconied with boulders, many hundreds of butterflies were gathered. there were five species, all of the genius _catopsilia_, but only three were easily distinguishable in life, the smaller, lemon yellow _statira_, and the larger, orange _argente_ and _philea_. there was also _eubele_, the migrant, keeping rather to itself. i took some pictures, then crept closer; more pictures and a nearer approach. then suddenly all rose, and i felt as if i had shattered a wonderful painting. but the sand was a lodestone and drew them down. i slipped within a yard, squatted, and mentally became one of them. silently, by dozens and scores, they flew around me, and soon they eclipsed the sand. they were so closely packed that their outstretched legs touched. there were two large patches, and a smaller area outlined by no boundary that i could detect. yet when these were occupied the last comers alighted on top of the wings of their comrades, who resented neither the disturbance nor the weight. two layers of butterflies crammed into small areas of sand in the midst of more sand, bounded by walls of empty air--this was a strange thing. a little later, when i enthusiastically reported it to a professional lepidopterist he brushed it aside. "a common occurrence the world over, rhopalocera gathered in damp places to drink." i, too, had observed apparently similar phenomena along icy streams in sikkim, and around muddy buffalo-wallows in steaming malay jungles. and i can recall many years ago, leaning far out of a new england buggy to watch clouds of little sulphurs flutter up from puddles beneath the creaking wheels. the very fact that butterflies chose to drink in company is of intense interest, and to be envied as well by us humans who are temporarily denied that privilege. but in the bay of butterflies they were not drinking, nor during the several days when i watched them. one of the chosen patches of sand was close to the tide when i first saw them, and damp enough to appease the thirst of any butterfly. the other two were upon sand, parched by hours of direct tropical sun, and here the two layers were massed. the insects alighted, facing in any direction, but veered at once, heading upbreeze. along the riverside of markets of tropical cities i have seen fleets of fishing boats crowded close together, their gay sails drying, while great ebony neptunes brought ashore baskets of angel fish. this came to mind as i watched my flotillas of butterflies. i leaned forward until my face was hardly a foot from the outliers, and these i learned to know as individuals. one sulphur had lost a bit of hind wing, and three times he flew away and returned to the same spot. like most cripples, he was unamiable, and resented a close approach, pushing at the trespasser with a foreleg in a most unbutterfly-like way. although i watched closely, i did not see a single tongue uncoiled for drinking. only when a dense group became uneasy and pushed one another about were the tongue springs slightly loosened. even the nervous antennæ were quiet after the insects had settled. they seemed to have achieved a rhopaloceran nirvana, content to rest motionless until caught up in the temporary whirlwinds of restlessness which now and then possessed them. they came from all directions, swirling over the rocks, twisting through nearby brambles, and settling without a moment's hesitation. it was as though they had all been here many times before, a rendezvous which brooked not an instant's delay. from time to time some mass spirit troubled them, and, as one butterfly, the whole company took to wing. close as they were when resting, they fairly buffeted one another in mid-air. their wings, striking one another and my camera and face, made a strange little rustling, crisp and crackling whispers of sounds. as if a pile of northern autumn leaves, fallen to earth, suddenly remembered days of greenness and humming bees, and strove to raise themselves again to the bare branches overhead. down came the butterflies again, brushing against my clothes and eyes and hands. all that i captured later were males, and most were fresh and newly emerged, with a scattering of dimmed wings, frayed at edges, who flew more slowly, with less vigor. finally the lower patch was washed out by the rising tide, but not until the water actually reached them did the insects leave. i could trace with accuracy the exact reach of the last ripple to roll over the flat sand by the contour of the remaining outermost rank of insects. on and on came the water, and soon i was forced to move, and the hundreds of butterflies in front of me. when the last one had left i went away, returning two hours later. it was then that i witnessed the most significant happening in the bay of butterflies--one which shook to the bottom the theory of my lepidopterist friend, together with my thoughtless use of the word normal. over two feet of restless brown water covered the sand patches and rocked the scouring rushes. a few feet farther up the little bay the remaining sand was still exposed. here were damp sand, sand dotted with rushes, and sand dry and white in the sun. about a hundred butterflies were in sight, some continually leaving, and others arriving. individuals still dashed into sight and swooped downward. but not one attempted to alight on the exposed sand. there was fine, dry sand, warm to a butterfly's feet, or wet sand soaked with draughts of good mazaruni water. but they passed this unheeding, and circled and fluttered in two swarms, as low as they dared, close to the surface of the water, exactly over the two patches of sand which had so drawn and held them or their brethren two hours before. whatever the ultimate satisfaction may have been, the attraction was something transcending humidity, aridity, or immediate possibility of attainment. it was a definite cosmic point, a geographical focus, which, to my eyes and understanding, was unreasonable, unsuitable, and inexplicable. as i watched the restless water and the butterflies striving to find a way down through it to the only desired patches of sand in the world, there arose a fine, thin humming, seeping up through the very waves, and i knew the singing catfish were following the tide shoreward. and as i considered my vast ignorance of what it all meant, of how little i could ever convey of the significance of the happenings in the bay of butterflies, i felt that it would have been far better for all of my green ink to have trickled down through the grains of sand. xii sequels tropical midges of sorts live less than a day--sequoias have felt their sap quicken at the warmth of fifteen hundred springs. somewhere between these extremes, we open our eyes, look about us for a time and close them again. modern political geography and shifts of government give us methusalistic feelings--but a glance at rocks or stars sends us shuddering among the other motes which glisten for a moment in the sunlight and then vanish. we who strive for a little insight into evolution and the meaning of things as they are, forever long for a glimpse of things as they were. here at my laboratory i wonder what the land was like before the dense mat of vegetation came to cover every rock and grain of sand, or how the rivers looked when first their waters trickled to the sea. all our stories are of the middles of things,--without beginning or end; we scientists are plunged suddenly upon a cosmos in the full uproar of eons of precedent, unable to look ahead, while to look backward we must look down. exactly a year ago i spent two hours in a clearing in the jungle back of kartabo laboratory, and let my eyes and ears have full swing.[2] now in august of the succeeding year i came again to this clearing, and found it no more a clearing. indeed so changed was it, that for weeks i had passed close by without a thought of the jungle meadow of the previous year, and now, what finally turned me aside from my usual trail, was a sound. twelve months ago i wrote, "from the monotone of under-world sounds a strange little rasping detached itself, a reiterated, subdued scraping or picking. it carried my mind instantly to the throbbing theme of the niebelungs, onomatopoetic of the little hammers forever busy in their underground work. i circled a small bush at my side, and found that the sound came from one of the branches near the top; so with my glasses i began a systematic search." this was as far as i ever got, for a flock of parrakeets exploded close at hand and blew the lesser sound out of mind. if i had stopped to guess i would probably have considered the author a longicorn beetle or some fiddling orthopter. [footnote 2: see page 34.] now, a year later, i suddenly stopped twenty yards away, for at the end of the silvery cadence of a woodhewer, i heard the low, measured, toneless rhythm which instantly revived to mind every detail of the clearing. i was headed toward a distant palm frond beneath whose tip was a nest of rufous hermits, for i wished to see the two atoms of hummingbirds at the moment when they rolled from their _petit pois_ egg-shells. i gave this up for the day and turned up the hill, where fifty feet away was the stump and bush near which i had sat and watched. three times i went past the place before i could be certain, and even at the last i identified it only by the relative position of the giant tauroneero tree, in which i had shot many cotingas. the stump was there, a bit lower and more worn at the crevices, leaking sawdust like an overloved doll--but the low shrub had become a tall sapling, the weeds--vervain, boneset, velvet-leaf--all had been topped and killed off by dense-foliaged bushes and shrubs, which a year before had not raised a leaf above the meadow level. the old vistas were gone, the landscape had closed in, the wilderness was shutting down. nature herself was "letting in the jungle." i felt like rip van winkle, or even more alien, as if the passing of time had been accelerated and my longed-for leap had been accomplished, beyond the usual ken of mankind's earthly lease of senses. all these astounding changes had come to pass through the heat and moisture of a tropical year, and under deliberate scientific calculation there was nothing unusual in the alteration. i remembered the remarkable growth of one of the laboratory bamboo shoots during the rainy season--twelve and a half feet in sixteen days, but that was a single stem like a blade of grass, whereas here the whole landscape was altered--new birds, new insects, branches, foliage, flowers, where twelve short months past, was open sky above low weeds. in the hollow root on the beach, my band of crane-flies had danced for a thousand hours, but here was a sound which had apparently never ceased for more than a year--perhaps five thousand hours of daylight. it was a low, penetrating, abruptly reiterated beat, occurring about once every second and a half, and distinctly audible a hundred feet away. the "low bush" from which it proceeded last year, was now a respectable sapling, and the source far out of reach overhead. i discovered a roundish mass among the leaves, and the first stroke of the ax sent the rhythm up to once a second, but did not alter the timbre. a few blows and the small trunk gave way and i fled for my life. but there was no angry buzzing and i came close. after a cessation of ten or fifteen seconds the sound began again, weaker but steady. the foliage was alive with small azteca ants, but these were tenants of several small nests near by, and at the catastrophe overran everything. the largest structure was the smooth carton nest of a wasp, a beautiful species, pale yellowish-red with wine-colored wings. only once did an individual make an attempt to sting and even when my head was within six inches, the wasps rested quietly on the broken combs. by careful watching, i observed that many of the insects jerked the abdomen sharply downward, butting the comb or shell of smooth paper a forceful blow, and producing a very distinct noise. i could not at first see the mass of wasps which were giving forth the major rhythm, as they were hidden deep in the nest, but the fifty-odd wasps in sight kept perfect time, or occasionally an individual skipped one or two beats, coming in regularly on every alternate or every third beat. where they were two or three deep, the uppermost wasps struck the insects below them with their abdomens in perfect rhythm with the nest beat. for half an hour the sound continued, then died down and was not heard again. the wasps dispersed during the night and the nest was deserted. it reminded me of the telegraphing ants which i have often heard in borneo, a remarkable sweeping roll, caused by the host of insects striking the leaves with their heads, and produced only when they are disturbed. it appeared to be of the nature of a warning signal, giving me opportunity to back away from the stinging legions which filled the thicket against which i pushed. the rhythm of these wasps was very different. they were peaceable, not even resenting the devastation of their home, but always and always must the inexplicable beat, beat, beat, be kept up, serving some purpose quite hidden from me. during succeeding months i found two more nests, with similar fetish of sound vibrations, which led to their discovery. from one small nest, which fairly shook with the strength of their beats, i extracted a single wasp and placed him in a glass-topped, metal box. for three minutes he kept up the rhythmic beat. then i began a more rapid tattoo on the bottom of the box, and the changed tempo confused him, so that he stopped at once, and would not tap again. a few little mazaruni daisies survived here and there, blossoming bravely, trying to believe that the shade was lessening, and not daily becoming more dense. but their leaves were losing heart, and paling in the scant light. another six months and dead leaves and moss would have obliterated them, and the zone of brilliant flowers and gorgeous butterflies and birds would shift many feet into the air, with the tops of the trees as a new level. as long as i remained by my stump my visitors were of the jungle. a yellow-bellied trogon came quite close, and sat as trogons do, very straight and stiff like a poorly mounted bird, watching passing flycatchers and me and the glimpses of sky. at first he rolled his little cuckoo-like notes, and his brown mate swooped up, saw me, shifted a few feet farther off and perched full of curiosity, craning her neck and looking first with one eye, then the other. now the male began a content song. with all possible variations of his few and simple tones, on a low and very sweet timbre, he belied his unoscine perch in the tree of bird life, and sang to himself. now and then he was drowned out by the shrilling of cicadas, but it was a delightful serenade, and he seemed to enjoy it as much as i did. a few days before, i had made a careful study of the syrinx of this bird, whom we may call rather euphoniously _trogonurus curucui_, and had been struck by the simplicity both of muscles and bones. now, having summoned his mate in regular accents, there followed this unexpected whisper song. it recalled similar melodies sung by pheasants and himalayan partridges, usually after they had gone to roost. once the female swooped after an insect, and in the midst of one of the sweetest passages of the male trogon, a green grasshopper shifted his position. he was only two inches away from the singer, and all this time had been hidden by his chlorophyll-hued veil. and now the trogon fairly fell off the branch, seizing the insect almost before the tone died away. swallowing it with considerable difficulty, the harmony was taken up again, a bit throaty for a few notes. then the pair talked together in the usual trogon fashion, and the sudden shadow of a passing vulture, drew forth discordant cat calls, as both birds swooped from sight to avoid the fancied hawk. a few minutes later the vocal seal of the jungle was uttered by a quadrille bird. when the notes of this wren are heard, i can never imagine open, blazing sunshine, or unobstructed blue sky. like the call of the wood pewee, the wren's radiates coolness and shadowy quiet. no matter how tropic or breathless the jungle, when the flute-like notes arise they bring a feeling of freshness, they arouse a mental breeze, which cools one's thoughts, and, although there may be no water for miles, yet we can fairly hear the drip of cool drops falling from thick moss to pools below. first an octave of two notes of purest silver, then a varying strain of eight or ten notes, so sweet and powerful, so individual and meaningful that it might stand for some wonderful motif in a great opera. i shut my eyes, and i was deaf to all other sounds while the wren sang. and as it dwelt on the last note of its phrase, a cicada took it up on the exact tone, and blended the two final notes into a slow vibration, beginning gently and rising with the crescendo of which only an insect, and especially a cicada, is master. here was the eternal, hypnotic tom-tom rhythm of the east, grafted upon supreme western opera. for a time my changed clearing became merely a sounding box for the most thrilling of jungle songs. i called the wren as well as i could, and he came nearer and nearer. the music rang out only a few yards away. then he became suspicious, and after that each phrase was prefaced by typical wren scolding. he could not help but voice his emotions, and the harsh notes told plainly what he thought of my poor imitation. then another feeling would dominate, and out of the maelstrom of harshness, of tumbled, volcanic vocalization would rise the pure silver stream of single notes. the wren slipped away through the masses of fragrant davilla blossoms, but his songs remained and are with me to this moment. and now i leaned back, lost my balance, and grasping the old stump for support, loosened a big piece of soft, mealy wood. in the hollow beneath, i saw a rainbow in the heart of the dead tree. this rainbow was caused by a bug, and when we stop to think of it, this shows how little there is in a name. for when we say bug, or for that matter bogy or bugbear, we are garbling the sound which our very, very forefathers uttered when they saw a specter or hobgoblin. they said it _bugge_ or even _bwg_, but then they were more afraid of specters in those days than we, who imprison will-o'-the-wisps in very lights, and rub fox-fire on our watch faces. at any rate here was a bug who seemed to ill-deserve his name, although if the niblelungs could fashion the rheingold, why could not a bug conceive a rainbow? whenever a human, and especially a house-human thinks of bugs, she thinks unpleasantly and in superlatives. and it chances that evolution, or natural selection, or life's mechanism, or fate or a creator, has wrought them into form and function also in superlatives. cicadas are supreme in longevity and noise. one of our northern species sucks in silent darkness for seventeen years, and then, for a single summer, breaks all american long-distance records for insect voices. to another group, known as fulgorids, gigantic heads and streamers of wax have been allotted. those possessing the former rejoice in the name of lantern flies, but they are at present unfaithful vestal bugs, though it is extremely doubtful if their wicks were ever trimmed or lighted. to see a big wax bug flying with trailing ribbons slowly from tree to tree in the jungle is to recall the streaming trains of a flock of peacocks on the wing. the membracids must of all deserve the name of "bugges" for no elf or hobgoblin was ever more bizarre. their legs and heads and bodies are small and aphid-like, but aloft there spring minarets and handles and towers and thorns and groups of hairy balls, out of all reason and sense. only stegosaurus and triceratops bear comparison. another group of five-sided bugs are the skunks and civet-cats among insects, guarding themselves from danger by an aura of obnoxious scent. not the least strange of this assemblage is the author of our rainbow in the stump. my awkwardness had broken into a hollow which opened to the light on the other side of the rotten bole. a vine had tendriled its way into the crevice where the little weaver of rainbows had found board and lodging. we may call him toad-hopper or spittle-bug, or as fabre says, "_contentons-nous de cicadelle, qui respecte le tympan._" like all of its kindred, the bubble bug finds nirvana in a sappy green stem. it has neither strong flight, nor sticky wax, thorny armature nor gas barrage, so it proceeds to fashion an armor of bubbles, a cuirass of liquid film. this, in brief, was the rainbow which caught my eye when i broke open the stump. up to that moment no rainbow had existed, only a little light sifting through from the vine-clad side. but now a ray of sun shattered itself on the pile of bubbles, and sprayed itself out into a curved glory. bubble bugs blow their froth only when immature, and their bodies are a distillery or home-brew of sorts. no matter what the color, or viscosity or chemical properties of sap, regardless of whether it flows in liana, shrub, or vine, yet the bug's artesian product is clear, tasteless and wholly without the possibility of being blown into bubbles. when a large drop has collected, the tip of the abdomen encloses a retort of air, inserts this in the drop and forces it out. in some way an imponderable amount of oil or dissolved wax is extruded and mixed with the drop, an invisible shellac which toughens the bubble and gives it an astounding glutinous endurance. as long as the abdominal air-pump can be extended into the atmosphere, so long does the pile of bubbles grow until the insect is deep buried, and to penetrate this is as unpleasant an achievement for small marauders as to force a cobweb entanglement. i have draped a big pile of bubbles around the beak of an insect-eating bird, and watched it shake its head and wipe its beak in evident disgust at the clinging oily films. in the north we have the bits of fine white foam which we characteristically call frog-spittle, but these tropic relatives have bigger bellows and their covering is like the interfering mass of films which emerges from the soap-bubble bowl when a pipe is thrust beneath the surface and that delicious gurgling sound produced. the most marvelous part of the whole thing is that the undistilled well which the bubble bug taps would often overwhelm it in an instant, either by the burning acidity of its composition, or the rubber coating of death into which it hardens in the air. yet with this current of lava or vitriol, our bug does three wonderful things, it distills sweet water for its present protective cell of bubbles, it draws purest nourishment for continual energy to run its bellows and pump, and simultaneously it fills its blood and tissues with a pungent flavor, which in the future will be a safeguard against the attacks of birds and lizards. little by little its wings swell to full spread and strength, muscles are fashioned in its hind legs, which in time will shoot it through great distances of space, and pigment of the most brilliant yellow and black forms on its wing covers. when at last it shuts down its little still and creeps forth through the filmy veil, it is immature no longer, but a brilliant frog-hopper, sitting on the most conspicuous leaves, trusting by pigmental warning to advertise its inedibility, and watchful for a mate, so that the future may hold no dearth of bubble bugs. on my first tramp each season in the tropical jungle, i see the legionary army ants hastening on their way to battle, and the leaf-cutters plodding along, with chlorophyll hods over their shoulders, exactly as they did last year, and the year preceding, and probably a hundred thousand years before that. the colony egos of army and leaf-cutters may quite reasonably be classified according to kingdom. the former, with carnivorous, voracious, nervous, vitally active members, seems an intangible, animal-like organism; while the stolid, vegetarian, unemotional, weather-swung attas, resemble the flowing sap of the food on which they subsist--vegetable. yet, whatever the simile, the net of unconscious precedent is too closely drawn, the mesh of instinct is too fine to hope for any initiative. this was manifested by the most significant and spectacular occurrence i have ever observed in the world of insects. one year and a half ago i studied and reported upon, a nest of ecitons or army ants.[3] now, eighteen months later, apparently the same army appeared and made a similar nest of their own bodies, in the identical spot near the door of the outhouse, where i had found them before. again we had to break up the temporary colony, and killed about three-quarters of the colony with various deadly chemicals. [footnote 3: see page 58.] in spite of all the tremendous slaughter, the ecitons, in late afternoon, raided a small colony of wasps-of-the-painted-nest. these little chaps construct a round, sub-leaf carton-home, as large as a golf ball, which carries out all the requirements of counter shading and of ruptive markings. the flattened, shadowed under surface was white, and most of the sloping walls dark brown, down which extended eight white lines, following the veins of the leaf overhead. the side close to the stem of the leaf, and consequently always in deep shadow, was pure white. the eaves catching high lights were black. all this marvelous merging with leaf tones went for naught when once an advance eciton scout located the nest. as the deadly mob approached, the wasplets themselves seemed to realize the futility of offering battle, and the entire colony of forty-four gathered in a forlorn group on a neighboring leaf, while their little castle was rifled--larvæ and pupæ torn from their cells and rushed down the stems to the chaos which was raging in eciton's own home. the wasps could guard against optical discovery, but the blind ecitons had senses which transcended vision, if not even scent. late that night, our lanterns showed the remnants of the eciton army wandering aimlessly about, making near approach impossible, but apparently lacking any definite concerted action. at six o'clock the following morning i started out for a swim, when at the foot of the laboratory steps i saw a swiftly-moving, broad line of army ants on safari, passing through the compound to the beach. i traced them back under the servants' quarters, through two clumps of bamboos to the outhouse. later i followed along the column down to the river sand, through a dense mass of underbrush, through a hollow log, up the bank, back through light jungle--to the outhouse again, and on a large fallen log, a few feet beyond the spot where their nest had been, the ends of the circle _actually came together_! it was the most astonishing thing, and i had to verify it again and again before i could believe the evidence of my eyes. it was a strong column, six lines wide in many places, and the ants fully believed that they were on their way to a new home, for most were carrying eggs or larvæ, although many had food, including the larvæ of the painted nest wasplets. for an hour at noon during heavy rain, the column weakened and almost disappeared, but when the sun returned, the lines rejoined, and the revolution of the vicious circle continued. there were several places which made excellent points of observation, and here we watched and marveled. careful measurement of the great circle showed a circumference of twelve hundred feet. we timed the laden ecitons and found that they averaged two to two and three-quarter inches a second. so a given individual would complete the round in about two hours and a half. many guests were plodding along with the ants, mostly staphylinids of which we secured five species, a brown histerid beetle, a tiny chalcid, and several phorid flies, one of which was winged. the fat histerid beetle was most amusing, getting out of breath every few feet, and abruptly stopping to rest, turning around in its tracks, standing almost on its head, and allowing the swarm of ants to run up over it and jump off. then on it would go again, keeping up the terrific speed of two and a half inches a second for another yard. its color was identical with the ecitons' armor, and when it folded up, nothing could harm it. once a worker stopped and antennæd it suspiciously, but aside from this, it was accepted as one of the line of marchers. along the same route came the tiny phorid flies, wingless but swift as shadows, rushing from side to side, over ants, leaves, débris, impatient only at the slowness of the army. all the afternoon the insane circle revolved; at midnight the hosts were still moving, the second morning many had weakened and dropped their burdens, and the general pace had very appreciably slackened. but still the blind grip of instinct held them. on, on, on they must go! always before in their nomadic life there had been a goal--a sanctuary of hollow tree, snug heart of bamboos--surely this terrible grind must end somehow. in this crisis, even the spirit of the army was helpless. along the normal paths of eciton life he could inspire endless enthusiasm, illimitable energy, but here his material units were bound upon the wheel of their perfection of instinct. through sun and cloud, day and night, hour after hour there was found no eciton with individual initiative enough to turn aside an ant's breadth from the circle which he had traversed perhaps fifteen times: the masters of the jungle had become their own mental prey. fewer and fewer now came along the well worn path; burdens littered the line of march, like the arms and accoutrements thrown down by a retreating army. at last a scanty single line struggled past--tired, hopeless, bewildered, idiotic and thoughtless to the last. then some half dead eciton straggled from the circle along the beach, and threw the line behind him into confusion. the desperation of total exhaustion had accomplished what necessity and opportunity and normal life could not. several others followed his scent instead of that leading back toward the outhouse, and as an amoeba gradually flows into one of its own pseudopodia, so the forlorn hope of the great eciton army passed slowly down the beach and on into the jungle. would they die singly and in bewildered groups, or would the remnant draw together, and again guided by the super-mind of its mentor lay the foundation of another army, and again come to nest in my outhouse? thus was the ending still unfinished, the finale buried in the future--and in this we find the fascination of nature and of science. who can be bored for a moment in the short existence vouchsafed us here; with dramatic beginnings barely hidden in the dust, with the excitement of every moment of the present, and with all of cosmic possibility lying just concealed in the future, whether of betelgeuze, of amoeba or--of ourselves? _vogue la galère!_ appendix of scientific names page line 4 26 moriche oriole; _icterus chrysocephalus_ (linné) 8 10 toad; _bufo guttatus schneid_. 18 3 bat; _furipterus horrens_ (f. cuv.) 4 large bats; _vampyrus spectrum_ (linné) 6 vampire bats; _desmodus rotundus_ (geoff.) 22 5 giant catfish, boom-boom; _doras granulosus_ valen. 23 5 kiskadee; _pitangus s. sulphuratus_ (linné) 25 26 parrakeets; _touit batavica_ (bodd.) 26 great black orioles; _ostinops d. decumanus_ (pall.) 26 5 house wrens; _troglodytes musculus clarus_ berl. and hart 29 5 coati-mundi; _nasua n. nasua_ (linné) 32 2 frog; _phyllomedusa_ sp. 34 18 mazaruni daisies; _sipanea pratensis_ aubl. 20 button weed; _spermacoce_ sp. 36 23 melancholy tyrant; _tyrannus melancholicus satrapa_ (cab. and hein.) 37 2 monarch; _anosia plexippus_ (linné) 38 7 red-breasted blue chatterer; _cotinga cotinga_ linné 18 yellow papilio; _papilio thoas_ linné 49 26 parrakeets; _touit batavica_ (bodd.) 52 3 purple-throated cotinga; _cotinga cayana_ (linné) 53 15 dark-breasted mourner; _lipaugus simplex_ licht. 54 26 toucans; _ramphastus vitellinus_ licht. 59 6 white-fronted ant-bird; _pithys albifrons_ (linné) 60 16 army ants; _eciton burchelli_ westwood 97 10 great green kingfisher; _chloroceryle amazona_ (lath.) 11 tiny emerald kingfisher; _chloroceryle americana_ (gmel.) 103 25 gecko; _thecadactylus rapicaudus_ (houtt.) 109 8 howling monkeys; _alouatta seniculus macconnelli_ elliot 113 7 bower bird; _ptilonorhynchus violaceus_ (vieill.) 116 24 cassava; _janipha manihot_ kth. 126 20 frog, gawain; _phyllomedusa_ sp. 132 17 marine toad; _bufo marinus_ (linné) 133 8 scarlet-thighed leaf-walker; _phyllobates inguinalis_. 149 2 attas, leaf-cutting ants; _atta cephalotes_ (fab.) 151 12 fruit bats; _vampyrus spectrum_ (linné) 152 11 king vulture; _gypagus papa_ (linné) 11 harpy eagle; _harpia harpyja_ (linné) 163 3 ani; _crotophaga ani_ linné 7 marine toad; _bufo marinus_ (linné) 164 19 white-faced opossum; _metachirus o. opossum_ (linné) 173 1 attas, leaf-cutting ants; _atta cephalotes_ (fab.) 5 hummingbird; _phoethornis r. ruber_ (linné) 174 7 tamandua; _tamandua t. tetradactyla_ (linné) 175 1 trogon; _trogon s. strigilatus_ (linné) 9 tarantula hawks; _pepsis_ sp. 181 17 cicada larvæ; _quesada gigas_ oliv. 182 5 roaches; _attaphila_ sp. 231 26 manatee; _trichechus manatus_ linné 232 24 crocodile; _caiman sclerops_ (schneid.) 233 6 jacana; _jacana j. jacana_ (linné) 8 gallinule; _ionornis martinicus_ (linné) 9 green herons; _butorides striata_ linné 10 egrets; _leucophoyx t. thula_ (molina) 233 17 kiskadees; _pitangus sulphuratus_ (linné) 19 black witch; _crotophaga ani_ (linné) 19 house wren; _troglodytes musculus clarus_ berl. and hart 22 manatee; _trichechus manatus_ (linné) 242 1 jacana; _jacana j. jacana_ (linné) 3 gallinule; _ionornis martinicus_ (linné) 243 15 mongoose; _mungos mungo_ (gmel.) 246 11 little egret; _leucophoyx t. thula_ (molina) 14 tri-colored heron; _hydranassa tricolor_ (p. l. s. mull.) 15 little blue heron; _florida c. caerulea_ (linné) 249 14 white egret; _casmerodius egretta_ (gmel.) 250 10 night heron; _nyctanassa violacea cayennensis_ (linné) 254 1 giant catfish, boom-boom; _doras granulosus_ valen. 256 6 long-armed beetle; _acrocinus longimanus_ (linné) 276 10 rufus hummingbird; _phoethornis r. ruber_ (linné) 278 16 tapping wasp; _synoeca irina_ spinola 280 10 mazaruni daisy; _sipanea pratensis_ aubl. 21 trogons; _trogonurus c. curucui_ (linné) 282 10 quadrille bird; _leucolepis musica musica_ (bodd.) 284 3 bubble bugs; _cercopis ruber_ 289 16 army ants; _eciton burchelli_ westwood index a _acrocinus longimanus_, 255-258 allamander, 121 _alouatta seniculus macconnelli_, 109 ani, 163, 233 _anosia plexippus_, 37 antbirds, white-fronted, 59, 227 antlions, 27, 28 ants, army, 58, 60, 154, 282, 289; attack on wasps, 290; circular marching of, 291-294; cleaning of, 79-81; cleaning of ground, 77; crippled, 70, 71, 81, 82; enemies, 72; foraging lines, 64; guests, 88, 292; labor, division of, 67; larvæ, 87; nest, 59-61, 74, 83, 289; nest entrance, 74; observing, methods of, 63; odor, 62, 64; parasites, 292; prey of, 67; rain, reaction to, 65, 66; refuse heaps, 77, 78; scavengers of nest piles, 78; speed of, 68, 69, 292; spinning, 84-86; vitality, 69 ants, _azteca_, 278 ants, borneo telegraph, 279 ants, leaf-cutting, 7, 152, 173, 289; at home, 172, 194; attack, method of guarding against, 177; attack, method of, 177-179; battle of giant soldiers, 168-171; castes, 166; enemies, 162-163; flight of kings and queens, 185-188; fungus, 180, 181; gardens, fungus, 179-181, 189; instinct, 190-192; leaf-chewing in nest, 180; leaves, carrying, 158-162; leaves, method of cutting, 158; name, origin of, 156; nest, 172; nest, foundation of, 152, 153, 189, 190; parasites, external, 176; paths, 163-165; queen, 152, 153; queens, young, in nest, 185; raids on garden, 154-155; scavengers of nest, 176; speed of, 165-166; soldier, description of, 177-178; trails, 163-165; visitors at nest, 174-176; worker, description of, 156, 157 _attaphila_, 182-185 attas. see ants, leaf-cutting. _atta cephalotes_, 155, 173 b bamboos, 9, 13, 23-25 bats, 17-19 bats, fruit, 151 bats, vampire, 4, 18-21, 111, 208 beach, jungle, 90-111 beena, 118 bees, 35-37, 175 beetle, 23 beetle, histerid, 292 beetle, long-armed, 256-258 beetle, rove, 72-73 beetle, staphylinid, 292 beetle, water, in roots, 103 boom-boom, 22, 252-255 botanical gardens, 122 bower bird, purple, 113 bougainvillia, 121 boviander, flowers of, 120 _bufo guttatus_, 8 _bufo marinus_, 132, 163 bugs, bubble, 284-288 bugs, doodle, 28 _butorides striata_, 233 butterfly, 37, 125 butterfly, beryl and jasper, 42 butterfly, migrating, 259-263 butterfly, monarch, 37 butterfly, morpho, 51 butterfly, social gathering of, 268-273 butterfly, yellow papilio, 38 button weed, 34 c _caiman sclerops_, 232 caladium, 118 casareep, 117 cashew trees, 4 _casmerodius egretta_, 249 cassava, 116 cassia, 44 catfish, giant. see boom-boom, 22, 253, 254, 273 _catopsilia_, species of, 268 _cercopis ruber_, 284 _cereus_, night blooming, 218 chanties, 6 chatterer, red-breasted blue, 38 _chloroceryle amazona_, 97 chloroceryle americana, 97 cicada, 36, 37 cicada, song of, 283 cicada, larvæ. see _quesada gigas_. clearing, jungle, 34-57, 275 clearing, after interval of year, 276 coati-mundi, 29 color, 53, 54 convicts, 5, 7 convicts, singing hymns, 109 _cotinga cayana_, 52, 53 _cotinga cotinga_, 38 cotinga, purple-throated, 52, 53 cotton, indian, 117 cotton, sea island, 117 crabs, in roots, 103 crocodile, 232 _crotophaga ani_, 163, 233 cuyuni river, 9 d daisies, mazaruni, 34, 280 devilla blossoms, 283 doodle-bugs, 28 _doras granulosus_, 22, 254 e eagle, harpy, 152 eciton. see army ants _eciton burchelli_, 60, 289 eggs, butterfly, 41-43 egrets, 233, 246, 249 _ereops_, 264, 265 f fer-de-lance, 206 flamboyant, 122 flies, chalcid, 292 flies, crane, in roots, 104-106 flies, phorid, 292 flies, as scavengers, 78 _florida c. caerulea_, 246 flowers of boviander, 120 flycatcher, kiskadee, 23, 233 flycatcher, melancholy tyrant, 36 frangipani, 122 frog, scarlet-thighed leaf-walker, 133 frog, tree, 32, 132 _furipterus horrens_, 17, 18 g gallinule, 233, 242 galis, 45-47 garden, akawai indian, 115-119 garden, boviander, 120 garden, coolie and negro, 120 garden, georgetown botanical, 122, 230 garden, tropic, 230-251 gawain, 31-33, 126 gecko, 103, 104 ghost, kartabo, 25 god-birds, 26 guests, army ant, 72 guinevere, 123-148 _gypagus papa_, 152 h hammocks, 195 accident in, 204; capturing bats from, 218-220; carib, 197, 198; environment and dangers, 200, 201; hummingbirds on, 223, 224; slinging of, 198, 199, 203, 209, 210; sounds and scents, 213-215; trapping from, 205, 206; watching army ants from, 225, 228; weaver-birds nesting on, 224 _harpia harpyja_, 152 herons, green, 233 herons, little blue, 246 herons, night, 250 herons, rookery, 244-251 herons, tricolored, 246 hope, 16 hummingbirds, 97, 174, 223, 276 hyacinth, water, 121 _hydranassa tricolor_, 246 i _icterus chrysocephalus_, 4 _ionornis martinicus_, 233, 242 j jacana, 233, 242 _jacana j. jacana_, 233, 242 _janipha manihot_, 116 k kalacoon, 1 kartabo, 1 kartabo, history, 10-12 kartabo, inmates, 21 kartabo, morning at, 23 kib, 29 kibihée, 29 kingfisher, great green, 97 kingfisher, tiny emerald, 97 kiskadee, 23, 233, 243 kunami, 117 kyk-over-al, 11, 12 l _leucolepis m. musica_, 282 _leucophoyx t. thula_, 233, 246 lilies, water, 121 _lipaugus simplex_, 58 lotus, 121 m manatee, 231-236 martins, 4 "mazacuni" river, 107 mazaruni river, 9 _metachirus o. opossum_, 164 monarch butterfly, 37 mongoose, 248 monkeys, 25 monkeys, howling, 109 mosquitoes, 202, 211 mourner, dark-breasted, 53 _mungos mungo_, 243 n _nasua n. nasua_, 29 niebelungs, 49 o opossum, 164 orchid, toko-nook, 119 oriole, great black, 25 oriole, moriche, 4 _ostinops d. decumanus_, 25 p paddlers, 5 palm, cocoanut, 121 _papilio thoas_, 38 parasite, egg, 43, 44 parrakeets, 25, 49-51 _pepsis_, sp., 175 pets, 28-33 _phoethornis r. ruber_, 174, 276 _phyllomedusa_, 32, 126 _phyllomedusa bicolor_, 145 _phyllobates inguinalis_, 133 _pitangus s. sulphuratus_, 23, 233, 243 _pithys albifrons_, 59 piwari, 117 pool, jungle rain, 126-132 _ptilonorhynchus violaceus_, 113 q quadrille bird, 282, 283 _quesada gigas_, 181 r _ramphastus vitellinus_, 54, 55 roach, 182 rocks, tidal, 265, 266 roots, 98-106, 236 _rozites gongylophora_, 181 rushes, 264 s scorpions, 181 sedges, scirpus, 264, 265 servants, negro, 14, 15 _sipanea pratensis_, 34, 280 snake, tree, in hammock, 201 _spermacoce_ sp., 34 springtails, in army ants' nest, 88 striders, water, 129, 130 sunrise, 107, 108 swimming at night, 108-111 _synoeca irina_, 278-280 t tadpoles, 127, 130-148 tadpoles, colors of, 146, 147 tadpoles, red-fins, 132, 133, 136, 139, 141, 144 tadpoles, short-tailed blacks, 132, 138 tamandua, 174 _tamandua t. tetradactyla_, 174 tanager, blue, 111 tarantula, 23 tarantula hawks, 175 termites, 154, 162 _thecadactylus rapicauda_, 103 _thraupis episcopus_, 111 tidal, area, ecology of, 266-268 toad, 7, 8 toad, marine, 132, 163 toko-nook, orchid, 119 toucans, 25, 54, 55, 56 _touit batavica_, 25, 49 tree, fallen, 95 tree, prostrate, reactions of, 96, 97 treetop, fauna of, 95 _trichechus manatus_, 231, 233 _troglodytes musculus clarus_, 26, 233 trogon, 175, 280-282 _trogan s. strigilatus_, 175 _trogonurus c. curucui_, 280 tyrant, melancholy, 36 _tyrannus melancholicus satrapa_, 36 v _vampyrus spectrum_, 18 vervain, 35 _victoria regia_, 231, 237, 240, 241 vulture, king, 152 w wasps, ebony, 175 wasps, painted nest, 289-291 wasps, tapping, 278-280 wind, voice of, 21 witch, black, 233 wrens, house, 26, 27, 233 * * * * * wanderings in south america by charles waterton preface to the first edition i offer this book of "wanderings" with a hesitating hand. it has little merit, and must make its way through the world as well as it can. it will receive many a jostle as it goes along, and perhaps is destined to add one more to the number of slain in the field of modern criticism. but if it fall, it may still, in death, be useful to me; for should some accidental rover take it up and, in turning over its pages, imbibe the idea of going out to explore guiana in order to give the world an enlarged description of that noble country, i shall say, "fortem ad fortia misi," and demand the armour; that is, i shall lay claim to a certain portion of the honours he will receive, upon the plea that i was the first mover of his discoveries; for, as ulysses sent achilles to troy, so i sent him to guiana. i intended to have written much more at length; but days and months and years have passed away, and nothing has been done. thinking it very probable that i shall never have patience enough to sit down and write a full account of all i saw and examined in those remote wilds, i give up the intention of doing so, and send forth this account of my "wanderings" just as it was written at the time. if critics are displeased with it in its present form, i beg to observe that it is not totally devoid of interest, and that it contains something useful. several of the unfortunate gentlemen who went out to explore the congo were thankful for the instructions they found in it; and sir joseph banks, on sending back the journal, said in his letter: "i return your journal with abundant thanks for the very instructive lesson you have favoured us with this morning, which far excelled, in real utility, everything i have hitherto seen." and in another letter he says: "i hear with particular pleasure your intention of resuming your interesting travels, to which natural history has already been so much indebted." and again: "i am sorry you did not deposit some part of your last harvest of birds in the british museum, that your name might become familiar to naturalists and your unrivalled skill in preserving birds be made known to the public." and again: "you certainly have talents to set forth a book which will improve and extend materially the bounds of natural science." sir joseph never read the third adventure. whilst i was engaged in it, death robbed england of one of her most valuable subjects and deprived the royal society of its brightest ornament. contents introduction preface to the first edition first journey remarks second journey third journey fourth journey on preserving birds for cabinets of natural history glossary index wanderings in south america first journey ----nec herba, nec latens in asperis radix fefellit me locis. in the month of april 1812 i left the town of stabroek to travel through the wilds of demerara and essequibo, a part of _ci-devant_ dutch guiana, in south america. the chief objects in view were to collect a quantity of the strongest wourali poison and to reach the inland frontier-fort of portuguese guiana. it would be a tedious journey for him who wishes to travel through these wilds to set out from stabroek on foot. the sun would exhaust him in his attempts to wade through the swamps, and the mosquitos at night would deprive him of every hour of sleep. the road for horses runs parallel to the river, but it extends a very little way, and even ends before the cultivation of the plantations ceases. the only mode then that remains is to proceed by water; and when you come to the high-lands, you may make your way through the forest on foot or continue your route on the river. after passing the third island in the river demerara there are few plantations to be seen, and those not joining on to one another, but separated by large tracts of wood. the loo is the last where the sugar-cane is growing. the greater part of its negroes have just been ordered to another estate, and ere a few months shall have elapsed all signs of cultivation will be lost in underwood. higher up stand the sugar-works of amelia's waard, solitary and abandoned; and after passing these there is not a ruin to inform the traveller that either coffee or sugar have ever been cultivated. from amelia's waard an unbroken range of forest covers each bank of the river, saving here and there where a hut discovers itself, inhabited by free people of colour, with a rood or two of bared ground about it; or where the wood-cutter has erected himself a dwelling and cleared a few acres for pasturage. sometimes you see level ground on each side of you for two or three hours at a stretch; at other times a gently sloping hill presents itself; and often, on turning a point, the eye is pleased with the contrast of an almost perpendicular height jutting into the water. the trees put you in mind of an eternal spring, with summer and autumn kindly blended into it. here you may see a sloping extent of noble trees whose foliage displays a charming variety of every shade, from the lightest to the darkest green and purple. the tops of some are crowned with bloom of the loveliest hue, while the boughs of others bend with a profusion of seeds and fruits. those whose heads have been bared by time or blasted by the thunderstorm strike the eye, as a mournful sound does the ear in music, and seem to beckon to the sentimental traveller to stop a moment or two and see that the forests which surround him, like men and kingdoms, have their periods of misfortune and decay. the first rocks of any considerable size that are observed on the side of the river are at a place called saba, from the indian word which means a stone. they appear sloping down to the water's edge, not shelvy, but smooth, and their exuberances rounded off and, in some places, deeply furrowed, as though they had been worn with continual floods of water. there are patches of soil up and down, and the huge stones amongst them produce a pleasing and novel effect. you see a few coffee-trees of a fine luxuriant growth, and nearly on the top of saba stands the house of the post-holder. he is appointed by government to give in his report to the protector of the indians of what is going on amongst them and to prevent suspicious people from passing up the river. when the indians assemble here, the stranger may have an opportunity of seeing the aborigines dancing to the sound of their country music and painted in their native style. they will shoot their arrows for him with an unerring aim and send the poisoned dart, from the blow-pipe, true to its destination: and here he may often view all the different shades, from the red savage to the white man; and from the white man to the sootiest son of africa. beyond this post there are no more habitations of white men or free people of colour. in a country so extensively covered with wood as this is, having every advantage that a tropical sun and the richest mould, in many places, can give to vegetation, it is natural to look for trees of very large dimensions. but it is rare to meet with them above six yards in circumference. if larger have ever existed they have fallen a sacrifice either to the axe or to fire. if, however, they disappoint you in size, they make ample amends in height. heedless, and bankrupt in all curiosity, must he be who can journey on without stopping to take a view of the towering mora. its topmost branch, when naked with age or dried by accident, is the favourite resort of the toucan. many a time has this singular bird felt the shot faintly strike him from the gun of the fowler beneath, and owed his life to the distance betwixt them. the trees which form these far-extending wilds are as useful as they are ornamental. it would take a volume of itself to describe them. the green-heart, famous for its hardness and durability; the hackea for its toughness; the ducalabali surpassing mahogany; the ebony and letter-wood vying with the choicest woods of the old world; the locust-tree yielding copal; and the hayawaand olou-trees furnishing a sweet-smelling resin, are all to be met with in the forest betwixt the plantations and the rock saba. beyond this rock the country has been little explored, but it is very probable that these, and a vast collection of other kinds, and possibly many new species, are scattered up and down, in all directions, through the swamps and hills and savannas of _ci-devant_ dutch guiana. on viewing the stately trees around him, the naturalist will observe many of them bearing leaves and blossoms and fruit not their own. the wild fig-tree, as large as a common english apple-tree, often rears itself from one of the thick branches at the top of the mora, and when its fruit is ripe, to it the birds resort for nourishment. it was to an undigested seed passing through the body of the bird which had perched on the mora that the fig-tree first owed its elevated station there. the sap of the mora raised it into full bearing, but now, in its turn, it is doomed to contribute a portion of its own sap and juices towards the growth of different species of vines, the seeds of which also the birds deposited on its branches. these soon vegetate, and bear fruit in great quantities; so what with their usurpation of the resources of the fig-tree, and the fig-tree of the mora, the mora, unable to support a charge which nature never intended it should, languishes and dies under its burden; and then the fig-tree, and its usurping progeny of vines, receiving no more succour from their late foster-parent, droop and perish in their turn. a vine called the bush-rope by the wood-cutters, on account of its use in hauling out the heaviest timber, has a singular appearance in the forests of demerara. sometimes you see it nearly as thick as a man's body, twisted like a corkscrew round the tallest trees and rearing its head high above their tops. at other times three or four of them, like strands in a cable, join tree and tree and branch and branch together. others, descending from on high, take root as soon as their extremity touches the ground, and appear like shrouds and stays supporting the mainmast of a line-of-battle ship; while others, sending out parallel, oblique, horizontal and perpendicular shoots in all directions, put you in mind of what travellers call a matted forest. oftentimes a tree, above a hundred feet high, uprooted by the whirlwind, is stopped in its fall by these amazing cables of nature, and hence it is that you account for the phenomenon of seeing trees not only vegetating, but sending forth vigorous shoots, though far from their perpendicular, and their trunks inclined to every degree from the meridian to the horizon. their heads remain firmly supported by the bush-rope; many of their roots soon refix themselves in the earth, and frequently a strong shoot will sprout out perpendicularly from near the root of the reclined trunk, and in time become a fine tree. no grass grows under the trees and few weeds, except in the swamps. the high grounds are pretty clear of underwood, and with a cutlass to sever the small bush-ropes it is not difficult walking among the trees. the soil, chiefly formed by the fallen leaves and decayed trees, is very rich and fertile in the valleys. on the hills it is little better than sand. the rains seem to have carried away and swept into the valleys every particle which nature intended to have formed a mould. four-footed animals are scarce considering how very thinly these forests are inhabited by men. several species of the animal commonly called tiger, though in reality it approaches nearer to the leopard, are found here, and two of their diminutives, named tiger-cats. the tapir, the lobba and deer afford excellent food, and chiefly frequent the swamps and low ground near the sides of the river and creeks. in stating that four-footed animals are scarce, the peccari must be excepted. three or four hundred of them herd together and traverse the wilds in all directions in quest of roots and fallen seeds. the indians mostly shoot them with poisoned arrows. when wounded they run about one hundred and fifty paces; they then drop, and make wholesome food. the red monkey, erroneously called the baboon, is heard oftener than it is seen, while the common brown monkey, the bisa, and sacawinki rove from tree to tree, and amuse the stranger as he journeys on. a species of the polecat, and another of the fox, are destructive to the indian's poultry, while the opossum, the guana and salempenta afford him a delicious morsel. the small ant-bear, and the large one, remarkable for his long, broad, bushy tail, are sometimes seen on the tops of the wood-ants' nests; the armadillos bore in the sand-hills, like rabbits in a warren; and the porcupine is now and then discovered in the trees over your head. this, too, is the native country of the sloth. his looks, his gestures and his cries all conspire to entreat you to take pity on him. these are the only weapons of defence which nature hath given him. while other animals assemble in herds, or in pairs range through these boundless wilds, the sloth is solitary and almost stationary; he cannot escape from you. it is said his piteous moans make the tiger relent and turn out of the way. do not then level your gun at him or pierce him with a poisoned arrow--he has never hurt one living creature. a few leaves, and those of the commonest and coarsest kind, are all he asks for his support. on comparing him with other animals you would say that you could perceive deficiency, deformity and superabundance in his composition. he has no cutting-teeth, and though four stomachs, he still wants the long intestines of ruminating animals. he has only one inferior aperture, as in birds. he has no soles to his feet nor has he the power of moving his toes separately. his hair is flat, and puts you in mind of grass withered by the wintry blast. his legs are too short; they appear deformed by the manner in which they are joined to the body, and when he is on the ground, they seem as if only calculated to be of use in climbing trees. he has forty-six ribs, while the elephant has only forty, and his claws are disproportionably long. were you to mark down, upon a graduated scale, the different claims to superiority amongst the four-footed animals, this poor ill-formed creature's claim would be the last upon the lowest degree. demerara yields to no country in the world in her wonderful and beautiful productions of the feathered race. here the finest precious stones are far surpassed by the vivid tints which adorn the birds. the naturalist may exclaim that nature has not known where to stop in forming new species and painting her requisite shades. almost every one of those singular and elegant birds described by buffon as belonging to cayenne are to be met with in demerara, but it is only by an indefatigable naturalist that they are to be found. the scarlet curlew breeds in innumerable quantities in the muddy islands on the coasts of pomauron; the egrets and crabiers in the same place. they resort to the mud-flats at ebbing water, while thousands of sandpipers and plovers, with here and there a spoonbill and flamingo, are seen amongst them. the pelicans go farther out to sea, but return at sundown to the courada-trees. the humming-birds are chiefly to be found near the flowers at which each of the species of the genus is wont to feed. the pie, the gallinaceous, the columbine and passerine tribes resort to the fruit-bearing trees. you never fail to see the common vulture where there is carrion. in passing up the river there was an opportunity of seeing a pair of the king of the vultures; they were sitting on the naked branch of a tree, with about a dozen of the common ones with them. a tiger had killed a goat the day before; he had been driven away in the act of sucking the blood, and not finding it safe or prudent to return, the goat remained in the same place where he had killed it; it had begun to putrefy, and the vultures had arrived that morning to claim the savoury morsel. at the close of day the vampires leave the hollow trees, whither they had fled at the morning's dawn, and scour along the river's banks in quest of prey. on waking from sleep the astonished traveller finds his hammock all stained with blood. it is the vampire that hath sucked him. not man alone, but every unprotected animal, is exposed to his depredations; and so gently does this nocturnal surgeon draw the blood that, instead of being roused, the patient is lulled into a still profounder sleep. there are two species of vampire in demerara, and both suck living animals: one is rather larger than the common bat, the other measures above two feet from wing to wing extended. snakes are frequently met with in the woods betwixt the sea-coast and the rock saba, chiefly near the creeks and on the banks of the river. they are large, beautiful and formidable. the rattlesnake seems partial to a tract of ground known by the name of canal number-three: there the effects of his poison will be long remembered. the camoudi snake has been killed from thirty to forty feet long; though not venomous, his size renders him destructive to the passing animals. the spaniards in the oroonoque positively affirm that he grows to the length of seventy or eighty feet and that he will destroy the strongest and largest bull. his name seems to confirm this: there he is called "matatoro," which literally means "bull-killer." thus he may be ranked amongst the deadly snakes, for it comes nearly to the same thing in the end whether the victim dies by poison from the fangs, which corrupts his blood and makes it stink horribly, or whether his body be crushed to mummy, and swallowed by this hideous beast. the whipsnake of a beautiful changing green, and the coral, with alternate broad traverse bars of black and red, glide from bush to bush, and may be handled with safety; they are harmless little creatures. the labarri snake is speckled, of a dirty brown colour, and can scarcely be distinguished from the ground or stump on which he is coiled up; he grows to the length of about eight feet and his bite often proves fatal in a few minutes. unrivalled in his display of every lovely colour of the rainbow, and unmatched in the effects of his deadly poison, the counacouchi glides undaunted on, sole monarch of these forests; he is commonly known by the name of the bush-master. both man and beast fly before him, and allow him to pursue an undisputed path. he sometimes grows to the length of fourteen feet. a few small caymen, from two to twelve feet long, may be observed now and then in passing up and down the river; they just keep their heads above the water, and a stranger would not know them from a rotten stump. lizards of the finest green, brown and copper colour, from two inches to two feet and a half long, are ever and anon rustling among the fallen leaves and crossing the path before you, whilst the chameleon is busily employed in chasing insects round the trunks of the neighbouring trees. the fish are of many different sorts and well-tasted, but not, generally speaking, very plentiful. it is probable that their numbers are considerably thinned by the otters, which are much larger than those of europe. in going through the overflowed savannas, which have all a communication with the river, you may often see a dozen or two of them sporting amongst the sedges before you. this warm and humid climate seems particularly adapted to the producing of insects; it gives birth to myriads, beautiful past description in their variety of tints, astonishing in their form and size, and many of them noxious in their qualities. he whose eye can distinguish the various beauties of uncultivated nature, and whose ear is not shut to the wild sounds in the woods, will be delighted in passing up the river demerara. every now and then the maam or tinamou sends forth one long and plaintive whistle from the depth of the forest, and then stops; whilst the yelping of the toucan and the shrill voice of the bird called pi-pi-yo is heard during the interval. the campanero never fails to attract the attention of the passenger; at a distance of nearly three miles you may hear this snow-white bird tolling every four or five minutes, like the distant convent-bell. from six to nine in the morning the forests resound with the mingled cries and strains of the feathered race; after this they gradually die away. from eleven to three all nature is hushed as in a midnight silence, and scarce a note is heard, saving that of the campanero and the pi-pi-yo; it is then that, oppressed by the solar heat, the birds retire to the thickest shade and wait for the refreshing cool of evening. at sundown the vampires, bats and goat-suckers dart from their lonely retreat and skim along the trees on the river's bank. the different kinds of frogs almost stun the ear with their hoarse and hollow-sounding croaking, while the owls and goat-suckers lament and mourn all night long. about two hours before daybreak you will hear the red monkey moaning as though in deep distress; the houtou, a solitary bird, and only found in the thickest recesses of the forest, distinctly articulates "houtou, houtou," in a low and plaintive tone an hour before sunrise; the maam whistles about the same hour; the hannaquoi, pataca and maroudi announce his near approach to the eastern horizon, and the parrots and paroquets confirm his arrival there. the crickets chirp from sunset to sunrise, and often during the day when the weather is cloudy. the bãªte-rouge is exceedingly numerous in these extensive wilds, and not only man, but beasts and birds, are tormented by it. mosquitos are very rare after you pass the third island in the demerara, and sand-flies but seldom appear. courteous reader, here thou hast the outlines of an amazing landscape given thee; thou wilt see that the principal parts of it are but faintly traced, some of them scarcely visible at all, and that the shades are wholly wanting. if thy soul partakes of the ardent flame which the persevering mungo park's did, these outlines will be enough for thee; they will give thee some idea of what a noble country this is; and if thou hast but courage to set about giving the world a finished picture of it, neither materials to work on nor colours to paint it in its true shades will be wanting to thee. it may appear a difficult task at a distance, but look close at it, and it is nothing at all; provided thou hast but a quiet mind, little more is necessary, and the genius which presides over these wilds will kindly help thee through the rest. she will allow thee to slay the fawn and to cut down the mountain-cabbage for thy support, and to select from every part of her domain whatever may be necessary for the work thou art about; but having killed a pair of doves in order to enable thee to give mankind a true and proper description of them, thou must not destroy a third through wantonness or to show what a good marksman thou art: that would only blot the picture thou art finishing, not colour it. though retired from the haunts of men, and even without a friend with thee, thou wouldst not find it solitary. the crowing of the hannaquoi will sound in thine ears like the daybreak town-clock; and the wren and the thrush will join with thee in thy matin hymn to thy creator, to thank him for thy night's rest. at noon the genius will lead thee to the troely, one leaf of which will defend thee from both sun and rain. and if, in the cool of the evening, thou hast been tempted to stray too far from thy place of abode, and art deprived of light to write down the information thou hast collected, the fire-fly, which thou wilt see in almost every bush around thee, will be thy candle. hold it over thy pocket-book, in any position which thou knowest will not hurt it, and it will afford thee ample light. and when thou hast done with it, put it kindly back again on the next branch to thee. it will want no other reward for its services. when in thy hammock, should the thought of thy little crosses and disappointments, in thy ups and downs through life, break in upon thee and throw thee into a pensive mood, the owl will bear thee company. she will tell thee that hard has been her fate, too; and at intervals "whip-poor-will" and "willy come go" will take up the tale of sorrow. ovid has told thee how the owl once boasted the human form and lost it for a very small offence; and were the poet alive now he would inform thee that "whip-poor-will" and "willy come go" are the shades of those poor african and indian slaves who died worn out and broken-hearted. they wail and cry "whip-poor-will," "willy come go," all night long; and often, when the moon shines, you see them sitting on the green turf near the houses of those whose ancestors tore them from the bosom of their helpless families, which all probably perished through grief and want after their support was gone. about an hour above the rock of saba stands the habitation of an indian called simon, on the top of a hill. the side next the river is almost perpendicular, and you may easily throw a stone over to the opposite bank. here there was an opportunity of seeing man in his rudest state. the indians who frequented this habitation, though living in the midst of woods, bore evident marks of attention to their persons. their hair was neatly collected and tied up in a knot; their bodies fancifully painted red, and the paint was scented with hayawa. this gave them a gay and animated appearance. some of them had on necklaces composed of the teeth of wild boars slain in the chase; many wore rings, and others had an ornament on the left arm midway betwixt the shoulder and the elbow. at the close of day they regularly bathed in the river below, and the next morning seemed busy in renewing the faded colours of their faces. one day there came into the hut a form which literally might be called the wild man of the woods. on entering he laid down a ball of wax which he had collected in the forest. his hammock was all ragged and torn, and his bow, though of good wood, was without any ornament or polish: "erubuit domino, cultior esse suo." his face was meagre, his looks forbidding and his whole appearance neglected. his long black hair hung from his head in matted confusion; nor had his body, to all appearance, ever been painted. they gave him some cassava bread and boiled fish, which he ate voraciously, and soon after left the hut. as he went out you could observe no traces in his countenance or demeanour which indicated that he was in the least mindful of having been benefited by the society he was just leaving. the indians said that he had neither wife nor child nor friend. they had often tried to persuade him to come and live amongst them, but all was of no avail. he went roving on, plundering the wild bees of their honey and picking up the fallen nuts and fruits of the forest. when he fell in with game he procured fire from two sticks and cooked it on the spot. when a hut happened to be in his way he stepped in and asked for something to eat, and then months elapsed ere they saw him again. they did not know what had caused him to be thus unsettled: he had been so for years; nor did they believe that even old age itself would change the habits of this poor harmless, solitary wanderer. from simon's the traveller may reach the large fall, with ease, in four days. the first falls that he meets are merely rapids, scarce a stone appearing above the water in the rainy season; and those in the bed of the river barely high enough to arrest the water's course, and by causing a bubbling show that they are there. with this small change of appearance in the stream, the stranger observes nothing new till he comes within eight or ten miles of the great fall. each side of the river presents an uninterrupted range of wood, just as it did below. all the productions found betwixt the plantations and the rock saba are to be met with here. from simon's to the great fall there are five habitations of the indians: two of them close to the river's side; the other three a little way in the forest. these habitations consist of from four to eight huts, situated on about an acre of ground which they have cleared from the surrounding woods. a few pappaw, cotton and mountain-cabbage trees are scattered round them. at one of these habitations a small quantity of the wourali poison was procured. it was in a little gourd. the indian who had it said that he had killed a number of wild hogs with it, and two tapirs. appearances seemed to confirm what he said, for on one side it had been nearly taken out to the bottom, at different times, which probably would not have been the case had the first or second trial failed. its strength was proved on a middle-sized dog. he was wounded in the thigh, in order that there might be no possibility of touching a vital part. in three or four minutes he began to be affected, smelt at every little thing on the ground around him, and looked wistfully at the wounded part. soon after this he staggered, laid himself down, and never rose more. he barked once, though not as if in pain. his voice was low and weak; and in a second attempt it quite failed him. he now put his head betwixt his fore-legs, and raising it slowly again he fell over on his side. his eye immediately became fixed, and though his extremities every now and then shot convulsively, he never showed the least desire to raise up his head. his heart fluttered much from the time he laid down, and at intervals beat very strong; then stopped for a moment or two, and then beat again; and continued faintly beating several minutes after every other part of his body seemed dead. in a quarter of an hour after he had received the poison he was quite motionless. a few miles before you reach the great fall, and which indeed is the only one which can be called a fall, large balls of froth come floating past you. the river appears beautifully marked with streaks of foam, and on your nearer approach the stream is whitened all over. at first you behold the fall rushing down a bed of rocks with a tremendous noise, divided into two foamy streams which, at their junction again, form a small island covered with wood. above this island, for a short space, there appears but one stream, all white with froth, and fretting and boiling amongst the huge rocks which obstruct its course. higher up it is seen dividing itself into a short channel or two, and trees grow on the rocks which cause its separation. the torrent, in many places, has eaten deep into the rocks, and split them into large fragments by driving others against them. the trees on the rocks are in bloom and vigour, though their roots are half bared and many of them bruised and broken by the rushing waters. this is the general appearance of the fall from the level of the water below to where the river is smooth and quiet above. it must be remembered that this is during the periodical rains. probably, in the dry season, it puts on a very different appearance. there is no perpendicular fall of water of any consequence throughout it, but the dreadful roaring and rushing of the torrent, down a long rocky and moderately sloping channel, has a fine effect; and the stranger returns well pleased with what he has seen. no animal, nor craft of any kind, could stem this downward flood. in a few moments the first would be killed, the second dashed in pieces. the indians have a path alongside of it, through the forest, where prodigious crabwood trees grow. up this path they drag their canoes and launch them into the river above; and on their return bring them down the same way. about two hours below this fall is the habitation of an acoway chief called sinkerman. at night you hear the roaring of the fall from it. it is pleasantly situated on the top of a sand-hill. at this place you have the finest view the river demerara affords: three tiers of hills rise in slow gradation, one above the other, before you, and present a grand and magnificent scene, especially to him who has been accustomed to a level country. here, a little after midnight, on the first of may, was heard a most strange and unaccountable noise: it seemed as though several regiments were engaged and musketry firing with great rapidity. the indians, terrified beyond description, left their hammocks and crowded all together like sheep at the approach of the wolf. there were no soldiers within three or four hundred miles. conjecture was of no avail, and all conversation next morning on the subject was as useless and unsatisfactory as the dead silence which succeeded to the noise. he who wishes to reach the macoushi country had better send his canoe over-land from sinkerman's to the essequibo. there is a pretty good path, and meeting a creek about three-quarters of the way, it eases the labour, and twelve indians will arrive with it in the essequibo in four days. the traveller need not attend his canoe; there is a shorter and a better way. half an hour below sinkerman's he finds a little creek on the western bank of the demerara. after proceeding about a couple of hundred yards up it, he leaves it, and pursues a west-north-west direction by land for the essequibo. the path is good, though somewhat rugged with the roots of trees, and here and there obstructed by fallen ones; it extends more over level ground than otherwise. there are a few steep ascents and descents in it, with a little brook running at the bottom of them, but they are easily passed over, and the fallen trees serve for a bridge. you may reach the essequibo with ease in a day and a half; and so matted and interwoven are the tops of the trees above you that the sun is not felt once all the way, saving where the space which a newly-fallen tree occupied lets in his rays upon you. the forest contains an abundance of wild hogs, lobbas, acouries, powisses, maams, maroudis and waracabas for your nourishment, and there are plenty of leaves to cover a shed whenever you are inclined to sleep. the soil has three-fourths of sand in it till you come within half an hour's walk of the essequibo, where you find a red gravel and rocks. in this retired and solitary tract nature's garb, to all appearance, has not been injured by fire nor her productions broken in upon by the exterminating hand of man. here the finest green-heart grows, and wallaba, purple-heart, siloabali, sawari, buletre, tauronira and mora are met with in vast abundance, far and near, towering up in majestic grandeur, straight as pillars, sixty or seventy feet high, without a knot or branch. traveller, forget for a little while the idea thou hast of wandering farther on, and stop and look at this grand picture of vegetable nature: it is a reflection of the crowd thou hast lately been in, and though a silent monitor, it is not a less eloquent one on that account. see that noble purple-heart before thee! nature has been kind to it. not a hole, not the least oozing from its trunk, to show that its best days are past. vigorous in youthful blooming beauty, it stands the ornament of these sequestered wilds and tacitly rebukes those base ones of thine own species who have been hardy enough to deny the existence of him who ordered it to flourish here. behold that one next to it! hark how the hammerings of the red-headed woodpecker resound through its distempered boughs! see what a quantity of holes he has made in it, and how its bark is stained with the drops which trickle down from them. the lightning, too, has blasted one side of it. nature looks pale and wan in its leaves, and her resources are nearly dried up in its extremities: its sap is tainted; a mortal sickness, slow as a consumption and as sure in its consequences, has long since entered its frame, vitiating and destroying the wholesome juices there. step a few paces aside and cast thine eye on that remnant of a mora behind it. best part of its branches, once so high and ornamental, now lie on the ground in sad confusion, one upon the other, all shattered and fungus-grown and a prey to millions of insects which are busily employed in destroying them. one branch of it still looks healthy! will it recover? no, it cannot; nature has already run her course, and that healthy-looking branch is only as a fallacious good symptom in him who is just about to die of a mortification when he feels no more pain, and fancies his distemper has left him; it is as the momentary gleam of a wintry sun's ray close to the western horizon. see! while we are speaking a gust of wind has brought the tree to the ground and made room for its successor. come farther on and examine that apparently luxuriant tauronira on thy right hand. it boasts a verdure not its own; they are false ornaments it wears. the bush-rope and bird-vines have clothed it from the root to its topmost branch. the succession of fruit which it hath borne, like good cheer in the houses of the great, has invited the birds to resort to it, and they have disseminated beautiful, though destructive, plants on its branches which, like the distempers vice brings into the human frame, rob it of all its health and vigour. they have shortened its days, and probably in another year they will finally kill it, long before nature intended that it should die. ere thou leavest this interesting scene, look on the ground around thee, and see what everything here below must come to. behold that newly-fallen wallaba! the whirlwind has uprooted it in its prime, and it has brought down to the ground a dozen small ones in its fall. its bark has already begun to drop off! and that heart of mora close by it is fast yielding, in spite of its firm, tough texture. the tree which thou passedst but a little ago, and which perhaps has laid over yonder brook for years, can now hardly support itself, and in a few months more it will have fallen into the water. put thy foot on that large trunk thou seest to the left. it seems entire amid the surrounding fragments. mere outward appearance, delusive phantom of what it once was! tread on it and, like the fuss-ball, it will break into dust. sad and silent mementos to the giddy traveller as he wanders on! prostrate remnants of vegetable nature, how incontestably ye prove what we must all at last come to, and how plain your mouldering ruins show that the firmest texture avails us naught when heaven wills that we should cease to be! the cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples, the great globe itself, yea, all which it inhabit, shall dissolve, and, like the baseless fabric of a vision, leave not a wreck behind. cast thine eye around thee and see the thousands of nature's productions. take a view of them from the opening seed on the surface sending a downward shoot, to the loftiest and the largest trees rising up and blooming in wild luxuriance: some side by side, others separate; some curved and knotty, others straight as lances; all, in beautiful gradation, fulfilling the mandates they had received from heaven and, though condemned to die, still never failing to keep up their species till time shall be no more. reader, canst thou not be induced to dedicate a few months to the good of the public, and examine with thy scientific eye the productions which the vast and well-stored colony of demerara presents to thee? what an immense range of forest is there from the rock saba to the great fall! and what an uninterrupted extent before thee from it to the banks of the essequibo! no doubt there is many a balsam and many a medicinal root yet to be discovered, and many a resin, gum and oil yet unnoticed. thy work would be a pleasing one, and thou mightest make several useful observations in it. would it be thought impertinent in thee to hazard a conjecture that, with the resources the government of demerara has, stones might be conveyed from the rock saba to stabroek to stem the equinoctial tides which are for ever sweeping away the expensive wooden piles round the mounds of the fort? or would the timber-merchant point at thee in passing by and call thee a descendant of la mancha's knight, because thou maintainest that the stones which form the rapids might be removed with little expense, and thus open the navigation to the wood-cutter from stabroek to the great fall? or wouldst thou be deemed enthusiastic or biassed because thou givest it as thy opinion that the climate in these high-lands is exceedingly wholesome, and the lands themselves capable of nourishing and maintaining any number of settlers? in thy dissertation on the indians thou mightest hint that possibly they could be induced to help the new settlers a little; and that, finding their labours well requited, it would be the means of their keeping up a constant communication with us which probably might be the means of laying the first stone towards their christianity. they are a poor harmless, inoffensive set of people, and their wandering and ill-provided way of living seems more to ask for pity from us than to fill our heads with thoughts that they would be hostile to us. what a noble field, kind reader, for thy experimental philosophy and speculations, for thy learning, for thy perseverance, for thy kindheartedness, for everything that is great and good within thee! the accidental traveller who has journeyed on from stabroek to the rock saba, and from thence to the banks of the essequibo, in pursuit of other things, as he told thee at the beginning, with but an indifferent interpreter to talk to, no friend to converse with, and totally unfit for that which he wishes thee to do, can merely mark the outlines of the path he has trodden, or tell thee the sounds he has heard, or faintly describe what he has seen in the environs of his resting-places; but if this be enough to induce thee to undertake the journey, and give the world a description of it, he will be amply satisfied. it will be two days and a half from the time of entering the path on the western bank of the demerara till all be ready and the canoe fairly afloat on the essequibo. the new rigging it, and putting every little thing to rights and in its proper place, cannot well be done in less than a day. after being night and day in the forest, impervious to the sun's and moon's rays, the sudden transition to light has a fine heart-cheering effect. welcome as a lost friend, the solar beam makes the frame rejoice, and with it a thousand enlivening thoughts rush at once on the soul and disperse, as a vapour, every sad and sorrowful idea which the deep gloom had helped to collect there. in coming out of the woods you see the western bank of the essequibo before you, low and flat. here the river is two-thirds as broad as the demerara at stabroek. to the northward there is a hill higher than any in the demerara; and in the south-south-west quarter a mountain. it is far away, and appears like a bluish cloud in the horizon. there is not the least opening on either side. hills, valleys and low-lands are all linked together by a chain of forest. ascend the highest mountain, climb the loftiest tree, as far as the eye can extend, whichever way it directs itself, all is luxuriant and unbroken forest. in about nine or ten hours from this you get to an indian habitation of three huts, on the point of an island. it is said that a dutch post once stood here. but there is not the smallest vestige of it remaining and, except that the trees appear younger than those on the other islands, which shows that the place has been cleared some time or other, there is no mark left by which you can conjecture that ever this was a post. the many islands which you meet with in the way enliven and change the scene, by the avenues which they make, which look like the mouths of other rivers, and break that long-extended sameness which is seen in the demerara. proceeding onwards you get to the falls and rapids. in the rainy season they are very tedious to pass, and often stop your course. in the dry season, by stepping from rock to rock, the indians soon manage to get a canoe over them. but when the river is swollen, as it was in may 1812, it is then a difficult task, and often a dangerous one, too. at that time many of the islands were over-flowed, the rocks covered and the lower branches of the trees in the water. sometimes the indians were obliged to take everything out of the canoe, cut a passage through the branches which hung over into the river, and then drag up the canoe by main force. at one place the falls form an oblique line quite across the river impassable to the ascending canoe, and you are forced to have it dragged four or five hundred yards by land. it will take you five days, from the indian habitation on the point of the island, to where these falls and rapids terminate. there are no huts in the way. you must bring your own cassava bread along with you, hunt in the forest for your meat and make the night's shelter for yourself. here is a noble range of hills, all covered with the finest trees rising majestically one above the other, on the western bank, and presenting as rich a scene as ever the eye would wish to look on. nothing in vegetable nature can be conceived more charming, grand and luxuriant. how the heart rejoices in viewing this beautiful landscape when the sky is serene, the air cool and the sun just sunk behind the mountain's top! the hayawa-tree perfumes the woods around: pairs of scarlet aras are continually crossing the river. the maam sends forth its plaintive note, the wren chants its evening song. the caprimulgus wheels in busy flight around the canoe, while "whip-poor-will" sits on the broken stump near the water's edge, complaining as the shades of night set in. a little before you pass the last of these rapids two immense rocks appear, nearly on the summit of one of the many hills which form this far-extending range where it begins to fall off gradually to the south. they look like two ancient stately towers of some gothic potentate rearing their heads above the surrounding trees. what with their situation and their shape together, they strike the beholder with an idea of antiquated grandeur which he will never forget. he may travel far and near and see nothing like them. on looking at them through a glass the summit of the southern one appeared crowned with bushes. the one to the north was quite bare. the indians have it from their ancestors that they are the abode of an evil genius, and they pass in the river below with a reverential awe. in about seven hours from these stupendous sons of the hill you leave the essequibo and enter the river apoura-poura, which falls into it from the south. the apoura-poura is nearly one-third the size of the demerara at stabroek. for two days you see nothing but level ground richly clothed in timber. you leave the siparouni to the right hand, and on the third day come to a little hill. the indians have cleared about an acre of ground on it and erected a temporary shed. if it be not intended for provision-ground alone, perhaps the next white man who travels through these remote wilds will find an indian settlement here. two days after leaving this you get to a rising ground on the western bank where stands a single hut, and about half a mile in the forest there are a few more: some of them square and some round, with spiral roofs. here the fish called pacou is very plentiful: it is perhaps the fattest and most delicious fish in guiana. it does not take the hook, but the indians decoy it to the surface of the water by means of the seeds of the crab-wood tree and then shoot it with an arrow. you are now within the borders of macoushia, inhabited by a different tribe of people called macoushi indians, uncommonly dexterous in the use of the blow-pipe and famous for their skill in preparing the deadly vegetable-poison commonly called wourali. it is from this country that those beautiful paroquets named kessi-kessi are procured. here the crystal mountains are found; and here the three different species of the ara are seen in great abundance. here too grows the tree from which the gum-elastic is got: it is large and as tall as any in the forest. the wood has much the appearance of sycamore. the gum is contained in the bark: when that is cut through it oozes out very freely; it is quite white and looks as rich as cream; it hardens almost immediately as it issues from the tree, so that it is very easy to collect a ball by forming the juice into a globular shape as fast as it comes out. it becomes nearly black by being exposed to the air, and is real india-rubber without undergoing any other process. the elegant crested bird called cock-of-the-rock, admirably described by buffon, is a native of the woody mountains of macoushia. in the daytime it retires amongst the darkest rocks, and only comes out to feed a little before sunrise and at sunset: he is of a gloomy disposition and, like the houtou, never associates with the other birds of the forest. the indians in the just-mentioned settlement seemed to depend more on the wourali poison for killing their game than upon anything else. they had only one gun, and it appeared rusty and neglected, but their poisoned weapons were in fine order. their blow-pipes hung from the roof of the hut, carefully suspended by a silk-grass cord, and on taking a nearer view of them no dust seemed to have collected there, nor had the spider spun the smallest web on them, which showed that they were in constant use. the quivers were close by them, with the jaw-bone of the fish pirai tied by a string to their brim and a small wicker-basket of wild cotton, which hung down to the centre; they were nearly full of poisoned arrows. it was with difficulty these indians could be persuaded to part with any of the wourali poison, though a good price was offered for it: they gave to understand that it was powder and shot to them, and very difficult to be procured. on the second day after leaving this settlement, in passing along, the indians show you a place where once a white man lived. his retiring so far from those of his own colour and acquaintance seemed to carry something extraordinary along with it, and raised a desire to know what could have induced him to do so. it seems he had been unsuccessful, and that his creditors had treated him with as little mercy as the strong generally show to the weak. seeing his endeavours daily frustrated and his best intentions of no avail, and fearing that when they had taken all he had they would probably take his liberty too, he thought the world would not be hardhearted enough to condemn him for retiring from the evils which pressed so heavily on him, and which he had done all that an honest man could do to ward off. he left his creditors to talk of him as they thought fit, and, bidding adieu for ever to the place in which he had once seen better times, he penetrated thus far into these remote and gloomy wilds and ended his days here. according to the new map of south america, lake parima, or the white sea, ought to be within three or four days' walk from this place. on asking the indians whether there was such a place or not, and describing that the water was fresh and good to drink, an old indian, who appeared to be about sixty, said that there was such a place, and that he had been there. this information would have been satisfactory in some degree had not the indians carried the point a little too far. it is very large, said another indian, and ships come to it. now these unfortunate ships were the very things which were not wanted: had he kept them out, it might have done, but his introducing them was sadly against the lake. thus you must either suppose that the old savage and his companion had a confused idea of the thing, and that probably the lake parima they talked of was the amazons, not far from the city of para, or that it was their intention to deceive you. you ought to be cautious in giving credit to their stories, otherwise you will be apt to be led astray. many a ridiculous thing concerning the interior of guiana has been propagated and received as true merely because six or seven indians, questioned separately, have agreed in their narrative. ask those who live high up in the demerara, and they will, every one of them, tell you that there is a nation of indians with long tails; that they are very malicious, cruel and ill-natured; and that the portuguese have been obliged to stop them off in a certain river to prevent their depredations. they have also dreadful stories concerning a horrible beast called the water-mamma which, when it happens to take a spite against a canoe, rises out of the river and in the most unrelenting manner possible carries both canoe and indians down to the bottom with it, and there destroys them. ludicrous extravagances! pleasing to those fond of the marvellous, and excellent matter for a distempered brain. the misinformed and timid court of policy in demerara was made the dupe of a savage who came down the essequibo and gave himself out as king of a mighty tribe. this naked wild man of the woods seemed to hold the said court in tolerable contempt, and demanded immense supplies, all which he got; and moreover, some time after, an invitation to come down the ensuing year for more, which he took care not to forget. this noisy chieftain boasted so much of his dynasty and domain that the government was induced to send up an expedition into his territories to see if he had spoken the truth, and nothing but the truth. it appeared, however, that his palace was nothing but a hut, the monarch a needy savage, the heir-apparent nothing to inherit but his father's club and bow and arrows, and his officers of state wild and uncultivated as the forests through which they strayed. there was nothing in the hut of this savage, saving the presents he had received from government, but what was barely sufficient to support existence; nothing that indicated a power to collect a hostile force; nothing that showed the least progress towards civilisation. all was rude and barbarous in the extreme, expressive of the utmost poverty and a scanty population. you may travel six or seven days without seeing a hut, and when you reach a settlement it seldom contains more than ten. the farther you advance into the interior, the more you are convinced that it is thinly inhabited. the day after passing the place where the white man lived you see a creek on the left-hand, and shortly after the path to the open country. here you drag the canoe up into the forest, and leave it there. your baggage must now be carried by the indians. the creek you passed in the river intersects the path to the next settlement; a large mora has fallen across it and makes an excellent bridge. after walking an hour and a half you come to the edge of the forest, and a savanna unfolds itself to the view. the finest park that england boasts falls far short of this delightful scene. there are about two thousand acres of grass, with here and there a clump of trees and a few bushes and single trees scattered up and down by the hand of nature. the ground is neither hilly nor level, but diversified with moderate rises and falls, so gently running into one another that the eye cannot distinguish where they begin nor where they end; while the distant black rocks have the appearance of a herd at rest. nearly in the middle there is an eminence which falls off gradually on every side, and on this the indians have erected their huts. to the northward of them the forest forms a circle, as though it had been done by art; to the eastward it hangs in festoons; and to the south and west it rushes in abruptly, disclosing a new scene behind it at every step as you advance along. this beautiful park of nature is quite surrounded by lofty hills, all arrayed in superbest garb of trees: some in the form of pyramids, others like sugar-loaves, towering one above the other, some rounded off, and others as though they had lost their apex. here two hills rise up in spiral summits, and the wooded line of communication betwixt them sinks so gradually that it forms a crescent; and there the ridges of others resemble the waves of an agitated sea. beyond these appear others, and others past them, and others still farther on, till they can scarcely be distinguished from the clouds. there are no sand-flies nor bãªte-rouge nor mosquitos in this pretty spot. the fire-flies, during the night, vie in numbers and brightness with the stars in the firmament above; the air is pure, and the north-east breeze blows a refreshing gale throughout the day. here the white-crested maroudi, which is never found in the demerara, is pretty plentiful; and here grows the tree which produces the moran, sometimes called balsam-capivi. your route lies south from this place; and at the extremity of the savanna you enter the forest and journey along a winding path at the foot of a hill. there is no habitation within this day's walk. the traveller, as usual, must sleep in the forest; the path is not so good the following day. the hills over which it lies are rocky, steep and rugged; and the spaces betwixt them swampy and mostly knee-deep in water. after eight hours' walk you find two or three indian huts, surrounded by the forest; and in little more than half an hour from these you come to ten or twelve others, where you pass the night. they are prettily situated at the entrance into a savanna. the eastern and western hills are still covered with wood; but on looking to the south-west quarter you perceive it begins to die away. in these forests you may find plenty of the trees which yield the sweet-smelling resin called accaiari, and which, when pounded and burnt on charcoal, gives a delightful fragrance. from hence you proceed, in a south-west direction, through a long swampy savanna. some of the hills which border on it have nothing but a thin coarse grass and huge stones on them: others quite wooded; others with their summits crowned and their base quite bare; and others again with their summits bare and their base in thickest wood. half of this day's march is in water nearly up to the knees. there are four creeks to pass: one of them has a fallen tree across it. you must make your own bridge across the other three. probably, were the truth known, these apparently four creeks are only the meanders of one. the jabiru, the largest bird in guiana, feeds in the marshy savanna through which you have just passed. he is wary and shy, and will not allow you to get within gunshot of him. you sleep this night in the forest, and reach an indian settlement about three o'clock the next evening, after walking one-third of the way through wet and miry ground. but bad as the walking is through it, it is easier than where you cross over the bare hills, where you have to tread on sharp stones, most of them lying edgewise. the ground gone over these two last days seems condemned to perpetual solitude and silence. there was not one four-footed animal to be seen, nor even the marks of one. it would have been as silent as midnight, and all as still and unmoved as a monument, had not the jabiru in the marsh and a few vultures soaring over the mountain's top shown that it was not quite deserted by animated nature. there were no insects, except one kind of fly about one-fourth the size of the common house-fly. it bit cruelly, and was much more tormenting than the mosquito on the sea-coast. this seems to be the native country of the arrowroot. wherever you passed through a patch of wood in a low situation, there you found it growing luxuriantly. the indian place you are now at is not the proper place to have come to in order to reach the portuguese frontiers. you have advanced too much to the westward. but there was no alternative. the ground betwixt you and another small settlement (which was the right place to have gone to) was overflowed; and thus, instead of proceeding southward, you were obliged to wind along the foot of the western hills, quite out of your way. but the grand landscape this place affords makes you ample amends for the time you have spent in reaching it. it would require great descriptive powers to give a proper idea of the situation these people have chosen for their dwelling. the hill they are on is steep and high, and full of immense rocks. the huts are not all in one place, but dispersed wherever they have found a place level enough for a lodgment. before you ascend the hill you see at intervals an acre or two of wood, then an open space with a few huts on it; then wood again, and then an open space, and so on, till the intervening of the western hills, higher and steeper still, and crowded with trees of the loveliest shades, closes the enchanting scene. at the base of this hill stretches an immense plain which appears to the eye, on this elevated spot, as level as a bowling-green. the mountains on the other side are piled one upon the other in romantic forms, and gradually retire, till they are undiscernible from the clouds in which they are involved. to the south-southwest this far-extending plain is lost in the horizon. the trees on it, which look like islands on the ocean, add greatly to the beauty of the landscape, while the rivulet's course is marked out by the ã¦ta-trees which follow its meanders. not being able to pursue the direct course from hence to the next indian habitation, on account of the floods of water which fall at this time of the year, you take a circuit westerly along the mountain's foot. at last a large and deep creek stops your progress: it is wide and rapid, and its banks very steep. there is neither curial nor canoe nor purple-heart tree in the neighbourhood to make a wood-skin to carry you over, so that you are obliged to swim across; and by the time you have formed a kind of raft composed of boughs of trees and coarse grass to ferry over your baggage, the day will be too far spent to think of proceeding. you must be very cautious before you venture to swim across this creek, for the alligators are numerous and near twenty feet long. on the present occasion the indians took uncommon precautions lest they should be devoured by this cruel and voracious reptile. they cut long sticks and examined closely the side of the creek for half a mile above and below the place where it was to be crossed; and as soon as the boldest had swum over he did the same on the other side, and then all followed. after passing the night on the opposite bank, which is well wooded, it is a brisk walk of nine hours before you reach four indian huts, on a rising ground, a few hundred paces from a little brook whose banks are covered over with coucouriteand ã¦ta-trees. this is the place you ought to have come to two days ago, had the water permitted you. in crossing the plain at the most advantageous place you are above ankle-deep in water for three hours; the remainder of the way is dry, the ground gently rising. as the lower parts of this spacious plain put on somewhat the appearance of a lake during the periodical rains, it is not improbable but that this is the place which hath given rise to the supposed existence of the famed lake parima, or el dorado; but this is mere conjecture. a few deer are feeding on the coarse, rough grass of this far-extending plain; they keep at a distance from you, and are continually on the look-out. the spur-winged plover and a species of the curlew, black with a white bar across the wings, nearly as large again as the scarlet curlew on the sea-coast, frequently rise before you. here too the muscovy duck is numerous, and large flocks of two other kinds wheel round you as you pass on, but keep out of gunshot. the milk-white egrets and jabirus are distinguished at a great distance, and in the ã¦taand coucourite-trees you may observe flocks of scarlet and blue aras feeding on the seeds. it is to these trees that the largest sort of toucan resorts. he is remarkable by a large black spot on the point of his fine yellow bill. he is very scarce in demerara, and never seen except near the sea-coast. the ants' nests have a singular appearance on this plain; they are in vast abundance on those parts of it free from water, and are formed of an exceeding hard yellow clay. they rise eight or ten feet from the ground, in a spiral form, impenetrable to the rain and strong enough to defy the severest tornado. the wourali poison procured in these last-mentioned huts seemed very good, and proved afterwards to be very strong. there are now no more indian settlements betwixt you and the portuguese frontiers. if you wish to visit their fort, it would be advisable to send an indian with a letter from hence and wait his return. on the present occasion a very fortunate circumstance occurred. the portuguese commander had sent some indians and soldiers to build a canoe not far from this settlement; they had just finished it, and those who did not stay with it had stopped here on their return. the soldier who commanded the rest said he durst not, upon any account, convey a stranger to the fort: but he added, as there were two canoes, one of them might be despatched with a letter, and then we could proceed slowly on in the other. about three hours from this settlement there is a river called pirarara, and here the soldiers had left their canoes while they were making the new one. from the pirarara you get into the river maou, and then into the tacatou; and just where the tacatou falls into the rio branco there stands the portuguese frontier-fort called fort st. joachim. from the time of embarking in the river pirarara it takes you four days before you reach this fort. there was nothing very remarkable in passing down these rivers. it is an open country, producing a coarse grass and interspersed with clumps of trees. the banks have some wood on them, but it appears stinted and crooked, like that on the bleak hills in england. the tapir frequently plunged into the river; he was by no means shy, and it was easy to get a shot at him on land. the kessi-kessi paroquets were in great abundance, and the fine scarlet aras innumerable in the coucourite-trees at a distance from the river's bank. in the tacatou was seen the troupiale. it was charming to hear the sweet and plaintive notes of this pretty songster of the wilds. the portuguese call it the nightingale of guiana. towards the close of the fourth evening the canoe which had been sent on with a letter met us with the commander's answer. during its absence the nights had been cold and stormy, the rain had fallen in torrents, the days cloudy, and there was no sun to dry the wet hammocks. exposed thus, day and night, to the chilling blast and pelting shower, strength of constitution at last failed and a severe fever came on. the commander's answer was very polite. he remarked, he regretted much to say that he had received orders to allow no stranger to enter the frontier, and this being the case he hoped i would not consider him as uncivil: "however," continued he, "i have ordered the soldier to land you at a certain distance from the fort, where we can consult together." we had now arrived at the place, and the canoe which brought the letter returned to the fort to tell the commander i had fallen sick. the sun had not risen above an hour the morning after when the portuguese officer came to the spot where we had landed the preceding evening. he was tall and spare, and appeared to be from fifty to fifty-five years old; and though thirty years of service under an equatorial sun had burnt and shrivelled up his face, still there was something in it so inexpressibly affable and kind that it set you immediately at your ease. he came close up to the hammock, and taking hold of my wrist to feel the pulse, "i am sorry, sir," said he, "to see that the fever has taken such hold of you. you shall go directly with me," continued he, "to the fort; and though we have no doctor there, i trust," added he, "we shall soon bring you about again. the orders i have received forbidding the admission of strangers were never intended to be put in force against a sick english gentleman." as the canoe was proceeding slowly down the river towards the fort, the commander asked with much more interest than a question in ordinary conversation is asked, where was i on the night of the first of may? on telling him that i was at an indian settlement a little below the great fall in the demerara, and that a strange and sudden noise had alarmed all the indians, he said the same astonishing noise had roused every man in fort st. joachim, and that they remained under arms till morning. he observed that he had been quite at a loss to form any idea what could have caused the noise; but now learning that the same noise had been heard at the same time far away from the rio branco, it struck him there must have been an earthquake somewhere or other. good nourishment and rest, and the unwearied attention and kindness of the portuguese commander, stopped the progress of the fever and enabled me to walk about in six days. fort st. joachim was built about five and forty years ago under the apprehension, it is said, that the spaniards were coming from the rio negro to settle there. it has been much neglected; the floods of water have carried away the gate and destroyed the wall on each side of it, but the present commander is putting it into thorough repair. when finished it will mount six nineand six twelve-pounders. in a straight line with the fort, and within a few yards of the river, stand the commander's house, the barracks, the chapel, the father-confessor's house and two others, all at little intervals from each other; and these are the only buildings at fort st. joachim. the neighbouring extensive plains afford good pasturage for a fine breed of cattle, and the portuguese make enough of butter and cheese for their own consumption. on asking the old officer if there were such a place as lake parima, or el dorado, he replied he looked upon it as imaginary altogether. "i have been above forty years," added he, "in portuguese guiana, but have never yet met with anybody who has seen the lake." so much for lake parima, or el dorado, or the white sea. its existence at best seems doubtful: some affirm that there is such a place and others deny it. grammatici certant, et adhuc sub judice lis est. having now reached the portuguese inland frontier and collected a sufficient quantity of the wourali poison, nothing remains but to give a brief account of its composition, its effects, its uses and its supposed antidotes. it has been already remarked that in the extensive wilds of demerara and essequibo, far away from any european settlement, there is a tribe of indians who are known by the name of macoushi. though the wourali poison is used by all the south american savages betwixt the amazons and the oroonoque, still this tribe makes it stronger than any of the rest. the indians in the vicinity of the rio negro are aware of this, and come to the macoushi country to purchase it. much has been said concerning this fatal and extraordinary poison. some have affirmed that its effects are almost instantaneous, provided the minutest particle of it mixes with the blood; and others again have maintained that it is not strong enough to kill an animal of the size and strength of a man. the first have erred by lending a too willing ear to the marvellous and believing assertions without sufficient proof. the following short story points out the necessity of a cautious examination. one day, on asking an indian if he thought the poison would kill a man, he replied that they always go to battle with it; that he was standing by when an indian was shot with a poisoned arrow, and that he expired almost immediately. not wishing to dispute this apparently satisfactory information the subject was dropped. however, about an hour after, having purposely asked him in what part of the body the said indian was wounded, he answered without hesitation that the arrow entered betwixt his shoulders and passed quite through his heart. was it the weapon or the strength of the poison that brought on immediate dissolution in this case? of course the weapon. the second have been misled by disappointment caused by neglect in keeping the poisoned arrows, or by not knowing how to use them, or by trying inferior poison. if the arrows are not kept dry the poison loses its strength, and in wet or damp weather it turns mouldy and becomes quite soft. in shooting an arrow in this state, upon examining the place where it has entered, it will be observed that, though the arrow has penetrated deep into the flesh, still by far the greatest part of the poison has shrunk back, and thus, instead of entering with the arrow, it has remained collected at the mouth of the wound. in this case the arrow might as well have not been poisoned. probably it was to this that a gentleman, some time ago, owed his disappointment when he tried the poison on a horse in the town of stabroek, the capital of demerara; the horse never betrayed the least symptom of being affected by it. wishful to obtain the best information concerning this poison, and as repeated inquiries, in lieu of dissipating the surrounding shade, did but tend more and more to darken the little light that existed, i determined to penetrate into the country where the poisonous ingredients grow, where this pernicious composition is prepared and where it is constantly used. success attended the adventure, and the information acquired made amends for one hundred and twenty days passed in the solitudes of guiana, and afforded a balm to the wounds and bruises which every traveller must expect to receive who wanders through a thorny and obstructed path. thou must not, courteous reader, expect a dissertation on the manner in which the wourali poison operates on the system: a treatise has been already written on the subject, and, after all, there is probably still reason to doubt. it is supposed to affect the nervous system, and thus destroy the vital functions; it is also said to be perfectly harmless provided it does not touch the blood. however, this is certain: when a sufficient quantity of it enters the blood, death is the inevitable consequence; but there is no alteration in the colour of the blood, and both the blood and flesh may be eaten with safety. all that thou wilt find here is a concise, unadorned account of the wourali poison. it may be of service to thee some time or other shouldst thou ever travel through the wilds where it is used. neither attribute to cruelty, nor to a want of feeling for the sufferings of the inferior animals, the ensuing experiments. the larger animals were destroyed in order to have proof positive of the strength of a poison which hath hitherto been doubted, and the smaller ones were killed with the hope of substantiating that which has commonly been supposed to be an antidote. it makes a pitying heart ache to see a poor creature in distress and pain; and too often has the compassionate traveller occasion to heave a sigh as he journeys on. however, here, though the kind-hearted will be sorry to read of an unoffending animal doomed to death in order to satisfy a doubt, still it will be a relief to know that the victim was not tortured. the wourali poison destroys life's action so gently that the victim appears to be in no pain whatever; and probably, were the truth known, it feels none, saving the momentary smart at the time the arrow enters. a day or two before the macoushi indian prepares his poison he goes into the forest in quest of the ingredients. a vine grows in these wilds which is called wourali. it is from this that the poison takes its name, and it is the principal ingredient. when he has procured enough of this he digs up a root of a very bitter taste, ties them together, and then looks about for two kinds of bulbous plants which contain a green and glutinous juice. he fills a little quake which he carries on his back with the stalks of these; and lastly ranges up and down till he finds two species of ants. one of them is very large and black, and so venomous that its sting produces a fever: it is most commonly to be met with on the ground. the other is a little red ant which stings like a nettle, and generally has its nest under the leaf of a shrub. after obtaining these he has no more need to range the forest. a quantity of the strongest indian pepper is used, but this he has already planted round his hut. the pounded fangs of the labarri snake and those of the counacouchi are likewise added. these he commonly has in store, for when he kills a snake he generally extracts the fangs and keeps them by him. having thus found the necessary ingredients, he scrapes the wourali vine and bitter root into thin shavings and puts them into a kind of colander made of leaves. this he holds over an earthen pot, and pours water on the shavings: the liquor which comes through has the appearance of coffee. when a sufficient quantity has been procured the shavings are thrown aside. he then bruises the bulbous stalks and squeezes a proportionate quantity of their juice through his hands into the pot. lastly the snakes' fangs, ants and pepper are bruised and thrown into it. it is then placed on a slow fire, and as it boils more of the juice of the wourali is added, according as it may be found necessary, and the scum is taken off with a leaf: it remains on the fire till reduced to a thick syrup of a deep brown colour. as soon as it has arrived at this state a few arrows are poisoned with it, to try its strength. if it answer the expectations it is poured out into a calabash, or little pot of indian manufacture, which is carefully covered with a couple of leaves, and over them a piece of deer's skin tied round with a cord. they keep it in the most dry part of the hut, and from time to time suspend it over the fire to counteract the effects of dampness. the act of preparing this poison is not considered as a common one: the savage may shape his bow, fasten the barb on the point of his arrow and make his other implements of destruction either lying in his hammock or in the midst of his family; but if he has to prepare the wourali poison, many precautions are supposed to be necessary. the women and young girls are not allowed to be present, lest the yabahou, or evil spirit, should do them harm. the shed under which it has been boiled is pronounced polluted, and abandoned ever after. he who makes the poison must eat nothing that morning, and must continue fasting as long as the operation lasts. the pot in which it is boiled must be a new one, and must never have held anything before, otherwise the poison would be deficient in strength: add to this that the operator must take particular care not to expose himself to the vapour which arises from it while on the fire. though this and other precautions are taken, such as frequently washing the face and hands, still the indians think that it affects the health; and the operator either is, or, what is more probable, supposes himself to be, sick for some days after. thus it appears that the making the wourali poison is considered as a gloomy and mysterious operation; and it would seem that they imagine it affects others as well as him who boils it, for an indian agreed one evening to make some for me, but the next morning he declined having anything to do with it, alleging that his wife was with child! here it might be asked, are all the ingredients just mentioned necessary in order to produce the wourali poison? though our opinions and conjectures may militate against the absolute necessity of some of them, still it would be hardly fair to pronounce them added by the hand of superstition till proof positive can be obtained. we might argue on the subject, and by bringing forward instances of indian superstition draw our conclusion by inference, and still remain in doubt on this head. you know superstition to be the offspring of ignorance, and of course that it takes up its abode amongst the rudest tribes of uncivilised man. it even too often resides with man in his more enlightened state. the augustan age furnishes numerous examples. a bone snatched from the jaws of a fasting bitch, and a feather from the wing of a night-owl--"ossa ab ore rapta jejunã¦ canis, plumamque nocturnã¦ strigis"--were necessary for canidia's incantations. and in after-times parson evans, the welshman, was treated most ungenteelly by an enraged spirit solely because he had forgotten a fumigation in his witch-work. if, then, enlightened man lets his better sense give way, and believes, or allows himself to be persuaded, that certain substances and actions, in reality of no avail, possess a virtue which renders them useful in producing the wished-for effect, may not the wild, untaught, unenlightened savage of guiana add an ingredient which, on account of the harm it does him, he fancies may be useful to the perfection of his poison, though in fact it be of no use at all? if a bone snatched from the jaws of a fasting bitch be thought necessary in incantation; or if witchcraft have recourse to the raiment of the owl because it resorts to the tombs and mausoleums of the dead and wails and hovers about at the time that the rest of animated nature sleeps; certainly the savage may imagine that the ants, whose sting causes a fever, and the teeth of the labarri and counacouchi snakes, which convey death in a very short space of time, are essentially necessary in the composition of his poison; and being once impressed with this idea, he will add them every time he makes the poison and transmit the absolute use of them to his posterity. the question to be answered seems not to be if it is natural for the indians to mix these ingredients, but if they are essential to make the poison. so much for the preparing of this vegetable essence: terrible importer of death, into whatever animal it enters. let us now see how it is used; let us examine the weapons which bear it to its destination, and take a view of the poor victim from the time he receives his wound till death comes to his relief. when a native of macoushia goes in quest of feathered game or other birds he seldom carries his bow and arrows. it is the blow-pipe he then uses. this extraordinary tube of death is, perhaps, one of the greatest natural curiosities of guiana. it is not found in the country of the macoushi. those indians tell you that it grows to the south-west of them, in the wilds which extend betwixt them and the rio negro. the reed must grow to an amazing length, as the part the indians use is from ten to eleven feet long, and no tapering can be perceived in it, one end being as thick as the other. it is of a bright yellow colour, perfectly smooth both inside and out. it grows hollow, nor is there the least appearance of a knot or joint throughout the whole extent. the natives call it ourah. this of itself is too slender to answer the end of a blow-pipe, but there is a species of palma, larger and stronger, and common in guiana, and this the indians make use of as a case in which they put the ourah. it is brown, susceptible of a fine polish, and appears as if it had joints five or six inches from each other. it is called samourah, and the pulp inside is easily extracted by steeping it for a few days in water. thus the ourah and samourah, one within the other, form the blow-pipe of guiana. the end which is applied to the mouth is tied round with a small silk-grass cord to prevent its splitting, and the other end, which is apt to strike against the ground, is secured by the seed of the acuero fruit cut horizontally through the middle, with a hole made in the end through which is put the extremity of the blow-pipe. it is fastened on with string on the outside, and the inside is filled up with wild-bees' wax. the arrow is from nine to ten inches long. it is made out of the leaf of a species of palm-tree called coucourite, hard and brittle, and pointed as sharp as a needle. about an inch of the pointed end is poisoned. the other end is burnt to make it still harder, and wild cotton is put round it for about an inch and a half. it requires considerable practice to put on this cotton well. it must just be large enough to fit the hollow of the tube and taper off to nothing downwards. they tie it on with a thread of the silk-grass to prevent its slipping off the arrow. the indians have shown ingenuity in making a quiver to hold the arrows. it will contain from five to six hundred. it is generally from twelve to fourteen inches long, and in shape resembles a dice-box used at backgammon. the inside is prettily done in basket-work with wood not unlike bamboo, and the outside has a coat of wax. the cover is all of one piece formed out of the skin of the tapir. round the centre there is fastened a loop large enough to admit the arm and shoulder, from which it hangs when used. to the rim is tied a little bunch of silk-grass and half of the jaw-bone of the fish called pirai, with which the indian scrapes the point of his arrow. before he puts the arrows into the quiver he links them together by two strings of cotton, one string at each end, and then folds them round a stick which is nearly the length of the quiver. the end of the stick, which is uppermost, is guarded by two little pieces of wood crosswise, with a hoop round their extremities, which appears something like a wheel, and this saves the hand from being wounded when the quiver is reversed in order to let the bunch of arrows drop out. there is also attached to the quiver a little kind of basket to hold the wild cotton which is put on the blunt end of the arrow. with a quiver of poisoned arrows slung over his shoulder, and with his blow-pipe in his hand, in the same position as a soldier carries his musket, see the macoushi indian advancing towards the forest in quest of powises, maroudis, waracabas and other feathered game. these generally sit high up in the tall and tufted trees, but still are not out of the indian's reach, for his blow-pipe, at its greatest elevation, will send an arrow three hundred feet. silent as midnight he steals under them, and so cautiously does he tread the ground that the fallen leaves rustle not beneath his feet. his ears are open to the least sound, while his eye, keen as that of the lynx, is employed in finding out the game in the thickest shade. often he imitates their cry, and decoys them from tree to tree, till they are within range of his tube. then taking a poisoned arrow from his quiver, he puts it in the blow-pipe and collects his breath for the fatal puff. about two feet from the end through which he blows there are fastened two teeth of the acouri, and these serve him for a sight. silent and swift the arrow flies, and seldom fails to pierce the object at which it is sent. sometimes the wounded bird remains in the same tree where it was shot, and in three minutes falls down at the indian's feet. should he take wing his flight is of short duration, and the indian, following the direction he has gone, is sure to find him dead. it is natural to imagine that when a slight wound only is inflicted the game will make its escape. far otherwise; the wourali poison almost instantaneously mixes with blood or water, so that if you wet your finger and dash it along the poisoned arrow in the quickest manner possible you are sure to carry off some of the poison. though three minutes generally elapse before the convulsions come on in the wounded bird, still a stupor evidently takes place sooner, and this stupor manifests itself by an apparent unwillingness in the bird to move. this was very visible in a dying fowl. having procured a healthy full-grown one, a short piece of a poisoned blow-pipe arrow was broken off and run up into its thigh, as near as possible betwixt the skin and the flesh, in order that it might not be incommoded by the wound. for the first minute it walked about, but walked very slowly, and did not appear the least agitated. during the second minute it stood still, and began to peck the ground; and ere half another had elapsed it frequently opened and shut its mouth. the tail had now dropped and the wings almost touched the ground. by the termination of the third minute it had sat down, scarce able to support its head, which nodded, and then recovered itself, and then nodded again, lower and lower every time, like that of a weary traveller slumbering in an erect position; the eyes alternately open and shut. the fourth minute brought on convulsions, and life and the fifth terminated together. the flesh of the game is not in the least injured by the poison, nor does it appear to corrupt sooner than that killed by the gun or knife. the body of this fowl was kept for sixteen hours in a climate damp and rainy, and within seven degrees of the equator, at the end of which time it had contracted no bad smell whatever and there were no symptoms of putrefaction, saving that just round the wound the flesh appeared somewhat discoloured. the indian, on his return home, carefully suspends his blow-pipe from the top of his spiral roof, seldom placing it in an oblique position, lest it should receive a cast. here let the blow-pipe remain suspended while you take a view of the arms which are made to slay the larger beasts of the forest. when the indian intends to chase the peccari, or surprise the deer, or rouse the tapir from his marshy retreat, he carries his bow and arrows, which are very different from the weapons already described. the bow is generally from six to seven feet long and strung with a cord spun out of the silk-grass. the forests of guiana furnish many species of hard wood, tough and elastic, out of which beautiful and excellent bows are formed. the arrows are from four to five feet in length, made of a yellow reed without a knot or joint. it is found in great plenty up and down throughout guiana. a piece of hard wood about nine inches long is inserted into the end of the reed, and fastened with cotton well waxed. a square hole an inch deep is then made in the end of this piece of hard wood, done tight round with cotton to keep it from splitting. into this square hole is fitted a spike of coucourite-wood, poisoned, and which may be kept there or taken out at pleasure. a joint of bamboo, about as thick as your finger, is fitted on over the poisoned spike to prevent accidents and defend it from the rain, and is taken off when the arrow is about to be used. lastly, two feathers are fastened the other end of the reed to steady it in its flight. besides his bow and arrows, the indian carries a little box made of bamboo which holds a dozen or fifteen poisoned spikes six inches long. they are poisoned in the following manner: a small piece of wood is dipped in the poison, and with this they give the spike a first coat. it is then exposed to the sun or fire. after it is dry it receives another coat, and then dried again; after this a third coat, and sometimes a fourth. they take great care to put the poison on thicker at the middle than at the sides, by which means the spike retains the shape of a two-edged sword. it is rather a tedious operation to make one of these arrows complete, and as the indian is not famed for industry, except when pressed by hunger, he has hit upon a plan of preserving his arrows which deserves notice. about a quarter of an inch above the part where the coucourite spike is fixed into the square hole he cuts it half through, and thus, when it has entered the animal, the weight of the arrow causes it to break off there, by which means the arrow falls to the ground uninjured, so that, should this be the only arrow he happens to have with him and should another shot immediately occur, he has only to take another poisoned spike out of his little bamboo box, fit it on its arrow, and send it to its destination. thus armed with deadly poison, and hungry as the hyã¦na, he ranges through the forest in quest of the wild-beasts' track. no hound can act a surer part. without clothes to fetter him or shoes to bind his feet, he observes the footsteps of the game where an european eye could not discern the smallest vestige. he pursues it through all its turns and windings with astonishing perseverance, and success generally crowns his efforts. the animal, after receiving the poisoned arrow, seldom retreats two hundred paces before it drops. in passing over-land from the essequibo to the demerara we fell in with a herd of wild hogs. though encumbered with baggage and fatigued with a hard day's walk, an indian got his bow ready and let fly a poisoned arrow at one of them. it entered the cheek-bone and broke off. the wild hog was found quite dead about one hundred and seventy paces from the place where he had been shot. he afforded us an excellent and wholesome supper. thus the savage of guiana, independent of the common weapons of destruction, has it in his power to prepare a poison by which he can generally ensure to himself a supply of animal food: and the food so destroyed imbibes no deleterious qualities. nature has been bountiful to him. she has not only ordered poisonous herbs and roots to grow in the unbounded forests through which he strays, but has also furnished an excellent reed for his arrows, and another still more singular for his blow-pipe, and planted trees of an amazing hard, tough and elastic texture out of which he forms his bows. and in order that nothing might be wanting, she has superadded a tree which yields him a fine wax and disseminated up and down a plant not unlike that of the pine-apple which affords him capital bow-strings. having now followed the indian in the chase and described the poison, let us take a nearer view of its action and observe a large animal expiring under the weight of its baneful virulence. many have doubted the strength of the wourali poison. should they ever by chance read what follows, probably their doubts on that score will be settled for ever. in the former experiment on the dog some faint resistance on the part of nature was observed, as if existence struggled for superiority, but in the following instance of the sloth life sunk in death without the least apparent contention, without a cry, without a struggle and without a groan. this was an ai, or three-toed sloth. it was in the possession of a gentleman who was collecting curiosities. he wished to have it killed in order to preserve the skin, and the wourali poison was resorted to as the easiest death. of all animals, not even the toad and tortoise excepted, this poor ill-formed creature is the most tenacious of life. it exists long after it has received wounds which would have destroyed any other animal, and it may be said, on seeing a mortally-wounded sloth, that life disputes with death every inch of flesh in its body. the ai was wounded in the leg, and put down on the floor about two feet from the table; it contrived to reach the leg of the table, and fastened itself on it, as if wishful to ascend. but this was its last advancing step: life was ebbing fast though imperceptibly, nor could this singular production of nature, which has been formed of a texture to resist death in a thousand shapes, make any stand against the wourali poison. first one fore-leg let go its hold, and dropped down motionless by its side; the other gradually did the same. the fore-legs having now lost their strength, the sloth slowly doubled its body and placed its head betwixt its hind-legs, which still adhered to the table; but when the poison had affected these also it sunk to the ground, but sunk so gently that you could not distinguish the movement from an ordinary motion, and had you been ignorant that it was wounded with a poisoned arrow you would never have suspected that it was dying. its mouth was shut, nor had any froth or saliva collected there. there was no _subsultus tendinum_ or any visible alteration in its breathing. during the tenth minute from the time it was wounded it stirred, and that was all; and the minute after life's last spark went out. from the time the poison began to operate you would have conjectured that sleep was overpowering it, and you would have exclaimed: "pressitque jacentem, dulcis et alta quies, placidã¦que simillima morti." there are now two positive proofs of the effect of this fatal poison: viz. the death of the dog and that of the sloth. but still these animals were nothing remarkable for size, and the strength of the poison in large animals might yet be doubted were it not for what follows. a large well-fed ox, from nine hundred to a thousand pounds weight, was tied to a stake by a rope sufficiently strong to allow him to move to and fro. having no large coucourite spikes at hand, it was judged necessary, on account of his superior size, to put three wild-hog arrows into him: one was sent into each thigh just above the hock in order to avoid wounding a vital part, and the third was shot traversely into the extremity of the nostril. the poison seemed to take effect in four minutes. conscious as though he would fall, the ox set himself firmly on his legs and remained quite still in the same place till about the fourteenth minute, when he smelled the ground and appeared as if inclined to walk. he advanced a pace or two, staggered and fell, and remained extended on his side, with his head on the ground. his eye, a few minutes ago so bright and lively, now became fixed and dim, and though you put your hand close to it, as if to give him a blow there, he never closed his eyelid. his legs were convulsed and his head from time to time started involuntarily, but he never showed the least desire to raise it from the ground. he breathed hard and emitted foam from his mouth. the startings, or _subsultus tendinum_, now became gradually weaker and weaker; his hinder parts were fixed in death, and in a minute or two more his head and fore-legs ceased to stir. nothing now remained to show that life was still within him except that his heart faintly beat and fluttered at intervals. in five and twenty minutes from the time of his being wounded he was quite dead. his flesh was very sweet and savoury at dinner. on taking a retrospective view of the two different kinds of poisoned arrows, and the animals destroyed by them, it would appear that the quantity of poison must be proportioned to the animal, and thus those probably labour under an error who imagine that the smallest particle of it introduced into the blood has almost instantaneous effects. make an estimate of the difference in size betwixt the fowl and the ox, and then weigh a sufficient quantity of poison for a blow-pipe arrow, with which the fowl was killed, and weigh also enough poison for three wild-hog arrows, which destroyed the ox, and it will appear that the fowl received much more poison in proportion than the ox. hence the cause why the fowl died in five minutes and the ox in five and twenty. indeed, were it the case that the smallest particle of it introduced into the blood has almost instantaneous effects, the indian would not find it necessary to make the large arrow: that of the blow-pipe is much easier made and requires less poison. and now for the antidotes, or rather the supposed antidotes. the indians tell you, that if the wounded animal be held for a considerable time up to the mouth in water the poison will not prove fatal; also that the juice of the sugar-cane poured down the throat will counteract the effects of it. these antidotes were fairly tried upon full-grown healthy fowls, but they all died, as though no steps had been taken to preserve their lives. rum was recommended, and given to another, but with as little success. it is supposed by some that wind introduced into the lungs by means of a small pair of bellows would revive the poisoned patient, provided the operation be continued for a sufficient length of time. it may be so; but this is a difficult and a tedious mode of cure, and he who is wounded in the forest, far away from his friends, or in the hut of the savages, stands but a poor chance of being saved by it. had the indians a sure antidote, it is likely they would carry it about with them or resort to it immediately after being wounded, if at hand; and their confidence in its efficacy would greatly diminish the horror they betray when you point a poisoned arrow at them. one day, while we were eating a red monkey erroneously called the baboon, in demerara, an arowack indian told an affecting story of what happened to a comrade of his. he was present at his death. as it did not interest this indian in any point to tell a falsehood, it is very probable that his account was a true one. if so, it appears that there is no certain antidote, or at least an antidote that could be resorted to in a case of urgent need, for the indian gave up all thoughts of life as soon as he was wounded. the arowack indian said it was but four years ago that he and his companion were ranging in the forest in quest of game. his companion took a poisoned arrow and sent it at a red monkey in a tree above him. it was nearly a perpendicular shot. the arrow missed the monkey, and in the descent struck him in the arm a little above the elbow. he was convinced it was all over with him. "i shall never," said he to his companion, in a faltering voice, and looking at his bow as he said it, "i shall never," said he, "bend this bow again." and having said that, he took off his little bamboo poison-box, which hung across his shoulder, and putting it together with his bow and arrows on the ground, he laid himself down close by them, bid his companion farewell, and never spoke more. he who is unfortunate enough to be wounded by a poisoned arrow from macoushia had better not depend upon the common antidotes for a cure. many who have been in guiana will recommend immediate immersion in water, or to take the juice of the sugar-cane, or to fill the mouth full of salt; and they recommend these antidotes because they have got them from the indians. but were you to ask them if they ever saw these antidotes used with success, it is ten to one their answer would be in the negative. wherefore let him reject these antidotes as unprofitable and of no avail. he has got an active and deadly foe within him which, like shakespeare's fell serjeant death, is strict in his arrest, and will allow him but little time--very, very little time. in a few minutes he will be numbered with the dead. life ought, if possible, to be preserved, be the expense ever so great. should the part affected admit of it, let a ligature be tied tight round the wound, and have immediate recourse to the knife: continuo, culpam ferro compesce, priusquam dira per infaustum serpant contagia corpus. and now, kind reader, it is time to bid thee farewell. the two ends proposed have been obtained. the portuguese inland frontier-fort has been reached and the macoushi wourali poison acquired. the account of this excursion through the interior of guiana has been submitted to thy perusal in order to induce thy abler genius to undertake a more extensive one. if any difficulties have arisen, or fevers come on, they have been caused by the periodical rains which fall in torrents as the sun approaches the tropic of cancer. in dry weather there would be no difficulties or sickness. amongst the many satisfactory conclusions which thou wouldest be able to draw during the journey there is one which, perhaps, would please thee not a little, and that is with regard to dogs. many a time, no doubt, thou hast heard it hotly disputed that dogs existed in guiana previously to the arrival of the spaniards in those parts. whatever the spaniards introduced, and which bore no resemblance to anything the indians had been accustomed to see, retains its spanish name to this day. thus the warow, the arowack, the acoway, the macoushi and carib tribes call a hat _sombrero_; a shirt or any kind of cloth _camisa_; a shoe _zapalo_; a letter _carta_; a fowl _gallina_; gunpowder _colvora_ (spanish _polvora_); ammunition _bala_; a cow _vaca_; and a dog _perro_. this argues strongly against the existence of dogs in guiana before it was discovered by the spaniards, and probably may be of use to thee in thy next canine dispute. in a political point of view this country presents a large field for speculation. a few years ago there was but little inducement for any englishman to explore the interior of these rich and fine colonies, as the british government did not consider them worth holding at the peace of amiens. since that period their mother-country has been blotted out from the list of nations, and america has unfolded a new sheet of politics. on one side the crown of braganza, attacked by an ambitious chieftain, has fled from the palace of its ancestors, and now seems fixed on the banks of the janeiro. cayenne has yielded to its arms, la plata has raised the standard of independence and thinks itself sufficiently strong to obtain a government of its own. on the other side the caraccas are in open revolt, and should santa fã© join them in good earnest they may form a powerful association. thus on each side of _ci-devant_ dutch guiana most unexpected and astonishing changes have taken place. will they raise or lower it in the scale of estimation at the court of st. james's? will they be of benefit to these grand and extensive colonies? colonies enjoying perpetual summer. colonies of the richest soil. colonies containing within themselves everything necessary for their support. colonies, in fine, so varied in their quality and situation as to be capable of bringing to perfection every tropical production, and only want the support of government, and an enlightened governor, to render them as fine as the finest portions of the equatorial regions. kind reader, fare thee well! * * * * * _letter to the portuguese commander_ muy seã�or, como no tengo el honor, de ser conocido de vm. lo pienso mejor, y mas decoroso, quedarme aqui, hastaque huviere recibido su respuesta. haviendo caminado hasta la choza, adonde estoi, no quisiere volverme, antes de haver visto la fortaleza de los portugueses; y pido licencia de vm. para que me adelante. honradissimos son mis motivos, ni tengo proyecto ninguno, o de comercio, o de la soldadesca, no siendo yo, o comerciante, o oficial. hidalgo catolico soy, de hacienda in ynglatierra, y muchos aã±os de mi vida he pasado en caminar. ultimamente, de demeraria vengo, la quai dexã© el 5 dia de abril, para ver este hermoso pais, y coger unas curiosidades, especialmente, el veneno, que se llama wourali. las mas recentes noticias que tenian en demeraria, antes di mi salida, eran medias tristes, medias alegres. tristes digo, viendo que valencia ha caido en poder del enemigo comun, y el general blake, y sus valientes tropas quedan prisioneros de guerra. alegres, al contrario, porque milord wellington se ha apoderado de ciudad rodrigo. a pesar de la caida de valencia, parece claro al mundo, que las cosas del enemigo, estan andando, de pejor a pejor cada dia. nosotros debemos dar gracias al altissimo, por haver sido servido dexarnos castigar ultimamente, a los robadores, de sus santas yglesias. se vera vm. que yo no escribo portugues ni aun lo hablo, pero, haviendo aprendido el castellano, no nos faltarã¡ medio de communicar y tener conversacion. ruego se escuse esta carta escrita sin tinta, porque un indio dexo caer mi tintero y quebrose. dios le dã© a vm. muchos aã±os de salud. entretanto, tengo el honor de ser su mas obedeciente servidor, carlos waterton. * * * * * remarks incertus, quo fata ferant, ubi sistere detur. kind and gentle reader, if the journey in quest of the wourali poison has engaged thy attention, probably thou mayest recollect that the traveller took leave of thee at fort st. joachim, on the rio branco. shouldest thou wish to know what befell him afterwards, excuse the following uninteresting narrative. having had a return of fever, and aware that the farther he advanced into these wild and lonely regions the less would be the chance of regaining his health, he gave up all idea of proceeding onwards, and went slowly back towards the demerara, nearly by the same route he had come. on descending the falls in the essequibo, which form an oblique line quite across the river, it was resolved to push through them, the downward stream being in the canoe's favour. at a little distance from the place a large tree had fallen into the river, and in the meantime the canoe was lashed to one of its branches. the roaring of the water was dreadful: it foamed and dashed over the rocks with a tremendous spray, like breakers on a lee-shore, threatening destruction to whatever approached it. you would have thought, by the confusion it caused in the river and the whirlpools it made, that scylla and charybdis, and their whole progeny, had left the mediterranean and come and settled here. the channel was barely twelve feet wide, and the torrent in rushing down formed traverse furrows which showed how near the rocks were to the surface. nothing could surpass the skill of the indian who steered the canoe. he looked steadfastly at it, then at the rocks, then cast an eye on the channel, and then looked at the canoe again. it was in vain to speak. the sound was lost in the roar of waters, but his eye showed that he had already passed it in imagination. he held up his paddle in a position as much as to say that he would keep exactly amid channel, and then made a sign to cut the bush-rope that held the canoe to the fallen tree. the canoe drove down the torrent with inconceivable rapidity. it did not touch the rocks once all the way. the indian proved to a nicety: "medio tutissimus ibis." shortly after this it rained almost day and night, the lightning flashing incessantly and the roar of thunder awful beyond expression. the fever returned, and pressed so heavy on him that to all appearance his last day's march was over. however, it abated, his spirits rallied, and he marched again; and after delays and inconveniences he reached the house of his worthy friend mr. edmonstone, in mibiri creek, which falls into the demerara. no words of his can do justice to the hospitality of that gentleman, whose repeated encounters with the hostile negroes in the forest have been publicly rewarded and will be remembered in the colony for years to come. here he learned that an eruption had taken place in st. vincent's, and thus the noise heard in the night of the first of may, which had caused such terror amongst the indians and made the garrison at fort st. joachim remain under arms the rest of the night, is accounted for. after experiencing every kindness and attention from mr. edmonstone he sailed for granada, and from thence to st. thomas's, a few days before poor captain peake lost his life on his own quarter-deck bravely fighting for his country on the coast of guiana. at st. thomas's they show you a tower, a little distance from the town, which they say formerly belonged to a bucanier chieftain. probably the fury of besiegers has reduced it to its present dismantled state. what still remains of it bears testimony of its former strength and may brave the attack of time for centuries. you cannot view its ruins without calling to mind the exploits of those fierce and hardy hunters, long the terror of the western world. while you admire their undaunted courage, you lament that it was often stained with cruelty; while you extol their scrupulous justice to each other, you will find a want of it towards the rest of mankind. often possessed of enormous wealth, often in extreme poverty, often triumphant on the ocean and often forced to fly to the forests, their life was an ever-changing scene of advance and retreat, of glory and disorder, of luxury and famine. spain treated them as outlaws and pirates, while other european powers publicly disowned them. they, on the other hand, maintained that injustice on the part of spain first forced them to take up arms in self-defence, and that, whilst they kept inviolable the laws which they had framed for their own common benefit and protection, they had a right to consider as foes those who treated them as outlaws. under this impression they drew the sword and rushed on as though in lawful war, and divided the spoils of victory in the scale of justice. after leaving st. thomas's, a severe tertian ague every now and then kept putting the traveller in mind that his shattered frame, "starting and shivering in the inconstant blast, meagre and pale, the ghost of what it was," wanted repairs. three years elapsed after arriving in england before the ague took its final leave of him. during that time, several experiments were made with the wourali poison. in london an ass was inoculated with it and died in twelve minutes. the poison was inserted into the leg of another, round which a bandage had been previously tied a little above the place where the wourali was introduced. he walked about as usual and ate his food as though all were right. after an hour had elapsed the bandage was untied, and ten minutes after death overtook him. a she-ass received the wourali poison in the shoulder, and died apparently in ten minutes. an incision was then made in its windpipe and through it the lungs were regularly inflated for two hours with a pair of bellows. suspended animation returned. the ass held up her head and looked around, but the inflating being discontinued she sunk once more in apparent death. the artificial breathing was immediately recommenced, and continued without intermission for two hours more. this saved the ass from final dissolution: she rose up and walked about; she seemed neither in agitation nor in pain. the wound through which the poison entered was healed without difficulty. her constitution, however, was so severely affected that it was long a doubt if ever she would be well again. she looked lean and sickly for above a year, but began to mend the spring after, and by midsummer became fat and frisky. the kind-hearted reader will rejoice on learning that earl percy, pitying her misfortunes, sent her down from london to walton hall, near wakefield. there she goes by the name of wouralia. wouralia shall be sheltered from the wintry storm; and when summer comes she shall feed in the finest pasture. no burden shall be placed upon her, and she shall end her days in peace. for three revolving autumns, the ague-beaten wanderer never saw without a sigh the swallow bend her flight towards warmer regions. he wished to go too, but could not for sickness had enfeebled him, and prudence pointed out the folly of roving again too soon across the northern tropic. to be sure, the continent was now open, and change of air might prove beneficial, but there was nothing very tempting in a trip across the channel, and as for a tour through england!--england has long ceased to be the land for adventures. indeed, when good king arthur reappears to claim his crown, he will find things strangely altered here; and may we not look for his coming? for there is written upon his gravestone: hic jacet arturus, rex quondam rexque futurus. here arthur lies, who formerly was king--and king again to be. don quixote was always of opinion that this famous king did not die, but that he was changed into a raven by enchantment and that the english are momentarily expecting his return. be this as it may, it is certain that when he reigned here all was harmony and joy. the browsing herds passed from vale to vale, the swains sang from the bluebell-teeming groves, and nymphs, with eglantine and roses in their neatly-braided hair, went hand in hand to the flowery mead to weave garlands for their lambkins. if by chance some rude, uncivil fellow dared to molest them, or attempted to throw thorns in their path, there was sure to be a knight-errant not far off ready to rush forward in their defence. but alas! in these degenerate days it is not so. should a harmless cottage-maid wander out of the highway to pluck a primrose or two in the neighbouring field, the haughty owner sternly bids her retire; and if a pitying swain hasten to escort her back, he is perhaps seized by the gaunt house-dog ere he reach her! ã�neas's route on the other side of styx could not have been much worse than this, though, by his account, when he got back to earth, it appears that he had fallen in with "bellua lernã¦, horrendum stridens, flammisque, armata chimã¦ra." moreover, he had a sibyl to guide his steps; and as such a conductress nowadays could not be got for love or money, it was judged most prudent to refrain from sauntering through this land of freedom, and wait with patience the return of health. at last this long-looked-for, ever-welcome stranger came. second journey in the year 1816, two days before the vernal equinox, i sailed from liverpool for pernambuco, in the southern hemisphere, on the coast of brazil. there is little at this time of the year, in the european part of the atlantic, to engage the attention of the naturalist. as you go down the channel you see a few divers and gannets. the middle-sized gulls, with a black spot at the end of the wings, attend you a little way into the bay of biscay. when it blows a hard gale of wind the stormy petrel makes its appearance. while the sea runs mountains high, and every wave threatens destruction to the labouring vessel, this little harbinger of storms is seen enjoying itself, on rapid pinion, up and down the roaring billows. when the storm is over it appears no more. it is known to every english sailor by the name of mother carey's chicken. it must have been hatched in ã�olus's cave, amongst a clutch of squalls and tempests, for whenever they get out upon the ocean it always contrives to be of the party. though the calms and storms and adverse winds in these latitudes are vexatious, still, when you reach the trade-winds, you are amply repaid for all disappointments and inconveniences. the trade-winds prevail about thirty degrees on each side of the equator. this part of the ocean may be called the elysian fields of neptune's empire; and the torrid zone, notwithstanding ovid's remark, "non est habitabilis ã¦stu," is rendered healthy and pleasant by these gently-blowing breezes. the ship glides smoothly on, and you soon find yourself within the northern tropic. when you are on it cancer is just over your head, and betwixt him and capricorn is the high-road of the zodiac, forty-seven degrees wide, famous for phaeton's misadventure. his father begged and entreated him not to take it into his head to drive parallel to the five zones, but to mind and keep on the turnpike which runs obliquely across the equator. "there you will distinctly see," said he, "the ruts of my chariot wheels, 'manifesta rotã¦ vestigia cernes.'" "but," added he, "even suppose you keep on it, and avoid the by-roads, nevertheless, my dear boy, believe me, you will be most sadly put to your shifts; 'ardua prima via est,' the first part of the road is confoundedly steep! 'ultima via prona est,' and after that, it is all down-hill! moreover, 'per insidias iter est, formasque ferarum,' the road is full of nooses and bull-dogs, 'hã¦moniosque arcus,' and spring guns, 'sã¦vaque circuitu, curvantem brachia longo, scorpio,' and steel traps of uncommon size and shape." these were nothing in the eyes of phaeton; go he would, so off he set, full speed, four in hand. he had a tough drive of it, and after doing a prodigious deal of mischief, very luckily for the world he got thrown out of the box, and tumbled into the river po. some of our modern bloods have been shallow enough to try to ape this poor empty-headed coachman on a little scale, making london their zodiac. well for them if tradesmen's bills and other trivial perplexities have not caused them to be thrown into the king's bench. the productions of the torrid zone are uncommonly grand. its plains, its swamps, its savannas and forests abound with the largest serpents and wild beasts; and its trees are the habitation of the most beautiful of the feathered race. while the traveller in the old world is astonished at the elephant, the tiger, the lion and rhinoceros, he who wanders through the torrid regions of the new is lost in admiration at the cotingas, the toucans, the humming-birds and aras. the ocean likewise swarms with curiosities. probably the flying-fish may be considered as one of the most singular. this little scaled inhabitant of water and air seems to have been more favoured than the rest of its finny brethren. it can rise out of the waves and on wing visit the domain of the birds. after flying two or three hundred yards, the intense heat of the sun has dried its pellucid wings, and it is obliged to wet them in order to continue its flight. it just drops into the ocean for a moment, and then rises again and flies on; and then descends to remoisten them, and then up again into the air; thus passing its life, sometimes wet, sometimes dry, sometimes in sunshine, and sometimes in the pale moon's nightly beam, as pleasure dictates or as need requires. the additional assistance of wings is not thrown away upon it. it has full occupation both for fins and wings, as its life is in perpetual danger. the bonito and albicore chase it day and night, but the dolphin is its worst and swiftest foe. if it escape into the air, the dolphin pushes on with proportional velocity beneath, and is ready to snap it up the moment it descends to wet its wings. you will often see above one hundred of these little marine aerial fugitives on the wing at once. they appear to use every exertion to prolong their flight, but vain are all their efforts, for when the last drop of water on their wings is dried up their flight is at an end, and they must drop into the ocean. some are instantly devoured by their merciless pursuer, part escape by swimming, and others get out again as quick as possible, and trust once more to their wings. it often happens that this unfortunate little creature, after alternate dips and flights, finding all its exertions of no avail, at last drops on board the vessel, verifying the old remark: incidit in scyllam, cupiens vitare charybdim. there, stunned by the fall, it beats the deck with its tail and dies. when eating it you would take it for a fresh herring. the largest measure from fourteen to fifteen inches in length. the dolphin, after pursuing it to the ship, sometimes forfeits his own life. in days of yore the musician used to play in softest, sweetest strain, and then take an airing amongst the dolphins: "inter delphinas arion." but nowadays our tars have quite capsized the custom, and instead of riding ashore on the dolphin, they invite the dolphin aboard. while he is darting and playing around the vessel a sailor goes out to the spritsail yard-arm, and with a long staff, leaded at one end, and armed at the other with five barbed spikes, he heaves it at him. if successful in his aim there is a fresh mess for all hands. the dying dolphin affords a superb and brilliant sight: mille trahit moriens, adverse sole colores. all the colours of the rainbow pass and repass in rapid succession over his body, till the dark hand of death closes the scene. from the cape de verd islands to the coast of brazil you see several different kinds of gulls, which, probably, are bred in the island of st. paul. sometimes the large bird called the frigate pelican soars majestically over the vessel, and the tropic bird comes near enough to let you have a fair view of the long feathers in his tail. on the line, when it is calm, sharks of a tremendous size make their appearance. they are descried from the ship by means of the dorsal fin, which is above the water. on entering the bay of pernambuco, the frigate pelican is seen watching the shoals of fish from a prodigious height. it seldom descends without a successful attack on its numerous prey below. as you approach the shore the view is charming. the hills are clothed with wood, gradually rising towards the interior, none of them of any considerable height. a singular reef of rocks runs parallel to the coast and forms the harbour of pernambuco. the vessels are moored betwixt it and the town, safe from every storm. you enter the harbour through a very narrow passage, close by a fort built on the reef. the hill of olinda, studded with houses and convents, is on your right-hand, and an island thickly planted with cocoa-nut trees adds considerably to the scene on your left. there are two strong forts on the isthmus betwixt olinda and pernambuco, and a pillar midway to aid the pilot. pernambuco probably contains upwards of fifty thousand souls. it stands on a flat, and is divided into three parts: a peninsula, an island and the continent. though within a few degrees of the line, its climate is remarkably salubrious and rendered almost temperate by the refreshing sea-breeze. had art and judgment contributed their portion to its natural advantages, pernambuco at this day would have been a stately ornament to the coast of brazil. on viewing it, it will strike you that everyone has built his house entirely for himself, and deprived public convenience of the little claim she had a right to put in. you would wish that this city, so famous for its harbour, so happy in its climate and so well situated for commerce, could have risen under the flag of dido, in lieu of that of braganza. as you walk down the streets the appearance of the houses is not much in their favour. some of them are very high, and some very low; some newly whitewashed, and others stained and mouldy and neglected, as though they had no owner. the balconies, too, are of a dark and gloomy appearance. they are not, in general, open as in most tropical cities, but grated like a farmer's dairy-window, though somewhat closer. there is a lamentable want of cleanliness in the streets. the impurities from the houses and the accumulation of litter from the beasts of burden are unpleasant sights to the passing stranger. he laments the want of a police as he goes along, and when the wind begins to blow his nose and eyes are too often exposed to a cloud of very unsavoury dust. when you view the port of pernambuco, full of ships of all nations; when you know that the richest commodities of europe, africa and asia are brought to it; when you see immense quantities of cotton, dye-wood and the choicest fruits pouring into the town, you are apt to wonder at the little attention these people pay to the common comforts which one always expects to find in a large and opulent city. however, if the inhabitants are satisfied, there is nothing more to be said. should they ever be convinced that inconveniences exist, and that nuisances are too frequent, the remedy is in their own hands. at present, certainly, they seem perfectly regardless of them; and the captain-general of pernambuco walks through the streets with as apparent content and composure as an english statesman would proceed down charing cross. custom reconciles everything. in a week or two the stranger himself begins to feel less the things which annoyed him so much upon his first arrival, and after a few months' residence he thinks no more about them, while he is partaking of the hospitality and enjoying the elegance and splendour within doors in this great city. close by the river-side stands what is called the palace of the captain-general of pernambuco. its form and appearance altogether strike the traveller that it was never intended for the use it is at present put to. reader, throw a veil over thy recollection for a little while, and forget the cruel, unjust and unmerited censures thou hast heard against an unoffending order. this palace was once the jesuits' college, and originally built by those charitable fathers. ask the aged and respectable inhabitants of pernambuco, and they will tell thee that the destruction of the society of jesus was a terrible disaster to the public, and its consequences severely felt to the present day. when pombal took the reins of power into his own hands, virtue and learning beamed bright within the college walls. public catechism to the children, and religious instruction to all, flowed daily from the mouths of its venerable priests. they were loved, revered and respected throughout the whole town. the illuminating philosophers of the day had sworn to exterminate christian knowledge, and the college of pernambuco was doomed to founder in the general storm. to the long-lasting sorrow and disgrace of portugal, the philosophers blinded her king and flattered her prime minister. pombal was exactly the tool these sappers of every public and private virtue wanted. he had the naked sword of power in his own hand, and his heart was hard as flint. he struck a mortal blow and the society of jesus, throughout the portuguese dominions, was no more. one morning all the fathers of the college in pernambuco, some of them very old and feeble, were suddenly ordered into the refectory. they had notice beforehand of the fatal storm, in pity, from the governor, but not one of them abandoned his charge. they had done their duty and had nothing to fear. they bowed with resignation to the will of heaven. as soon as they had all reached the refectory they were there locked up, and never more did they see their rooms, their friends, their scholars, or acquaintance. in the dead of the following night a strong guard of soldiers literally drove them through the streets to the water's edge. they were then conveyed in boats aboard a ship and steered for bahia. those who survived the barbarous treatment they experienced from pombal's creatures, were at last ordered to lisbon. the college of pernambuco was plundered, and some time after an elephant was kept there. thus the arbitrary hand of power, in one night, smote and swept away the sciences: to which succeeded the low vulgar buffoonery of a showman. virgil and cicero made way for a wild beast from angola! and now a guard is on duty at the very gate where, in times long past, the poor were daily fed! trust not, kind reader, to the envious remarks which their enemies have scattered far and near; believe not the stories of those who have had a hand in the sad tragedy. go to brazil, and see with thine own eyes the effect of pombal's short-sighted policy. there vice reigns triumphant and learning is at its lowest ebb. neither is this to be wondered at. destroy the compass, and will the vessel find her far-distant port? will the flock keep together, and escape the wolves, after the shepherds are all slain? the brazilians were told that public education would go on just as usual. they might have asked government, who so able to instruct our youth as those whose knowledge is proverbial? who so fit as those who enjoy our entire confidence? who so worthy as those whose lives are irreproachable? they soon found that those who succeeded the fathers of the society of jesus had neither their manner nor their abilities. they had not made the instruction of youth their particular study. moreover, they entered on the field after a defeat where the officers had all been slain; where the plan of the campaign was lost; where all was in sorrow and dismay. no exertions of theirs could rally the dispersed, or skill prevent the fatal consequences. at the present day the seminary of olinda, in comparison with the former jesuits' college, is only as the waning moon's beam to the sun's meridian splendour. when you visit the places where those learned fathers once flourished, and see with your own eyes the evils their dissolution has caused; when you hear the inhabitants telling you how good, how clever, how charitable they were; what will you think of our poet laureate for calling them, in his _history of brazil_, "missioners whose zeal the most fanatical was directed by the coolest policy"? was it _fanatical_ to renounce the honours and comforts of this transitory life in order to gain eternal glory in the next, by denying themselves, and taking up the cross? was it _fanatical_ to preach salvation to innumerable wild hordes of americans? to clothe the naked? to encourage the repenting sinner? to aid the dying christian? the fathers of the society of jesus did all this. and for this their zeal is pronounced to be the most fanatical, directed by the coolest policy. it will puzzle many a clear brain to comprehend how it is possible, in the nature of things, that _zeal_ the most _fanatical_ should be directed by the _coolest policy_. ah, mr. laureate, mr. laureate, that "quidlibet audendi" of yours may now and then gild the poet at the same time that it makes the historian cut a sorry figure! could father nobrega rise from the tomb, he would thus address you: "ungrateful englishman, you have drawn a great part of your information from the writings of the society of jesus, and in return you attempt to stain its character by telling your countrymen that 'we taught the idolatry we believed'! in speaking of me, you say it was my happy fortune to be stationed in a country where _none_ but the good principles of my order were called into action. ungenerous laureate, the narrow policy of the times has kept your countrymen in the dark with regard to the true character of the society of jesus; and you draw the bandage still tighter over their eyes by a malicious insinuation. i lived and taught and died in brazil, where you state that _none_ but the good principles of my order were called into action, and still, in most absolute contradiction to this, you remark we believed the _idolatry_ we taught in brazil. thus we brought none but good principles into action, and still taught idolatry! "again, you state there is no individual to whose talents brazil is so greatly and permanently indebted as mine, and that i must be regarded as the founder of that system so successfully pursued by the jesuits in paraguay: a system productive of as much good as is compatible with pious fraud. thus you make me, at one and the same time, a teacher of none but good principles, and a teacher of idolatry, and a believer in idolatry, and still the founder of a system for which brazil is greatly and permanently indebted to me, though, by the by, the system was only productive of as much good as is compatible with pious fraud! "what means all this? after reading such incomparable nonsense, should your countrymen wish to be properly informed concerning the society of jesus, there are in england documents enough to show that the system of the jesuits was a system of christian charity towards their fellow-creatures administered in a manner which human prudence judged best calculated to ensure success; and that the idolatry which you uncharitably affirm they taught was really and truly the very same faith which the catholic church taught for centuries in england, which she still teaches to those who wish to hear her, and which she will continue to teach, pure and unspotted, till time shall be no more." the environs of pernambuco are very pretty. you see country houses in all directions, and the appearance of here and there a sugar-plantation enriches the scenery. palm-trees, cocoanut-trees, orange and lemon groves, and all the different fruits peculiar to brazil, are here in the greatest abundance. at olinda there is a national botanical garden: it wants space, produce and improvement. the forests, which are several leagues off, abound with birds, beasts, insects and serpents. besides a brilliant plumage, many of the birds have a very fine song. the troupiale, noted for its rich colours, sings delightfully in the environs of pernambuco. the red-headed finch, larger than the european sparrow, pours forth a sweet and varied strain, in company with two species of wrens, a little before daylight. there are also several species of the thrush, which have a song somewhat different from that of the european thrush; and two species of the linnet, whose strain is so soft and sweet that it dooms them to captivity in the houses. a bird called here sangre-do-buey, blood of the ox, cannot fail to engage your attention: he is of the passerine tribe, and very common about the houses; the wings and tail are black and every other part of the body a flaming red. in guiana there is a species exactly the same as this in shape, note and economy, but differing in colour, its whole body being like black velvet; on its breast a tinge of red appears through the black. thus nature has ordered this little tangara to put on mourning to the north of the line and wear scarlet to the south of it. for three months in the year the environs of pernambuco are animated beyond description. from november to march the weather is particularly fine; then it is that rich and poor, young and old, foreigners and natives, all issue from the city to enjoy the country till lent approaches, when back they hie them. villages and hamlets, where nothing before but rags was seen, now shine in all the elegance of dress; every house, every room, every shed become eligible places for those whom nothing but extreme necessity could have forced to live there a few weeks ago: some join in the merry dance, others saunter up and down the orange groves; and towards evening the roads become a moving scene of silk and jewels. the gaming-tables have constant visitors: there thousands are daily and nightly lost and won--parties even sit down to try their luck round the outside of the door as well as in the room: vestibulum ante ipsum primisque in faucibus aulã¦ luctus et ultrices, posucre sedilia curã¦. about six or seven miles from pernambuco stands a pretty little village called monteiro. the river runs close by it, and its rural beauties seem to surpass all others in the neighbourhood. there the captain-general of pernambuco resides during this time of merriment and joy. the traveller who allots a portion of his time to peep at his fellow-creatures in their relaxations, and accustoms himself to read their several little histories in their looks and gestures as he goes musing on, may have full occupation for an hour or two every day at this season amid the variegated scenes around the pretty village of monteiro. in the evening groups sitting at the door, he may sometimes see with a sigh how wealth and the prince's favour cause a booby to pass for a solon, and be reverenced as such, while perhaps a poor neglected camoens stands silent at a distance, awed by the dazzling glare of wealth and power. retired from the public road he may see poor maria sitting under a palm-tree, with her elbow in her lap and her head leaning on one side within her hand, weeping over her forbidden bans. and as he moves on "with wandering step and slow," he may hear a broken-hearted nymph ask her faithless swain: how could you say my face was fair, and yet that face forsake? how could you win my virgin heart, yet leave that heart to break? one afternoon, in an unfrequented part not far from monteiro, these adventures were near being brought to a speedy and a final close: six or seven blackbirds, with a white spot betwixt the shoulders, were making a noise and passing to and fro on the lower branches of a tree in an abandoned, weed-grown orange-orchard. in the long grass underneath the tree apparently a pale green grasshopper was fluttering, as though it had got entangled in it. when you once fancy that the thing you are looking at is really what you take it for, the more you look at it the more you are convinced it is so. in the present case this was a grasshopper beyond all doubt, and nothing more remained to be done but to wait in patience till it had settled, in order that you might run no risk of breaking its legs in attempting to lay hold of it while it was fluttering--it still kept fluttering; and having quietly approached it, intending to make sure of it --behold, the head of a large rattlesnake appeared in the grass close by: an instantaneous spring backwards prevented fatal consequences. what had been taken for a grasshopper was, in fact, the elevated rattle of the snake in the act of announcing that he was quite prepared, though unwilling, to make a sure and deadly spring. he shortly after passed slowly from under the orange-tree to the neighbouring wood on the side of a hill: as he moved over a place bare of grass and weeds he appeared to be about eight feet long; it was he who had engaged the attention of the birds and made them heedless of danger from another quarter: they flew away on his retiring--one alone left his little life in the air, destined to become a specimen, mute and motionless, for the inspection of the curious in a far distant clime. it was now the rainy season. the birds were moulting--fifty-eight specimens of the handsomest of them in the neighbourhood of pernambuco had been collected; and it was time to proceed elsewhere. the conveyance to the interior was by horses, and this mode, together with the heavy rains, would expose preserved specimens to almost certain damage. the journey to maranham by land would take at least forty days. the route was not wild enough to engage the attention of an explorer, or civilised enough to afford common comforts to a traveller. by sea there were no opportunities, except slave-ships. as the transporting poor negroes from port to port for sale pays well in brazil, the ships' decks are crowded with them. this would not do. excuse here, benevolent reader, a small tribute of gratitude to an irish family whose urbanity and goodness have long gained it the esteem and respect of all ranks in pernambuco. the kindness and attention i received from dennis kearney, esq., and his amiable lady will be remembered with gratitude to my dying day. after wishing farewell to this hospitable family, i embarked on board a portuguese brig, with poor accommodations, for cayenne in guiana. the most eligible bedroom was the top of a hen-coop on deck. even here an unsavoury little beast, called bug, was neither shy nor deficient in appetite. the portuguese seamen are famed for catching fish. one evening, under the line, four sharks made their appearance in the wake of the vessel. the sailors caught them all. on the fourteenth day after leaving pernambuco, the brig cast anchor off the island of cayenne. the entrance is beautiful. to windward, not far off, there are two bold wooded islands called the father and mother, and near them are others, their children, smaller, though as beautiful as their parents. another is seen a long way to leeward of the family, and seems as if it had strayed from home and cannot find its way back. the french call it "l'enfant perdu." as you pass the islands the stately hills on the main, ornamented with ever-verdant foliage, show you that this is by far the sublimest scenery on the sea-coast from the amazons to the oroonoque. on casting your eye towards dutch guiana you will see that the mountains become unconnected and few in number, and long before you reach surinam the atlantic wave washes a flat and muddy shore. considerably to windward of cayenne, and about twelve leagues from land, stands a stately and towering rock called the constable. as nothing grows on it to tempt greedy and aspiring man to claim it as his own, the sea-fowl rest and raise their offspring there. the bird called the frigate is ever soaring round its rugged summit. hither the phaeton bends his rapid flight, and flocks of rosy flamingos here defy the fowler's cunning. all along the coast, opposite the constable, and indeed on every uncultivated part of it to windward and leeward, are seen innumerable quantities of snow-white egrets, scarlet curlews, spoonbills and flamingos. cayenne is capable of being a noble and productive colony. at present it is thought to be the poorest on the coast of guiana. its estates are too much separated one from the other by immense tracts of forest; and the revolutionary war, like a cold eastern wind, has chilled their zeal and blasted their best expectations. the clove-tree, the cinnamon, pepper and nutmeg, and many other choice spices and fruits of the eastern and asiatic regions, produce abundantly in cayenne. the town itself is prettily laid out, and was once well fortified. they tell you it might easily have been defended against the invading force of the two united nations; but victor hugues, its governor, ordered the tri-coloured flag to be struck; and ever since that day the standard of braganza has waved on the ramparts of cayenne. he who has received humiliations from the hand of this haughty, iron-hearted governor may see him now, in cayenne, stripped of all his revolutionary honours, broken down and ruined, and under arrest in his own house. he has four accomplished daughters, respected by the whole town. towards the close of day, when the sun's rays are no longer oppressive, these much-pitied ladies are seen walking up and down the balcony with their aged parent, trying, by their kind and filial attention, to remove the settled gloom from his too guilty brow. this was not the time for a traveller to enjoy cayenne. the hospitality of the inhabitants was the same as ever, but they had lost their wonted gaiety in public, and the stranger might read in their countenances, as the recollection of recent humiliations and misfortunes every now and then kept breaking in upon them, that they were still in sorrow for their fallen country: the victorious hostile cannon of waterloo still sounded in their ears: their emperor was a prisoner amongst the hideous rocks of st. helena; and many a frenchman who had fought and bled for france was now amongst them begging for a little support to prolong a life which would be forfeited on the parent soil. to add another handful to the cypress and wormwood already scattered amongst these polite colonists, they had just received orders from the court of janeiro to put on deep mourning for six months, and half-mourning for as many more, on account of the death of the queen of portugal. about a day's journey in the interior is the celebrated national plantation. this spot was judiciously chosen, for it is out of the reach of enemies' cruisers. it is called la gabrielle. no plantation in the western world can vie with la gabrielle. its spices are of the choicest kind, its soil particularly favourable to them, its arrangements beautiful, and its directeur, monsieur martin, a botanist of first-rate abilities. this indefatigable naturalist ranged through the east, under a royal commission, in quest of botanical knowledge; and during his stay in the western regions has sent over to europe from twenty to twenty-five thousand specimens in botany and zoology. la gabrielle is on a far-extending range of woody hills. figure to yourself a hill in the shape of a bowl reversed, with the buildings on the top of it, and you will have an idea of the appearance of la gabrielle. you approach the house through a noble avenue, five hundred toises long, of the choicest tropical fruit-trees, planted with the greatest care and judgment; and should you chance to stray through it, after sunset, when the clove-trees are in blossom, you would fancy yourself in the idalian groves or near the banks of the nile, where they were burning the finest incense as the queen of egypt passed. on la gabrielle there are twenty-two thousand clove-trees in full bearing. they are planted thirty feet asunder. their lower branches touch the ground. in general the trees are topped at five and twenty feet high, though you will see some here towering up above sixty. the black pepper, the cinnamon and nutmeg are also in great abundance here, and very productive. while the stranger views the spicy groves of la gabrielle, and tastes the most delicious fruits which have been originally imported hither from all parts of the tropical world, he will thank the government which has supported, and admire the talents of the gentleman who has raised to its present grandeur, this noble collection of useful fruits. there is a large nursery attached to la gabrielle where plants of all the different species are raised and distributed gratis to those colonists who wish to cultivate them. not far from the banks of the river oyapoc, to windward of cayenne, is a mountain which contains an immense cavern. here the cock-of-the-rock is plentiful. he is about the size of a fantail pigeon, his colour a bright orange and his wings and tail appear as though fringed; his head is ornamented with a superb double-feathery crest edged with purple. he passes the day amid gloomy damps and silence, and only issues out for food a short time at sunrise and sunset. he is of the gallinaceous tribe. the south-american spaniards call him "gallo del rio negro" (cock of the black river), and suppose that he is only to be met with in the vicinity of that far-inland stream; but he is common in the interior of demerara, amongst the huge rocks in the forests of macoushia, and he has been shot south of the line, in the captainship of para. the bird called by buffon grand gobe-mouche has never been found in demerara, although very common in cayenne. he is not quite so large as the jackdaw, and is entirely black, except a large spot under the throat, which is a glossy purple. you may easily sail from cayenne to the river surinam in two days. its capital, paramaribo, is handsome, rich and populous: hitherto it has been considered by far the finest town in guiana, but probably the time is not far off when the capital of demerara may claim the prize of superiority. you may enter a creek above paramaribo and travel through the interior of surinam till you come to the nicari, which is close to the large river coryntin. when you have passed this river there is a good public road to new amsterdam, the capital of berbice. on viewing new amsterdam, it will immediately strike you that something or other has intervened to prevent its arriving at that state of wealth and consequence for which its original plan shows it was once intended. what has caused this stop in its progress to the rank of a fine and populous city remains for those to find out who are interested in it; certain it is that new amsterdam has been languid for some years, and now the tide of commerce seems ebbing fast from the shores of berbice. gay and blooming is the sister colony of demerara. perhaps, kind reader, thou hast not forgot that it was from stabroek, the capital of demerara, that the adventurer set out, some years ago, to reach the portuguese frontier-fort and collect the wourali poison. it was not intended, when this second sally was planned in england, to have visited stabroek again by the route here described. the plan was to have ascended the amazons from para and got into the rio negro, and from thence to have returned towards the source of the essequibo, in order to examine the crystal mountains and look once more for lake parima, or the white sea; but on arriving at cayenne the current was running with such amazing rapidity to leeward that a portuguese sloop, which had been beating up towards para for four weeks, was then only half-way. finding, therefore, that a beat to the amazons would be long, tedious and even uncertain, and aware that the season for procuring birds in fine plumage had already set in, i left cayenne in an american ship for paramaribo, went through the interior to the coryntin, stopped a few days in new amsterdam, and proceeded to demerara. if, gentle reader, thy patience be not already worn out, and thy eyes half-closed in slumber by perusing the dull adventures of this second sally, perhaps thou wilt pardon a line or two on demerara; and then we will retire to its forests to collect and examine the economy of its most rare and beautiful birds, and give the world a new mode of preserving them. stabroek, the capital of demerara, has been rapidly increasing for some years back; and if prosperity go hand in hand with the present enterprising spirit, stabroek, ere long, will be of the first colonial consideration. it stands on the eastern bank at the mouth of the demerara, and enjoys all the advantages of the refreshing sea-breeze; the streets are spacious, well bricked and elevated, the trenches clean, the bridges excellent, and the houses handsome. almost every commodity and luxury of london may be bought in the shops at stabroek: its market wants better regulations. the hotels are commodious, clean and well-attended. demerara boasts as fine and well-disciplined militia as any colony in the western world. the court of justice, where in times of old the bandage was easily removed from the eyes of the goddess and her scales thrown out of equilibrium, now rises in dignity under the firmness, talents and urbanity of mr. president rough. the plantations have an appearance of high cultivation; a tolerable idea may be formed of their value when you know that last year demerara numbered 72,999 slaves. they made above 44,000,000 pounds of sugar, near 2,000,000 gallons of rum, above 11,000,000 pounds of coffee, and 3,819,512 pounds of cotton; the receipt into the public chest was 553,956 guilders; the public expenditure 451,603 guilders. slavery can never be defended. he whose heart is not of iron can never wish to be able to defend it: while he heaves a sigh for the poor negro in captivity, he wishes from his soul that the traffic had been stifled in its birth; but unfortunately the governments of europe nourished it, and now that they are exerting themselves to do away the evil, and ensure liberty to the sons of africa, the situation of the plantation-slaves is depicted as truly deplorable and their condition wretched. it is not so. a briton's heart, proverbially kind and generous, is not changed by climate or its streams of compassion dried up by the scorching heat of a demerara sun: he cheers his negroes in labour, comforts them in sickness, is kind to them in old age, and never forgets that they are his fellow-creatures. instances of cruelty and depravity certainly occur here as well as all the world over, but the edicts of the colonial government are well calculated to prevent them, and the british planter, except here and there one, feels for the wrongs done to a poor ill-treated slave, and shows that his heart grieves for him by causing immediate redress and preventing a repetition. long may ye flourish, peaceful and liberal inhabitants of demerara. your doors are ever open to harbour the harbourless; your purses never shut to the wants of the distressed: many a ruined fugitive from the oroonoque will bless your kindness to him in the hour of need, when flying from the woes of civil discord, without food or raiment, he begged for shelter underneath your roof. the poor sufferer in trinidad who lost his all in the devouring flames will remember your charity to his latest moments. the traveller, as he leaves your port, casts a longing, lingering look behind: your attentions, your hospitality, your pleasantry and mirth are uppermost in his thoughts; your prosperity is close to his heart. let us now, gentle reader, retire from the busy scenes of man and journey on towards the wilds in quest of the feathered tribe. leave behind you your high-seasoned dishes, your wines and your delicacies: carry nothing but what is necessary for your own comfort and the object in view, and depend upon the skill of an indian, or your own, for fish and game. a sheet about twelve feet long, ten wide, painted, and with loop-holes on each side, will be of great service: in a few minutes you can suspend it betwixt two trees in the shape of a roof. under this, in your hammock, you may defy the pelting shower, and sleep heedless of the dews of night. a hat, a shirt and a light pair of trousers will be all the raiment you require. custom will soon teach you to tread lightly and barefoot on the little inequalities of the ground, and show you how to pass on unwounded amid the mantling briers. snakes, in these wilds, are certainly an annoyance, though perhaps more in imagination than reality, for you must recollect that the serpent is never the first to offend: his poisonous fang was not given him for conquest--he never inflicts a wound with it but to defend existence. provided you walk cautiously and do not absolutely touch him, you may pass in safety close by him. as he is often coiled up on the ground, and amongst the branches of the trees above you, a degree of circumspection is necessary lest you unwarily disturb him. tigers are too few, and too apt to fly before the noble face of man, to require a moment of your attention. the bite of the most noxious of the insects, at the very worst, only causes a transient fever with a degree of pain more or less. birds in general, with a few exceptions, are not common in the very remote parts of the forest. the sides of rivers, lakes and creeks, the borders of savannas, the old abandoned habitations of indians and wood-cutters, seem to be their favourite haunts. though least in size, the glittering mantle of the humming-bird entitles it to the first place in the list of the birds of the new world. it may truly be called the bird of paradise: and had it existed in the old world, it would have claimed the title instead of the bird which has now the honour to bear it. see it darting through the air almost as quick as thought!--now it is within a yard of your face!--in an instant gone!--now it flutters from flower to flower to sip the silver dew--it is now a ruby--now a topaz --now an emerald--now all burnished gold! it would be arrogant to pretend to describe this winged gem of nature after buffon's elegant description of it. cayenne and demerara produce the same hummingbirds. perhaps you would wish to know something of their haunts. chiefly in the months of july and august, the tree called bois immortel, very common in demerara, bears abundance of red blossom which stays on the tree for some weeks; then it is that most of the different species of humming-birds are very plentiful. the wild red sage is also their favourite shrub, and they buzz like bees round the blossom of the wallaba tree. indeed, there is scarce a flower in the interior, or on the sea-coast, but what receives frequent visits from one or other of the species. on entering the forests, on the rising land in the interior, the blue and green, the smallest brown, no bigger than the humble-bee, with two long feathers in the tail, and the little forked-tail purple-throated humming-birds, glitter before you in ever-changing attitudes. one species alone never shows his beauty to the sun: and were it not for his lovely shining colours, you might almost be tempted to class him with the goat-suckers, on account of his habits. he is the largest of all the humming-birds, and is all red and changing gold-green, except the head, which is black. he has two long feathers in the tail which cross each other, and these have gained him the name of karabimiti, or ara humming-bird, from the indians. you never find him on the sea-coast, or where the river is salt, or in the heart of the forest, unless fresh water be there. he keeps close by the side of woody fresh-water rivers and dark and lonely creeks. he leaves his retreat before sunrise to feed on the insects over the water; he returns to it as soon as the sun's rays cause a glare of light, is sedentary all day long, and comes out again for a short tune after sunset. he builds his nest on a twig over the water in the unfrequented creeks: it looks like tanned cow-leather. as you advance towards the mountains of demerara other species of humming-birds present themselves before you. it seems to be an erroneous opinion that the humming-bird lives entirely on honey-dew. almost every flower of the tropical climates contains insects of one kind or other. now the humming-bird is most busy about the flowers an hour or two after sunrise and after a shower of rain, and it is just at this time that the insects come out to the edge of the flower in order that the sun's rays may dry the nocturnal dew and rain which they have received. on opening the stomach of the humming-bird dead insects are almost always found there. next to the humming-birds, the cotingas display the gayest plumage. they are of the order of passer, and you number five species betwixt the sea-coast and the rock saba. perhaps the scarlet cotinga is the richest of the five, and is one of those birds which are found in the deepest recesses of the forest. his crown is flaming red; to this abruptly succeeds a dark shining brown, reaching half-way down the back: the remainder of the back, the rump and tail, the extremity of which is edged with black, are a lively red; the belly is a somewhat lighter red; the breast reddish-black; the wings brown. he has no song, is solitary, and utters a monotonous whistle which sounds like "quet." he is fond of the seeds of the hitia-tree and those of the siloabaliand bastard siloabali-trees, which ripen in december and continue on the trees for above two months. he is found throughout the year in demerara; still nothing is known of his incubation. the indians all agree in telling you that they have never seen his nest. the purple-breasted cotinga has the throat and breast of a deep purple, the wings and tail black, and all the rest of the body a most lovely shining blue. the purple-throated cotinga has black wings and tail, and every other part a light and glossy blue, save the throat, which is purple. the pompadour cotinga is entirely purple, except his wings, which are white, their four first feathers tipped with brown. the great coverts of the wings are stiff, narrow and pointed, being shaped quite different from those of any other bird. when you are betwixt this bird and the sun, in his flight, he appears uncommonly brilliant. he makes a hoarse noise which sounds like "wallababa." hence his name amongst the indians. none of these three cotingas have a song. they feed on the hitia, siloabaliand bastard siloabali-seeds, the wild guava, the fig, and other fruit-trees of the forest. they are easily shot in these trees during the months of december, january and part of february. the greater part of them disappear after this, and probably retire far away to breed. their nests have never been found in demerara. the fifth species is the celebrated campanero of the spaniards, called dara by the indians, and bell-bird by the english. he is about the size of the jay. his plumage is white as snow. on his forehead rises a spiral tube nearly three inches long. it is jet black, dotted all over with small white feathers. it has a communication with the palate, and when filled with air looks like a spire; when empty it becomes pendulous. his note is loud and clear, like the sound of a bell, and may be heard at the distance of three miles. in the midst of these extensive wilds, generally on the dried top of an aged mora, almost out of gun-reach, you will see the campanero. no sound or song from any of the winged inhabitants of the forest, not even the clearly pronounced "whip-poor-will" from the goat-sucker, cause such astonishment as the toll of the campanero. with many of the feathered race he pays the common tribute of a morning and an evening song; and even when the meridian sun has shut in silence the mouths of almost the whole of animated nature the campanero still cheers the forest. you hear his toll, and then a pause for a minute, then another toll, and then a pause again, and then a toll, and again a pause. then he is silent for six or eight minutes, and then another toll, and so on. acteon would stop in mid-chase, maria would defer her evening song, and orpheus himself would drop his lute to listen to him, so sweet, so novel and romantic is the toll of the pretty snow-white campanero. he is never seen to feed with the other cotingas, nor is it known in what part of guiana he makes his nest. while the cotingas attract your attention by their superior plumage, the singular form of the toucan makes a lasting impression on your memory. there are three species of toucans in demerara, and three diminutives, which may be called toucanets. the largest of the first species frequents the mangrove trees on the sea-coast. he is never seen in the interior till you reach macoushia, where he is found in the neighbourhood of the river tacatou. the other two species are very common. they feed entirely on the fruits of the forest and, though of the pie kind, never kill the young of other birds or touch carrion. the larger is called bouradi by the indians (which means nose), the other scirou. they seem partial to each other's company, and often resort to the same feeding-tree and retire together to the same shady noon-day retreat. they are very noisy in rainy weather at all hours of the day, and in fair weather at morn and eve. the sound which the bouradi makes is like the clear yelping of a puppy-dog, and you fancy he says "pia-po-o-co," and thus the south-american spaniards call him piapoco. all the toucanets feed on the same trees on which the toucan feeds, and every species of this family of enormous bill lays its eggs in the hollow trees. they are social, but not gregarious. you may sometimes see eight or ten in company, and from this you would suppose they are gregarious; but upon a closer examination you will find it has only been a dinner-party, which breaks up and disperses towards roosting-time. you will be at a loss to conjecture for what ends nature has overloaded the head of this bird with such an enormous bill. it cannot be for the offensive, as it has no need to wage war with any of the tribes of animated nature, for its food is fruits and seeds, and those are in superabundance throughout the whole year in the regions where the toucan is found. it can hardly be for the defensive, as the toucan is preyed upon by no bird in south america and, were it obliged to be at war, the texture of the bill is ill-adapted to give or receive blows, as you will see in dissecting it. it cannot be for any particular protection to the tongue, as the tongue is a perfect feather. the flight of the toucan is by jerks: in the action of flying it seems incommoded by this huge disproportioned feature, and the head seems as if bowed down to the earth by it against its will. if the extraordinary form and size of the bill expose the toucan to ridicule, its colours make it amends. were a specimen of each species of the toucan presented to you, you would pronounce the bill of the bouradi the most rich and beautiful: on the ridge of the upper mandible a broad stripe of most lovely yellow extends from the head to the point; a stripe of the same breadth, though somewhat deeper yellow, falls from it at right angles next the head down to the edge of the mandible; then follows a black stripe, half as broad, falling at right angles from the ridge and running narrower along the edge to within half an inch of the point. the rest of the mandible is a deep bright red. the lower mandible has no yellow: its black and red are distributed in the same manner as on the upper one, with this difference, that there is black about an inch from the point. the stripe corresponding to the deep yellow stripe on the upper mandible is sky-blue. it is worthy of remark that all these brilliant colours of the bill are to be found in the plumage of the body and the bare skin round the eye. all these colours, except the blue, are inherent in the horn: that part which appears blue is in reality transparent white, and receives its colour from a thin piece of blue skin inside. this superb bill fades in death, and in three or four days' time has quite lost its original colours. till within these few years no idea of the true colours of the bill could be formed from the stuffed toucans brought to europe. about eight years ago, while eating a boiled toucan, the thought struck me that the colours in the bill of a preserved specimen might be kept as bright as those in life. a series of experiments proved this beyond a doubt. if you take your penknife and cut away the roof of the upper mandible, you will find that the space betwixt it and the outer shell contains a large collection of veins and small osseous fibres running in all directions through the whole extent of the bill. clear away all these with your knife, and you will come to a substance more firm than skin, but of not so strong a texture as the horn itself. cut this away also, and behind it is discovered a thin and tender membrane: yellow where it has touched the yellow part of the horn, blue where it has touched the red part, and black towards the edge and point; when dried this thin and tender membrane becomes nearly black; as soon as it is cut away nothing remains but the outer horn, red and yellow, and now become transparent. the under mandible must undergo the same operation. great care must be taken and the knife used very cautiously when you are cutting through the different parts close to where the bill joins on to the head: if you cut away too much the bill drops off; if you press too hard the knife comes through the horn; if you leave too great a portion of the membrane it appears through the horn and, by becoming black when dried, makes the horn appear black also, and has a bad effect. judgment, caution, skill and practice will ensure success. you have now cleared the bill of all those bodies which are the cause of its apparent fading, for, as has been said before, these bodies dry in death and become quite discoloured, and appear so through the horn; and reviewing the bill in this state, you conclude that its former bright colours are lost. something still remains to be done. you have rendered the bill transparent by the operation, and that transparency must be done away to make it appear perfectly natural. pound some clean chalk and give it enough water till it be of the consistency of tar, add a proportion of gum-arabic to make it adhesive, then take a camel-hair brush and give the inside of both mandibles a coat; apply a second when the first is dry, then another, and a fourth to finish all. the gum-arabic will prevent the chalk from cracking and falling off. if you remember, there is a little space of transparent white in the lower mandible which originally appeared blue, but which became transparent white as soon as the thin piece of blue skin was cut away: this must be painted blue inside. when all this is completed the bill will please you: it will appear in its original colours. probably your own abilities will suggest a cleverer mode of operating than the one here described. a small gouge would assist the penknife and render the operation less difficult. the houtou ranks high in beauty amongst the birds of demerara. his whole body is green, with a bluish cast in the wings and tail; his crown, which he erects at pleasure, consists of black in the centre, surrounded with lovely blue of two different shades; he has a triangular black spot, edged with blue, behind the eye extending to the ear, and on his breast a sable tuft consisting of nine feathers edged also with blue. this bird seems to suppose that its beauty can be increased by trimming the tail, which undergoes the same operation as our hair in a barber's shop, only with this difference, that it uses its own beak, which is serrated, in lieu of a pair of scissors. as soon as his tail is full grown, he begins about an inch from the extremity of the two longest feathers in it and cuts away the web on both sides of the shaft, making a gap about an inch long. both male and female adonise their tails in this manner, which gives them a remarkable appearance amongst all other birds. while we consider the tail of the houtou blemished and defective, were he to come amongst us he would probably consider our heads, cropped and bald, in no better light. he who wishes to observe this handsome bird in his native haunts must be in the forest at the morning's dawn. the houtou shuns the society of man: the plantations and cultivated parts are too much disturbed to engage it to settle there; the thick and gloomy forests are the places preferred by the solitary houtou. in those far-extending wilds, about daybreak, you hear him articulate, in a distinct and mournful tone, "houtou, houtou." move cautious on to where the sound proceeds from, and you will see him sitting in the underwood about a couple of yards from the ground, his tail moving up and down every time he articulates "houtou." he lives on insects and the berries amongst the underwood, and very rarely is seen in the lofty trees, except the bastard siloabali-tree, the fruit of which is grateful to him. he makes no nest, but rears his young in a hole in the sand, generally on the side of a hill. while in quest of the houtou, you will now and then fall in with the jay of guiana, called by the indians ibibirou. its forehead is black, the rest of the head white, the throat and breast like the english magpie; about an inch of the extremity of the tail is white, the other part of it, together with the back and wings, a greyish changing purple; the belly is white. there are generally six or eight of them in company: they are shy and garrulous, and tarry a very short time in one place. they are never seen in the cultivated parts. through the whole extent of the forest, chiefly from sunrise till nine o'clock in the morning, you hear a sound of "wow, wow, wow, wow." this is the bird called boclora by the indians. it is smaller than the common pigeon, and seems, in some measure, to partake of its nature: its head and breast are blue; the back and rump somewhat resemble the colour on the peacock's neck; its belly is a bright yellow. the legs are so very short that it always appears as if sitting on the branch: it is as ill-adapted for walking as the swallow. its neck, for above an inch all round, is quite bare of feathers, but this deficiency is not seen, for it always sits with its head drawn in upon its shoulders. it sometimes feeds with the cotingas on the guavaand hitia-trees, but its chief nutriment seems to be insects, and, like most birds which follow this prey, its chaps are well armed with bristles: it is found in demerara at all times of the year, and makes a nest resembling that of the stock-dove. this bird never takes long nights, and when it crosses a river or creek it goes by long jerks. the boclora is very unsuspicious, appearing quite heedless of danger: the report of a gun within twenty yards will not cause it to leave the branch on which it is sitting, and you may often approach it so near as almost to touch it with the end of your bow. perhaps there is no bird known whose feathers are so slightly fixed to the skin as those of the boclora. after shooting it, if it touch a branch in its descent, or if it drop on hard ground, whole heaps of feathers fall off: on this account it is extremely hard to procure a specimen for preservation. as soon as the skin is dry in the preserved specimen the feathers become as well fixed as those in any other bird. another species, larger than the boclora, attracts much of your notice in these wilds: it is called cuia by the indians, from the sound of its voice. its habits are the same as those of the boclora, but its colours different: its head, breast, back and rump are a shining, changing green; its tail not quite so bright; a black bar runs across the tail towards the extremity, and the outside feathers are partly white, as in the boclora; its belly is entirely vermilion, a bar of white separating it from the green on the breast. there are diminutives of both these birds: they have the same habits, with a somewhat different plumage, and about half the size. arrayed from head to tail in a robe of richest sable hue, the bird called rice-bird loves spots cultivated by the hand of man. the woodcutter's house on the hills in the interior, and the planter's habitation on the sea-coast, equally attract this songless species of the order of pie, provided the indian-corn be ripe there. he is nearly of the jackdaw's size and makes his nest far away from the haunts of men. he may truly be called a blackbird: independent of his plumage, his beak, inside and out, his legs, his toes and claws are jet black. mankind, by clearing the ground and sowing a variety of seeds, induces many kinds of birds to leave their native haunts and come and settle near him: their little depredations on his seeds and fruits prove that it is the property, and not the proprietor, which has the attractions. one bird, however, in demerara is not actuated by selfish motives: this is the cassique. in size he is larger than the starling: he courts the society of man, but disdains to live by his labours. when nature calls for support he repairs to the neighbouring forest, and there partakes of the store of fruits and seeds which she has produced in abundance for her aerial tribes. when his repast is over he returns to man, and pays the little tribute which he owes him for his protection. he takes his station on a tree close to his house, and there, for hours together, pours forth a succession of imitative notes. his own song is sweet, but very short. if a toucan be yelping in the neighbourhood, he drops it, and imitates him. then he will amuse his protector with the cries of the different species of the woodpecker, and when the sheep bleat he will distinctly answer them. then comes his own song again; and if a puppy-dog or a guinea-fowl interrupt him, he takes them off admirably, and by his different gestures during the time you would conclude that he enjoys the sport. the cassique is gregarious, and imitates any sound he hears with such exactness that he goes by no other name than that of mocking bird amongst the colonists. at breeding-time a number of these pretty choristers resort to a tree near the planter's house, and from its outside branches weave their pendulous nests. so conscious do they seem that they never give offence, and so little suspicious are they of receiving any injury from man, that they will choose a tree within forty yards from his house, and occupy the branches so low down that he may peep into the nests. a tree in waratilla creek affords a proof of this. the proportions of the cassique are so fine that he may be said to be a model of symmetry in ornithology. on each wing he has a bright yellow spot, and his rump, belly and half the tail are of the same colour. all the rest of the body is black. his beak is the colour of sulphur, but it fades in death, and requires the same operation as the bill of the toucan to make it keep its colours. up the rivers, in the interior, there is another cassique, nearly the same size and of the same habits, though not gifted with its powers of imitation. except in breeding-time, you will see hundreds of them retiring to roost amongst the moca-moca-trees and low shrubs on the banks of the demerara, after you pass the first island. they are not common on the sea-coast. the rump of this cassique is a flaming scarlet. all the rest of the body is a rich glossy black. his bill is sulphur-colour. you may often see numbers of this species weaving their pendulous nests on one side of a tree, while numbers of the other species are busy in forming theirs on the opposite side of the same tree. though such near neighbours, the females are never observed to kick up a row or come to blows! another species of cassique, as large as a crow, is very common in the plantations. in the morning he generally repairs to a large tree, and there, with his tail spread over his back and shaking his lowered wings, he produces notes which, though they cannot be said to amount to a song, still have something very sweet and pleasing in them. he makes his nest in the same form as the other cassiques. it is above four feet long, and when you pass under the tree, which often contains fifty or sixty of them, you cannot help stopping to admire them as they wave to and fro, the sport of every storm and breeze. the rump is chestnut; ten feathers of the tail are a fine yellow, the remaining two, which are the middle ones, are black, and an inch shorter than the others. his bill is sulphur-colour; all the rest of the body black, with here and there shades of brown. he has five or six long narrow black feathers on the back of his head, which he erects at pleasure. there is one more species of cassique in demerara which always prefers the forests to the cultivated parts. his economy is the same as that of the other cassiques. he is rather smaller than the last described bird. his body is greenish, and his tail and rump paler than those of the former. half of his beak is red. you would not be long in the forests of demerara without noticing the woodpeckers. you meet with them feeding at all hours of the day. well may they do so. were they to follow the example of most of the other birds, and only feed in the morning and evening, they would be often on short allowance, for they sometimes have to labour three or four hours at the tree before they get to their food. the sound which the largest kind makes in hammering against the bark of the tree is so loud that you would never suppose it to proceed from the efforts of a bird. you would take it to be the woodman, with his axe, trying by a sturdy blow, often repeated, whether the tree were sound or not. there are fourteen species here: the largest the size of a magpie, the smallest no bigger than the wren. they are all beautiful, and the greater part of them have their heads ornamented with a fine crest, movable at pleasure. it is said, if you once give a dog a bad name, whether innocent or guilty, he never loses it. it sticks close to him wherever he goes. he has many a kick and many a blow to bear on account of it; and there is nobody to stand up for him. the woodpecker is little better off. the proprietors of woods in europe have long accused him of injuring their timber by boring holes in it and letting in the water, which soon rots it. the colonists in america have the same complaint against him. had he the power of speech, which ovid's birds possessed in days of yore, he could soon make a defence: "mighty lord of the woods," he would say to man, "why do you wrongfully accuse me? why do you hunt me up and down to death for an imaginary offence? i have never spoiled a leaf of your property, much less your wood. your merciless shot strikes me at the very time i am doing you a service. but your shortsightedness will not let you see it, or your pride is above examining closely the actions of so insignificant a little bird as i am. if there be that spark of feeling in your breast which they say man possesses, or ought to possess, above all other animals, do a poor injured creature a little kindness and watch me in your woods only for one day. i never wound your healthy trees. i should perish for want in the attempt. the sound bark would easily resist the force of my bill; and were i even to pierce through it, there would be nothing inside that i could fancy or my stomach digest. i often visit them it is true, but a knock or two convince me that i must go elsewhere for support; and were you to listen attentively to the sound which my bill causes, you would know whether i am upon a healthy or an unhealthy tree. wood and bark are not my food. i live entirely upon the insects which have already formed a lodgment in the distempered tree. when the sound informs me that my prey is there, i labour for hours together till i get at it, and by consuming it for my own support, i prevent its further depredations in that part. thus i discover for you your hidden and unsuspected foe, which has been devouring your wood in such secrecy that you had not the least suspicion it was there. the hole which i make in order to get at the pernicious vermin will be seen by you as you pass under the tree. i leave it as a signal to tell you that your tree has already stood too long. it is past its prime. millions of insects, engendered by disease, are preying upon its vitals. ere long it will fall a log in useless ruins. warned by this loss, cut down the rest in time, and spare, o spare the unoffending woodpecker." in the rivers and different creeks you number six species of the kingfisher. they make their nest in a hole in the sand on the side of the bank. as there is always plenty of foliage to protect them from the heat of the sun, they feed at all hours of the day. though their plumage is prettily varied, still it falls far short of the brilliancy displayed by the english kingfisher. this little native of britain would outweigh them altogether in the scale of beauty. a bird called jacamar is often taken for a kingfisher, but it has no relationship to that tribe. it frequently sits in the trees over the water, and as its beak bears some resemblance to that of the kingfisher, this may probably account for its being taken for one; it feeds entirely upon insects; it sits on a branch in motionless expectation, and as soon as a fly, butterfly, or moth pass by, it darts at it, and returns to the branch it had just left. it seems an indolent, sedentary bird, shunning the society of all others in the forest. it never visits the plantations, but is found at all times of the year in the woods. there are four species of jacamar in demerara. they are all beautiful: the largest, rich and superb in the extreme. its plumage is of so fine a changing blue and golden-green that it may be ranked with the choicest of the humming-birds. nature has denied it a song, but given a costly garment in lieu of it. the smallest species of jacamar is very common in the dry savannas. the second size, all golden-green on the back, must be looked for in the wallaba-forest. the third is found throughout the whole extent of these wilds, and the fourth, which is the largest, frequents the interior, where you begin to perceive stones in the ground. when you have penetrated far into macoushia, you hear the pretty songster called troupiale pour forth a variety of sweet and plaintive notes. this is the bird which the portuguese call the nightingale of guiana. its predominant colours are rich orange and shining black, arrayed to great advantage. his delicate and well-shaped frame seems unable to bear captivity. the indians sometimes bring down troupiales to stabroek, but in a few months they languish and die in a cage. they soon become very familiar, and if you allow them the liberty of the house, they live longer than in a cage and appear in better spirits, but when you least expect it they drop down and die in epilepsy. smaller in size, and of colour not so rich and somewhat differently arranged, another species of troupiale sings melodiously in demerara. the woodcutter is particularly favoured by him, for while the hen is sitting on her nest, built in the roof of the woodcutter's house, he sings for hours together close by. he prefers the forests to the cultivated parts. you would not grudge to stop for a few minutes, as you are walking in the plantations, to observe a third species of troupiale: his wings, tail and throat are black; all the rest of the body is a bright yellow. there is something very sweet and plaintive in his song, though much shorter than that of the troupiale in the interior. a fourth species goes in flocks from place to place, in the cultivated parts, at the time the indian-corn is ripe; he is all black, except the head and throat, which are yellow. his attempt at song is not worth attending to. wherever there is a wild fig-tree ripe, a numerous species of birds called tangara is sure to be on it. there are eighteen beautiful species here. their plumage is very rich and diversified. some of them boast six separate colours; others have the blue, purple, green and black so kindly blended into each other that it would be impossible to mark their boundaries; while others again exhibit them strong, distinct and abrupt. many of these tangaras have a fine song. they seem to partake much of the nature of our linnets, sparrows and finches. some of them are fond of the plantations; others are never seen there, preferring the wild seeds of the forest to the choicest fruits planted by the hand of man. on the same fig-trees to which they repair, and often accidentally up and down the forest, you fall in with four species of manikin. the largest is white and black, with the feathers on the throat remarkably long; the next in size is half red and half black; the third black, with a white crown; the fourth black, with a golden crown, and red feathers at the knee. the half-red and half-black species is the scarcest. there is a creek in the demerara called camouni. about ten minutes from the mouth you see a common-sized fig-tree on your right hand, as you ascend, hanging over the water; it bears a very small fig twice a year. when its fruit is ripe this manikin is on the tree from morn till eve. on all the ripe fig-trees in the forest you see the bird called the small tiger-bird. like some of our belles and dandies, it has a gaudy vest to veil an ill-shaped body. the throat, and part of the head, are a bright red; the breast and belly have black spots on a yellow ground; the wings are a dark green, black, and white; and the rump and tail black and green. like the manikin, it has no song: it depends solely upon a showy garment for admiration. devoid, too, of song, and in a still superber garb, the yawaraciri comes to feed on the same tree. it has a bar like black velvet from the eyes to the beak; its legs are yellow; its throat, wings and tail black; all the rest of the body a charming blue. chiefly in the dry savannas, and here and there accidentally in the forest, you see a songless yawaraciri still lovelier than the last: his crown is whitish blue, arrayed like a coat of mail; his tail is black, his wings black and yellow; legs red; and the whole body a glossy blue. whilst roving through the forest, ever and anon you see individuals of the wren species busy amongst the fallen leaves, or seeking insects at the roots of the trees. here, too, you find six or seven species of small birds whose backs appear to be overloaded with silky plumage. one of these, with a chestnut breast, smoke-coloured back, tail red, white feathers like horns on his head, and white narrow-pointed feathers under the jaw, feeds entirely upon ants. when a nest of large light-brown ants emigrates, one following the other in meandering lines above a mile long, you see this bird watching them and every now and then picking them up. when they disappear he is seen no more: perhaps this is the only kind of ant he is fond of. when these ants are stirring, you are sure to find him near them. you cannot well mistake the ant after you have once been in its company, for its sting is very severe, and you can hardly shoot the bird and pick it up without having five or six upon you. parrots and paroquets are very numerous here, and of many different kinds. you will know when they are near you in the forest not only by the noise they make, but also by the fruits and seeds which they let fall while they are feeding. the hia-hia parrot, called in england the parrot of the sun, is very remarkable: he can erect at pleasure a fine radiated circle of tartan feathers quite round the back of his head from jaw to jaw. the fore-part of his head is white; his back, tail and wings green; and his breast and belly tartan. superior in size and beauty to every parrot of south america, the ara will force you to take your eyes from the rest of animated nature and gaze at him: his commanding strength, the flaming scarlet of his body, the lovely variety of red, yellow, blue and green in his wings, the extraordinary length of his scarlet and blue tail, seem all to join and demand for him the title of emperor of all the parrots. he is scarce in demerara till you reach the confines of the macoushi country: there he is in vast abundance. he mostly feeds on trees of the palm species. when the coucourite-trees have ripe fruit on them they are covered with this magnificent parrot. he is not shy or wary: you may take your blow-pipe and quiver of poisoned arrows and kill more than you are able to carry back to your hut. they are very vociferous, and, like the common parrots, rise up in bodies towards sunset and fly two and two to their place of rest. it is a grand sight in ornithology to see thousands of aras flying over your head, low enough to let you have a full view of their flaming mantle. the indians find their flesh very good, and the feathers serve for ornaments in their head-dresses. they breed in the holes of trees, are easily reared and tamed, and learn to speak pretty distinctly. another species frequents the low-lands of demerara. he is nearly the size of the scarlet ara, but much inferior in plumage. blue and yellow are his predominant colours. along the creeks and river-sides, and in the wet savannas, six species of the bittern will engage your attention. they are all handsome, the smallest not so large as the english water-hen. in the savannas, too, you will sometimes surprise the snow-white egret, whose back is adorned with the plumes from which it takes its name. here, too, the spur-winged water-hen, the blue and green water-hen and two other species of ordinary plumage are found. while in quest of these, the blue heron, the large and small brown heron, the boatbill and muscovy duck now and then rise up before you. when the sun has sunk in the western woods, no longer agitated by the breeze; when you can only see a straggler or two of the feathered tribe hastening to join its mate, already at its roosting-place, then it is that the goat-sucker comes out of the forest, where it has sat all day long in slumbering ease, unmindful of the gay and busy scenes around it. its eyes are too delicately formed to bear the light, and thus it is forced to shun the flaming face of day and wait in patience till night invites him to partake of the pleasures her dusky presence brings. the harmless, unoffending goat-sucker, from the time of aristotle down to the present day, has been in disgrace with man. father has handed down to son, and author to author, that this nocturnal thief subsists by milking the flocks. poor injured little bird of night, how sadly hast thou suffered, and how foul a stain has inattention to facts put upon thy character! thou hast never robbed man of any part of his property nor deprived the kid of a drop of milk. when the moon shines bright you may have a fair opportunity of examining the goat-sucker. you will see it close by the cows, goats and sheep, jumping up every now and then under their bellies. approach a little nearer--he is not shy: "he fears no danger, for he knows no sin." see how the nocturnal flies are tormenting the herd, and with what dexterity he springs up and catches them as fast as they alight on the belly, legs and udder of the animals. observe how quiet they stand, and how sensible they seem of his good offices, for they neither strike at him nor hit him with their tail, nor tread on him, nor try to drive him away as an uncivil intruder. were you to dissect him, and inspect his stomach, you would find no milk there. it is full of the flies which have been annoying the herd. the prettily-mottled plumage of the goat-sucker, like that of the owl, wants the lustre which is observed in the feathers of the birds of day. this at once marks him as a lover of the pale moon's nightly beams. there are nine species here. the largest appears nearly the size of the english wood-owl. its cry is so remarkable that, having once heard it, you will never forget it. when night reigns over these immeasurable wilds, whilst lying in your hammock you will hear this goat-sucker lamenting like one in deep distress. a stranger would never conceive it to be the cry of a bird. he would say it was the departing voice of a midnight murdered victim or the last wailing of niobe for her poor children before she was turned into stone. suppose yourself in hopeless sorrow, begin with a high loud note, and pronounce "ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha," each note lower and lower, till the last is scarcely heard, pausing a moment or two betwixt every note, and you will have some idea of the moaning of the largest goat-sucker in demerara. four other species of the goat-sucker articulate some words so distinctly that they have received their names from the sentences they utter, and absolutely bewilder the stranger on his arrival in these parts. the most common one sits down close by your door, and flies and alights three or four yards before you, as you walk along the road, crying, "who-are-you, who-who-who-are-you." another bids you "work-away, work-work-work-away." a third cries, mournfully, "willy-come-go, willy-willy-willy-come-go." and high up in the country a fourth tells you to "whip-poor-will, whip-whip-whip-poor-will." you will never persuade the negro to destroy these birds or get the indian to let fly his arrow at them. they are birds of omen and reverential dread. jumbo, the demon of africa, has them under his command, and they equally obey the yabahou, or demerara indian devil. they are the receptacles for departed souls, who come back again to earth, unable to rest for crimes done in their days of nature; or they are expressly sent by jumbo, or yabahou, to haunt cruel and hard-hearted masters and retaliate injuries received from them. if the largest goat-sucker chance to cry near the white man's door, sorrow and grief will soon be inside: and they expect to see the master waste away with a slow consuming sickness. if it be heard close to the negro's or indian's hut, from that night misfortune sits brooding over it: and they await the event in terrible suspense. you will forgive the poor indian of guiana for this. he knows no better; he has nobody to teach him. but shame it is that in our own civilised country the black cat and broomstaff should be considered as conductors to and from the regions of departed spirits. many years ago i knew poor harmless mary: old age had marked her strongly, just as he will mark you and me, should we arrive at her years and carry the weight of grief which bent her double. the old men of the village said she had been very pretty in her youth, and nothing could be seen more comely than mary when she danced on the green. he who had gained her heart left her for another, less fair, though richer, than mary. from that time she became sad and pensive; the rose left her cheek, and she was never more seen to dance round the maypole on the green. her expectations were blighted; she became quite indifferent to everything around her, and seemed to think of nothing but how she could best attend her mother, who was lame and not long for this life. her mother had begged a black kitten from some boys who were going to drown it, and in her last illness she told mary to be kind to it for her sake. when age and want had destroyed the symmetry of mary's fine form, the village began to consider her as one who had dealings with spirits: her cat confirmed the suspicion. if a cow died, or a villager wasted away with an unknown complaint, mary and her cat had it to answer for. her broom sometimes served her for a walking-stick: and if ever she supported her tottering frame with it as far as the maypole, where once, in youthful bloom and beauty, she had attracted the eyes of all, the boys would surround her and make sport of her, while her cat had neither friend nor safety beyond the cottage-wall. nobody considered it cruel or uncharitable to torment a witch; and it is probable, long before this, that cruelty, old age and want have worn her out, and that both poor mary and her cat have ceased to be. would you wish to pursue the different species of game, well-stored and boundless is your range in demerara. here no one dogs you, and afterwards clandestinely inquires if you have a hundred a year in land to entitle you to enjoy such patrician sport. here no saucy intruder asks if you have taken out a licence, by virtue of which you are allowed to kill the birds which have bred upon your own property. here you are as free as when god first made man, ere the vile laws of servitude began, and wild in woods the noble savage ran. before the morning's dawn you hear a noise in the forest which sounds like "duraquaura" often repeated. this is the partridge, a little smaller than and differing somewhat in colour from the english partridge: it lives entirely in the forest, and probably the young brood very soon leaves its parents, as you never flush more than two birds in the same place, and in general only one. about the same hour, and sometimes even at midnight, you hear two species of maam, or tinamou, send forth their long and plaintive whistle from the depth of the forest. the flesh of both is delicious. the largest is plumper, and almost equals in size the blackcock of northumberland. the quail is said to be here, though rare. the hannaquoi, which some have compared to the pheasant, though with little reason, is very common. here are also two species of the powise, or hocco, and two of the small wild turkeys called maroudi: they feed on the ripe fruits of the forest and are found in all directions in these extensive wilds. you will admire the horned screamer as a stately and majestic bird: he is almost the size of the turkey-cock, on his head is a long slender horn, and each wing is armed with a strong, sharp, triangular spur an inch long. sometimes you will fall in with flocks of two or three hundred waracabas, or trumpeters, called so from the singular noise they produce. their breast is adorned with beautiful changing blue and purple feathers; their head and neck like velvet; their wings and back grey, and belly black. they run with great swiftness, and when domesticated attend their master in his walks with as much apparent affection as his dog. they have no spurs, but still, such is their high spirit and activity, they browbeat every dunghill fowl in the yard and force the guinea-birds, dogs and turkeys to own their superiority. if, kind and gentle reader, thou shouldst ever visit these regions with an intention to examine their productions, perhaps the few observations contained in these wanderings may be of service to thee. excuse their brevity: more could have been written, and each bird more particularly described, but it would have been pressing too hard upon thy time and patience. soon after arriving in these parts thou wilt find that the species here enumerated are only as a handful from a well-stored granary. nothing has been said of the eagles, the falcons, the hawks and shrikes; nothing of the different species of vultures, the king of which is very handsome, and seems to be the only bird which claims regal honours from a surrounding tribe. it is a fact beyond all dispute that, when the scent of carrion has drawn together hundreds of the common vultures, they all retire from the carcass as soon as the king of the vultures makes his appearance. when his majesty has satisfied the cravings of his royal stomach with the choicest bits from the most stinking and corrupted parts, he generally retires to a neighbouring tree, and then the common vultures return in crowds to gobble down his leavings. the indians, as well as the whites, have observed this, for when one of them, who has learned a little english, sees the king, and wishes you to have a proper notion of the bird, he says: "there is the governor of the carrion-crows." now the indians have never heard of a personage in demerara higher than that of governor; and the colonists, through a common mistake, call the vultures carrion-crows. hence the indian, in order to express the dominion of this bird over the common vultures, tells you he is governor of the carrion-crows. the spaniards have also observed it, for through all the spanish main he is called rey de zamuros, king of the vultures. the many species of owls, too, have not been noticed; and no mention made of the columbine tribe. the prodigious variety of water-fowl on the sea-shore has been but barely hinted at. there, and on the borders and surface of the inland waters, in the marshes and creeks, besides the flamingos, scarlet curlews and spoonbills already mentioned, will be found greenish-brown curlews, sandpipers, rails, coots, gulls, pelicans, jabirus, nandapoas, crabiers, snipes, plovers, ducks, geese, cranes and anhingas; most of them in vast abundance; some frequenting only the sea-coast, others only the interior, according to their different natures; all worthy the attention of the naturalist, all worthy of a place in the cabinet of the curious. should thy comprehensive genius not confine itself to birds alone, grand is the appearance of other objects all around. thou art in a land rich in botany and mineralogy, rich in zoology and entomology. animation will glow in thy looks and exercise will brace thy frame in vigour. the very time of thy absence from the tables of heterogeneous luxury will be profitable to thy stomach, perhaps already sorely drenched with londo-parisian sauces, and a new stock of health will bring thee an appetite to relish the wholesome food of the chase. never-failing sleep will wait on thee at the time she comes to soothe the rest of animated nature, and ere the sun's rays appear in the horizon thou wilt spring from thy hammock fresh as the april lark. be convinced also that the dangers and difficulties which are generally supposed to accompany the traveller in his journey through distant regions are not half so numerous or dreadful as they are commonly thought to be. the youth who incautiously reels into the lobby of drury lane after leaving the table sacred to the god of wine is exposed to more certain ruin, sickness and decay than he who wanders a whole year in the wilds of demerara. but this will never be believed because the disasters arising from dissipation are so common and frequent in civilised life that man becomes quite habituated to them, and sees daily victims sink into the tomb long before their time without ever once taking alarm at the causes which precipitated them headlong into it. but the dangers which a traveller exposes himself to in foreign parts are novel, out-of-the-way things to a man at home. the remotest apprehension of meeting a tremendous tiger, of being carried off by a flying dragon, or having his bones picked by a famished cannibal: oh, that makes him shudder. it sounds in his ears like the bursting of a bombshell. thank heaven he is safe by his own fireside. prudence and resolution ought to be the traveller's constant companions. the first will cause him to avoid a number of snares which he will find in the path as he journeys on; and the second will always lend a hand to assist him if he has unavoidably got entangled in them. the little distinctions which have been shown him at his own home ought to be forgotten when he travels over the world at large, for strangers know nothing of his former merits, and it is necessary that they should witness them before they pay him the tribute which he was wont to receive within his own doors. thus to be kind and affable to those we meet, to mix in their amusements, to pay a compliment or two to their manners and customs, to respect their elders, to give a little to their distressed and needy, and to feel, as it were, at home amongst them, is the sure way to enable you to pass merrily on, and to find other comforts as sweet and palatable as those which you were accustomed to partake of amongst your friends and acquaintance in your own native land. we will now ascend in fancy on icarian wing and take a view of guiana in general. see an immense plain! betwixt two of the largest rivers in the world, level as a bowling-green, save at cayenne, and covered with trees along the coast quite to the atlantic wave, except where the plantations make a little vacancy amongst the foliage. though nearly in the centre of the torrid zone, the sun's rays are not so intolerable as might be imagined, on account of the perpetual verdure and refreshing north-east breeze. see what numbers of broad and rapid rivers intersect it in their journey to the ocean, and that not a stone or a pebble is to be found on their banks, or in any part of the country, till your eye catches the hills in the interior. how beautiful and magnificent are the lakes in the heart of the forests, and how charming the forests themselves, for miles after miles on each side of the rivers! how extensive appear the savannas or natural meadows, teeming with innumerable herds of cattle, where the portuguese and spaniards are settled, but desert as saara where the english and dutch claim dominion! how gradually the face of the country rises! see the sandhills all clothed in wood first emerging from the level, then hills a little higher, rugged with bold and craggy rocks, peeping out from amongst the most luxuriant timber. then come plains and dells and far-extending valleys, arrayed in richest foliage; and beyond them mountains piled on mountains, some bearing prodigious forests, others of bleak and barren aspect. thus your eye wanders on over scenes of varied loveliness and grandeur, till it rests on the stupendous pinnacles of the long-continued cordilleras de los andes, which rise in towering majesty and command all america. how fertile must the low-lands be from the accumulation of fallen leaves and trees for centuries! how propitious the swamps and slimy beds of the rivers, heated by a downward sun, to the amazing growth of alligators, serpents and innumerable insects! how inviting the forests to the feathered tribes, where you see buds, blossoms, green and ripe fruit, full grown and fading leaves all on the same tree! how secure the wild beasts may rove in endless mazes! perhaps those mountains, too, which appear so bleak and naked, as if quite neglected, are, like potosi, full of precious metals. let us now return the pinions we borrowed from icarus, and prepare to bid farewell to the wilds. the time allotted to these wanderings is drawing fast to a close. every day for the last six months has been employed in paying close attention to natural history in the forests of demerara. above two hundred specimens of the finest birds have been collected and a pretty just knowledge formed of their haunts and economy. from the time of leaving england, in march 1816, to the present day, nothing has intervened to arrest a fine flow of health, saving a quartan ague which did not tarry, but fled as suddenly as it appeared. and now i take leave of thee, kind and gentle reader. the new mode of preserving birds heretofore promised thee shall not be forgotten. the plan is already formed in imagination, and can be penned down during the passage across the atlantic. if the few remarks in these wanderings shall have any weight in inciting thee to sally forth and explore the vast and well-stored regions of demerara, i have gained my end. adieu. charles waterton. _april 6, 1817._ * * * * * third journey desertosque videre locos, littusque relictum. gentle reader, after staying a few months in england, i strayed across the alps and the apennines, and returned home, but could not tarry. guiana still whispered in my ear, and seemed to invite me once more to wander through her distant forests. shouldst thou have a leisure hour to read what follows, i pray thee pardon the frequent use of that unwelcome monosyllable _i_. it could not well be avoided, as will be seen in the sequel. in february 1820 i sailed from the clyde, on board the _glenbervie_, a fine west-indiaman. she was driven to the north-west of ireland, and had to contend with a foul and wintry wind for above a fortnight. at last it changed, and we had a pleasant passage across the atlantic. sad and mournful was the story we heard on entering the river demerara. the yellow fever had swept off numbers of the old inhabitants, and the mortal remains of many a new-comer were daily passing down the streets in slow and mute procession to their last resting-place. after staying a few days in the town, i went up the demerara to the former habitation of my worthy friend mr. edmonstone, in mibiri creek. the house had been abandoned for some years. on arriving at the hill, the remembrance of scenes long past and gone naturally broke in upon the mind. all was changed: the house was in ruins and gradually sinking under the influence of the sun and rain; the roof had nearly fallen in; and the room, where once governors and generals had caroused, was now dismantled and tenanted by the vampire. you would have said: 'tis now the vampire's bleak abode, 'tis now the apartment of the toad: 'tis here the painful chegoe feeds, 'tis here the dire labarri breeds conceal'd in ruins, moss, and weeds. on the outside of the house nature had nearly reassumed her ancient right: a few straggling fruit-trees were still discernible amid the varied hue of the near-approaching forest; they seemed like strangers lost and bewildered and unpitied in a foreign land, destined to linger a little longer, and then sink down for ever. i hired some negroes from a woodcutter in another creek to repair the roof; and then the house, or at least what remained of it, became headquarters for natural history. the frogs, and here and there a snake, received that attention which the weak in this world generally experience from the strong, and which the law commonly denominates an ejectment. but here neither the frogs nor serpents were ill-treated: they sallied forth, without buffet or rebuke, to choose their place of residence--the world was all before them. the owls went away of their own accord, preferring to retire to a hollow tree rather than to associate with their new landlord. the bats and vampires stayed with me, and went in and out as usual. it was upon this hill in former days that i first tried to teach john, the black slave of my friend mr. edmonstone, the proper way to do birds. but john had poor abilities, and it required much time and patience to drive anything into him. some years after this his master took him to scotland, where, becoming free, john left him, and got employed in the glasgow, and then the edinburgh, museum. mr. robert edmonstone, nephew to the above gentleman, had a fine mulatto capable of learning anything. he requested me to teach him the art. i did so. he was docile and active, and was with me all the time in the forest. i left him there to keep up this new art of preserving birds and to communicate it to others. here, then, i fixed my headquarters, in the ruins of this once gay and hospitable house. close by, in a little hut which, in times long past, had served for a store to keep provisions in, there lived a coloured man and his wife, by name backer. many a kind turn they did to me; and i was more than once a service to them and their children, by bringing to their relief in time of sickness what little knowledge i had acquired of medicine. i would here, gentle reader, wish to draw thy attention, for a few minutes, to physic, raiment and diet. shouldst thou ever wander through these remote and dreary wilds, forget not to carry with thee bark, laudanum, calomel and jalap, and the lancet. there are no druggist-shops here, nor sons of galen to apply to in time of need. i never go encumbered with many clothes. a thin flannel waistcoat under a check shirt, a pair of trousers and a hat were all my wardrobe: shoes and stockings i seldom had on. in dry weather they would have irritated the feet and retarded me in the chase of wild beasts; and in the rainy season they would have kept me in a perpetual state of damp and moisture. i eat moderately, and never drink wine, spirits or fermented liquors in any climate. this abstemiousness has ever proved a faithful friend; it carried me triumphant through the epidemia at malaga, where death made such havoc about the beginning of the present century; and it has since befriended me in many a fit of sickness brought on by exposure to the noon-day sun, to the dews of night, to the pelting shower and unwholesome food. perhaps it will be as well here to mention a fever which came on, and the treatment of it: it may possibly be of use to thee, shouldst thou turn wanderer in the tropics; a word or two also of a wound i got in the forest, and then we will say no more of the little accidents which sometimes occur, and attend solely to natural history. we shall have an opportunity of seeing the wild animals in their native haunts, undisturbed and unbroken in upon by man. we shall have time and leisure to look more closely at them, and probably rectify some errors which, for want of proper information or a near observance, have crept into their several histories. it was in the month of june, when the sun was within a few days of cancer, that i had a severe attack of fever. there had been a deluge of rain, accompanied with tremendous thunder and lightning, and very little sun. nothing could exceed the dampness of the atmosphere. for two or three days i had been in a kind of twilight state of health, neither ill nor what you may call well: i yawned and felt weary without exercise, and my sleep was merely slumber. this was the time to have taken medicine, but i neglected to do so, though i had just been reading: "o navis, referent in mare te novi fluctus, o quid agis? fortiter occupa portum." i awoke at midnight: a cruel headache, thirst and pain in the small of the back informed me what the case was. had chiron himself been present he could not have told me more distinctly that i was going to have a tight brush of it, and that i ought to meet it with becoming fortitude. i dozed and woke and startled, and then dozed again, and suddenly awoke thinking i was falling down a precipice. the return of the bats to their diurnal retreat, which was in the thatch above my hammock, informed me that the sun was now fast approaching to the eastern horizon. i arose in languor and in pain, the pulse at one hundred and twenty. i took ten grains of calomel and a scruple of jalap, and drank during the day large draughts of tea, weak and warm. the physic did its duty, but there was no remission of fever or headache, though the pain of the back was less acute. i was saved the trouble of keeping the room cool, as the wind beat in at every quarter. at five in the evening the pulse had risen to one hundred and thirty, and the headache almost insupportable, especially on looking to the right or left. i now opened a vein, and made a large orifice, to allow the blood to rush out rapidly; i closed it after losing sixteen ounces. i then steeped my feet in warm water and got into the hammock. after bleeding the pulse fell to ninety, and the head was much relieved, but during the night, which was very restless, the pulse rose again to one hundred and twenty, and at times the headache was distressing. i relieved the headache from time to time by applying cold water to the temples and holding a wet handkerchief there. the next morning the fever ran very high, and i took five more grains of calomel and ten of jalap, determined, whatever might be the case, this should be the last dose of calomel. about two o'clock in the afternoon the fever remitted, and a copious perspiration came on: there was no more headache nor thirst nor pain in the back, and the following night was comparatively a good one. the next morning i swallowed a large dose of castor-oil: it was genuine, for louisa backer had made it from the seeds of the trees which grew near the door. i was now entirely free from all symptoms of fever, or apprehensions of a return; and the morning after i began to take bark, and continued it for a fortnight. this put all to rights. the story of the wound i got in the forest and the mode of cure are very short. i had pursued a redheaded woodpecker for above a mile in the forest without being able to get a shot at it. thinking more of the woodpecker, as i ran along, than of the way before me, i trod upon a little hardwood stump which was just about an inch or so above the ground; it entered the hollow part of my foot, making a deep and lacerated wound there. it had brought me to the ground, and there i lay till a transitory fit of sickness went off. i allowed it to bleed freely, and on reaching headquarters washed it well and probed it, to feel if any foreign body was left within it. being satisfied that there was none, i brought the edges of the wound together and then put a piece of lint on it, and over that a very large poultice, which was changed morning, noon and night. luckily backer had a cow or two upon the hill; now as heat and moisture are the two principal virtues of a poultice, nothing could produce those two qualities better than fresh cow-dung boiled: had there been no cows there i could have made out with boiled grass and leaves. i now took entirely to the hammock, placing the foot higher than the knee: this prevented it from throbbing, and was, indeed, the only position in which i could be at ease. when the inflammation was completely subdued i applied a wet cloth to the wound, and every now and then steeped the foot in cold water during the day, and at night again applied a poultice. the wound was now healing fast, and in three weeks from the time of the accident nothing but a scar remained: so that i again sallied forth sound and joyful, and said to myself: i, pedes quo te rapiunt et aurae dum favet sol, et locus, i secundo omine, et conto latebras, ut olim, rumpe ferarum. now this contus was a tough, light pole eight feet long, on the end of which was fixed an old bayonet. i never went into the canoe without it: it was of great use in starting the beasts and snakes out of the hollow trees, and in case of need was an excellent defence. in 1819 i had the last conversation with sir joseph banks. i saw with sorrow that death was going to rob us of him. we talked much of the present mode adopted by all museums in stuffing quadrupeds, and condemned it as being very imperfect: still we could not find out a better way, and at last concluded that the lips and nose ought to be cut off and replaced with wax, it being impossible to make those parts appear like life, as they shrink to nothing and render the stuffed specimens in the different museums horrible to look at. the defects in the legs and feet would not be quite so glaring, being covered with hair. i had paid great attention to this subject for above fourteen years; still it would not do. however, one night, while i was lying in the hammock and harping on the string on which hung all my solicitude, i hit upon the proper mode by inference: it appeared clear to me that it was the only true way of going to work, and ere i closed my eyes in sleep i was able to prove to myself that there could not be any other way that would answer. i tried it the next day, and succeeded according to expectation. by means of this process, which is very simple, we can now give every feature back again to the animal's face after it has been skinned; and when necessary stamp grief or pain, or pleasure, or rage, or mildness upon it. but more of this hereafter. let us now turn our attention to the sloth, whose native haunts have hitherto been so little known and probably little looked into. those who have written on this singular animal have remarked that he is in a perpetual state of pain, that he is proverbially slow in his movements, that he is a prisoner in space, and that, as soon as he has consumed all the leaves of the tree upon which he had mounted, he rolls himself up in the form of a ball and then falls to the ground. this is not the case. if the naturalists who have written the history of the sloth had gone into the wilds in order to examine his haunts and economy, they would not have drawn the foregoing conclusions. they would have learned that, though all other quadrupeds may be described while resting upon the ground, the sloth is an exception to this rule, and that his history must be written while he is in the tree. this singular animal is destined by nature to be produced, to live and to die in the trees; and to do justice to him naturalists must examine him in this his upper element. he is a scarce and solitary animal, and being good food he is never allowed to escape. he inhabits remote and gloomy forests where snakes take up their abode, and where cruelly-stinging ants and scorpions and swamps and innumerable thorny shrubs and bushes obstruct the steps of civilised man. were you to draw your own conclusions from the descriptions which have been given of the sloth, you would probably suspect that no naturalist has actually gone into the wilds with the fixed determination to find him out and examine his haunts, and see whether nature has committed any blunder in the formation of this extraordinary creature, which appears to us so forlorn and miserable, so ill put together, and so totally unfit to enjoy the blessings which have been so bountifully given to the rest of animated nature; for, as it has formerly been remarked, he has no soles to his feet, and he is evidently ill at ease when he tries to move on the ground, and it is then that he looks up in your face with a countenance that says: "have pity on me, for i am in pain and sorrow." it mostly happens that indians and negroes are the people who catch the sloth and bring it to the white man: hence it may be conjectured that the erroneous accounts we have hitherto had of the sloth have not been penned down with the slightest intention to mislead the reader or give him an exaggerated history, but that these errors have naturally arisen by examining the sloth in those places where nature never intended that he should be exhibited. however, we are now in his own domain. man but little frequents these thick and noble forests, which extend far and wide on every side of us. this, then, is the proper place to go in quest of the sloth. we will first take a near view of him. by obtaining a knowledge of his anatomy we shall be enabled to account for his movements hereafter, when we see him in his proper haunts. his fore-legs, or, more correctly speaking, his arms, are apparently much too long, while his hind-legs are very short, and look as if they could be bent almost to the shape of a corkscrew. both the fore-and hind-legs, by their form and by the manner in which they are joined to the body, are quite incapacitated from acting in a perpendicular direction, or in supporting it on the earth, as the bodies of other quadrupeds are supported by their legs. hence, when you place him on the floor, his belly touches the ground. now, granted that he supported himself on his legs like other animals, nevertheless he would be in pain, for he has no soles to his feet, and his claws are very sharp and long and curved; so that were his body supported by his feet, it would be by their extremities, just as your body would be were you to throw yourself on all-fours and try to support it on the ends of your toes and fingers--a trying position. were the floor of glass, or of a polished surface, the sloth would actually be quite stationary; but as the ground is generally rough, with little protuberances upon it, such as stones, or roots of grass, etc., this just suits the sloth, and he moves his fore-legs in all directions, in order to find something to lay hold of; and when he has succeeded he pulls himself forward, and is thus enabled to travel onwards, but at the same time in so tardy and awkward a manner as to acquire him the name of sloth. indeed his looks and his gestures evidently betray his uncomfortable situation: and as a sigh every now and then escapes him, we may be entitled to conclude that he is actually in pain. some years ago i kept a sloth in my room for several months. i often took him out of the house and placed him upon the ground, in order to have an opportunity of observing his motions. if the ground were rough, he would pull himself forwards by means of his fore-legs at a pretty good pace, and he invariably immediately shaped his course towards the nearest tree. but if i put him upon a smooth and well-trodden part of the road, he appeared to be in trouble and distress. his favourite abode was the back of a chair and, after getting all his legs in a line upon the topmost part of it, he would hang there for hours together, and often with a low and inward cry would seem to invite me to take notice of him. the sloth, in its wild state, spends its whole life in trees, and never leaves them but through force or by accident. an all-ruling providence has ordered man to tread on the surface of the earth, the eagle to soar in the expanse of the skies, and the monkey and squirrel to inhabit the trees: still these may change their relative situations without feeling much inconvenience; but the sloth is doomed to spend his whole life in the trees, and, what is more extraordinary, not _upon_ the branches, like the squirrel and the monkey, but _under_ them. he moves suspended from the branch, he rests suspended from it, and he sleeps suspended from it. to enable him to do this he must have a very different formation from that of any other known quadruped. hence his seemingly bungled conformation is at once accounted for; and in lieu of the sloth leading a painful life, and entailing a melancholy and miserable existence on its progeny, it is but fair to surmise that it just enjoys life as much as any other animal, and that its extraordinary formation and singular habits are but further proofs to engage us to admire the wonderful works of omnipotence. it must be observed that the sloth does not hang head-downwards like the vampire. when asleep he supports himself from a branch parallel to the earth. he first seizes the branch with one arm, and then with the other; and after that brings up both his legs, one by one, to the same branch; so that all four are in a line: he seems perfectly at rest in this position. now had he a tail, he would be at a loss to know what to do with it in this position: were he to draw it up within his legs it would interfere with them, and were he to let it hang down it would become the sport of the winds. thus his deficiency of tail is a benefit to him; it is merely an apology for a tail, scarcely exceeding an inch and a half in length. i observed, when he was climbing, he never used his arms both together, but first one and then the other, and so on alternately. there is a singularity in his hair, different from that of all other animals, and, i believe, hitherto unnoticed by naturalists. his hair is thick and coarse at the extremity, and gradually tapers to the root, where it becomes fine as a spider's web. his fur has so much the hue of the moss which grows on the branches of the trees that it is very difficult to make him out when he is at rest. the male of the three-toed sloth has a longitudinal bar of very fine black hair on his back, rather lower than the shoulder-blades; on each side of this black bar there is a space of yellow hair, equally fine; it has the appearance of being pressed into the body, and looks exactly as if it had been singed. if we examine the anatomy of his fore-legs, we shall immediately perceive by their firm and muscular texture how very capable they are of supporting the pendent weight of his body, both in climbing and at rest; and, instead of pronouncing them a bungled composition, as a celebrated naturalist has done, we shall consider them as remarkably well calculated to perform their extraordinary functions. as the sloth is an inhabitant of forests within the tropics, where the trees touch each other in the greatest profusion, there seems to be no reason why he should confine himself to one tree alone for food, and entirely strip it of its leaves. during the many years i have ranged the forests i have never seen a tree in such a state of nudity; indeed, i would hazard a conjecture that, by the time the animal had finished the last of the old leaves, there would be a new crop on the part of the tree he had stripped first, ready for him to begin again, so quick is the process of vegetation in these countries. there is a saying amongst the indians that, when the wind blows, the sloth begins to travel. in calm weather he remains tranquil, probably not liking to cling to the brittle extremity of the branches, lest they should break with him in passing from one tree to another; but as soon as the wind rises the branches of the neighbouring trees become interwoven, and then the sloth seizes hold of them and pursues his journey in safety. there is seldom an entire day of calm in these forests. the tradewind generally sets in about ten o'clock in the morning, and thus the sloth may set off after breakfast, and get a considerable way before dinner. he travels at a good round pace; and were you to see him pass from tree to tree, as i have done, you would never think of calling him a sloth. thus it would appear that the different histories we have of this quadruped are erroneous on two accounts: first, that the writers of them, deterred by difficulties and local annoyances, have not paid sufficient attention to him in his native haunts; and secondly, they have described him in a situation in which he was never intended by nature to cut a figure: i mean on the ground. the sloth is as much at a loss to proceed on his journey upon a smooth and level floor as a man would be who had to walk a mile in stilts upon a line of feather-beds. one day, as we were crossing the essequibo, i saw a large two-toed sloth on the ground upon the bank. how he had got there nobody could tell: the indian said he had never surprised a sloth in such a situation before. he would hardly have come there to drink, for both above and below the place the branches of the trees touched the water, and afforded him an easy and safe access to it. be this as it may, though the trees were not above twenty yards from him, he could not make his way through the sand time enough to escape before we landed. as soon as we got up to him he threw himself upon his back, and defended himself in gallant style with his fore-legs. "come, poor fellow," said i to him, "if thou hast got into a hobble to-day, thou shalt not suffer for it. i'll take no advantage of thee in misfortune; the forest is large enough both for thee and me to rove in: go thy ways up above, and enjoy thyself in these endless wilds; it is more than probable thou wilt never have another interview with man. so fare thee well." on saying this, i took a long stick which was lying there, held it for him to hook on, and then conveyed him to a high and stately mora. he ascended with wonderful rapidity, and in about a minute he was almost at the top of the tree. he now went off in a side direction, and caught hold of the branch of a neighbouring tree; he then proceeded towards the heart of the forest. i stood looking on, lost in amazement at his singular mode of progress. i followed him with my eye till the intervening branches closed in betwixt us; and then i lost sight for ever of the two-toed sloth. i was going to add that i never saw a sloth take to his heels in such earnest: but the expression will not do, for the sloth has no heels. that which naturalists have advanced of his being so tenacious of life is perfectly true. i saw the heart of one beat for half an hour after it was taken out of the body. the wourali poison seems to be the only thing that will kill it quickly. on reference to a former part of these wanderings, it will be seen that a poisoned arrow killed the sloth in about ten minutes. so much for this harmless, unoffending animal. he holds a conspicuous place in the catalogue of the animals of the new world. though naturalists have made no mention of what follows, still it is not less true on that account. the sloth is the only quadruped known which spends its whole life from the branch of a tree, suspended by his feet. i have paid uncommon attention to him in his native haunts. the monkey and squirrel will seize a branch with their fore-feet, and pull themselves up, and rest or run upon it; but the sloth, after seizing it, still remains suspended, and suspended moves along under the branch, till he can lay hold of another. whenever i have seen him in his native woods, whether at rest or asleep or on his travels, i have always observed that he was suspended from the branch of a tree. when his form and anatomy are attentively considered, it will appear evident that the sloth cannot be at ease in any situation where his body is higher, or above, his feet. we will now take our leave of him. in the far-extending wilds of guiana the traveller will be astonished at the immense quantity of ants which he perceives on the ground and in the trees. they have nests in the branches four or five times as large as that of the rook; and they have a covered way from them to the ground. in this covered way thousands are perpetually passing and repassing; and if you destroy part of it, they turn to and immediately repair it. other species of ants again have no covered way, but travel exposed to view upon the surface of the earth. you will sometimes see a string of these ants a mile long, each carrying in its mouth, to its nest, a green leaf the size of a sixpence. it is wonderful to observe the order in which they move, and with what pains and labour they surmount the obstructions of the path. the ants have their enemies as well as the rest of animated nature. amongst the foremost of these stand the three species of ant-bears. the smallest is not much larger than a rat; the next is nearly the size of a fox; and the third a stout and powerful animal, measuring about six feet from the snout to the end of the tail. he is the most inoffensive of all animals, and never injures the property of man. he is chiefly found in the inmost recesses of the forest, and seems partial to the low and swampy parts near creeks, where the troely-tree grows. there he goes up and down in quest of ants, of which there is never the least scarcity; so that he soon obtains a sufficient supply of food with very little trouble. he cannot travel fast; man is superior to him in speed. without swiftness to enable him to escape from his enemies, without teeth, the possession of which would assist him in self-defence, and without the power of burrowing in the ground, by which he might conceal himself from his pursuers, he still is capable of ranging through these wilds in perfect safety; nor does he fear the fatal pressure of the serpent's fold or the teeth of the famished jaguar. nature has formed his fore-legs wonderfully thick and strong and muscular, and armed his feet with three tremendous sharp and crooked claws. whenever he seizes an animal with these formidable weapons he hugs it close to his body, and keeps it there till it dies through pressure or through want of food. nor does the ant-bear, in the meantime, suffer much from loss of aliment, as it is a well-known fact that he can go longer without food than, perhaps, any other animal, except the land-tortoise. his skin is of a texture that perfectly resists the bite of a dog; his hinder-parts are protected by thick and shaggy hair, while his immense tail is large enough to cover his whole body. the indians have a great dread of coming in contact with the ant-bear and, after disabling him in the chase, never think of approaching him till he be quite dead. it is perhaps on account of this caution that naturalists have never yet given to the world a true and correct drawing of this singular animal, or described the peculiar position of his fore-feet when he walks or stands. if, in taking a drawing from a dead ant-bear, you judge of the position in which he stands from that of all other terrestrial animals, the sloth excepted, you will be in error. examine only a figure of this animal in books of natural history, or inspect a stuffed specimen in the best museums, and you will see that the fore-claws are just in the same forward attitude as those of a dog, or a common bear when he walks or stands. but this is a distorted and unnatural position, and in life would be a painful and intolerable attitude for the ant-bear. the length and curve of his claws cannot admit of such a position. when he walks or stands his feet have somewhat the appearance of a club-hand. he goes entirely on the outer side of his fore-feet, which are quite bent inwards, the claws collected into a point, and going under the foot. in this position he is quite at ease, while his long claws are disposed of in a manner to render them harmless to him and are prevented from becoming dull and worn, like those of the dog, which would inevitably be the case did their points come in actual contact with the ground; for his claws have not that retractile power which is given to animals of the feline species, by which they are enabled to preserve the sharpness of their claws on the most flinty path. a slight inspection of the fore-feet of the ant-bear will immediately convince you of the mistake artists and naturalists have fallen into by putting his fore-feet in the same position as those of other quadrupeds, for you will perceive that the whole outer side of his foot is not only deprived of hair, but is hard and callous: proof positive of its being in perpetual contact with the ground. now, on the contrary, the inner side of the bottom of his foot is soft and rather hairy. there is another singularity in the anatomy of the ant-bear, i believe as yet unnoticed in the page of natural history. he has two very large glands situated below the root of the tongue. from these is emitted a glutinous liquid, with which his long tongue is lubricated when he puts it into the ants' nests. these glands are of the same substance as those found in the lower jaw of the woodpecker. the secretion from them, when wet, is very clammy and adhesive, but on being dried it loses these qualities, and you can pulverise it betwixt your finger and thumb; so that in dissection, if any of it has got upon the fur of the animal or the feathers of the bird, allow it to dry there, and then it may be removed without leaving the least stain behind. the ant-bear is a pacific animal. he is never the first to begin the attack. his motto may be "noli me tangere." as his habits and his haunts differ materially from those of every other animal in the forest, their interests never clash, and thus he might live to a good old age, and die at last in peace, were it not that his flesh is good food. on this account the indian wages perpetual war against him and, as he cannot escape by flight, he falls an easy prey to the poisoned arrow shot from the indian's bow at a distance. if ever he be closely attacked by dogs, he immediately throws himself on his back, and if he be fortunate enough to catch hold of his enemy with his tremendous claws, the invader is sure to pay for his rashness with the loss of life. we will now take a view of the vampire. as there was a free entrance and exit to the vampire in the loft where i slept, i had many a fine opportunity of paying attention to this nocturnal surgeon. he does not always live on blood. when the moon shone bright, and the fruit of the banana-tree was ripe, i could see him approach and eat it. he would also bring into the loft, from the forest, a green round fruit something like the wild guava and about the size of a nutmeg. there was something also in the blossom of the sawarri nut-tree which was grateful to him, for on coming up waratilla creek, in a moonlight night, i saw several vampires fluttering round the top of the sawarri-tree, and every now and then the blossoms, which they had broken off, fell into the water. they certainly did not drop off naturally, for on examining several of them they appeared quite fresh and blooming. so i concluded the vampires pulled them from the tree either to get at the incipient fruit or to catch the insects which often take up their abode in flowers. the vampire, in general, measures about twenty-six inches from wing to wing extended, though i once killed one which measured thirty-two inches. he frequents old abandoned houses and hollow trees; and sometimes a cluster of them may be seen in the forest hanging head downwards from the branch of a tree. goldsmith seems to have been aware that the vampire hangs in clusters; for in the _deserted village_, speaking of america, he says: and matted woods, where birds forget to sing, but silent bats in drowsy clusters cling. the vampire has a curious membrane which rises from the nose, and gives it a very singular appearance. it has been remarked before that there are two species of vampire in guiana, a larger and a smaller. the larger sucks men and other animals; the smaller seems to confine himself chiefly to birds. i learnt from a gentleman high up in the river demerara that he was completely unsuccessful with his fowls on account of the small vampire. he showed me some that had been sucked the night before, and they were scarcely able to walk. some years ago i went to the river paumaron with a scotch gentleman, by name tarbet. we hung our hammocks in the thatched loft of a planter's house. next morning i heard this gentleman muttering in his hammock, and now and then letting fall an imprecation or two just about the time he ought to have been saying his morning prayers. "what is the matter, sir?" said i softly. "is anything amiss?" "what's the matter?" answered he surlily; "why, the vampires have been sucking me to death." as soon as there was light enough i went to his hammock and saw it much stained with blood. "there," said he, thrusting his foot out of the hammock, "see how these infernal imps have been drawing my life's blood." on examining his foot i found the vampire had tapped his great toe: there was a wound somewhat less than that made by a leech; the blood was still oozing from it; i conjectured he might have lost from ten to twelve ounces of blood. whilst examining it, i think i put him into a worse humour by remarking that a european surgeon would not have been so generous as to have blooded him without making a charge. he looked up in my face, but did not say a word: i saw he was of opinion that i had better have spared this piece of ill-timed levity. it was not the last punishment of this good gentleman in the river paumaron. the next night he was doomed to undergo a kind of ordeal unknown in europe. there is a species of large red ant in guiana sometimes called ranger, sometimes coushie. these ants march in millions through the country in compact order, like a regiment of soldiers: they eat up every insect in their march; and if a house obstruct their route, they do not turn out of the way, but go quite through it. though they sting cruelly when molested, the planter is not sorry to see them in his house, for it is but a passing visit, and they destroy every kind of insect-vermin that has taken shelter under his roof. now in the british plantations of guiana, as well as in europe, there is always a little temple dedicated to the goddess cloacina. our dinner had chiefly consisted of crabs dressed in rich and different ways. paumaron is famous for crabs, and strangers who go thither consider them the greatest luxury. the scotch gentleman made a very capital dinner on crabs; but this change of diet was productive of unpleasant circumstances: he awoke in the night in that state in which virgil describes caeleno to have been, viz. "faedissima ventris proluvies." up he got to verify the remark: serius aut citius, sedem properamus ad unam. now, unluckily for himself and the nocturnal tranquillity of the planter's house, just at that unfortunate hour the coushie-ants were passing across the seat of cloacina's temple. he had never dreamed of this; and so, turning his face to the door, he placed himself in the usual situation which the votaries of the goddess generally take. had a lighted match dropped upon a pound of gunpowder, as he afterwards remarked, it could not have caused a greater recoil. up he jumped and forced his way out, roaring for help and for a light, for he was worried alive by ten thousand devils. the fact is he had sat down upon an intervening body of coushie-ants. many of those which escaped being crushed to death turned again, and in revenge stung the unintentional intruder most severely. the watchman had fallen asleep, and it was some time before a light could be procured, the fire having gone out; in the meantime the poor gentleman was suffering an indescribable martyrdom, and would have found himself more at home in the augean stable than in the planter's house. i had often wished to have been once sucked by the vampire in order that i might have it in my power to say it had really happened to me. there can be no pain in the operation, for the patient is always asleep when the vampire is sucking him; and as for the loss of a few ounces of blood, that would be a trifle in the long run. many a night have i slept with my foot out of the hammock to tempt this winged surgeon, expecting that he would be there, but it was all in vain; the vampire never sucked me, and i could never account for his not doing so, for we were inhabitants of the same loft for months together. the armadillo is very common in these forests; he burrows in the sandhills like a rabbit. as it often takes a considerable time to dig him out of his hole, it would be a long and laborious business to attack each hole indiscriminately without knowing whether the animal were there or not. to prevent disappointment the indians carefully examine the mouth of the hole, and put a short stick down it. now if, on introducing the stick, a number of mosquitos come out, the indians know to a certainty that the armadillo is in it: whenever there are no mosquitos in the hole there is no armadillo. the indian having satisfied himself that the armadillo is there by the mosquitos which come out, he immediately cuts a long and slender stick and introduces it into the hole. he carefully observes the line the stick takes, and then sinks a pit in the sand to catch the end of it: this done, he puts it farther into the hole, and digs another pit, and so on, till at last he comes up with the armadillo, which had been making itself a passage in the sand till it had exhausted all its strength through pure exertion. i have been sometimes three-quarters of a day in digging out one armadillo, and obliged to sink half a dozen pits seven feet deep before i got up to it. the indians and negroes are very fond of the flesh, but i considered it strong and rank. on laying hold of the armadillo you must be cautious not to come in contact with his feet: they are armed with sharp claws, and with them he will inflict a severe wound in self-defence. when not molested he is very harmless and innocent: he would put you in mind of the hare in gay's fables: whose care was never to offend, and every creature was her friend. the armadillo swims well in time of need, but does not go into the water by choice. he is very seldom seen abroad during the day; and when surprised, he is sure to be near the mouth of his hole. every part of the armadillo is well protected by his shell, except his ears. in life this shell is very limber, so that the animal is enabled to go at full stretch or roll himself up into a ball, as occasion may require. on inspecting the arrangement of the shell, it puts you very much in mind of a coat of armour; indeed, it is a natural coat of armour to the armadillo, and being composed both of scale and bone it affords ample security, and has a pleasing effect. often, when roving in the wilds, i would fall in with the land-tortoise; he too adds another to the list of unoffending animals. he subsists on the fallen fruits of the forest. when an enemy approaches he never thinks of moving, but quietly draws himself under his shell and there awaits his doom in patience. he only seems to have two enemies who can do him any damage: one of these is the boa-constrictor--this snake swallows the tortoise alive, shell and all. but a boa large enough to do this is very scarce, and thus there is not much to apprehend from that quarter. the other enemy is man, who takes up the tortoise and carries him away. man also is scarce in these never-ending wilds, and the little depredations he may commit upon the tortoise will be nothing, or a mere trifle. the tiger's teeth cannot penetrate its shell, nor can a stroke of his paws do it any damage. it is of so compact and strong a nature that there is a common saying, a london waggon might roll over it and not break it. ere we proceed, let us take a retrospective view of the five animals just enumerated: they are all quadrupeds, and have some very particular mark or mode of existence different from all other animals. the sloth has four feet, but never can use them to support his body on the earth: they want soles, which are a marked feature in the feet of other animals. the ant-bear has not a tooth in his head, still he roves fearless on in the same forests with the jaguar and boa-constrictor. the vampire does not make use of his feet to walk, but to stretch a membrane which enables him to go up into an element where no other quadruped is seen. the armadillo has only here and there a straggling hair, and has neither fur nor wool nor bristles, but in lieu of them has received a movable shell on which are scales very much like those of fishes. the tortoise is oviparous, entirely without any appearance of hair, and is obliged to accommodate itself to a shell which is quite hard and inflexible, and in no point of view whatever obedient to the will or pleasure of the bearer. the egg of the tortoise has a very hard shell, while that of the turtle is quite soft. in some parts of these forests i saw the vanilla growing luxuriantly. it creeps up the trees to the height of thirty or forty feet. i found it difficult to get a ripe pod, as the monkeys are very fond of it, and generally took care to get there before me. the pod hangs from the tree in the shape of a little scabbard. _vayna_ is the spanish for a scabbard, and _vanilla_ for a little scabbard. hence the name. in mibiri creek there was a cayman of the small species, measuring about five feet in length; i saw it in the same place for months, but could never get a shot at it, for, the moment i thought i was sure of it, it dived under the water before i could pull the trigger. at last i got an indian with his bow and arrow: he stood up in the canoe with his bow ready bent, and as we drifted past the place he sent his arrow into the cayman's eye, and killed it dead. the skin of this little species is much harder and stronger than that of the large kind; it is good food, and tastes like veal. my friend mr. edmonstone had very kindly let me have one of his old negroes, and he constantly attended me: his name was daddy quashi. he had a brave stomach for heterogeneous food; it could digest and relish, too, caymen, monkeys, hawks and grubs. the daddy made three or four meals on this cayman while it was not absolutely putrid, and salted the rest. i could never get him to face a snake; the horror he betrayed on seeing one was beyond description. i asked him why he was so terribly alarmed. he said it was by seeing so many dogs from time to time killed by them. here i had a fine opportunity of examining several species of the caprimulgus. i am fully persuaded that these innocent little birds never suck the herds, for when they approach them, and jump up at their udders, it is to catch the flies and insects there. when the moon shone bright i would frequently go and stand within three yards of a cow, and distinctly see the caprimulgus catch the flies on its udder. on looking for them in the forest during the day, i either found them on the ground, or else invariably sitting _longitudinally_ on the branch of a tree, not _crosswise_, like all other birds. the wasps, or maribuntas, are great plagues in these forests, and require the naturalist to be cautious as he wanders up and down. some make their nests pendent from the branches; others have them fixed to the underside of a leaf. now, in passing on, if you happen to disturb one of these, they sally forth and punish you severely. the largest kind is blue: it brings blood where its sting enters, and causes pain and inflammation enough to create a fever. the indians make a fire under the nest, and, after killing or driving away the old ones, they roast the young grubs in the comb and eat them. i tried them once by way of dessert after dinner, but my stomach was offended at their intrusion; probably it was more the idea than the taste that caused the stomach to rebel. time and experience have convinced me that there is not much danger in roving amongst snakes and wild beasts, provided only that you have self-command. you must never approach them abruptly; if so, you are sure to pay for your rashness, because the idea of self-defence is predominant in every animal, and thus the snake, to defend himself from what he considers an attack upon him, makes the intruder feel the deadly effect of his poisonous fangs. the jaguar flies at you, and knocks you senseless with a stroke of his paw; whereas, if you had not come upon him too suddenly, it is ten to one but that he had retired in lieu of disputing the path with you. the labarri-snake is very poisonous, and i have often approached within two yards of him without fear. i took care to move very softly and gently, without moving my arms, and he always allowed me to have a fine view of him without showing the least inclination to make a spring at me. he would appear to keep his eye fixed on me as though suspicious, but that was all. sometimes i have taken a stick ten feet long and placed it on the labarri's back. he would then glide away without offering resistance. but when i put the end of the stick abruptly to his head, he immediately opened his mouth, flew at it, and bit it. one day, wishful to see how the poison comes out of the fang of the snake, i caught a labarri alive. he was about eight feet long. i held him by the neck, and my hand was so near his jaw that he had not room to move his head to bite it. this was the only position i could have held him in with safety and effect. to do so it only required a little resolution and coolness. i then took a small piece of stick in the other hand and pressed it against the fang, which is invariably in the upper jaw. towards the point of the fang there is a little oblong aperture on the convex side of it. through this there is a communication down the fang to the root, at which lies a little bag containing the poison. now, when the point of the fang is pressed, the root of the fang also presses against the bag, and sends up a portion of the poison therein contained. thus, when i applied a piece of stick to the point of the fang, there came out of the hole a liquor thick and yellow, like strong camomile-tea. this was the poison which is so dreadful in its effects as to render the labarri-snake one of the most poisonous in the forests of guiana. i once caught a fine labarri and made it bite itself. i forced the poisonous fang into its belly. in a few minutes i thought it was going to die, for it appeared dull and heavy. however, in half an hour's time he was as brisk and vigorous as ever, and in the course of the day showed no symptoms of being affected. is then the life of the snake proof against its own poison? this subject is not unworthy of the consideration of the naturalist. in guiana there is a little insect in the grass and on the shrubs which the french call bãªte-rouge. it is of a beautiful scarlet colour, and so minute that you must bring your eye close to it before you can perceive it. it is most numerous in the rainy season. its bite causes an intolerable itching. the best way to get rid of it is to rub the part affected with oil or rum. you must be careful not to scratch it. if you do so, and break the skin, you expose yourself to a sore. the first year i was in guiana the bãªte-rouge and my own want of knowledge, and, i may add, the little attention i paid to it, created an ulcer above the ankle which annoyed me for six months, and if i hobbled out into the grass a number of bãªte-rouge would settle on the edges of the sore and increase the inflammation. still more inconvenient, painful and annoying is another little pest called the chegoe. it looks exactly like a very small flea, and a stranger would take it for one. however, in about four and twenty hours he would have several broad hints that he had made a mistake in his ideas of the animal. it attacks different parts of the body, but chiefly the feet, betwixt the toe-nails and the flesh. there it buries itself, and at first causes an itching not unpleasant. in a day or so, after examining the part, you perceive a place about the size of a pea, somewhat discoloured, rather of a blue appearance. sometimes it happens that the itching is so trivial, you are not aware that the miner is at work. time, they say, makes great discoveries. the discoloured part turns out to be the nest of the chegoe, containing hundreds of eggs, which, if allowed to hatch there, the young ones will soon begin to form other nests, and in time cause a spreading ulcer. as soon as you perceive that you have got the chegoe in your flesh, you must take a needle or a sharp-pointed knife and take it out. if the nest be formed, great care must be taken not to break it, otherwise some of the eggs remain in the flesh, and then you will soon be annoyed with more chegoes. after removing the nest it is well to drop spirit of turpentine into the hole: that will most effectually destroy any chegoe that may be lurking there. sometimes i have taken four nests out of my feet in the course of the day. every evening, before sundown, it was part of my toilette to examine my feet and see that they were clear of chegoes. now and then a nest would escape the scrutiny, and then i had to smart for it a day or two after. a chegoe once lit upon the back of my hand; wishful to see how he worked, i allowed him to take possession. he immediately set to work, head foremost, and in about half an hour he had completely buried himself in the skin. i then let him feel the point of my knife, and exterminated him. more than once, after sitting down upon a rotten stump, i have found myself covered with ticks. there is a short and easy way to get quit of these unwelcome adherents. make a large fire and stand close to it, and if you be covered with ticks they will all fall off. let us now forget for awhile the quadrupeds, serpents and insects, and take a transitory view of the native indians of these forests. there are five principal nations or tribes of indians in _ci-devant_ dutch guiana, commonly known by the name of warow, arowack, acoway, carib and macoushi. they live in small hamlets, which consist of a few huts, never exceeding twelve in number. these huts are always in the forest, near a river or some creek. they are open on all sides (except those of the macoushi), and covered with a species of palm-leaf. their principal furniture is the hammock. it serves them both for chair and bed. it is commonly made of cotton; though those of the warows are formed from the ã¦ta-tree. at night they always make a fire close to it. the heat keeps them warm, and the smoke drives away the mosquitos and sand-flies. you sometimes find a table in the hut; but it was not made by the indians, but by some negro or mulatto carpenter. they cut down about an acre or two of the trees which surround the huts, and there plant pepper, papaws, sweet and bitter cassava, plantains, sweet potatoes, yams, pine-apples and silk-grass. besides these, they generally have a few acres in some fertile part of the forest for their cassava, which is as bread to them. they make earthen pots to boil their provisions in; and they get from the white men flat circular plates of iron on which they bake their cassava. they have to grate the cassava before it is pressed preparatory to baking; and those indians who are too far in the wilds to procure graters from the white men make use of a flat piece of wood studded with sharp stones. they have no cows, horses, mules, goats, sheep or asses. the men hunt and fish, and the women work in the provision-ground and cook their victuals. in each hamlet there is the trunk of a large tree hollowed out like a trough. in this, from their cassava, they make an abominable ill-tasted and sour kind of fermented liquor called piwarri. they are very fond of it, and never fail to get drunk after every brewing. the frequency of the brewing depends upon the superabundance of cassava. both men and women go without clothes. the men have a cotton wrapper, and the women a bead-ornamented square piece of cotton about the size of your hand for the fig-leaf. those far away in the interior use the bark of a tree for this purpose. they are a very clean people, and wash in the river or creek at least twice every day. they paint themselves with the roucou, sweetly perfumed with hayawa or accaiari. their hair is black and lank, and never curled. the women braid it up fancifully, something in the shape of diana's head-dress in ancient pictures. they have very few diseases. old age and pulmonary complaints seem to be the chief agents for removing them to another world. the pulmonary complaints are generally brought on by a severe cold, which they do not know how to arrest in its progress by the use of the lancet. i never saw an idiot amongst them, nor could i perceive any that were deformed from their birth. their women never perish in childbed, owing, no doubt, to their never wearing stays. they have no public religious ceremony. they acknowledge two superior beings--a good one and a bad one. they pray to the latter not to hurt them, and they are of opinion that the former is too good to do the man injury. i suspect, if the truth were known, the individuals of the village never offer up a single prayer or ejaculation. they have a kind of a priest called a pee-ay-man, who is an enchanter. he finds out things lost. he mutters prayers to the evil spirit over them and their children when they are sick. if a fever be in the village, the pee-ay-man goes about all night long howling and making dreadful noises, and begs the bad spirit to depart. but he has very seldom to perform this part of his duty, as fevers seldom visit the indian hamlets. however, when a fever does come, and his incantations are of no avail, which i imagine is most commonly the case, they abandon the place for ever and make a new settlement elsewhere. they consider the owl and the goat-sucker as familiars of the evil spirit, and never destroy them. i could find no monuments or marks of antiquity amongst these indians; so that, after penetrating to the rio branco from the shores of the western ocean, had anybody questioned me on this subject i should have answered, i have seen nothing amongst these indians which tells me that they have existed here for a century; though, for aught i know to the contrary, they may have been here before the redemption, but their total want of civilisation has assimilated them to the forests in which they wander. thus an aged tree falls and moulders into dust and you cannot tell what was its appearance, its beauties, or its diseases amongst the neighbouring trees; another has shot up in its place, and after nature has had her course it will make way for a successor in its turn. so it is with the indian of guiana. he is now laid low in the dust; he has left no record behind him, either on parchment or on a stone or in earthenware to say what he has done. perhaps the place where his buried ruins lie was unhealthy, and the survivors have left it long ago and gone far away into the wilds. all that you can say is, the trees where i stand appear lower and smaller than the rest, and from this i conjecture that some indians may have had a settlement here formerly. were i by chance to meet the son of the father who moulders here, he could tell me that his father was famous for slaying tigers and serpents and caymen, and noted in the chase of the tapir and wild boar, but that he remembers little or nothing of his grandfather. they are very jealous of their liberty, and much attached to their own mode of living. though those in the neighbourhood of the european settlements have constant communication with the whites, they have no inclination to become civilised. some indians who have accompanied white men to europe, on returning to their own land have thrown off their clothes and gone back into the forests. in georgetown, the capital of demerara, there is a large shed, open on all sides, built for them by order of government. hither the indians come with monkeys, parrots, bows and arrows, and pegalls. they sell these to the white men for money, and too often purchase rum with it, to which they are wonderfully addicted. government allows them annual presents in order to have their services when the colony deems it necessary to scour the forests in quest of runaway negroes. formerly these expeditions were headed by charles edmonstone, esq., now of cardross park, near dumbarton. this brave colonist never returned from the woods without being victorious. once, in an attack upon the rebel-negroes' camp, he led the way and received two balls in his body; at the same moment that he was wounded two of his indians fell dead by his side; he recovered, after his life was despaired of, but the balls could never be extracted. since the above appeared in print i have had the account of this engagement with the negroes in the forest from mr. edmonstone's own mouth. he received four slugs in his body, as will be seen in the sequel. the plantations of demerara and essequibo are bounded by an almost interminable extent of forest. hither the runaway negroes repair, and form settlements from whence they issue to annoy the colonists, as occasion may offer. in 1801 the runaway slaves had increased to an alarming extent. the governor gave orders that an expedition should be immediately organised and proceed to the woods under the command of charles edmonstone, esq. general hislop sent him a corporal, a sergeant and eleven men, and he was joined by a part of the colonial militia and by sixty indians. with this force mr. edmonstone entered the forest and proceeded in a direction towards mahaica. he marched for eight days through swamps and over places obstructed by fallen trees and the bush-rope; tormented by myriads of mosquitos, and ever in fear of treading on the poisonous snakes which can scarcely be distinguished from the fallen leaves. at last he reached a wooded sandhill, where the maroons had entrenched themselves in great force. not expecting to come so soon upon them, mr. edmonstone, his faithful man coffee and two indian chiefs found themselves considerably ahead of their own party. as yet they were unperceived by the enemy, but unfortunately one of the indian chiefs fired a random shot at a distant maroon. immediately the whole negro camp turned out and formed themselves in a crescent in front of mr. edmonstone. their chief was an uncommonly fine negro, above six feet in height; and his head-dress was that of an african warrior, ornamented with a profusion of small shells. he advanced undauntedly with his gun in his hand, and, in insulting language, called out to mr. edmonstone to come on and fight him. mr. edmonstone approached him slowly in order to give his own men time to come up; but they were yet too far off for him to profit by this manoeuvre. coffee, who carried his master's gun, now stepped up behind him, and put the gun into his hand, which mr. edmonstone received without advancing it to his shoulder. he was now within a few yards of the maroon chief, who seemed to betray some symptoms of uncertainty, for, instead of firing directly at mr. edmonstone, he took a step sideways, and rested his gun against a tree; no doubt with the intention of taking a surer aim. mr. edmonstone, on perceiving this, immediately cocked his gun and fired it off, still holding it in the position in which he had received it from coffee. the whole of the contents entered the negro's body, and he dropped dead on his face. the negroes, who had formed in a crescent, now in their turn fired a volley, which brought mr. edmonstone and his two indian chiefs to the ground. the maroons did not stand to reload, but, on mr. edmonstone's party coming up, they fled precipitately into the surrounding forest. four slugs had entered mr. edmonstone's body. after coming to himself, on looking around he saw one of the fallen indian chiefs bleeding by his side. he accosted him by name and said he hoped he was not much hurt. the dying indian had just strength enough to answer, "oh no,"--and then expired. the other chief was lying quite dead. he must have received his mortal wound just as he was in the act of cocking his gun to fire on the negroes; for it appeared that the ball which gave him his death-wound had carried off the first joint of his thumb and passed through his forehead. by this time his wife, who had accompanied the expedition, came up. she was a fine young woman, and had her long black hair fancifully braided in a knot on the top of her head, fastened with a silver ornament. she unloosed it, and, falling on her husband's body, covered it with her hair, bewailing his untimely end with the most heart-rending cries. the blood was now running out of mr. edmonstone's shoes. on being raised up, he ordered his men to pursue the flying maroons, requesting at the same time that he might be left where he had fallen, as he felt that he was mortally wounded. they gently placed him on the ground, and, after the pursuit of the maroons had ended, the corporal and sergeant returned to their commander and formed their men. on his asking what this meant, the sergeant replied, "i had the general's orders, on setting out from town, not to leave you in the forest, happen what might." by slow and careful marches, as much as the obstructions in the woods would admit of, the party reached plantation alliance, on the bank of the demerara, and from thence it crossed the river to plantation vredestein. the news of the rencounter had been spread far and wide by the indians, and had already reached town. the general, captains macrai and johnstone and doctor dunkin proceeded to vredestein. on examining mr. edmonstone's wounds, four slugs were found to have entered the body: one was extracted, the rest remained there till the year 1824, when another was cut out by a professional gentleman of port glasgow. the other two still remain in the body; and it is supposed that either one or both have touched a nerve, as they cause almost continual pain. mr. edmonstone has commanded fifteen different expeditions in the forest in quest of the maroons. the colonial government has requited his services by freeing his property from all taxes and presenting him a handsome sword and a silver urn, bearing the following inscription: presented to charles edmonstone, esq., by the governor and court of policy of the colony of demerara, as a token of their esteem and the deep sense they entertain of the very great activity and spirit manifested by him, on various occasions, in his successful exertions for the internal security of the colony. --_january 1st, 1809_. i do not believe that there is a single indian in _ci-devant_ dutch guiana who can read or write, nor am i aware that any white man has reduced their language to the rules of grammar; some may have made a short manuscript vocabulary of the few necessary words, but that is all. here and there a white man, and some few people of colour, talk the language well. the temper of the indian of guiana is mild and gentle, and he is very fond of his children. some ignorant travellers and colonists call these indians a lazy race. man in general will not be active without an object. now when the indian has caught plenty of fish, and killed game enough to last him for a week, what need has he to range the forest? he has no idea of making pleasure-grounds. money is of no use to him, for in these wilds there are no markets for him to frequent, nor milliners' shops for his wife and daughters; he has no taxes to pay, no highways to keep up, no poor to maintain, nor army nor navy to supply; he lies in his hammock both night and day (for he has no chair or bed, neither does he want them), and in it he forms his bow and makes his arrows and repairs his fishing-tackle. but as soon as he has consumed his provisions, he then rouses himself and, like the lion, scours the forest in quest of food. he plunges into the river after the deer and tapir, and swims across it; passes through swamps and quagmires, and never fails to obtain a sufficient supply of food. should the approach of night stop his career while he is hunting the wild boar, he stops for the night and continues the chase the next morning. in my way through the wilds to the portuguese frontier i had a proof of this: we were eight in number, six indians, a negro and myself. about ten o'clock in the morning we observed the feet-mark of the wild boars; we judged by the freshness of the marks that they had passed that way early the same morning. as we were not gifted, like the hound, with scent, and as we had no dog with us, we followed their track by the eye. the indian after game is as sure with his eye as the dog is with his nose. we followed the herd till three in the afternoon, then gave up the chase for the present, made our fires close to a creek where there was plenty of fish, and then arranged the hammocks. in an hour the indians shot more fish with their arrows than we could consume. the night was beautifully serene and clear, and the moon shone as bright as day. next morn we rose at dawn, got breakfast, packed up, each took his burden, and then we put ourselves on the track of the wild boars which we had been following the day before. we supposed that they too would sleep that night in the forest, as we had done; and thus the delay on our part would be no disadvantage to us. this was just the case, for about nine o'clock their feet-marks became fresher and fresher: we now doubled, our pace, but did not give mouth like hounds. we pushed on in silence, and soon came up with them: there were above one hundred of them. we killed six and the rest took off in different directions. but to the point. amongst us the needy man works from light to dark for a maintenance. should this man chance to acquire a fortune, he soon changes his habits. no longer under "strong necessity's supreme command," he contrives to get out of bed betwixt nine and ten in the morning. his servant helps him to dress, he walks on a soft carpet to his breakfast-table, his wife pours out his tea, and his servant hands him his toast. after breakfast the doctor advises a little gentle exercise in the carriage for an hour or so. at dinner-time he sits down to a table groaning beneath the weight of heterogeneous luxury: there he rests upon a chair for three or four hours, eats, drinks and talks (often unmeaningly) till tea is announced. he proceeds slowly to the drawing-room, and there spends best part of his time in sitting, till his wife tempts him with something warm for supper. after supper he still remains on his chair at rest till he retires to rest for the night. he mounts leisurely upstairs upon a carpet, and enters his bedroom: there, one would hope that at least he mutters a prayer or two, though perhaps not on bended knee. he then lets himself drop in to a soft and downy bed, over which has just passed the comely jenny's warming-pan. now, could the indian in his turn see this, he would call the white men a lazy, indolent set. perhaps, then, upon due reflection you would draw this conclusion: that men will always be indolent where there is no object to rouse them. as the indian of guiana has no idea whatever of communicating his intentions by writing, he has fallen upon a plan of communication sure and simple. when two or three families have determined to come down the river and pay you a visit, they send an indian beforehand with a string of beads. you take one bead off every day, and on the day that the string is beadless they arrive at your house. in finding their way through these pathless wilds the sun is to them what ariadne's clue was to theseus. when he is on the meridian they generally sit down, and rove onwards again as soon as he has sufficiently declined to the west; they require no other compass. when in chase, they break a twig on the bushes as they pass by, every three or four hundred paces, and this often prevents them from losing their way on their return. you will not be long in the forests of guiana before you perceive how very thinly they are inhabited. you may wander for a week together without seeing a hut. the wild beasts, snakes, the swamps, the trees, the uncurbed luxuriance of everything around you conspire to inform you that man has no habitation here--man has seldom passed this way. let us now return to natural history. there was a person making shingles with twenty or thirty negroes not far from mibiri hill. i had offered a reward to any of them who would find a good-sized snake in the forest and come and let me know where it was. often had these negroes looked for a large snake, and as often been disappointed. one sunday morning i met one of them in the forest, and asked him which way he was going: he said he was going towards waratilla creek to hunt an armadillo; and he had his little dog with him. on coming back, about noon, the dog began to bark at the root of a large tree which had been upset by the whirlwind and was lying there in a gradual state of decay. the negro said he thought his dog was barking at an acouri which had probably taken refuge under the tree, and he went up with an intention to kill it; he there saw a snake, and hastened back to inform me of it. the sun had just passed the meridian in a cloudless sky; there was scarcely a bird to be seen, for the winged inhabitants of the forest, as though overcome by heat, had retired to the thickest shade: all would have been like midnight silence were it not for the shrill voice of the pi-pi-yo, every now and then resounded from a distant tree. i was sitting with a little horace in my hand, on what had once been the steps which formerly led up to the now mouldering and dismantled building. the negro and his little dog came down the hill in haste, and i was soon informed that a snake had been discovered; but it was a young one, called the bush-master, a rare and poisonous snake. i instantly rose up, and laying hold of the eight-foot lance which was close by me, "well, then, daddy," said i, "we'll go and have a look at the snake." i was barefoot, with an old hat, and check shirt, and trousers on, and a pair of braces to keep them up. the negro had his cutlass, and as we ascended the hill another negro, armed with a cutlass, joined us, judging from our pace that there was something to do. the little dog came along with us, and when we had got about half a mile in the forest the negro stopped and pointed to the fallen tree: all was still and silent. i told the negroes not to stir from the place where they were, and keep the little dog in, and that i would go in and reconnoitre. i advanced up to the place slow and cautious. the snake was well concealed, but at last i made him out; it was a coulacanara, not poisonous, but large enough to have crushed any of us to death. on measuring him afterwards he was something more than fourteen feet long. this species of snake is very rare, and much thicker in proportion to his length than any other snake in the forest. a coulacanara of fourteen feet in length is as thick as a common boa of twenty-four. after skinning this snake i could easily get my head into his mouth, as the singular formation of the jaws admits of wonderful extension. a dutch friend of mine, by name brouwer, killed a boa twenty-two feet long with a pair of stag's horns in his mouth. he had swallowed the stag, but could not get the horns down; so he had to wait in patience with that uncomfortable mouthful till his stomach digested the body, and then the horns would drop out. in this plight the dutchman found him as he was going in his canoe up the river, and sent a ball through his head. on ascertaining the size of the serpent which the negro had just found, i retired slowly the way i came, and promised four dollars to the negro who had shown it to me, and one to the other who had joined us. aware that the day was on the decline, and that the approach of night would be detrimental to the dissection, a thought struck me that i could take him alive. i imagined if i could strike him with the lance behind the head, and pin him to the ground, i might succeed in capturing him. when i told this to the negroes they begged and entreated me to let them go for a gun and bring more force, as they were sure the snake would kill some of us. i had been at the siege of troy for nine years, and it would not do now to carry back to greece "nil decimo nisi dedecus anno." i mean i had been in search of a large serpent for years, and now having come up with one it did not become me to turn soft. so, taking a cutlass from one of the negroes, and then ranging both the sable slaves behind me, i told them to follow me, and that i would cut them down if they offered to fly. i smiled as i said this, but they shook their heads in silence and seemed to have but a bad heart of it. when we got up to the place the serpent had not stirred, but i could see nothing of his head, and i judged by the folds of his body that it must be at the farthest side of his den. a species of woodbine had formed a complete mantle over the branches of the fallen tree, almost impervious to the rain or the rays of the sun. probably he had resorted to this sequestered place for a length of time, as it bore marks of an ancient settlement. i now took my knife, determining to cut away the woodbine and break the twigs in the gentlest manner possible, till i could get a view of his head. one negro stood guard close behind me with the lance; and near him the other with a cutlass. the cutlass which i had taken from the first negro was on the ground close by me in case of need. after working in dead silence for a quarter of an hour, with one knee all the time on the ground, i had cleared away enough to see his head. it appeared coming out betwixt the first and second coil of his body, and was flat on the ground. this was the very position i wished it to be in. i rose in silence and retreated very slowly, making a sign to the negroes to do the same. the dog was sitting at a distance in mute observance. i could now read in the face of the negroes that they considered this as a very unpleasant affair; and they made another attempt to persuade me to let them go for a gun. i smiled in a good-natured manner, and made a feint to cut them down with the weapon i had in my hand. this was all the answer i made to their request, and they looked very uneasy. it must be observed we were now about twenty yards from the snake's den. i now ranged the negroes behind me, and told him who stood next to me to lay hold of the lance the moment i struck the snake, and that the other must attend my movements. it now only remained to take their cutlasses from them, for i was sure if i did not disarm them they would be tempted to strike the snake in time of danger, and thus for ever spoil his skin. on taking their cutlasses from them, if i might judge from their physiognomy, they seemed to consider it as a most intolerable act of tyranny in me. probably nothing kept them from bolting but the consolation that i was to be betwixt them and the snake. indeed, my own heart, in spite of all i could do, beat quicker than usual; and i felt those sensations which one has on board a merchant-vessel in war-time, when the captain orders all hands on deck to prepare for action, while a strange vessel is coming down upon us under suspicious colours. we went slowly on in silence without moving our arms or heads, in order to prevent all alarm as much as possible, lest the snake should glide off or attack us in self-defence. i carried the lance perpendicularly before me, with the point about a foot from the ground. the snake had not moved; and on getting up to him i struck him with the lance on the near-side, just behind the neck, and pinned him to the ground. that moment the negro next to me seized the lance and held it firm in its place, while i dashed head foremost into the den to grapple with the snake and to get hold of his tail before he could do any mischief. on pinning him to the ground with the lance he gave a tremendous loud hiss, and the little dog ran away, howling as he went. we had a sharp fray in the den, the rotten sticks flying on all sides, and each party struggling for superiority. i called out to the second negro to throw himself upon me, as i found i was not heavy enough. he did so, and the additional weight was of great service. i had now got firm hold of his tail; and after a violent struggle or two he gave in, finding himself overpowered. this was the moment to secure him. so while the first negro continued to hold the lance firm to the ground, and the other was helping me, i contrived to unloose my braces and with them tied up the snake's mouth. the snake, now finding himself in an unpleasant situation, tried to better himself, and set resolutely to work, but we overpowered him. we contrived to make him twist himself round the shaft of the lance, and then prepared to convey him out of the forest. i stood at his head and held it firm under my arm, one negro supported the belly and the other the tail. in this order we began to move slowly towards home, and reached it after resting ten times: for the snake was too heavy for us to support him without stopping to recruit our strength. as we proceeded onwards with him he fought hard for freedom, but it was all in vain. the day was now too far spent to think of dissecting him. had i killed him, a partial putrefaction would have taken place before morning. i had brought with me up into the forest a strong bag large enough to contain any animal that i should want to dissect. i considered this the best mode of keeping live wild animals when i was pressed for daylight; for the bag yielding in every direction to their efforts, they would have nothing solid or fixed to work on, and thus would be prevented from making a hole through it. i say fixed, for after the mouth of the bag was closed the bag itself was not fastened or tied to anything, but moved about wherever the animal inside caused it to roll. after securing afresh the mouth of the coulacanara, so that he could not open it, he was forced into this bag and left to his fate till morning. i cannot say he allowed me to have a quiet night. my hammock was in the loft just above him, and the floor betwixt us half gone to decay, so that in parts of it no boards intervened betwixt his lodging-room and mine. he was very restless and fretful; and had medusa been my wife, there could not have been more continued and disagreeable hissing in the bed-chamber that night. at daybreak i sent to borrow ten of the negroes who were cutting wood at a distance; i could have done with half that number, but judged it most prudent to have a good force, in case he should try to escape from the house when we opened the bag. however, nothing serious occurred. we untied the mouth of the bag, kept him down by main force, and then i cut his throat. he bled like an ox. by six o'clock the same evening he was completely dissected. on examining his teeth i observed that they were all bent like tenter-hooks, pointing down his throat, and not so large or strong as i expected to have found them; but they are exactly suited to what they are intended by nature to perform. the snake does not masticate his food, and thus the only service his teeth have to perform is to seize his prey and hold it till he swallows it whole. in general, the skins of snakes are sent to museums without the head: for when the indians and negroes kill a snake they seldom fail to cut off the head, and then they run no risk from its teeth. when the skin is stuffed in the museum a wooden head is substituted, armed with teeth which are large enough to suit a tiger's jaw; and this tends to mislead the spectator and give him erroneous ideas. during this fray with the serpent the old negro, daddy quashi, was in georgetown procuring provisions, and just returned in time to help to take the skin off. he had spent best part of his life in the forest with his old master, mr. edmonstone, and amused me much in recounting their many adventures amongst the wild beasts. the daddy had a particular horror of snakes, and frankly declared he could never have faced the one in question. the week following his courage was put to the test, and he made good his words. it was a curious conflict, and took place near the spot where i had captured the large snake. in the morning i had been following a new species of paroquet, and, the day being rainy, i had taken an umbrella to keep the gun dry, and had left it under a tree; in the afternoon i took daddy quashi with me to look for it. whilst he was searching about, curiosity took me towards the place of the late scene of action. there was a path where timber had formerly been dragged along. here i observed a young coulacanara, ten feet long, slowly moving onwards. i saw he was not thick enough to break my arm, in case he got twisted round it. there was not a moment to be lost. i laid hold of his tail with the left hand, one knee being on the ground; with the right i took off my hat, and held it as you would hold a shield for defence. the snake instantly turned and came on at me, with his head about a yard from the ground, as if to ask me what business i had to take liberties with his tail. i let him come, hissing and open-mouthed, within two feet of my face, and then with all the force i was master of i drove my fist, shielded by my hat, full in his jaws. he was stunned and confounded by the blow, and ere he could recover himself i had seized his throat with both hands in such a position that he could not bite me. i then allowed him to coil himself round my body, and marched off with him as my lawful prize. he pressed me hard, but not alarmingly so. in the meantime daddy quashi, having found the umbrella and having heard the noise which the fray occasioned, was coming cautiously up. as soon as he saw me and in what company i was, he turned about and ran off home, i after him, and shouting to increase his fear. on scolding him for his cowardice, the old rogue begged that i would forgive him, for that the sight of the snake had positively turned him sick at stomach. when i had done with the carcass of the large snake it was conveyed into the forest, as i expected that it would attract the king of the vultures as soon as time should have rendered it sufficiently savoury. in a few days it sent forth that odour which a carcass should send forth, and about twenty of the common vultures came and perched on the neighbouring trees. the king of the vultures came, too; and i observed that none of the common ones seemed inclined to begin breakfast till his majesty had finished. when he had consumed as much snake as nature informed him would do him good, he retired to the top of a high mora-tree, and then all the common vultures fell to and made a hearty meal. the head and neck of the king of the vultures are bare of feathers; but the beautiful appearance they exhibit fades in death. the throat and the back of the neck are of a fine lemon colour; both sides of the neck, from the ears downwards, of a rich scarlet; behind the corrugated part there is a white spot. the crown of the head is scarlet; betwixt the lower mandible and the eye and close by the ear there is a part which has a fine silvery-blue appearance; the corrugated part is of a dirty light brown; behind it and just above the white spot a portion of the skin is blue, and the rest scarlet; the skin which juts out behind the neck, and appears like an oblong caruncle, is blue in part and part orange. the bill is orange and black, the caruncles on his forehead orange, and the cere orange; the orbits scarlet, and the irides white. below the bare part of the neck there is a cinereous ruff. the bag of the stomach, which is only seen when distended with food, is of a most delicate white, intersected with blue veins, which appear on it just like the blue veins on the arm of a fair-complexioned person. the tail and long wing-feathers are black, the belly white, and the rest of the body a fine satin colour. i cannot be persuaded that the vultures ever feed upon live animals, not even upon lizards, rats, mice or frogs. i have watched them for hours together, but never could see them touch any living animals, though innumerable lizards, frogs and small birds swarmed all around them. i have killed lizards and frogs, and put them in a proper place for observation; as soon as they began to stink the aura vulture invariably came and took them off. i have frequently observed that the day after the planter had burnt the trash in a cane-field the aura vulture was sure to be there, feeding on the snakes, lizards and frogs which had suffered in the conflagration. i often saw a large bird (very much like the common gregarious vulture, at a distance) catch and devour lizards; after shooting one it turned out to be not a vulture but a hawk, with a tail squarer and shorter than hawks have in general. the vultures, like the goat-sucker and woodpecker, seem to be in disgrace with man. they are generally termed a voracious, stinking, cruel and ignoble tribe. under these impressions the fowler discharges his gun at them, and probably thinks he has done well in ridding the earth of such vermin. some governments impose a fine on him who kills a vulture. this is a salutary law, and it were to be wished that other governments would follow so good an example. i would fain here say a word or two in favour of this valuable scavenger. kind providence has conferred a blessing on hot countries in giving them the vulture; he has ordered it to consume that which, if left to dissolve in putrefaction, would infect the air and produce a pestilence. when full of food the vulture certainly appears an indolent bird; he will stand for hours together on the branch of a tree, or on the top of a house, with his wings drooping, and, after rain, with them spread and elevated to catch the rays of the sun. it has been remarked by naturalists that the flight of this bird is laborious. i have paid attention to the vulture in andalusia and to those in guiana, brazil, and the west indies, and conclude that they are birds of long, even and lofty flight. indeed, whoever has observed the aura vulture will be satisfied that his flight is wonderfully majestic and of long continuance. this bird is above five feet from wing to wing extended. you will see it soaring aloft in the aerial expanse on pinions which never flutter, and which at the same time carry him through the fields of ether with a rapidity equal to that of the golden eagle. in paramaribo the laws protect the vulture, and the spaniards of angustura never think of molesting him. in 1808 i saw the vultures in that city as tame as domestic fowls; a person who had never seen a vulture would have taken them for turkeys. they were very useful to the spaniards. had it not been for them, the refuse of the slaughter-houses in angustura would have caused an intolerable nuisance. the common black, short, square-tailed vulture is gregarious, but the aura vulture is not so; for though you may see fifteen or twenty of them feeding on the dead vermin in a cane-field, after the trash has been set fire to, still, if you have paid attention to their arrival, you will have observed that they came singly and retired singly; and thus their being altogether in the same field was merely accidental and caused by each one smelling the effluvia as he was soaring through the sky to look out for food. i have watched twenty come into a cane-field; they arrived one by one, and from different parts of the heavens. hence we may conclude that, though the other species of vulture are gregarious, the aura vulture is not. if you dissect a vulture that has just been feeding on carrion, you must expect that your olfactory nerves will be somewhat offended with the rank effluvia from his craw; just as they would be were you to dissect a citizen after the lord mayor's dinner. if, on the contrary, the vulture be empty at the time you commence the operation, there will be no offensive smell, but a strong scent of musk. i had long wished to examine the native haunts of the cayman, but as the river demerara did not afford a specimen of the large kind, i was obliged to go to the river essequibo to look for one. i got the canoe ready, and went down in it to georgetown, where, having put in the necessary articles for the expedition, not forgetting a couple of large shark-hooks with chains attached to them, and a coil of strong new rope, i hoisted a little sail which i had got made on purpose, and at six o'clock in the morning shaped our course for the river essequibo. i had put a pair of shoes on to prevent the tar at the bottom of the canoe from sticking to my feet. the sun was flaming hot, and from eleven o'clock till two beat perpendicularly upon the top of my feet, betwixt the shoes and the trousers. not feeling it disagreeable, or being in the least aware of painful consequences, as i had been barefoot for months, i neglected to put on a pair of short stockings which i had with me. i did not reflect that sitting still in one place, with your feet exposed to the sun, was very different from being exposed to the sun while in motion. we went ashore in the essequibo about three o'clock in the afternoon, to choose a place for the night's residence, to collect firewood, and to set the fish-hooks. it was then that i first began to find my legs very painful: they soon became much inflamed and red and blistered; and it required considerable caution not to burst the blisters, otherwise sores would have ensued. i immediately got into the hammock, and there passed a painful and sleepless night, and for two days after i was disabled from walking. about midnight, as i was lying awake and in great pain, i heard the indian say, "massa, massa, you no hear tiger?" i listened attentively, and heard the softly sounding tread of his feet as he approached us. the moon had gone down, but every now and then we could get a glance of him by the light of our fire. he was the jaguar, for i could see the spots on his body. had i wished to have fired at him i was not able to take a sure aim, for i was in such pain that i could not turn myself in my hammock. the indian would have fired, but i would not allow him to do so, as i wanted to see a little more of our new visitor, for it is not every day or night that the traveller is favoured with an undisturbed sight of the jaguar in his own forests. whenever the fire got low the jaguar came a little nearer, and when the indian renewed it he retired abruptly. sometimes he would come within twenty yards, and then we had a view of him sitting on his hind-legs like a dog; sometimes he moved slowly to and fro, and at other times we could hear him mend his pace, as if impatient. at last the indian, not relishing the idea of having such company in the neighbourhood, could contain himself no longer, and set up a most tremendous yell. the jaguar bounded off like a racehorse, and returned no more. it appeared by the print of his feet the next morning that he was a full-grown jaguar. in two days after this we got to the first falls in the essequibo. there was a superb barrier of rocks quite across the river. in the rainy season these rocks are for the most part under water, but it being now dry weather we had a fine view of them, while the water from the river above them rushed through the different openings in majestic grandeur. here, on a little hill jutting out into the river, stands the house of mrs. peterson, the last house of people of colour up this river. i hired a negro from her and a coloured man who pretended that they knew the haunts of the cayman and understood everything about taking him. we were a day in passing these falls and rapids, celebrated for the pacou, the richest and most delicious fish in guiana. the coloured man was now in his element: he stood in the head of the canoe, and with his bow and arrow shot the pacou as they were swimming in the stream. the arrow had scarcely left the bow before he had plunged headlong into the river and seized the fish as it was struggling with it. he dived and swam like an otter, and rarely missed the fish he aimed at. did my pen, gentle reader, possess descriptive powers, i would here give thee an idea of the enchanting scenery of the essequibo; but that not being the case, thou must be contented with a moderate and well-intended attempt. nothing could be more lovely than the appearance of the forest on each side of this noble river. hills rose on hills in fine gradation, all covered with trees of gigantic height and size. here their leaves were of a lively purple, and there of the deepest green. sometimes the caracara extended its scarlet blossoms from branch to branch, and gave the tree the appearance as though it had been hung with garlands. this delightful scenery of the essequibo made the soul overflow with joy, and caused you to rove in fancy through fairyland; till, on turning an angle of the river, you were recalled to more sober reflections on seeing the once grand and towering mora now dead and ragged in its topmost branches, while its aged trunk, undermined by the rushing torrent, hung as though in sorrow over the river, which ere long would receive it and sweep it away for ever. during the day the trade-wind blew a gentle and refreshing breeze, which died away as the night set in, and then the river was as smooth as glass. the moon was within three days of being full, so that we did not regret the loss of the sun, which set in all its splendour. scarce had he sunk behind the western hills when the goat-suckers sent forth their soft and plaintive cries; some often repeating, "who are you--who, who, who are you?" and others "willy, willy, willy come go." the indian and daddy quashi often shook their head at this, and said they were bringing talk from yabahou, who is the evil spirit of the essequibo. it was delightful to sit on the branch of a fallen tree near the water's edge and listen to these harmless birds as they repeated their evening song; and watch the owls and vampires as they every now and then passed up and down the river. the next day, about noon, as we were proceeding onwards, we heard the campanero tolling in the depth of the forest. though i should not then have stopped to dissect even a rare bird, having a greater object in view, still i could not resist the opportunity offered of acquiring the campanero. the place where he was tolling was low and swampy, and my legs not having quite recovered from the effects of the sun, i sent the indian to shoot the campanero. he got up to the tree, which he described as very high, with a naked top, and situated in a swamp. he fired at the bird, but either missed it or did not wound it sufficiently to bring it down. this was the only opportunity i had of getting a campanero during this expedition. we had never heard one toll before this morning, and never heard one after. about an hour before sunset we reached the place which the two men who had joined us at the falls pointed out as a proper one to find a cayman. there was a large creek close by and a sandbank gently sloping to the water. just within the forest, on this bank, we cleared a place of brushwood, suspended the hammocks from the trees, and then picked up enough of decayed wood for fuel. the indian found a large land-tortoise, and this, with plenty of fresh fish which we had in the canoe, afforded a supper not to be despised. the tigers had kept up a continual roaring every night since we had entered the essequibo. the sound was awfully fine. sometimes it was in the immediate neighbourhood; at other times it was far off, and echoed amongst the hills like distant thunder. it may, perhaps, not be amiss to observe here that when the word tiger is used it does not mean the bengal tiger. it means the jaguar, whose skin is beautifully spotted, and not striped like that of the tiger in the east. it is, in fact, the tiger of the new world, and receiving the name of tiger from the discoverers of south america it has kept it ever since. it is a cruel, strong and dangerous beast, but not so courageous as the bengal tiger. we now baited a shark-hook with a large fish, and put it upon a board about a yard long and one foot broad which we had brought on purpose. this board was carried out in the canoe, about forty yards into the river. by means of a string long enough to reach the bottom of the river, and at the end of which string was fastened a stone, the board was kept, as it were, at anchor. one end of the new rope i had bought in town was reeved through the chain of the shark-hook and the other end fastened to a tree on the sandbank. it was now an hour after sunset. the sky was cloudless, and the moon shone beautifully bright. there was not a breath of wind in the heavens, and the river seemed like a large plain of quicksilver. every now and then a huge fish would strike and plunge in the water; then the owls and goat-suckers would continue their lamentations, and the sound of these was lost in the prowling tiger's growl. then all was still again and silent as midnight. the caymen were now upon the stir, and at intervals their noise could be distinguished amid that of the jaguar, the owls, the goat-suckers and frogs. it was a singular and awful sound. it was like a suppressed sigh bursting forth all of a sudden, and so loud that you might hear it above a mile off. first one emitted this horrible noise, and then another answered him; and on looking at the countenances of the people round me i could plainly see that they expected to have a cayman that night. we were at supper when the indian, who seemed to have had one eye on the turtle-pot and the other on the bait in the river, said he saw the cayman coming. upon looking towards the place there appeared something on the water like a black log of wood. it was so unlike anything alive that i doubted if it were a cayman; but the indian smiled and said he was sure it was one, for he remembered seeing a cayman some years ago when he was in the essequibo. at last it gradually approached the bait, and the board began to move. the moon shone so bright that we could distinctly see him open his huge jaws and take in the bait. we pulled the rope. he immediately let drop the bait; and then we saw his black head retreating from the board to the distance of a few yards; and there it remained quite motionless. he did not seem inclined to advance again; and so we finished our supper. in about an hour's time he again put himself in motion, and took hold of the bait. but probably suspecting that he had to deal with knaves and cheats, he held it in his mouth but did not swallow it. we pulled the rope again, but with no better success than the first time. he retreated as usual, and came back again in about an hour. we paid him every attention till three o'clock in the morning, when, worn out with disappointment, we went to the hammocks, turned in and fell asleep. when day broke we found that he had contrived to get the bait from the hook, though we had tied it on with string. we had now no more hopes of taking a cayman till the return of night. the indian took off into the woods and brought back a noble supply of game. the rest of us went into the canoe and proceeded up the river to shoot fish. we got even more than we could use. as we approached the shallows we could see the large sting-rays moving at the bottom. the coloured man never failed to hit them with his arrow. the weather was delightful. there was scarcely a cloud to intercept the sun's rays. i saw several scarlet aras, anhingas and ducks, but could not get a shot at them. the parrots crossed the river in innumerable quantities, always flying in pairs. here, too, i saw the sun-bird, called tirana by the spaniards in the oroonoque, and shot one of them. the black and white scarlet-headed finch was very common here. i could never see this bird in the demerara, nor hear of its being there. we at last came to a large sandbank, probably two miles in circumference. as we approached it we could see two or three hundred fresh-water turtle on the edge of the bank. ere we could get near enough to let fly an arrow at them they had all sunk into the river and appeared no more. we went on the sandbank to look for their nests, as this was the breeding-season. the coloured man showed us how to find them. wherever a portion of the sand seemed smoother than the rest there was sure to be a turtle's nest. on digging down with our hands about nine inches deep we found from twenty to thirty white eggs; in less than an hour we got above two hundred. those which had a little black spot or two on the shell we ate the same day, as it was a sign that they were not fresh, and of course would not keep; those which had no speck were put into dry sand, and were good some weeks after. at midnight two of our people went to this sandbank while the rest stayed to watch the cayman. the turtle had advanced on to the sand to lay their eggs, and the men got betwixt them and the water; they brought off half a dozen very fine and well-fed turtle. the eggshell of the fresh-water turtle is not hard like that of the land-tortoise, but appears like white parchment, and gives way to the pressure of the fingers; but it is very tough, and does not break. on this sandbank, close to the forest, we found several guana's nests; but they had never more than fourteen eggs apiece. thus passed the day in exercise and knowledge, till the sun's declining orb reminded us it was time to return to the place from whence we had set out. the second night's attempt upon the cayman was a repetition of the first, quite unsuccessful. we went a-fishing the day after, had excellent sport, and returned to experience a third night's disappointment. on the fourth evening, about four o'clock, we began to erect a stage amongst the trees close to the water's edge. from this we intended to shoot an arrow into the cayman: at the end of this arrow was to be attached a string which would be tied to the rope, and as soon as the cayman was struck we were to have the canoe ready and pursue him in the river. while we were busy in preparing the stage a tiger began to roar. we judged by the sound that he was not above a quarter of a mile from us, and that he was close to the side of the river. unfortunately the indian said it was not a jaguar that was roaring, but a couguar. the couguar is of a pale, brownish-red colour, and not as large as the jaguar. as there was nothing particular in this animal i thought it better to attend to the apparatus for catching the cayman than to go in quest of the couguar. the people, however, went in the canoe to the place where the couguar was roaring. on arriving near the spot they saw it was not a couguar, but an immense jaguar, standing on the trunk of an aged mora-tree which bended over the river; he growled and showed his teeth as they approached; the coloured man fired at him with a ball, but probably missed him, and the tiger instantly descended and took off into the woods. i went to the place before dark, and we searched the forest for about half a mile in the direction he had fled, but we could see no traces of him or any marks of blood; so i concluded that fear had prevented the man from taking steady aim. we spent best part of the fourth night in trying for the cayman, but all to no purpose. i was now convinced that something was materially wrong. we ought to have been successful, considering our vigilance and attention, and that we had repeatedly seen the cayman. it was useless to tarry here any longer; moreover, the coloured man began to take airs, and fancied that i could not do without him. i never admit of this in any expedition where i am commander; and so i convinced the man, to his sorrow, that i could do without him, for i paid him what i had agreed to give him, which amounted to eight dollars, and ordered him back in his own curial to mrs. peterson's, on the hill at the first falls. i then asked the negro if there were any indian settlements in the neighbourhood; he said he knew of one, a day and a half off. we went in quest of it, and about one o'clock the next day the negro showed us the creek where it was. the entrance was so concealed by thick bushes that a stranger would have passed it without knowing it to be a creek. in going up it we found it dark, winding, and intricate beyond any creek that i had ever seen before. when orpheus came back with his young wife from styx his path must have been similar to this, for ovid says it was arduus, obliquus, caligine densus opaca, and this creek was exactly so. when we had got about two-thirds up it we met the indians going a-fishing. i saw by the way their things were packed in the curial that they did not intend to return for some days. however, on telling them what we wanted, and by promising handsome presents of powder, shot and hooks, they dropped their expedition and invited us up to the settlement they had just left, and where we laid in a provision of cassava. they gave us for dinner boiled ant-bear and red monkey: two dishes unknown even at beauvilliers in paris or at a london city feast. the monkey was very good indeed, but the ant-bear had been kept beyond its time: it stunk as our venison does in england; and so, after tasting it, i preferred dining entirely on monkey. after resting here we went back to the river. the indians, three in number, accompanied us in their own curial, and, on entering the river, pointed to a place a little way above well calculated to harbour a cayman. the water was deep and still, and flanked by an immense sandbank; there was also a little shallow creek close by. on this sandbank, near the forest, the people made a shelter for the night. my own was already made, for i always take with me a painted sheet about twelve feet by ten. this thrown over a pole, supported betwixt two trees, makes you a capital roof with very little trouble. we showed one of the indians the shark-hook. he shook his head and laughed at it, and said it would not do. when he was a boy he had seen his father catch the caymen, and on the morrow he would make something that would answer. in the meantime we set the shark-hook, but it availed us naught: a cayman came and took it, but would not swallow it. seeing it was useless to attend the shark-hook any longer, we left it for the night and returned to our hammocks. ere i fell asleep a reflection or two broke in upon me. i considered that as far as the judgment of civilised man went, everything had been procured and done to ensure success. we had hooks and lines and baits and patience; we had spent nights in watching, had seen the cayman come and take the bait, and after our expectations had been wound up to the highest pitch all ended in disappointment. probably this poor wild man of the woods would succeed by means of a very simple process, and thus prove to his more civilised brother that, notwithstanding books and schools, there is a vast deal of knowledge to be picked up at every step, whichever way we turn ourselves. in the morning, as usual, we found the bait gone from the shark-hook. the indians went into the forest to hunt, and we took the canoe to shoot fish and get another supply of turtle's eggs, which we found in great abundance on this large sandbank. we went to the little shallow creek, and shot some young caymen about two feet long. it was astonishing to see what spite and rage these little things showed when the arrow struck them; they turned round and bit it: and snapped at us when we went into the water to take them up. daddy quashi boiled one of them for his dinner, and found it very sweet and tender. i do not see why it should not be as good as frog or veal. the day was now declining apace, and the indian had made his instrument to take the cayman. it was very simple. there were four pieces of tough, hardwood a foot long, and about as thick as your little finger, and barbed at both ends; they were tied round the end of the rope in such a manner that if you conceive the rope to be an arrow, these four sticks would form the arrow's head; so that one end of the four united sticks answered to the point of the arrowhead, while the other end of the sticks expanded at equal distances round the rope, thus: [illustration] now it is evident that, if the cayman swallowed this (the other end of the rope, which was thirty yards long, being fastened to a tree), the more he pulled the faster the barbs would stick into his stomach. this wooden hook, if you may so call it, was well-baited with the flesh of the acouri, and the entrails were twisted round the rope for about a foot above it. nearly a mile from where we had our hammocks the sandbank was steep and abrupt, and the river very still and deep; there the indian pricked a stick into the sand. it was two feet long, and on its extremity was fixed the machine: it hung suspended about a foot from the water, and the end of the rope was made fast to a stake driven well into the sand. the indian then took the empty shell of a land-tortoise and gave it some heavy blows with an axe. i asked why he did that. he said it was to let the cayman hear that something was going on. in fact, the indian meant it as the cayman's dinner-bell. [illustration: cayman bait] having done this we went back to the hammocks, not intending to visit it again till morning. during the night the jaguars roared and grumbled in the forest as though the world was going wrong with them, and at intervals we could hear the distant cayman. the roaring of the jaguars was awful, but it was music to the dismal noise of these hideous and malicious reptiles. about half-past five in the morning the indian stole off silently to take a look at the bait. on arriving at the place he set up a tremendous shout. we all jumped out of our hammocks and ran to him. the indians got there before me, for they had no clothes to put on, and i lost two minutes in looking for my trousers and in slipping into them. we found a cayman ten feet and a half long fast to the end of the rope. nothing now remained to do but to get him out of the water without injuring his scales: "hoc opus, hic labor." we mustered strong: there were three indians from the creek, there was my own indian yan, daddy quashi, the negro from mrs. peterson's, james, mr. r. edmonstone's man, whom i was instructing to preserve birds, and lastly myself. i informed the indians that it was my intention to draw him quietly out of the water and then secure him. they looked and stared at each other, and said i might do it myself, but they would have no hand in it; the cayman would worry some of us. on saying this, "consedere duces," they squatted on their hams with the most perfect indifference. the indians of these wilds have never been subject to the least restraint, and i knew enough of them to be aware that if i tried to force them against their will they would take off and leave me and my presents unheeded, and never return. daddy quashi was for applying to our guns, as usual, considering them our best and safest friends. i immediately offered to knock him down for his cowardice, and he shrunk back, begging that i would be cautious, and not get myself worried, and apologising for his own want of resolution. my indian was now in conversation with the others, and they asked if i would allow them to shoot a dozen arrows into him, and thus disable him. this would have ruined all. i had come above three hundred miles on purpose to get a cayman uninjured, and not to carry back a mutilated specimen. i rejected their proposition with firmness, and darted a disdainful eye upon the indians. daddy quashi was again beginning to remonstrate, and i chased him on the sandbank for a quarter of a mile. he told me afterwards he thought he should have dropped down dead with fright, for he was firmly persuaded if i had caught him i should have bundled him into the cayman's jaws. here, then, we stood in silence like a calm before a thunderstorm. "hoc res summa loco. scinditur in contraria vulgus." they wanted to kill him, and i wanted to take him alive. i now walked up and down the sand, revolving a dozen projects in my head. the canoe was at a considerable distance, and i ordered the people to bring it round to the place where we were. the mast was eight feet long, and not much thicker than my wrist. i took it out of the canoe and wrapped the sail round the end of it. now it appeared clear to me that, if i went down upon one knee and held the mast in the same position as the soldier holds his bayonet when rushing to the charge, i could force it down the cayman's throat should he come open-mouthed at me. when this was told to the indians they brightened up, and said they would help me to pull him out of the river. "brave squad!" said i to myself. "'audax omnia perpeti,' now that you have got me betwixt yourselves and danger." i then mustered all hands for the last time before the battle. we were four south american savages, two negroes from africa, a creole from trinidad, and myself a white man from yorkshire. in fact, a little tower of babel group, in dress, no dress, address, and language. daddy quashi hung in the rear. i showed him a large spanish knife which i always carried in the waistband of my trousers: it spoke volumes to him, and he shrugged up his shoulders in absolute despair. the sun was just peeping over the high forests on the eastern hills, as if coming to look on and bid us act with becoming fortitude. i placed all the people at the end of the rope, and ordered them to pull till the cayman appeared on the surface of the water, and then, should he plunge, to slacken the rope and let him go again into the deep. i now took the mast of the canoe in my hand (the sail being tied round the end of the mast) and sunk down upon one knee, about four yards from the water's edge, determining to thrust it down his throat in case he gave me an opportunity. i certainly felt somewhat uncomfortable in this situation, and i thought of cerberus on the other side of the styx ferry. the people pulled the cayman to the surface; he plunged furiously as soon as he arrived in these upper regions, and immediately went below again on their slackening the rope. i saw enough not to fall in love at first sight. i now told them we would run all risks and have him on land immediately. they pulled again, and out he came--"monstrum horrendum, informe." this was an interesting moment. i kept my position firmly, with my eye fixed steadfast on him. by the time the cayman was within two yards of me i saw he was in a state of fear and perturbation. i instantly dropped the mast, sprung up and jumped on his back, turning half round as i vaulted, so that i gained my seat with my face in a right position. i immediately seized his fore-legs, and by main force twisted them on his back; thus they served me for a bridle. he now seemed to have recovered from his surprise, and probably fancying himself in hostile company he began to plunge furiously, and lashed the sand with his long and powerful tail. i was out of reach of the strokes of it by being near his head. he continued to plunge and strike and made my seat very uncomfortable. it must have been a fine sight for an unoccupied spectator. the people roared out in triumph, and were so vociferous that it was some time before they heard me tell them to pull me and my beast of burden farther inland. i was apprehensive the rope might break, and then there would have been every chance of going down to the regions under water with the cayman. that would have been more perilous than arion's marine morning ride: delphini insidens vada cã¦rula sulcat arion. the people now dragged us above forty yards on the sand: it was the first and last time i was ever on a cayman's back. should it be asked how i managed to keep my seat, i would answer, i hunted some years with lord darlington's fox-hounds. after repeated attempts to regain his liberty the cayman gave in and became tranquil through exhaustion. i now managed to tie up his jaws and firmly secured his fore-feet in the position i had held them. we had now another severe struggle for superiority, but he was soon overcome and again remained quiet. while some of the people were pressing upon his head and shoulders i threw myself on his tail, and by keeping it down to the sand prevented him from kicking up another dust. he was finally conveyed to the canoe, and then to the place where we had suspended our hammocks. there i cut his throat; and after breakfast was over commenced the dissection. now that the affray had ceased, daddy ouashi played a good finger and thumb at breakfast: he said he found himself much revived, and became very talkative and useful, as there was no longer any danger. he was a faithful, honest negro. his master, my worthy friend mr. edmonstone, had been so obliging as to send out particular orders to the colony that the daddy should attend me all the time i was in the forest. he had lived in the wilds of demerara with mr. edmonstone for many years, and often amused me with the account of the frays his master had had in the woods with snakes, wild beasts and runaway negroes. old age was now coming fast upon him; he had been an able fellow in his younger days, and a gallant one, too, for he had a large scar over his eyebrow caused by the stroke of a cutlass from another negro while the daddy was engaged in an intrigue. the back of the cayman may be said to be almost impenetrable to a musket-ball, but his sides are not near so strong, and are easily pierced with an arrow; indeed, were they as strong as the back and the belly, there would be no part of the cayman's body soft and elastic enough to admit of expansion after taking in a supply of food. the cayman has no grinders; his teeth are entirely made for snatch and swallow: there are thirty-two in each jaw. perhaps no animal in existence bears more decided marks in his countenance of cruelty and malice than the cayman. he is the scourge and terror of all the large rivers in south america near the line. one sunday evening, some years ago, as i was walking with don felipe de ynciarte, governor of angustura, on the bank of the oroonoque, "stop here a minute or two, don carlos," said he to me, "while i recount a sad accident. one fine evening last year, as the people of angustura were sauntering up and down here in the alameda, i was within twenty yards of this place when i saw a large cayman rush out of the river, seize a man, and carry him down before anybody had it in his power to assist him. the screams of the poor fellow were terrible as the cayman was running off with him. he plunged into the river with his prey; we instantly lost sight of him, and never saw or heard him more." i was a day and a half in dissecting our cayman, and then we got all ready to return to demerara. it was much more perilous to descend than to ascend the falls in the essequibo. the place we had to pass had proved fatal to four indians about a month before. the water foamed and dashed and boiled amongst the steep and craggy rocks, and seemed to warn us to be careful how we ventured there. i was for all hands to get out of the canoe, and then, after lashing a long rope ahead and astern, we might have climbed from rock to rock and tempered her in her passage down, and our getting out would have lightened her much. but the negro who had joined us at mrs. peterson's said he was sure it would be safer to stay in the canoe while she went down the fall. i was loath to give way to him, but i did so this time against my better judgment, as he assured me that he was accustomed to pass and repass these falls. accordingly we determined to push down: i was at the helm, the rest at their paddles. but before we got half-way through the rushing waters deprived the canoe of all power of steerage, and she became the sport of the torrent; in a second she was half-full of water, and i cannot comprehend to this day why she did not go down; luckily the people exerted themselves to the utmost, she got headway, and they pulled through the whirlpool: i being quite in the stern of the canoe, part of a wave struck me, and nearly knocked me overboard. we now paddled to some rocks at a distance, got out, unloaded the canoe and dried the cargo in the sun, which was very hot and powerful. had it been the wet season almost everything would have been spoiled. after this the voyage down the essequibo was quick and pleasant till we reached the sea-coast: there we had a trying day of it; the wind was dead against us, and the sun remarkably hot; we got twice aground upon a mud-flat, and were twice obliged to get out, up to the middle in mud, to shove the canoe through it. half-way betwixt the essequibo and demerara the tide of flood caught us, and, after the utmost exertions, it was half-past six in the evening before we got to georgetown. we had been out from six in the morning in an open canoe on the sea-coast, without umbrella or awning, exposed all day to the fiery rays of a tropical sun. my face smarted so that i could get no sleep during the night, and the next morning my lips were all in blisters. the indian yan went down to the essequibo a copper-colour, but the reflection of the sun from the sea and from the sandbanks in the river had turned him nearly black. he laughed at himself, and said the indians in the demerara would not know him again. i stayed one day in georgetown, and then set off the next morning for headquarters in mibiri creek, where i finished the cayman. here the remaining time was spent in collecting birds and in paying particular attention to their haunts and economy. the rainy season having set in, the weather became bad and stormy; the lightning and thunder were incessant; the days cloudy, and the nights cold and misty. i had now been eleven months in the forests, and collected some rare insects, two hundred and thirty birds, two land-tortoises, five armadillos, two large serpents, a sloth, an ant-bear and a cayman. i left the wilds and repaired to georgetown to spend a few days with mr. r. edmonstone previous to embarking for europe. i must here return my sincerest thanks to this worthy gentleman for his many kindnesses to me; his friendship was of the utmost service to me, and he never failed to send me supplies up into the forest by every opportunity. i embarked for england on board the _dee_, west-indiaman, commanded by captain grey. sir joseph banks had often told me he hoped that i would give a lecture in public on the new mode i had discovered of preparing specimens in natural history for museums. i always declined to do so, as i despaired of ever being able to hit upon a proper method of doing quadrupeds; and i was aware that it would have been an imperfect lecture to treat of birds only. i imparted what little knowledge i was master of at sir joseph's, to the unfortunate gentlemen who went to africa to explore the congo; and that was all that took place in the shape of a lecture. now that i had hit upon the way of doing quadrupeds, i drew up a little plan on board the _dee_, which i trusted would have been of service to naturalists, and by proving to them the superiority of the new plan they would probably be induced to abandon the old and common way, which is a disgrace to the present age, and renders hideous every specimen in every museum that i have as yet visited. i intended to have given three lectures: one on insects and serpents; one on birds; and one on quadrupeds. but, as it will be shortly seen, this little plan was doomed not to be unfolded to public view. illiberality blasted it in the bud. we had a pleasant passage across the atlantic, and arrived in the mersey in fine trim and good spirits. great was the attention i received from the commander of the _dee_. he and his mate, mr. spence, took every care of my collection. on our landing the gentlemen of the liverpool custom house received me as an old friend and acquaintance, and obligingly offered their services. twice before had i landed in liverpool, and twice had i reason to admire their conduct and liberality. they knew i was incapable of trying to introduce anything contraband, and they were aware that i never dreamed of turning to profit the specimens i had procured. they considered that i had left a comfortable home in quest of science; and that i had wandered into far-distant climes, and gone barefooted, ill-clothed and ill-fed, through swamps and woods, to procure specimens, some of which had never been seen in europe. they considered that it would be difficult to fix a price upon specimens which had never been bought or sold, and which never were to be, as they were intended to ornament my own house. it was hard, they said, to have exposed myself for years to danger, and then be obliged to pay on returning to my native land. under these considerations they fixed a moderate duty which satisfied all parties. however, this last expedition ended not so. it taught me how hard it is to learn the grand lesson, "ã¦quam memento rebus in arduis, servare mentem." but my good friends in the custom house of liverpool were not to blame. on the contrary, they did all in their power to procure balm for me instead of rue. but it would not answer. they appointed a very civil officer to attend me to the ship. while we were looking into some of the boxes to see that the specimens were properly stowed, previous to their being conveyed to the king's depã´t, another officer entered the cabin. he was an entire stranger to me, and seemed wonderfully aware of his own consequence. without preface or apology he thrust his head over my shoulder and said we had no business to have opened a single box without his permission. i answered they had been opened almost every day since they had come on board, and that i considered there was no harm in doing so. he then left the cabin, and i said to myself as he went out, i suspect i shall see that man again at philippi. the boxes, ten in number, were conveyed in safety from the ship to the depã´t. i then proceeded to the custom house. the necessary forms were gone through, and a proportionate duty, according to circumstances, was paid. this done, we returned from the custom house to the depã´t, accompanied by several gentlemen who wished to see the collection. they expressed themselves highly gratified. the boxes were closed, and nothing now remained but to convey them to the cart, which was in attendance at the door of the depã´t. just as one of the inferior officers was carrying a box thither, in stepped the man whom i suspected i should see again at philippi. he abruptly declared himself dissatisfied with the valuation which the gentlemen of the customs had put upon the collection, and said he must detain it. i remonstrated, but it was all in vain. after this pitiful stretch of power and bad compliment to the other officers of the customs, who had been satisfied with the valuation, this man had the folly to take me aside, and after assuring me that he had a great regard for the arts and sciences, he lamented that conscience obliged him to do what he had done, and he wished he had been fifty miles from liverpool at the time that it fell to his lot to detain the collection. had he looked in my face as he said this he would have seen no marks of credulity there. i now returned to the custom house, and after expressing my opinion of the officer's conduct at the depã´t, i pulled a bunch of keys (which belonged to the detained boxes) out of my pocket, laid them on the table, took my leave of the gentlemen present, and soon after set off for yorkshire. i saved nothing from the grasp of the stranger officer but a pair of live malay fowls, which a gentleman in georgetown had made me a present of. i had collected in the forest several eggs of curious birds in hopes of introducing the breed into england, and had taken great pains in doing them over with gum arabic, and in packing them in charcoal, according to a receipt i had seen in the gazette from the _edinburgh philosophical journal_. but these were detained in the depã´t, instead of being placed under a hen; which utterly ruined all my hopes of rearing a new species of birds in england. titled personages in london interested themselves in behalf of the collection, but all in vain. and vain also were the public and private representations of the first officer of the liverpool custom house in my favour. at last there came an order from the treasury to say that any specimens mr. waterton intended to present to public institutions might pass duty free; but those which he intended to keep for himself must pay the duty! a friend now wrote to me from liverpool requesting that i would come over and pay the duty in order to save the collection, which had just been detained there six weeks. i did so. on paying an additional duty (for the moderate duty first imposed had already been paid), the man who had detained the collection delivered it up to me, assuring me that it had been well taken care of, and that a fire had been frequently made in the room. it is but justice to add that on opening the boxes there was nothing injured. i could never get a clue to these harsh and unexpected measures, except that there had been some recent smuggling discovered in liverpool, and that the man in question had been sent down from london to act the part of argus. if so, i landed in an evil hour: "nefasto die," making good the spanish proverb, "pagan a las veces, justos por pecadores": at times the innocent suffer for the guilty. after all, a little encouragement, in the shape of exemption from paying the duty on this collection, might have been expected, but it turned out otherwise; and after expending large sums in pursuit of natural history, on my return home i was doomed to pay for my success: hic finis, caroli fatorum, hic exitus illum, sorte tulit! thus my fleece, already ragged and torn with the thorns and briers which one must naturally expect to find in distant and untrodden wilds, was shorn, i may say, on its return to england. however, this is nothing new. sancho panza must have heard of similar cases, for he says, "muchos van por lana, y vuelven trasquilados": many go for wool and come home shorn. in order to pick up matter for natural history i have wandered through the wildest parts of south america's equatorial regions. i have attacked and slain a modern python, and rode on the back of a cayman close to the water's edge; a very different situation from that of a hyde park dandy on his sunday prancer before the ladies. alone and barefoot i have pulled poisonous snakes out of their lurking-places; climbed up trees to peep into holes for bats and vampires, and for days together hastened through sun and rain to the thickest parts of the forest to procure specimens i had never got before. in fine, i have pursued the wild beasts over hill and dale, through swamps and quagmires, now scorched by the noon-day sun, now drenched by the pelting shower, and returned to the hammock to satisfy the cravings of hunger, often on a poor and scanty supper. these vicissitudes have turned to chestnut hue a once english complexion, and changed the colour of my hair before father time had meddled with it. the detention of the collection after it had fairly passed the customs, and the subsequent order from the treasury that i should pay duty for the specimens unless they were presented to some public institution, have cast a damp upon my energy, and forced, as it were, the cup of lethe to my lips, by drinking which i have forgot my former intention of giving a lecture in public on preparing specimens to adorn museums. in fine, it is this ungenerous treatment that has paralysed my plans, and caused me to give up the idea i once had of inserting here the newly-discovered mode of preparing quadrupeds and serpents; and without it the account of this last expedition to the wilds of guiana is nothing but a--fragment. farewell, gentle reader. * * * * * fourth journey nunc huc, nunc illuc et utrinque sine ordine curro. courteous reader, when i bade thee last farewell i thought these wanderings were brought to a final close; afterwards i often roved in imagination through distant countries famous for natural history, but felt no strong inclination to go thither, as the last adventure had terminated in such unexpected vexation. the departure of the cuckoo and swallow and summer birds of passage for warmer regions, once so interesting to me, now scarcely caused me to turn my face to the south; and i continued in this cold and dreary climate for three years. during this period i seldom or never mounted my hobby-horse; indeed, it may be said, with the old song, the saddle and bridle were laid on the shelf, and only taken down once, on the night that i was induced to give a lecture in the philosophical hall of leeds. a little after this wilson's _ornithology of the united states_ fell into my hands. the desire i had of seeing that country, together with the animated description which wilson had given of the birds, fanned up the almost-expiring flame. i forgot the vexations already alluded to, and set off for new york in the beautiful packet _john wells_, commanded by captain harris. the passage was long and cold, but the elegant accommodations on board and the polite attention of the commander rendered it very agreeable; and i landed in health and merriment in the stately capital of the new world. we will soon pen down a few remarks on this magnificent city, but not just now. i want to venture into the north-west country, and get to their great canal, which the world talks so much about, though i fear it will be hard work to make one's way through bugs, bears, brutes and buffaloes, which we europeans imagine are so frequent and ferocious in these never-ending western wilds. i left new york on a fine morning in july, without one letter of introduction, for the city of albany, some hundred and eighty miles up the celebrated hudson. i seldom care about letters of introduction, for i am one of those who depend much upon an accidental acquaintance. full many a face do i see as i go wandering up and down the world whose mild eye and sweet and placid features seem to beckon to me and say, as it were, "speak but civilly to me, and i will do what i can for you." such a face as this is worth more than a dozen letters of introduction; and such a face, gentle reader, i found on board the steamboat from new york to the city of albany. there was a great number of well-dressed ladies and gentlemen in the vessel, all entire strangers to me. i fancied i could see several whose countenances invited an unknown wanderer to come and take a seat beside them; but there was one who encouraged me more than the rest. i saw clearly that he was an american, and i judged by his manners and appearance that he had not spent all his time upon his native soil. i was right in this conjecture, for he afterwards told me that he had been in france and england. i saluted him as one stranger gentleman ought to salute another when he wants a little information; and soon after i dropped in a word or two by which he might conjecture that i was a foreigner, but i did not tell him so; i wished him to make the discovery himself. he entered into conversation with the openness and candour which is so remarkable in the american, and in a little time observed that he presumed i was from the old country. i told him that i was, and added that i was an entire stranger on board. i saw his eye brighten up at the prospect he had of doing a fellow-creature a kind turn or two, and he completely won my regard by an affability which i shall never forget. this obliging gentleman pointed out everything that was grand and interesting as the steamboat plied her course up the majestic hudson. here the catskill mountains raised their lofty summit; and there the hills came sloping down to the water's edge. here he pointed to an aged and venerable oak which, having escaped the levelling axe of man, seemed almost to defy the blasting storm and desolating hand of time; and there he bade me observe an extended tract of wood by which i might form an idea how rich and grand the face of the country had once been. here it was that, in the great and momentous struggle, the colonists lost the day; and there they carried all before them: they closed full fast, on every side no slackness there was found; and many a gallant gentleman lay gasping on the ground. here, in fine, stood a noted regiment; there moved their great captain; here the fleets fired their broadsides; and there the whole force rushed on to battle: hic dolopum manus, hic magnus tendebat achilles, classibus hic locus, hic acies certare solebat. at teatime we took our tea together, and the next morning this worthy american walked up with me to the inn in albany, shook me by the hand, and then went his way. i bade him farewell and again farewell, and hoped that fortune might bring us together again once more. possibly she may yet do so; and should it be in england, i will take him to my house as an old friend and acquaintance, and offer him my choicest cheer. it is at albany that the great canal opens into the hudson and joins the waters of this river to those of lake erie. the hudson, at the city of albany, is distant from lake erie about 360 miles. the level of the lake is 564 feet higher than the hudson, and there are eighty-one locks on the canal. it is to the genius and perseverance of de witt clinton that the united states owe the almost incalculable advantages of this inland navigation: "exegit monumentum ã¦re perennius." you may either go along it all the way to buffalo on lake erie or by the stage; or sometimes on one and then in the other, just as you think fit. grand indeed is the scenery by either route and capital the accommodations. cold and phlegmatic must he be who is not warmed into admiration by the surrounding scenery, and charmed with the affability of the travellers he meets on the way. this is now the season of roving and joy and merriment for the gentry of this happy country. thousands are on the move from different parts of the union for the springs and lakes and the falls of niagara. there is nothing haughty or forbidding in the americans; and wherever you meet them they appear to be quite at home. this is exactly what it ought to be, and very much in favour of the foreigner who journeys amongst them. the immense number of highly-polished females who go in the stages to visit the different places of amusement and see the stupendous natural curiosities of this extensive country incontestably proves that safety and convenience are ensured to them, and that the most distant attempt at rudeness would by common consent be immediately put down. by the time i had got to schenectady i began strongly to suspect that i had come into the wrong country to look for bugs, bears, brutes and buffaloes. it is an enchanting journey from albany to schenectady, and from thence to lake erie. the situation of the city of utica is particularly attractive: the mohawk running close by it, the fertile fields and woody mountains, and the falls of trenton forcibly press the stranger to stop a day or two here before he proceeds onward to the lake. at some far distant period, when it will not be possible to find the place where many of the celebrated cities of the east once stood, the world will have to thank the united states of america for bringing their names into the western regions. it is, indeed, a pretty thought of these people to give to their rising towns the names of places so famous and conspicuous in former times. as i was sitting one evening under an oak in the high grounds behind utica, i could not look down upon the city without thinking of cato and his misfortunes. had the town been called crofton, or warmfield, or dewsbury, there would have been nothing remarkable in it; but utica at once revived the scenes at school long past and half-forgotten, and carried me with full speed back again to italy, and from thence to africa. i crossed the rubicon with cã¦sar; fought at pharsalia; saw poor pompey into larissa, and tried to wrest the fatal sword from cato's hand in utica. when i perceived he was no more, i mourned over the noble-minded man who took that part which he thought would most benefit his country. there is something magnificent in the idea of a man taking by choice the conquered side. the roman gods themselves did otherwise. _victrix_ causa diis placuit, sed _victa_ catoni. in this did cato with the gods divide, _they_ chose the conquering, _he_ the conquer'd side. the whole of the country from utica to buffalo is pleasing; and the intervening of the inland lakes, large and deep and clear, adds considerably to the effect. the spacious size of the inns, their excellent provisions, and the attention which the traveller receives in going from albany to buffalo, must at once convince him that this country is very much visited by strangers; and he will draw the conclusion that there must be something in it uncommonly interesting to cause so many travellers to pass to and fro. nature is losing fast her ancient garb and putting on a new dress in these extensive regions. most of the stately timber has been carried away; thousands of trees are lying prostrate on the ground; while meadows, cornfields, villages and pastures are ever and anon bursting upon the traveller's view as he journeys on through the remaining tracts of wood. i wish i could say a word or two for the fine timber which is yet standing. spare it, gentle inhabitants, for your country's sake. these noble sons of the forest beautify your landscapes beyond all description; when they are gone, a century will not replace their loss; they cannot, they must not fall; their vernal bloom, their summer richness, and autumnal tints, please and refresh the eye of man; and even when the days of joy and warmth are fled, the wintry blast soothes the listening ear with a sublime and pleasing melancholy as it howls through their naked branches. around me trees unnumber'd rise, beautiful in various dyes. the gloomy pine, the poplar blue, the yellow beech, the sable yew; the slender fir, that taper grows, the sturdy oak, with broad-spread boughs. a few miles before you reach buffalo the road is low and bad, and in stepping out of the stage i sprained my foot very severely; it swelled to a great size, and caused me many a day of pain and mortification, as will be seen in the sequel. buffalo looks down on lake erie, and possesses a fine and commodious inn. at a little distance is the black rock, and there you pass over to the canada side. a stage is in waiting to convey you some sixteen or twenty miles down to the falls. long before you reach the spot you hear the mighty roar of waters and see the spray of the far-famed falls of niagara rising up like a column to the heavens and mingling with the passing clouds. at this stupendous cascade of nature the waters of the lake fall 176 feet perpendicular. it has been calculated, i forget by whom, that the quantity of water discharged down this mighty fall is 670,255 tons per minute. there are two large inns on the canada side; but after you have satisfied your curiosity in viewing the falls, and in seeing the rainbow in the foam far below where you are standing, do not, i pray you, tarry long at either of them. cross over to the american side, and there you will find a spacious inn which has nearly all the attractions: there you meet with great attention and every accommodation. the day is passed in looking at the falls and in sauntering up and down the wooded and rocky environs of the niagara; and the evening is often enlivened by the merry dance. words can hardly do justice to the unaffected ease and elegance of the american ladies who visit the falls of niagara. the traveller need not rove in imagination through circassia in search of fine forms, or through england, france and spain to meet with polished females. the numbers who are continually arriving from all parts of the union confirm the justness of this remark. i was looking one evening at a dance, being unable to join in it on account of the accident i had received near buffalo, when a young american entered the ballroom with such a becoming air and grace that it was impossible not to have been struck with her appearance. her bloom was like the springing flower that sips the silver dew, the rose was budded in her cheek, just opening to the view. i could not help feeling a wish to know where she had into such beauty spread, and blown so fair. upon inquiry i found that she was from the city of albany. the more i looked at the fair albanese the more i was convinced that in the united states of america may be found grace and beauty and symmetry equal to anything in the old world. i now for good and all (and well i might) gave up the idea of finding bugs, bears, brutes and buffaloes in this country, and was thoroughly satisfied that i had laboured under a great mistake in suspecting that i should ever meet with them. i wished to join in the dance where the fair albanese was "to brisk notes in cadence beating," but the state of my unlucky foot rendered it impossible; and as i sat with it reclined upon a sofa, full many a passing gentleman stopped to inquire the cause of my misfortune, presuming at the same time that i had got an attack of gout. now this surmise of theirs always mortified me; for i never had a fit of gout in my life, and, moreover, never expect to have one. in many of the inns in the united states there is an album on the table in which travellers insert their arrival and departure, and now and then indulge in a little flash or two of wit. i thought under existing circumstances that there would be no harm in briefly telling my misadventure; and so taking up the pen i wrote what follows, and was never after asked a single question about the gout. c. waterton, of walton hall, in the county of york, england, arrived at the falls of niagara in july 1824, and begs leave to pen down the following dreadful accident: he sprained his foot, and hurt his toe, on the rough road near buffalo. it quite distresses him to stagger a long the sharp rocks of famed niagara. so thus he's doomed to drink the measure of pain, in lieu of that of pleasure. on hope's delusive pinions borne he came for wool, and goes back shorn. _n.b._--here he alludes to nothing but th' adventure of his toe and foot; save this,--he sees all that which can delight and charm the soul of man, but feels it not,--because his toe and foot together plague him so. i remember once to have sprained my ankle very violently many years ago, and that the doctor ordered me to hold it under the pump two or three times a day. now in the united states of america all is upon a grand scale, except taxation; and i am convinced that the traveller's ideas become much more enlarged as he journeys through the country. this being the case, i can easily account for the desire i felt to hold my sprained foot under the fall of niagara. i descended the winding-staircase which has been made for the accommodation of travellers, and then hobbled on to the scene of action. as i held my leg under the fall i tried to meditate on the immense difference there was betwixt a house-pump and this tremendous cascade of nature, and what effect it might have upon the sprain; but the magnitude of the subject was too overwhelming, and i was obliged to drop it. perhaps, indeed, there was an unwarrantable tincture of vanity in an unknown wanderer wishing to have it in his power to tell the world that he had held his sprained foot under a fall of water which discharges 670,255 tons per minute. a gentle purling stream would have suited better. now it would have become washington to have quenched his battle-thirst in the fall of niagara; and there was something royal in the idea of cleopatra drinking pearl-vinegar made from the grandest pearl in egypt; and it became caius marius to send word that he was sitting upon the ruins of carthage. here we have the person suited to the thing, and the thing to the person. if, gentle reader, thou wouldst allow me to indulge a little longer in this harmless pen-errantry, i would tell thee that i have had my ups and downs in life as well as other people: for i have climbed to the point of the conductor above the cross on the top of st. peter's in rome and left my glove there; i have stood on one foot upon the guardian angel's head on the castle of st. angelo; and, as i have just told thee, i have been low down under the fall of niagara. but this is neither here nor there; let us proceed to something else. when the pain of my foot had become less violent, and the swelling somewhat abated, i could not resist the inclination i felt to go down ontario, and so on to montreal and quebec, and take lakes champlain and george in my way back to albany. just as i had made up my mind to it, a family from the bowling-green in new york, who was going the same route, politely invited me to join their party. nothing could be more fortunate. they were highly accomplished. the young ladies sang delightfully; and all contributed their portion to render the tour pleasant and amusing. travellers have already filled the world with descriptions of the bold and sublime scenery from lake erie to quebec: the fountain's fall, the river's flow, the woody valleys, warm and low; the windy summit, wild and high, roughly rushing to the sky. and there is scarce one of them who has not described the achievements of former and latter times on the different battle-grounds. here great wolfe expired. brave montcalm was carried, mortally wounded, through yonder gate. here fell the gallant brock; and there general sheaffee captured all the invaders. and in yonder harbour may be seen the mouldering remnants of british vessels. their hour of misfortune has long passed away. the victors have now no use for them in an inland lake. some have already sunk, while others, dismantled and half-dismasted, are just above the water, waiting in shattered state that destiny which must sooner or later destroy the fairest works of man. the excellence and despatch of the steamboats, together with the company which the traveller is sure to meet with at this time of the year, render the trip down to montreal and quebec very agreeable. the canadians are a quiet and apparently a happy people. they are very courteous and affable to strangers. on comparing them with the character which a certain female traveller, a journalist, has thought fit to give them, the stranger might have great doubts whether or not he were amongst the canadians. montreal, quebec and the falls of montmorency are well worth going to see. they are making tremendous fortifications at quebec. it will be the gibraltar of the new world. when one considers its distance from europe, and takes a view of its powerful and enterprising neighbour, virgil's remark at once rushes into the mind: sic vos non vobis nidificatis aves. i left montreal with regret. i had the good fortune to be introduced to the professors of the college. these fathers are a very learned and worthy set of gentlemen, and on my taking leave of them i felt a heaviness at heart in reflecting that i had not more time to cultivate their acquaintance. in all the way from buffalo to quebec i only met with one bug; and i cannot even swear that it belonged to the united states. in going down the st. lawrence in the steamboat i felt something crossing over my neck, and on laying hold of it with my finger and thumb it turned out to be a little half-grown, ill-conditioned bug. now whether it were going from the american to the canada side, or from the canada to the american, and had taken the advantage of my shoulders to ferry itself across, i could not tell. be this as it may, i thought of my uncle toby and the fly; and so, in lieu of placing it upon the deck, and then putting my thumb-nail vertically upon it, i quietly chucked it amongst some baggage that was close by and recommended it to get ashore by the first opportunity. when we had seen all that was worth seeing in quebec and at the falls of montmorency, and had been on board the enormous ship _columbus_, we returned for a day or two to montreal, and then proceeded to saratoga by lakes champlain and george. the steamboat from quebec to montreal had above five hundred irish emigrants on board. they were going "they hardly knew whither," far away from dear ireland. it made one's heart ache to see them all huddled together, without any expectation of ever revisiting their native soil. we feared that the sorrow of leaving home for ever, the miserable accommodations on board the ship which had brought them away, and the tossing of the angry ocean in a long and dreary voyage would have rendered them callous to good behaviour. but it was quite otherwise. they conducted themselves with great propriety. every american on board seemed to feel for them. and then "they were so full of wretchedness. need and oppression starved in their eyes. upon their backs hung ragged misery. the world was not their friend." poor dear ireland, exclaimed an aged female as i was talking to her, i shall never see it any more! and then her tears began to flow. probably the scenery on the banks of the st. lawrence recalled to her mind the remembrance of spots once interesting to her: the lovely daughter,--lovelier in her tears, the fond companion of her father's years, here silent stood,--neglectful of her charms. and left her lover's for her father's arms. with louder plaints the mother spoke her woes, and blessed the cot where every pleasure rose; and pressed her thoughtless babes, with many a tear, and clasped them close, in sorrow doubly dear. while the fond husband strove to lend relief. in all the silent manliness of grief. we went a few miles out of our route to take a look at the once formidable fortress of ticonderoga. it has long been in ruins, and seems as if it were doomed to moulder quite away. ever and anon there falls huge heaps of hoary moulder'd walls. but time has seen, that lifts the low and level lays the lofty brow, has seen this ruin'd pile complete, big with the vanity of state, but transient is the smile of fate. the scenery of lake george is superb, the inn remarkably spacious and well attended, and the conveyances from thence to saratoga very good. he must be sorely afflicted with spleen and jaundice who, on his arrival at saratoga, remarks there is nothing here worth coming to see. it is a gay and fashionable place; has four uncommonly fine hotels; its waters for medicinal virtues are surpassed by none in the known world; and it is resorted to throughout the whole of the summer by foreigners and natives of the first consideration. saratoga pleased me much; and afforded a fair opportunity of forming a pretty correct idea of the gentry of the united states. there is a pleasing frankness and ease and becoming dignity in the american ladies, and the good humour and absence of all haughtiness and puppyism in the gentlemen must, no doubt, impress the traveller with elevated notions of the company who visit this famous spa. during my stay here all was joy and affability and mirth. in the mornings the ladies played and sang for us; and the evenings were generally enlivened with the merry dance. here i bade farewell to the charming family in whose company i had passed so many happy days, and proceeded to albany. the stage stopped a little while in the town of troy. the name alone was quite sufficient to recall to the mind scenes long past and gone. poor king priam! napoleon's sorrows, sad and piercing as they were, did not come up to those of this ill-fated monarch. the greeks first set his town on fire and then began to bully: incensã¢ danai dominantur in urbe. one of his sons was slain before his face: "ante ora parentum, concidit." another was crushed to mummy by boa-constrictors: "immensis orbibus angues." his city was razed to the ground, "jacet ilion ingens." and pyrrhus ran him through with his sword, "capulo tenus abdidit ensem." this last may be considered as a fortunate stroke for the poor old king. had his life been spared at this juncture he could not have lived long. he must have died broken-hearted. he would have seen his son-in-law, once master of a noble stud, now, for want of a horse, obliged to carry off his father up-hill on his own back, "cessi et sublato, montem genitore petivi." he would have heard of his grandson being thrown neck and heels from a high tower, "mittitur astyanax illis de turribus." he would have been informed of his wife tearing out the eyes of king odrysius with her finger-nails, "digitos in perfida lumina condit." soon after this, losing all appearance of woman, she became a bitch, perdidit infelix, hominis post omnia formam, and rent the heavens with her howlings, externasque novo latratu terruit auras. then, becoming distracted with the remembrance of her misfortunes, "veterum memor illa malorum," she took off howling into the fields of thrace: tum quoque sithonios, ululavit moesta per agros. juno, jove's wife and sister, was heard to declare that poor hecuba did not deserve so terrible a fate: ipsa jovis conjuxque sororque, eventus hecubam meruisse negaverit illos. had poor priam escaped from troy, one thing, and only one thing, would have given him a small ray of satisfaction, viz. he would have heard of one of his daughters nobly preferring to leave this world rather than live to become servant-maid to old grecian ladies: non ego myrmidonum sedes, dolopumve superbas, adspiciam, aut graiis servitum matribus ibo. at some future period, should a foreign armed force, or intestine broils (all which heaven avert), raise troy to the dignity of a fortified city, virgil's prophecy may then be fulfilled: atque iterum ad trojam magnus mittetur achilles. after leaving troy i passed through a fine country to albany, and then proceeded by steam down the hudson to new york. travellers hesitate whether to give the preference to philadelphia or to new york. philadelphia is certainly a noble city and its environs beautiful, but there is a degree of quiet and sedateness in it which, though no doubt very agreeable to the man of calm and domestic habits, is not so attractive to one of speedy movements. the quantity of white marble which is used in the buildings gives to philadelphia a gay and lively appearance, but the sameness of the streets and their crossing each other at right angles are somewhat tiresome. the waterworks which supply the city are a proud monument of the skill and enterprise of its inhabitants, and the market is well worth the attention of the stranger. when you go to philadelphia be sure not to forget to visit the museum. it will afford you a great treat. some of mr. peale's family are constantly in it, and are ever ready to show the curiosities to strangers and to give them every necessary information. mr. peale has now passed his eightieth year, and appears to possess the vivacity and, i may almost add, the activity of youth. to the indefatigable exertions of this gentleman is the western world indebted for the possession of this splendid museum. mr. peale is, moreover, an excellent artist. look attentively, i pray you, at the portrait he has taken of himself, by desire of the state of pennsylvania. on entering the room he appears in the act of holding up a curtain to show you his curiosities. the effect of the light upon his head is infinitely striking. i have never seen anything finer in the way of light and shade. the skeleton of the mammoth is a national treasure. i could form but a faint idea of it by description until i had seen it. it is the most magnificent skeleton in the world. the city ought never to forget the great expense mr. peale was put to, and the skill and energy he showed during the many months he spent in searching the swamps where these enormous bones had been concealed from the eyes of the world for centuries. the extensive squares of this city are ornamented with well-grown and luxuriant trees. its unremitting attention to literature might cause it to be styled the athens of the united states. here learning and science have taken up their abode. the literary and philosophical associations, the enthusiasm of individuals, the activity of the press and the cheapness of the publications ought to raise the name of philadelphia to an elevated situation in the temple of knowledge. from the press of this city came wilson's famous _ornithology_. by observing the birds in their native haunts he has been enabled to purge their history of numberless absurdities which inexperienced theorists had introduced into it. it is a pleasing and a brilliant work. we have no description of birds in any european publication that can come up to this. by perusing wilson's _ornithology_ attentively before i left england i knew where to look for the birds, and immediately recognised them in their native land. since his time i fear that the white-headed eagles have been much thinned. i was perpetually looking out for them, but saw very few. one or two came now and then and soared in lofty flight over the falls of niagara. the americans are proud of this bird in effigy, and their hearts rejoice when its banner is unfurled. could they not then be persuaded to protect the white-headed eagle, and allow it to glide in safety over its own native forests? were i an american i should think i had committed a kind of sacrilege in killing the white-headed eagle. the ibis was held sacred by the egyptians; the hollanders protect the stork; the vulture sits unmolested on the top of the houses in the city of angustura; and robin redbreast, for his charity, is cherished by the english: no burial these pretty babes of any man receives, till robin-red-breast painfully. did cover them with leaves. [footnote] [footnote: the fault against grammar is lost in the beauty of the idea.] poor wilson was smote by the hand of death before he had finished his work. prince charles buonaparte, nephew to the late emperor napoleon, aided by some of the most scientific gentlemen of pennsylvania, is continuing this valuable and interesting publication. new york, with great propriety, may be called the commercial capital of the new world: urbs augusta potens, nulli cessura. ere long it will be on the coast of north america what tyre once was on that of syria. in her port are the ships of all nations, and in her streets is displayed merchandise from all parts of the known world. and then the approach to it is so enchanting! the verdant fields, the woody hills, the farms and country-houses form a beautiful landscape as you sail up to the city of new york. broadway is the principal street. it is three miles and a half long. i am at a loss to know where to look for a street in any part of the world which has so many attractions as this. there are no steam-engines to annoy you by filling the atmosphere full of soot and smoke; the houses have a stately appearance; while the eye is relieved from the perpetual sameness, which is common in most streets, by lofty and luxuriant trees. nothing can surpass the appearance of the american ladies when they take their morning walk from twelve to three in broadway. the stranger will at once see that they have rejected the extravagant superfluities which appear in the london and parisian fashions, and have only retained as much of those costumes as is becoming to the female form. this, joined to their own just notions of dress, is what renders the new york ladies so elegant in their attire. the way they wear the leghorn hat deserves a remark or two. with us the formal hand of the milliner binds down the brim to one fixed shape, and that none of the handsomest. the wearer is obliged to turn her head full ninety degrees before she can see the person who is standing by her side. but in new york the ladies have the brim of the hat not fettered with wire or tape or ribbon, but quite free and undulating; and by applying the hand to it they can conceal or expose as much of the face as circumstances require. this hiding and exposing of the face, by the by, is certainly a dangerous movement, and often fatal to the passing swain. i am convinced, in my own mind, that many a determined and unsuspecting bachelor has been shot down by this sudden manoeuvre before he was aware that he was within reach of the battery. the american ladies seem to have an abhorrence (and a very just one, too) of wearing caps. when one considers for a moment that women wear the hair long, which nature has given them both for an ornament and to keep the head warm, one is apt to wonder by what perversion of good taste they can be induced to enclose it in a cap. a mob-cap, a lace-cap, a low cap, a high cap, a flat cap, a cap with ribbons dangling loose, a cap with ribbons tied under the chin, a peak-cap, an angular cap, a round cap and a pyramid cap! how would canova's venus look in a mob-cap? if there be any ornament to the head in wearing a cap, it must surely be a false ornament. the american ladies are persuaded that the head can be ornamented without a cap. a rosebud or two, a woodbine, or a sprig of eglantine look well in the braided hair; and if there be raven locks, a lily or a snowdrop may be interwoven with effect. now that the packets are so safe, and make such quick passages to the united states, it would be as well if some of our head milliners would go on board of them in lieu of getting into the diligence for paris. they would bring back more taste and less caricature. and if they could persuade a dozen or two of the farmer's servant-girls to return with them, we should soon have proof-positive that as good butter and cheese may be made with the hair braided up, and a daisy or primrose in it, as butter and cheese made in a cap of barbarous shape, washed, perhaps, in soapsuds last new moon. new york has very good hotels and genteel boarding-houses. all charges included, you do not pay above two dollars a day. little enough, when you consider the capital accommodations and the abundance of food. in this city, as well as in others which i visited, everybody seemed to walk at his ease. i could see no inclination for jostling, no impertinent staring at you, nor attempts to create a row in order to pick your pocket. i would stand for an hour together in broadway to observe the passing multitude. there is certainly a gentleness in these people both to be admired and imitated. i could see very few dogs, still fewer cats, and but a very small proportion of fat women in the streets of new york. the climate was the only thing that i had really to find fault with; and as the autumn was now approaching i began to think of preparing for warmer regions. strangers are apt to get violent colds on account of the sudden change of the atmosphere. the noon would often be as warm as tropical weather and the close of day cold and chilly. this must sometimes act with severity upon the newly-arrived stranger, and it requires more care and circumspection than i am master of to guard against it. i contracted a bad and obstinate cough which did not quite leave me till i had got under the regular heat of the sun near the equator. i may be asked, was it all good-fellowship and civility during my stay in the united states? did no forward person cause offence? was there no exhibition of drunkenness or swearing or rudeness? or display of conduct which disgraces civilised man in other countries? i answer, very few indeed: scarce any worth remembering, and none worth noticing. these are a gentle and a civil people. should a traveller now and then in the long run witness a few of the scenes alluded to, he ought not, on his return home, to adduce a solitary instance or two as the custom of the country. in roving through the wilds of guiana i have sometimes seen a tree hollow at heart, shattered and leafless, but i did not on that account condemn its vigorous neighbours, and put down a memorandum that the woods were bad; on the contrary, i made allowances: a thunderstorm, the whirlwind, a blight from heaven might have robbed it of its bloom and caused its present forbidding appearance. and in leaving the forest i carried away the impression that, though some few of the trees were defective, the rest were an ornament to the wilds, full of uses and virtues, and capable of benefiting the world in a superior degree. a man generally travels into foreign countries for his own ends, and i suspect there is scarcely an instance to be found of a person leaving his own home solely with the intention of benefiting those amongst whom he is about to travel. a commercial speculation, curiosity, a wish for information, a desire to reap benefit from an acquaintance with our distant fellow-creatures are the general inducements for a man to leave his own fireside. this ought never to be forgotten, and then the traveller will journey on under the persuasion that it rather becomes him to court than expect to be courted, as his own interest is the chief object of his travels. with this in view he will always render himself pleasant to the natives; and they are sure to repay his little acts of courtesy with ample interest, and with a fund of information which will be of great service to him. while in the united states i found our western brother a very pleasant fellow; but his portrait has been drawn in such different shades by different travellers who have been through his territory, that it requires a personal interview before a correct idea can be formed of his true colours. he is very inquisitive; but it is quite wrong on that account to tax him with being of an impertinent turn. he merely interrogates you for information, and, when you have satisfied him on that score, only ask him in your turn for an account of what is going on in his own country and he will tell you everything about it with great good humour and in excellent language. he has certainly hit upon the way (but i could not make out by what means) of speaking a much purer english language than that which is in general spoken on the parent soil. this astonished me much; but it is really the case. amongst his many good qualities he has one unenviable and, i may add, a bad propensity: he is immoderately fond of smoking. he may say that he learned it from his nurse, with whom it was once much in vogue. in dutch william's time (he was a man of bad taste) the english gentleman could not do without his pipe. during the short space of time that corporal trim was at the inn inquiring after poor lefevre's health, my uncle toby had knocked the ashes out of three pipes. "it was not till my uncle toby had knocked the ashes out of his third pipe," etc. now these times have luckily gone by, and the custom of smoking amongst genteel englishmen has nearly died away with them. it is a foul custom; it makes a foul mouth, and a foul place where the smoker stands. however, every nation has its whims. john bull relishes stinking venison; a frenchman depopulates whole swamps in quest of frogs; a dutchman's pipe is never out of his mouth; a russian will eat tallow-candles; and the american indulges in the cigar. "de gustibus non est disputandum." our western brother is in possession of a country replete with everything that can contribute to the happiness and comfort of mankind. his code of laws, purified by experience and common-sense, has fully answered the expectations of the public. by acting up to the true spirit of this code he has reaped immense advantages from it. his advancement as a nation has been rapid beyond all calculation, and, young as he is, it may be remarked without any impropriety that he is now actually reading a salutary lesson to the rest of the civilised world. it is but some forty years ago that he had the dispute with his nurse about a dish of tea. she wanted to force the boy to drink it according to her own receipt. he said he did not like it, and that it absolutely made him ill. after a good deal of sparring she took up the birch-rod and began to whip him with an uncommon degree of asperity. when the poor lad found that he must either drink the nauseous dish of tea or be flogged to death, he turned upon her in self-defence, showed her to the outside of the nursery-door, and never more allowed her to meddle with his affairs. since the independence the population has increased from three to ten millions. a fine navy has been built, and everything attended to that could ensure prosperity at home and respect abroad. the former wilds of north america bear ample testimony to the achievements of this enterprising people. forests have been cleared away, swamps drained, canals dug and flourishing settlements established. from the shores of the atlantic an immense column of knowledge has rolled into the interior. the mississippi, the ohio, the missouri and their tributary streams have been wonderfully benefited by it. it now seems as if it were advancing towards the stony mountains, and probably will not become stationary till it reaches the pacific ocean. this almost immeasurable territory affords a shelter and a home to mankind in general: jew or gentile, king's-man or republican, he meets with a friendly reception in the united states. his opinions, his persecutions, his errors or mistakes, however they may have injured him in other countries, are dead and of no avail on his arrival here. provided he keeps the peace he is sure to be at rest. politicians of other countries imagine that intestine feuds will cause a division in this commonwealth; at present there certainly appears to be no reason for such a conjecture. heaven forbid that it should happen. the world at large would suffer by it. for ages yet to come may this great commonwealth continue to be the united states of north america. the sun was now within a week or two of passing into the southern hemisphere, and the mornings and evenings were too cold to be comfortable. i embarked for the island of antigua with the intention of calling at the different islands in the caribbean sea on my way once more towards the wilds of guiana. we were thirty days in making antigua, and thanked providence for ordering us so long a passage. a tremendous gale of wind, approaching to a hurricane, had done much damage in the west indies. had our passage been of ordinary length we should inevitably have been caught in the gale. st. john's is the capital of antigua. in better times it may have had its gaieties and amusements. at present it appears sad and woebegone. the houses, which are chiefly of wood, seem as if they have not had a coat of paint for many years; the streets are uneven and ill-paved; and as the stranger wanders through them, he might fancy that they would afford a congenial promenade to the man who is about to take his last leave of surrounding worldly misery before he hangs himself. there had been no rain for some time, so that the parched and barren pastures near the town might, with great truth, be called rosinante's own. the mules feeding on them put you in mind of ovid's description of famine: dura cutis, per quam spectari viscera possent. it is somewhat singular that there is not a single river or brook in the whole island of antigua. in this it differs from tartary in the other world, which, according to old writers, has five rivers--viz. acheron, phlegeton, cocytus, styx and lethe. in this island i found the redstart, described in wilson's _ornithology of the united states_. i wished to learn whether any of these birds remain the whole year in antigua and breed there, or whether they all leave it for the north when the sun comes out of the southern hemisphere; but upon inquiry i could get no information whatever. after passing a dull week here i sailed for guadaloupe, whose bold and cloud-capped mountains have a grand appearance as you approach the island. basseterre, the capital, is a neat town, with a handsome public walk in the middle of it, well shaded by a row of fine tamarind trees on each side. behind the town la souffriã¨re raises its high romantic summit, and on a clear day you may see the volcanic smoke which issues from it. nearly midway betwixt guadaloupe and dominica you escry the saintes. though high and bold and rocky, they have still a diminutive appearance when compared with their two gigantic neighbours. you just see marigalante to windward of them, some leagues off, about a yard high in the horizon. dominica is majestic in high and rugged mountains. as you sail along it you cannot help admiring its beautiful coffee-plantations, in places so abrupt and steep that you would pronounce them almost inaccessible. roseau, the capital, is but a small town, and has nothing attractive except the well-known hospitality of the present harbour-master, who is particularly attentive to strangers and furnishes them with a world of information concerning the west indies. roseau has seen better days, and you can trace good taste and judgment in the way in which the town has originally been laid out. some years ago it was visited by a succession of misfortunes which smote it so severely that it has never recovered its former appearance. a strong french fleet bombarded it; while a raging fire destroyed its finest buildings. some time after an overwhelming flood rolled down the gullies and fissures of the adjacent mountains and carried all before it. men, women and children, houses and property, were all swept away by this mighty torrent. the terrible scene was said to beggar all description, and the loss was immense. dominica is famous for a large species of frog which the inhabitants keep in readiness to slaughter for the table. in the woods of this island the large rhinoceros-beetle is very common: it measures above six inches in length. in the same woods is found the beautiful humming-bird, the breast and throat of which are of a brilliant changing purple. i have searched for this bird in brazil and through the whole of the wilds from the rio branco, which is a branch of the amazons, to the river paumaron, but never could find it. i was told by a man in the egyptian hall in piccadilly that this humming-bird is found in mexico; but upon questioning him more about it his information seemed to have been acquired by hearsay; and so i concluded that it does not appear in mexico. i suspect that it is never found out of the antilles. after leaving dominica you soon reach the grand and magnificent island of martinico. st. pierre, its capital, is a fine town, and possesses every comfort. the inhabitants seem to pay considerable attention to the cultivation of the tropical fruits. a stream of water runs down the streets with great rapidity, producing a pleasing effect as you pass along. here i had an opportunity of examining a cuckoo which had just been shot. it was exactly the same as the metallic cuckoo in wilson's _ornithology_. they told me it is a migratory bird in martinico. it probably repairs to this island after its departure from the united states. at a little distance from martinico the celebrated diamond rock rises in insulated majesty out of the sea. it was fortified during the last war with france, and bravely defended by an english captain. in a few hours from martinico you are at st. lucie, whose rough and towering mountains fill you with sublime ideas, as you approach its rocky shore. the town castries is quite embayed. it was literally blown to pieces by the fatal hurricane in which the unfortunate governor and his lady lost their lives. its present forlorn and gloomy appearance, and the grass which is grown up in the streets, too plainly show that its hour of joy is passed away and that it is in mourning, as it were, with the rest of the british west indies. from st. lucie i proceeded to barbadoes in quest of a conveyance to the island of trinidad. near bridgetown, the capital of barbadoes, i saw the metallic cuckoo already alluded to. barbadoes is no longer the merry island it was when i visited it some years ago: infelix habitum, temporis hujus habet. there is an old song, to the tune of "la belle catharine," which must evidently have been composed in brighter times: come let us dance and sing, while barbadoes bells do ring; quashi scrapes the fiddle-string, and venus plays the lute. quashi's fiddle was silent, and mute was the lute of venus during my stay in barbadoes. the difference betwixt the french and british islands was very striking. the first appeared happy and content; the second were filled with murmurs and complaints. the late proceedings in england concerning slavery and the insurrection in demerara had evidently caused the gloom. the abolition of slavery is a question full of benevolence and fine feelings, difficulties and danger: tantum ne noceas, dum vis prodesse videto. it requires consummate prudence and a vast fund of true information in order to draw just conclusions on this important subject. phaeton, by awkward driving, set the world on fire: "sylvã¦ cum montibus ardent." dã¦dalus gave his son a pair of wings without considering the consequence; the boy flew out of all bounds, lost his wings, and tumbled into the sea: icarus, icariis nomina fecit aquis. when the old man saw what had happened, he damned his own handicraft in wing-making: "devovitque suas artes." prudence is a cardinal virtue: omnia consulta mente gerenda tegens. foresight is half the battle. "hombre apercebido, medio combatido," says don quixote, or sancho, i do not remember which. had queen bess weighed well in her own mind the probable consequences of this lamentable traffic, it is likely she would not have been owner of two vessels in sir john hawkins's squadron, which committed the first robbery in negro flesh on the coast of africa. as philanthropy is the very life and soul of this momentous question on slavery, which is certainly fraught with great difficulties and danger, perhaps it would be as well at present for the nation to turn its thoughts to poor ill-fated ireland, where oppression, poverty and rags make a heart-rending appeal to the feelings of the benevolent. but to proceed. there was another thing which added to the dullness of barbadoes and which seemed to have considerable effect in keeping away strangers from the island. the legislature had passed a most extraordinary bill, by virtue of which every person who arrives at barbadoes is obliged to pay two dollars, and two dollars more on his departure from it. it is called the alien bill; and every barbadian who leaves or returns to the island, and every englishman too, pays the tax! finding no vessel here for trinidad, i embarked in a schooner for demerara, landed there after being nearly stranded on a sandbank, and proceeded without loss of time to the forests in the interior. it was the dry season, which renders a residence in the woods very delightful. there are three species of jacamar to be found on the different sandhills and dry savannas of demerara; but there is another much larger and far more beautiful to be seen when you arrive in that part of the country where there are rocks. the jacamar has no affinity to the woodpecker or kingfisher (notwithstanding what travellers affirm) either in its haunts or anatomy. the jacamar lives entirely on insects, but never goes in search of them. it sits patiently for hours together on the branch of a tree, and when the incautious insect approaches it flies at it with the rapidity of an arrow, seizes it, and generally returns to eat it on the branch which it had just quitted. it has not the least attempt at song, is very solitary, and so tame that you may get within three or four yards of it before it takes flight. the males of all the different species which i have examined have white feathers on the throat. i suspect that all the male jacamars hitherto discovered have this distinctive mark. i could learn nothing of its incubation. the indians informed me that one species of jacamar lays its eggs in the wood-ants' nests, which are so frequent in the trees of guiana, and appear like huge black balls. i wish there had been proof positive of this; but the breeding-time was over, and in the ants' nests which i examined i could find no marks of birds having ever been in them. early in january the jacamar is in fine plumage for the cabinet of the naturalist. the largest species measures ten inches and a half from the point of the beak to the end of the tail. its name amongst the indians is una-waya-adoucati, that is, grandfather of the jacamar. it is certainly a splendid bird, and in the brilliancy and changeableness of its metallic colours it yields to none of the asiatic and african feathered tribe. the colours of the female are nearly as bright as those of the male, but she wants the white feathers on the throat. the large jacamar is pretty common about two hundred miles up the river demerara. here i had a fine opportunity once more of examining the three-toed sloth. he was in the house with me for a day or two. had i taken a description of him as he lay sprawling on the floor i should have misled the world and injured natural history. on the ground he appeared really a bungled composition, and faulty at all points; awkwardness and misery were depicted on his countenance; and when i made him advance he sighed as though in pain. perhaps it was that by seeing him thus out of his element, as it were, that the count de buffon, in his history of the sloth, asks the question: "why should not some animals be created for misery, since, in the human species, the greatest number of individuals are devoted to pain from the moment of their existence?" were the question put to me i would answer, i cannot conceive that any of them are created for misery. that thousands live in misery there can be no doubt; but then misery has overtaken them in their path through life, and wherever man has come up with them i should suppose they have seldom escaped from experiencing a certain proportion of misery. after fully satisfying myself that it only leads the world into error to describe the sloth while he is on the ground or in any place except in a tree, i carried the one i had in my possession to his native haunts. as soon as he came in contact with the branch of a tree all went right with him. i could see as he climbed up into his own country that he was on the right road to happiness; and felt persuaded more than ever that the world has hitherto erred in its conjectures concerning the sloth, on account of naturalists not having given a description of him when he was in the only position in which he ought to have been described, namely, clinging to the branch of a tree. as the appearance of this part of the country bears great resemblance to cayenne, and is so near to it, i was in hopes to have found the grande gobe-mouche of buffon and the septi-coloured tangara, both of which are common in cayenne; but after many diligent searches i did not succeed, nor could i learn from the indians that they had ever seen those two species of birds in these parts. here i procured the gross-beak with a rich scarlet body and black head and throat. buffon mentions it as coming from america. i had been in quest of it for years, but could never see it, and concluded that it was not to be found in demerara. this bird is of a greenish brown before it acquires its rich plumage. amongst the bare roots of the trees, alongside of this part of the river, a red crab sometimes makes its appearance as you are passing up and down. it is preyed upon by a large species of owl which i was fortunate enough to procure. its head, back, wings and tail are of so dark a brown as almost to appear black. the breast is of a somewhat lighter brown. the belly and thighs are of a dirty yellow-white. the feathers round the eyes are of the same dark brown as the rest of the body; and then comes a circle of white which has much the appearance of the rim of a large pair of spectacles. i strongly suspect that the dirty yellow-white of the belly and thighs has originally been pure white, and that it has come to its present colour by means of the bird darting down upon its prey in the mud. but this is mere conjecture. here, too, close to the river, i frequently saw the bird called sun-bird by the english colonists and tirana by the spaniards in the oroonoque. it is very elegant, and in its outward appearance approaches near to the heron tribe; still, it does not live upon fish. flies and insects are its food, and it takes them just as the heron takes fish, by approaching near and then striking with its beak at its prey so quick that it has no chance to escape. the beautiful mixture of grey, yellow, green, black, white and chestnut in the plumage of this bird baffles any attempt to give a description of the distribution of them which would be satisfactory to the reader. there is something remarkable in the great tinamou which i suspect has hitherto escaped notice. it invariably roosts in trees, but the feet are so very small in proportion to the body of this bulky bird that they can be of no use to it in grasping the branch; and, moreover, the hind-toe is so short that it does not touch the ground when the bird is walking. the back part of the leg, just below the knee, is quite flat and somewhat concave. on it are strong pointed scales, which are very rough, and catch your finger as you move it along from the knee to the toe. now, by means of these scales and the particular flatness of that part of the leg, the bird is enabled to sleep in safety upon the branch of a tree. at the close of day the great tinamou gives a loud, monotonous, plaintive whistle, and then immediately springs into the tree. by the light of the full-moon the vigilant and cautious naturalist may see him sitting in the position already described. the small tinamou has nothing that can be called a tail. it never lays more than one egg, which is of a chocolate colour. it makes no nest, but merely scratches a little hollow in the sand, generally at the foot of a tree. here we have an instance of a bird the size of a partridge, and of the same tribe, laying only one egg, while the rest of the family, from the peahen to the quail, are known to lay a considerable number. the foot of this bird is very small in proportion, but the back part of the leg bears no resemblance to that of the larger tinamou; hence one might conclude that it sleeps upon the ground. independent of the hollow trees, the vampires have another hiding-place. they clear out the inside of the large ants' nests and then take possession of the shell. i had gone about half a day down the river to a part of the forest where the wallaba-trees were in great plenty. the seeds had ripened, and i was in hopes to have got the large scarlet ara, which feeds on them. but unfortunately the time had passed away, and the seeds had fallen. while ranging here in the forest we stopped under an ants' nest, and, by the dirt below, conjectured that it had got new tenants. thinking it no harm to dislodge them, "vi et armis," an indian boy ascended the tree, but before he reached the nest out flew above a dozen vampires. i have formerly remarked that i wished to have it in my power to say that i had been sucked by the vampire. i gave them many an opportunity, but they always fought shy; and though they now sucked a young man of the indian breed very severely, as he was sleeping in his hammock in the shed next to mine, they would have nothing to do with me. his great toe seemed to have all the attractions. i examined it minutely as he was bathing it in the river at daybreak. the midnight surgeon had made a hole in it almost of a triangular shape, and the blood was then running from it apace. his hammock was so defiled and stained with clotted blood that he was obliged to beg an old black woman to wash it. as she was taking it down to the river-side she spread it out before me, and shook her head. i remarked that i supposed her own toe was too old and tough to invite the vampire-doctor to get his supper out of it, and she answered, with a grin, that doctors generally preferred young people. nobody has yet been able to inform me how it is that the vampire manages to draw such a large quantity of blood, generally from the toe, and the patient all the time remains in a profound sleep. i have never heard of an instance of a man waking under the operation. on the contrary, he continues in a sound sleep, and at the time of rising his eyes first inform him that there has been a thirsty thief on his toe. the teeth of the vampire are very sharp and not unlike those of a rat. if it be that he inflicts the wound with his teeth (and he seems to have no other instruments), one would suppose that the acuteness of the pain would cause the person who is sucked to awake. we are in darkness in this matter, and i know of no means by which one might be enabled to throw light upon it. it is to be hoped that some future wanderer through the wilds of guiana will be more fortunate than i have been and catch this nocturnal depredator in the fact. i have once before mentioned that i killed a vampire which measured thirty-two inches from wing to wing extended, but others which i have since examined have generally been from twenty to twenty-six inches in dimension. the large humming-bird, called by the indians kara-bimiti, invariably builds its nest in the slender branches of the trees which hang over the rivers and creeks. in appearance it is like brown tanned leather, and without any particle of lining. the rim of the nest is doubled inwards, and i always conjectured that it had taken this shape on account of the body of the bird pressing against it while she was laying her eggs. but this was quite a wrong conjecture. instinct has taught the bird to give it this shape in order that the eggs may be prevented from rolling out. the trees on the river's bank are particularly exposed to violent gusts of wind, and while i have been sitting in the canoe and looking on, i have seen the slender branch of the tree which held the humming-bird's nest so violently shaken that the bottom of the inside of the nest has appeared, and had there been nothing at the rim to stop the eggs they must inevitably have been jerked out into the water. i suspect the humming-bird never lays more than two eggs. i never found more than two in any of the many nests which have come in my way. the eggs were always white without any spots on them. probably travellers have erred in asserting that the monkeys of south america throw sticks and fruit at their pursuers. i have had fine opportunities of narrowly watching the different species of monkeys which are found in the wilds betwixt the amazons and the oroonoque. i entirely acquit them of acting on the offensive. when the monkeys are in the high trees over your head the dead branches will now and then fall down upon you, having been broken off as the monkeys pass along them; but they are never hurled from their hands. monkeys, commonly so called, both in the old and new continent, may be classed into three grand divisions: namely, the ape, which has no tail whatever; the baboon, which has only a short tail; and the monkey, which has a long tail. there are no apes and no baboons as yet discovered in the new world. its monkeys may be very well and very briefly ranged under two heads: namely, those with hairy and bushy tails; and those whose tails are bare of hair underneath about six inches from the extremity. those with hairy and bushy tails climb just like the squirrel, and make no use of the tail to help them from branch to branch. those which have the tail bare underneath towards the end find it of infinite advantage to them in their ascent and descent. they apply it to the branch of the tree, as though it were a supple finger, and frequently swing by it from the branch like the pendulum of a clock. it answers all the purposes of a fifth hand to the monkey, as naturalists have already observed. the large red monkey of demerara is not a baboon, though it goes by that name, having a long pensile tail. [footnote: i believe _pensile_ is a new-coined word. i have seen it, but do not remember where.] nothing can sound more dreadful than its nocturnal howlings. while lying in your hammock in these gloomy and immeasurable wilds, you hear him howling at intervals from eleven o'clock at night till daybreak. you would suppose that half the wild beasts of the forest were collecting for the work of carnage. now it is the tremendous roar of the jaguar as he springs on his prey: now it changes to his terrible and deep-toned growlings as he is pressed on all sides by superior force: and now you hear his last dying moan beneath a mortal wound. some naturalists have supposed that these awful sounds which you would fancy are those of enraged and dying wild beasts proceed from a number of the red monkeys howling in concert. one of them alone is capable of producing all these sounds; and the anatomists on an inspection of his trachea will be fully satisfied that this is the case. when you look at him, as he is sitting on the branch of a tree, you will see a lump in his throat the size of a large hen's egg. in dark and cloudy weather, and just before a squall of rain, this monkey will often howl in the daytime; and if you advance cautiously, and get under the high and tufted tree where he is sitting, you may have a capital opportunity of witnessing his wonderful powers of producing these dreadful and discordant sounds. his flesh is good food; but when skinned his appearance is so like that of a young one of our own species that a delicate stomach might possibly revolt at the idea of putting a knife and fork into it. however, i can affirm from experience that, after a long and dreary march through these remote forests, the flesh of this monkey is not to be sneezed at when boiled in cayenne-pepper or roasted on a stick over a good fire. a young one tastes not unlike kid, and the old ones have somewhat the flavour of he-goat. i mentioned, in a former adventure, that i had hit upon an entirely new plan of making the skins of quadrupeds retain their exact form and feature. intense application to the subject has since that period enabled me to shorten the process and hit the character of an animal to a very great nicety, even to the preservation of the pouting lip, dimples, warts and wrinkles on the face. i got a fine specimen of the howling monkey, and took some pains with it in order to show the immense difference that exists betwixt the features of this monkey and those of man. i also procured an animal which has caused not a little speculation and astonishment. in my opinion, his thick coat of hair and great length of tail put his species out of all question, but then his face and head cause the inspector to pause for a moment before he ventures to pronounce his opinion of the classification. he was a large animal, and as i was pressed for daylight, and moreover, felt no inclination to have the whole weight of his body upon my back, i contented myself with his head and shoulders, which i cut off, and have brought them with me to europe. [footnote: my young friend mr. j. h. foljambe, eldest son of thomas foljambe, esq., of wakefield, has made a drawing of the head and shoulders of this animal, and it is certainly a most correct and striking likeness of the original.] i have since found that i acted quite right in doing so, having had enough to answer for the head alone, without saying anything of his hands and feet, and of his tail, which is an appendage, lord kames asserts, belongs to us. the features of this animal are quite of the grecian cast, and he has a placidity of countenance which shows that things went well with him when in life. some gentlemen of great skill and talent, on inspecting his head, were convinced that the whole series of its features has been changed. others again have hesitated, and betrayed doubts, not being able to make up their minds whether it be possible that the brute features of the monkey can be changed into the noble countenance of man: "scinditur vulgus." one might argue at considerable length on this novel subject; and perhaps, after all, produce little more than prolix pedantry: "vox et praeterea nihil." let us suppose for an instant that it is a new species. well; "una golondrina no hace verano": one swallow does not make summer, as sancho panza says. still, for all that, it would be well worth while going out to search for it; and these times of pasco-peruvian enterprise are favourable to the undertaking. perhaps, gentle reader, you would wish me to go in quest of another. i would beg leave respectfully to answer that the way is dubious, long and dreary; and though, unfortunately, i cannot allege the excuse of "me pia conjux detinet," still i would fain crave a little repose. i have already been a long while errant: longa mihi exilia, et vastum maris ã¦quor aravi, ne mandate mihi, nam ego sum defessus agendo. should anybody be induced to go, great and innumerable are the discoveries yet to be made in those remote wilds; and should he succeed in bringing home even a head alone, with features as perfect as those of that which i have brought, far from being envious of him, i should consider him a modern alcides, fully entitled to register a thirteenth labour. now if, on the other hand, we argue that this head in question has had all its original features destroyed, and a set of new ones given to it, by what means has this hitherto unheard-of change been effected? nobody in any of our museums has as yet been able to restore the natural features to stuffed animals; and he who has any doubts of this, let him take a living cat or dog and compare them with a stuffed cat or dog in any of the first-rate museums. a momentary glance of the eye would soon settle his doubts on this head. if i have succeeded in effacing the features of a brute, and putting those of a man in their place, we might be entitled to say that the sun of proteus has risen to our museums: unius hic faciem, facies transformat in omnes; nunc homo, nunc tigris; nunc equa, nunc mulier. if i have effected this, we can now give to one side of the skin of a man's face the appearance of eighty years and to the other side that of blooming seventeen. we could make the forehead and eyes serene in youthful beauty and shape the mouth and jaws to the features of a malicious old ape. here is a new field opened to the adventurous and experimental naturalist: i have trodden it up and down till i am almost weary. to get at it myself i have groped through an alley which may be styled in the words of ovid: arduus, obliquus, caligine densus opaca. i pray thee, gentle reader, let me out awhile. time passes on apace; and i want to take thee to have a peep at the spots where mines are supposed to exist in guiana. as the story of this singular head has probably not been made out to thy satisfaction, perhaps (i may say it nearly in corporal trim's words), on some long and dismal winter's evening, but not now, i may tell thee more about it; together with that of another head which is equally striking. it is commonly reported, and i think there is no reason to doubt the fact, that when demerara and essequibo were under the dutch flag there were mines of gold and silver opened near to the river essequibo. the miners were not successful in their undertaking, and it is generally conjectured that their failure proceeded from inexperience. now, when you ascend the essequibo, some hundred miles above the place where these mines are said to be found, you get into a high, rocky and mountainous country. here many of the mountains have a very barren aspect, producing only a few stinted shrubs, and here and there a tuft of coarse grass. i could not learn that they have ever been explored, and at this day their mineralogy is totally unknown to us. the indians are so thinly scattered in this part of the country that there would be no impropriety in calling it uninhabited: apparent rari errantes in gurgite vasto. it remains to be yet learnt whether this portion of guiana be worth looking after with respect to its supposed mines. the mining speculations at present are flowing down another channel. the rage in england for working the mines of other states has now risen to such a pitch, that it would require a considerable degree of caution in a mere wanderer of the woods in stepping forward to say anything that might tend to raise or depress the spirits of the speculators. a question or two, however, might be asked. when the revolted colonies shall have repaired in some measure the ravages of war, and settled their own political economy upon a firm foundation, will they quietly submit to see foreigners carrying away those treasures which are absolutely part of their own soil, and which necessity (necessity has no law) forced them to barter away in their hour of need? now, if it should so happen that the masters of the country begin to repent of their bargain and become envious of the riches which foreigners carry off, many a teasing law might be made and many a vexatious enaction might be put in force that would in all probability bring the speculators into trouble and disappointment. besides this consideration there is another circumstance which ought not to be overlooked. i allude to the change of masters nearly throughout the whole of america. it is a curious subject for the european philosopher to moralise upon and for the politician to examine. the more they consider it, the more they will be astonished. if we may judge by what has already taken place, we are entitled to predict that in a very few years more no european banner will be seen to float in any part of the new world. let us take a cursory view of it. england some years ago possessed a large portion of the present united states. france had louisiana; spain held the floridas, mexico, darien, terra firma, buenos ayres, paraguay, chili, peru and california; and portugal ruled the whole of brazil. all these immense regions are now independent states. england, to be sure, still has canada, nova scotia and a few creeks on the coast of labrador; also a small settlement in honduras, and the wilds of demerara and essequibo; and these are all. france has not a foot of ground, except the forests of cayenne. portugal has lost every province; spain is blockaded in nearly her last citadel; and the dutch flag is only seen in surinam. nothing more now remains to europe of this immense continent where but a very few years ago she reigned triumphant. with regard to the west india islands, they may be considered as the mere outposts of this mammoth domain. st. domingo has already shaken off her old masters and become a star of observation to the rest of the sable brethren. the anti-slavery associations of england, full of benevolence and activity, have opened a tremendous battery upon the last remaining forts which the lords of the old continent still hold in the new world; and in all probability will not cease firing till they shall have caused the last flag to be struck of europe's late mighty empire in the transatlantic regions. it cannot well be doubted but that the sable hordes in the west indies will like to follow good example whenever they shall have it in their power to do so. now with st. domingo as an example before them, how long will it be before they try to raise themselves into independent states? and if they should succeed in crushing us in these our last remaining tenements, i would bet ten to one that none of the new governments will put on mourning for our departure out of the new world. we must well remember that our own government was taxed with injustice and oppression by the united states during their great struggle; and the british press for years past has, and is still, teeming with every kind of abuse and unbecoming satire against spain and portugal for their conduct towards the now revolted colonies. france also comes in for her share of obloquy. now this being the case, will not america at large wish most devoutly for the day to come when europe shall have no more dominion over her? will she not say to us: our new forms of government are very different from your old ones. we will trade with you, but we shall always be very suspicious of you as long as you retain possession of the west indies, which are, as we may say, close to our door-steads. you must be very cautious how you interfere with our politics; for, if we find you meddling with them, and by that means cause us to come to loggerheads, we shall be obliged to send you back to your own homes three or four thousand miles across the atlantic; and then with that great ditch betwixt us we may hope we shall be good friends. he who casts his eye on the east indies will there see quite a different state of things. the conquered districts have merely changed one european master for another; and i believe there is no instance of any portion of the east indies throwing off the yoke of the europeans and establishing a government of their own. ye who are versed in politics, and study the rise and fall of empires, and know what is good for civilised man and what is bad for him, or, in other words, what will make him happy and what will make him miserable--tell us how comes it that europe has lost almost her last acre in the boundless expanse of territory which she so lately possessed in the west, and still contrives to hold her vast property in the extensive regions of the east? but whither am i going? i find myself on a new and dangerous path. pardon, gentle reader, this sudden deviation. methinks i hear thee saying to me: tramite quo tendis, majoraque viribus audes. i grant that i have erred, but i will do so no more. in general i avoid politics; they are too heavy for me, and i am aware that they have caused the fall of many a strong and able man; they require the shoulders of atlas to support their weight. when i was in the rocky mountains of macoushia, in the month of june 1812, i saw four young cock-of-the-rocks in an indian's hut; they had been taken out of the nest that week. they were of a uniform dirty brown colour, and by the position of the young feathers upon the head you might see that there would be a crest there when the bird arrived at maturity. by seeing young ones in the month of june i immediately concluded that the old cock-of-the-rock would be in fine plumage from the end of november to the beginning of may; and that the naturalist who was in quest of specimens for his museum ought to arrange his plans in such a manner as to be able to get into macoushia during these months. however, i find now that no exact period can be fixed; for in december 1824 an indian in the river demerara gave me a young cock-of-the-rock not a month old, and it had just been brought from the macoushi country. by having a young specimen at this time of the year it puts it out of one's power to say at what precise time the old birds are in full plumage. i took it on board a ship with me for england, but it was so very susceptible of cold that it shivered and died three days after we had passed antigua. if ever there should be a great demand for large supplies of gum-elastic, commonly called india-rubber, it may be procured in abundance far away in the wilds of demerara and essequibo. some years ago, when i was in the macoushi country, there was a capital trick played upon me about india-rubber. it is, almost too good to be left out of these wanderings, and it shows that the wild and uneducated indian is not without abilities. weary and sick and feeble through loss of blood, i arrived at some indian huts which were about two hours distant from the place where the gum-elastic trees grew. after a day and a night's rest i went to them, and with my own hands made a fine ball of pure india-rubber; it hardened immediately as it became exposed to the air, and its elasticity was almost incredible. while procuring it, exposure to the rain, which fell in torrents, brought on a return of inflammation in the stomach, and i was obliged to have recourse again to the lancet, and to use it with an unsparing hand. i wanted another ball, but was not in a state the next morning to proceed to the trees. a fine interesting young indian, observing my eagerness to have it, tendered his services, and asked two handfuls of fish-hooks for his trouble. off he went, and to my great surprise returned in a very short time. bearing in mind the trouble and time it had cost me to make a ball, i could account for this indian's expedition in no other way except that, being an inhabitant of the forest, he knew how to go about his work in a much shorter way than i did. his ball, to be sure, had very little elasticity in it. i tried it repeatedly, but it never rebounded a yard high. the young indian watched me with great gravity, and when i made him understand that i expected the ball would dance better, he called another indian who knew a little english to assure me that i might be quite easy on that score. the young rogue, in order to render me a complete dupe, brought the new moon to his aid. he gave me to understand that the ball was like the little moon which he pointed to, and by the time it grew big and old the ball would bounce beautifully. this satisfied me, and i gave him the fish-hooks, which he received without the least change of countenance. i bounced the ball repeatedly for two months after, but i found that it still remained in its infancy. at last i suspected that the savage (to use a vulgar phrase) had "come yorkshire" over me; and so i determined to find out how he had managed to take me in. i cut the ball in two, and then saw what a taught trick he had played me. it seems he had chewed some leaves into a lump the size of a walnut, and then dipped them in the liquid gum-elastic. it immediately received a coat about as thick as a sixpence. he then rolled some more leaves round it and gave it another coat. he seems to have continued this process till he made the ball considerably larger than the one i had procured; and in order to put his roguery out of all chance of detection he made the last and outer coat thicker than a dollar. this indian would, no doubt, have thriven well in some of our great towns. finding that the rainy season was coming on, i left the wilds of demerara and essequibo with regret towards the close of december 1824, and reached once more the shores of england after a long and unpleasant passage. ere we part, kind reader, i could wish to draw a little of thy attention to the instructions which are to be found at the end of this book. twenty years have now rolled away since i first began to examine the specimens of zoology in our museums. as the system of preparation is founded in error, nothing but deformity, distortion and disproportion will be the result of the best intentions and utmost exertions of the workman. canova's education, taste and genius enabled him to present to the world statues so correct and beautiful that they are worthy of universal admiration. had a common stonecutter tried his hand upon the block out of which these statues were sculptured, what a lamentable want of symmetry and fine countenance there would have been. now when we reflect that the preserved specimens in our museums and private collections are always done upon a wrong principle, and generally by low and illiterate people whose daily bread depends upon the shortness of time in which they can get through their work, and whose opposition to the true way of preparing specimens can only be surpassed by their obstinacy in adhering to the old method, can we any longer wonder at their want of success or hope to see a single specimen produced that will be worth looking at? with this i conclude, hoping that thou hast received some information, and occasionally had a smile upon thy countenance, while perusing these _wanderings_; and begging at the same time to add that: well i know thy penetration many a stain and blot will see, in the languid long narration, of my sylvan errantry. for the pen too oft was weary, in the wandering writer's hand, as he roved through deep and dreary forests, in a distant land. show thy mercy, gentle reader, let him not entreat in vain; it will be his strength's best feeder, should he ever go again. and who knows, how soon complaining of a cold and wifeless home, he may leave it, and again in equatorial regions roam. c.w. * * * * * on preserving birds for cabinets of natural history were you to pay as much attention to birds as the sculptor does to the human frame, you would immediately see, on entering a museum, that the specimens are not well done. this remark will not be thought severe when you reflect that that which once was a bird has probably been stretched, stuffed, stiffened and wired by the hand of a common clown. consider, likewise, how the plumage must have been disordered by too much stretching or drying, and perhaps sullied, or at least deranged, by the pressure of a coarse and heavy hand--plumage which, ere life had fled from within it, was accustomed to be touched by nothing rougher than the dew of heaven and the pure and gentle breath of air. in dissecting, three things are necessary to ensure success: viz. a penknife, a hand not coarse or clumsy, and practice. the first will furnish you with the means; the second will enable you to dissect; and the third cause you to dissect well. these may be called the mere mechanical requisites. in stuffing, you require cotton, a needle and thread, a little stick the size of a common knitting-needle, glass eyes, a solution of corrosive sublimate, and any kind of a common temporary box to hold the specimen. these also may go under the same denomination as the former. but if you wish to excel in the art, if you wish to be in ornithology what angelo was in sculpture, you must apply to profound study and your own genius to assist you. and these may be called the scientific requisites. you must have a complete knowledge of ornithological anatomy. you must pay close attention to the form and attitude of the bird, and know exactly the proportion each curve, or extension, or contraction, or expansion of any particular part bears to the rest of the body. in a word, you must possess promethean boldness and bring down fire and animation, as it were, into your preserved specimen. repair to the haunts of birds on plains and mountains, forests, swamps and lakes, and give up your time to examine the economy of the different orders of birds. then you will place your eagle in attitude commanding, the same as nelson stood in in the day of battle on the _victory's_ quarter-deck. your pie will seem crafty and just ready to take flight, as though fearful of being surprised in some mischievous plunder. your sparrow will retain its wonted pertness by means of placing his tail a little elevated and giving a moderate arch to the neck. your vulture will show his sluggish habits by having his body nearly parallel to the earth, his wings somewhat drooping, and their extremities under the tail instead of above it--expressive of ignoble indolence. your dove will be in artless, fearless innocence; looking mildly at you with its neck not too much stretched, as if uneasy in its situation; or drawn too close into the shoulders, like one wishing to avoid a discovery; but in moderate, perpendicular length, supporting the head horizontally, which will set off the breast to the best advantage. and the breast ought to be conspicuous, and have this attention paid to it--for when a young lady is sweet and gentle in her manners, kind and affable to those around her, when her eyes stand in tears of pity for the woes of others, and she puts a small portion of what providence has blessed her with into the hand of imploring poverty and hunger, then we say she has the breast of a turtle-dove. you will observe how beautifully the feathers of a bird are arranged: one falling over the other in nicest order; and that where this charming harmony is interrupted, the defect, though not noticed by an ordinary spectator, will appear immediately to the eye of a naturalist. thus a bird not wounded and in perfect feather must be procured if possible, for the loss of feathers can seldom be made good; and where the deficiency is great, all the skill of the artist will avail him little in his attempt to conceal the defect, because in order to hide it he must contract the skin, bring down the upper feathers, and shove in the lower ones, which would throw all the surrounding parts into contortion. you will also observe that the whole of the skin does not produce feathers, and that it is very tender where the feathers do not grow. the bare parts are admirably formed for expansion about the throat and stomach, and they fit into the different cavities of the body at the wings, shoulders, rump and thighs with wonderful exactness; so that, in stuffing the bird, if you make an even, rotund surface of the skin where these cavities existed, in lieu of re-forming them, all symmetry, order and proportion are lost for ever. you must lay it down as an absolute rule that the bird is to be entirely skinned, otherwise you can never succeed in forming a true and pleasing specimen. you will allow this to be just, after reflecting a moment on the nature of the fleshy parts and tendons, which are often left in: first, they require to be well seasoned with aromatic spices; secondly, they must be put into the oven to dry; thirdly, the heat of the fire, and the natural tendency all cured flesh has to shrink and become hard, render the specimen withered, distorted and too small; fourthly, the inside then becomes like a ham, or any other dried meat. ere long the insects claim it as their own, the feathers begin to drop off, and you have the hideous spectacle of death in ragged plumage. wire is of no manner of use, but, on the contrary, a great nuisance; for where it is introduced a disagreeable stiffness and derangement of symmetry follow. the head and neck can be placed in any attitude, the body supported, the wings closed, extended or elevated, the tail depressed, raised or expanded, the thighs set horizontal or oblique, without any aid from wire. cotton will effect all this. a very small proportion of the skull-bone, say from the forepart of the eyes to the bill, is to be left in; though even this is not absolutely necessary. part of the wing-bones, the jaw-bones and half of the thigh-bones remain. everything else--flesh, fat, eyes, bones, brains and tendons --is all to be taken away. while dissecting it will be of use to keep in mind that, in taking off the skin from the body by means of your fingers and a little knife, you must try to shove it, in lieu of pulling it, lest you stretch it. that you must press as lightly as possible on the bird, and every now and then take a view of it to see that the feathers, etc., are all right. that when you come to the head you must take care that the body of the skin rests on your knee; for if you allow it to dangle from your hand its own weight will stretch it too much. that, throughout the whole operation, as fast as you detach the skin from the body you must put cotton immediately betwixt the body and it; and this will effectually prevent any fat, blood or moisture from coming in contact with the plumage. here it may be observed that on the belly you find an inner skin, which keeps the bowels in their place. by a nice operation with the knife you can cut through the outer skin and leave the inner skin whole. attention to this will render your work very clean; so that with a little care in other parts you may skin a bird without even soiling your finger-ends. as you can seldom get a bird without shooting it, a line or two on this head will be necessary. if the bird be still alive, press it hard with your finger and thumb just behind the wings, and it will soon expire. carry it by the legs, and then the body being reversed the blood cannot escape down the plumage through the shot-holes. as blood will often have issued out before you have laid hold of the bird, find out the shot-holes by dividing the feathers with your fingers, and blowing on them, and then with your penknife, or the leaf of a tree, carefully remove the clotted blood and put a little cotton on the hole. if, after all, the plumage has not escaped the marks of blood, or if it has imbibed slime from the ground, wash the part in water, without soap, and keep gently agitating the feathers with your fingers till they are quite dry. were you to wash them and leave them to dry by themselves, they would have a very mean and shrivelled appearance. in the act of skinning a bird you must either have it upon a table or upon your knee. probably you will prefer your knee; because when you cross one knee over the other and have the bird upon the uppermost, you can raise it to your eye, or lower it at pleasure, by means of the foot on the ground, and then your knee will always move in unison with your body, by which much stooping will be avoided and lassitude prevented. with these precautionary hints in mind, we will now proceed to dissect a bird. suppose we take a hawk. the little birds will thank us with a song for his death, for he has oppressed them sorely; and in size he is just the thing. his skin is also pretty tough, and the feathers adhere to it. we will put close by us a little bottle of the solution of corrosive sublimate in alcohol; also a stick like a common knitting-needle and a handful or two of cotton. now fill the mouth and nostrils of the bird with cotton, and place it upon your knee on its back, with its head pointing to your left shoulder. take hold of the knife with your two first fingers and thumb, the edge upwards. you must not keep the point of the knife perpendicular to the body of the bird, because, were you to hold it so, you would cut the inner skin of the belly, and thus let the bowels out. to avoid this let your knife be parallel to the body, and then, you will divide the outer skin with great ease. begin on the belly below the breastbone, and cut down the middle, quite to the vent. this done, put the bird in any convenient position, and separate the skin from the body till you get at the middle joint of the thigh. cut it through, and do nothing more there at present, except introducing cotton all the way on that side, from the vent to the breastbone. do exactly the same on the opposite side. now place the bird perpendicular, its breast resting on your knee, with its back towards you. separate the skin from the body on each side at the vent, and never mind at present the part from the vent to the root of the tail. bend the tail gently down to the back, and while your finger and thumb are keeping down the detached parts of the skin on each side of the vent, cut quite across and deep, till you see the backbone, near the oil-gland at the root of the tail. sever the backbone at the joint, and then you have all the root of the tail, together with the oil-gland, dissected from the body. apply plenty of cotton. after this seize the end of the backbone with your finger and thumb: and now you can hold up the bird clear of your knee and turn it round and round as occasion requires. while you are holding it thus, contrive, with the help of your other hand and knife, by cutting and shoving, to get the skin pushed up till you come to where the wing joins on to the body. forget not to apply cotton; cut this joint through; do the same at the other wing, add cotton, and gently push the skin over the head; cut out the roots of the ears, which lie very deep in the head, and continue skinning till you reach the middle of the eye; cut the nictitating membrane quite through, otherwise you would tear the orbit of the eye; and after this nothing difficult intervenes to prevent your arriving at the root of the bill. when this is effected cut away the body, leaving a little bit of skull, just as much as will reach to the fore-part of the eye; clean well the jaw-bones, fasten a little cotton at the end of your stick, dip it into the solution, and touch the skull and corresponding part of the skin, as you cannot well get to these places afterwards. from the time of pushing the skin over the head you are supposed to have had the bird resting upon your knee; keep it there still, and with great caution and tenderness return the head through the inverted skin, and when you see the beak appearing pull it very gently till the head comes out unruffled and unstained. you may now take the cotton out of the mouth; cut away all the remaining flesh at the palate, and whatever may have remained at the under-jaw. here is now before you the skin without loss of any feathers, and all the flesh, fat and uncleaned bones out of it, except the middle joint of the wings, one bone of the thighs, and the fleshy root of the tail. the extreme point of the wing is very small, and has no flesh on it, comparatively speaking, so that it requires no attention except touching it with the solution from the outside. take all in the flesh from the remaining joint of the wing, and tie a thread about four inches long to the end of it; touch all with the solution, and put the wing-bone back into its place. in baring this bone you must by no means pull the skin; you would tear it to pieces beyond all doubt, for the ends of the long feathers are attached to the bone itself; you must push off the skin with your thumb-nail and forefinger. now skin the thigh quite to the knee; cut away all flesh and tendons, and leave the bone; form an artificial thigh round it with cotton; apply the solution and draw back the skin over the artificial thigh: the same to the other thigh. lastly, proceed to the tail: take out the inside of the oil-gland, remove all the remaining flesh from the root till you see the ends of the tail-feathers; give it the solution and replace it. now take out all the cotton which you have been putting into the body from time to time to preserve the feathers from grease and stains. place the bird upon your knee on its back; tie together the two threads which you had fastened to the end of the wing-joints, leaving exactly the same space betwixt them as your knowledge in anatomy informs you existed there when the bird was entire; hold the skin open with your finger and thumb, and apply the solution to every part of the inside. neglect the head and neck at present; they are to receive it afterwards. fill the body moderately with cotton, lest the feathers on the belly should be injured whilst you are about the following operation. you must recollect that half of the thigh, or in other words, one joint of the thigh-bone, has been cut away. now, as this bone never moved perpendicular to the body, but, on the contrary, in an oblique direction, of course, as soon as it is cut off, the remaining part of the thigh and leg having nothing now to support them obliquely, must naturally fall to their perpendicular. hence the reason why the legs appear considerably too long. to correct this, take your needle and thread, fasten the end round the bone inside, and then push the needle through the skin just opposite to it. look on the outside, and after finding the needle amongst the feathers, tack up the thigh under the wing with several strong stitches. this will shorten the thigh and render it quite capable of supporting the weight of the body without the help of wire. this done, take out every bit of cotton except the artificial thighs, and adjust the wing-bones (which are connected by the thread) in the most even manner possible, so that one joint does not appear to lie lower than the other; for unless they are quite equal, the wings themselves will be unequal when you come to put them in their proper attitude. here, then, rests the shell of the poor hawk, ready to receive from your skill and judgment the size, the shape, the features and expression it had, ere death and your dissecting hand brought it to its present still and formless state. the cold hand of death stamps deep its mark upon the prostrate victim. when the heart ceases to beat, and the blood no longer courses through the veins, the features collapse, and the whole frame seems to shrink within itself. if then you have formed your idea of the real appearance of the bird from a dead specimen, you will be in error. with this in mind, and at the same time forming your specimen a trifle larger than life, to make up for what it will lose in drying, you will reproduce a bird that will please you. it is now time to introduce the cotton for an artificial body by means of the little stick like a knitting-needle; and without any other aid or substance than that of this little stick and cotton, your own genius must produce those swellings and cavities, that just proportion, that elegance and harmony of the whole, so much admired in animated nature, so little attended to in preserved specimens. after you have introduced the cotton, sew up the orifice you originally made in the belly, beginning at the vent. and from time to time, till you arrive at the last stitch, keep adding a little cotton in order that there may be no deficiency there. lastly, dip your stick into the solution, and put it down the throat three or four times, in order that every part may receive it. when the head and neck are filled with cotton quite to your liking, close the bill as in nature. a little bit of bees' wax at the point of it will keep the mandibles in their proper place. a needle must be stuck into the lower mandible perpendicularly. you will shortly see the use of it. bring also the feet together by a pin, and then run a thread through the knees, by which you may draw them to each other as near as you judge proper. nothing now remains to be added but the eyes. with your little stick make a hollow in the cotton within the orbit, and introduce the glass eyes through the orbit. adjust the orbit to them as in nature, and that requires no other fastener. your close inspection of the eyes of animals will already have informed you that the orbit is capable of receiving a much larger body than that part of the eye which appears within it when in life. so that, were you to proportion your eye to the size the orbit is capable of receiving, it would be far too large. inattention to this has caused the eyes of every specimen in the best cabinets of natural history to be out of all proportion. to prevent this, contract the orbit by means of a very small delicate needle and thread at that part of it farthest from the beak. this may be done with such nicety that the stitch cannot be observed; and thus you have the artificial eye in true proportion. after this touch the bill, orbits, feet and former oil-gland at the root of the tail with the solution, and then you have given to the hawk everything necessary, except attitude and a proper degree of elasticity, two qualities very essential. procure any common ordinary box, fill one end of it about three-fourths up to the top with cotton, forming a sloping plane. make a moderate hollow in it to receive the bird. now take the hawk in your hands and, after putting the wings in order, place it in the cotton with its legs in a sitting posture. the head will fall down. never mind. get a cork and run three pins into the end, just like a three-legged stool. place it under the bird's bill, and run the needle which you formerly fixed there into the head of the cork. this will support the bird's head admirably. if you wish to lengthen the neck, raise the cork by putting more cotton under it. if the head is to be brought forward, bring the cork nearer to the end of the box. if it requires to be set backwards on the shoulders, move back the cork. as in drying the back part of the neck will shrink more than the fore part, and thus throw the beak higher than you wish it to be, putting you in mind of a stargazing horse, prevent this fault by tying a thread to the beak and fastening it to the end of the box with a pin or needle. if you choose to elevate the wings, do so, and support them with cotton; and should you wish to have them particularly high, apply a little stick under each wing, and fasten the end of them to the side of the box with a little bees' wax. if you would have the tail expanded, reverse the order of the feathers, beginning from the two middle ones. when dry, replace them in their true order, and the tail will preserve for ever the expansion you have given it. is the crest to be erect? move the feathers in a contrary direction to that in which they lie for a day or two, and it will never fall down after. place the box anywhere in your room out of the influence of the sun, wind and fire; for the specimen must dry very slowly if you wish to reproduce every feature. on this account the solution of corrosive sublimate is uncommonly serviceable; for at the same time that it totally prevents putrefaction, it renders the skin moist and flexible for many days. while the bird is drying, take it out, and replace it in its position once every day. then, if you see that any part begins to shrink into disproportion, you can easily remedy it. the small covert-feathers of the wings are apt to rise a little, because the skin will come in contact with the bone which remains in the wing. pull gently the part that rises with your finger and thumb for a day or two. press the feathers down. the skin will adhere no more to the bone, and they will cease to rise. every now and then touch and retouch all the different parts of the features in order to render them distinct and visible, correcting at the same time any harshness or unnatural risings or sinkings, flatness or rotundity. this is putting the last finishing hand to it. in three or four days the feet lose their natural elasticity, and the knees begin to stiffen. when you observe this, it is time to give the legs any angle you wish, and arrange the toes for a standing position, or curve them to your finger. if you wish to set the bird on a branch, bore a little hole under each foot a little way up the leg; and having fixed two proportional spikes on the branch, you can, in a moment, transfer the bird from your finger to it, and from it to your finger at pleasure. when the bird is quite dry, pull the thread out of the knees, take away the needle, etc., from under the bill, and all is done. in lieu of being stiff with wires, the cotton will have given a considerable elasticity to every part of your bird; so that, when perching on your finger, if you press it down with the other hand, it will rise again. you need not fear that your hawk will alter, or its colours fade. the alcohol has introduced the sublimate into every part and pore of the skin, quite to the roots of the feathers. its use is twofold: firstly, it has totally prevented all tendency to putrefaction; and thus a sound skin has attached itself to the roots of the feathers. you may take hold of a single one, and from it suspend five times the weight of the bird. you may jerk it; it will still adhere to the skin, and after repeated trials often break short. secondly, as no part of the skin has escaped receiving particles of sublimate contained in the alcohol, there is not a spot exposed to the depredation of insects: for they will never venture to attack any substance which has received corrosive sublimate. you are aware that corrosive sublimate is the most fatal poison to insects that is known. it is anti-putrescent; so is alcohol; and they are both colourless, of course; they cannot leave a stain behind them. the spirit penetrates the pores of the skin with wonderful velocity, deposits invisible particles of the sublimate and flies off. the sublimate will not injure the skin, and nothing can detach it from the parts where the alcohol has left it. [footnote: all the feathers require to be touched with the solution, in order that they may be preserved from the depredation of the moth. the surest way of proceeding is to immerse the bird in the solution of corrosive sublimate, and then dry it before you begin to dissect it.] furs of animals immersed in this solution will retain their pristine brightness and durability in any climate. take the finest curled feather from a lady's head, dip it in the solution, and shake it gently till it be dry; you will find that the spirit will fly off in a few minutes, not a curl in the feather will be injured, and the sublimate will preserve it from the depredation of the insect. perhaps it may be satisfactory to add here that some years ago i did a bird upon this plan in demerara. it remained there two years. it was then conveyed to england, where it stayed five months, and returned to demerara. after being four years more there it was conveyed back again through the west indies to england, where it has now been near five years, unfaded and unchanged. on reflecting that this bird has been twice in the temperate and torrid zone, and remained some years in the hot and humid climate of demerara, only six degrees from the line, and where almost everything becomes a prey to the insect, and that it is still as sound and bright as when it was first done, it will not be thought extravagant to surmise that this specimen will retain its pristine form and colours for years after the hand that stuffed it has mouldered into dust. i have shown this art to the naturalists in brazil, cayenne, demerara, oroonoque and rome, and to the royal cabinets of turin and florence. a severe accident prevented me from communicating it to the cabinet of paris, according to my promise. a word or two more, and then we will conclude. a little time and experience will enable you to produce a finished specimen: "mox similis volucri, mox vera volucris." if your early performance should not correspond with your expectations, do not let that cast you down. you cannot become an adept all at once. the poor hawk itself, which you have just been dissecting, waited to be fledged before it durst rise on expanded pinion, and had parental aid and frequent practice ere it could soar with safety and ease beyond the sight of man. little more remains to be added, except that what has been penned down with regard to birds may be applied in some measure to serpents, insects and four-footed animals. should you find these instructions too tedious, let the wish to give you every information plead in their defence. they might have been shorter; but horace says, by labouring to be brief you become obscure. if by their means you should be enabled to procure specimens from foreign parts in better preservation than usual, so that the naturalist may have it in his power to give a more perfect description of them than has hitherto been the case; should they cause any unknown species to be brought into public view, and thus add a little more to the page of natural history, it will please me much. but should they unfortunately tend to cause a wanton expense of life; should they tempt you to shoot the pretty songster warbling near your door, or destroy the mother as she is sitting on the nest to warm her little ones, or kill the father as he is bringing a mouthful of food for their support--oh, then! deep indeed will be the regret that i ever wrote them. adieu, charles waterton. finis glossary acaiari, _the resinous gum of the hiawa-tree_. acouri, _one of the agutis_; a rodent about the size of a rabbit. acuero, _a species of palm_. ã�ta, _a palm of great size_; it may reach a hundred feet before the leaves begin. ai, _the three-toed sloth_. albicore, _a fish closely related to the tunny_. anhinga, _the darter or snake-bird_; a cormorant-like bird. ant-bear, _now called the ant-eater_. ara, _a macaw_. ara, scarlet, _the scarlet macaw_. bisa, _one of the saki monkeys_. cabbage mountain, _one of the most beautiful of the palm-trees_. camoudi, _the anaconda._ campanero, _the bell-bird._ caprimulgus, _one of the goat-suckers._ cassique, _a bird of the hang-nest family._ cayman, _an alligator, as here used._ cotingas, _chatterers._ couguar, _the puma._ coulacanara, _the boa-constrictor._ courada, _the white mangrove tree._ crabier, _the boat-bill--a small heron._ crickets, _cicadas._ cuia, _one of the trojans._ curlew, scarlet, _the scarlet ibis._ dolphin, _a coryphene--a true fish--not a cetacean._ guana, _the iguana lizard._ hannaquoi, _one of the curassows._ houtou, _one of the motmots._ humming-bird ara or karabimiti, _the crimson topaz._ jacamar, _jacana_, as anglicized--_the spur-winged waterhen._ labba, _a rodent allied to the cavies._ naudapoa, _an ibis._ patasa, _unidentified._ phaeton, _the tropic bird._ pi-pi-yo, _unidentified._ porcupine, _the tree-porcupine._ quake, _a basket of open-work, very elastic and expansive._ redstart, _quite distinct from the english redstart._ sacawinki, _one of the squirrel monkeys._ sangre-do-buey, _the scarlet tanager._ tangara, _now called tanager. see sangre-do-buey._ waracaba, _the trumpeter._ whip-poor-will, _one of the goat-suckers._ who-are-you? _one of the goat-suckers._ willy-come-go, _one of the goat-suckers._ work-away, _one of the goat-suckers._ yawaraciri, _one of the blue creepers._ acaiari ai, _see_ sloths alligators american cities, classical names of american ladies, praise of; their attire american manners ant-bears ant-eating birds antigua ants; an ingredient of wourali poison; nests of apoura-poura, river ara (macaw) armadillo arrowroot, wild arrows, indian arthur, king asses, effect of wourali poison on aura vulture banks, sir joseph barbadoes basseterre bãªte-rouge birds, demeraran; brazilian, bitterns blow-pipe, indian boa-constrictor boclora bois immortel bow, indian broadway bucaniers buffalo bug, encounter with a buonaparte, prince charles bush-master bush-rope camoudi snake campanero canadians characterised caprimulgus, _see_ goat-suckers caps, a diatribe against cassava cassique castries cayenne cayman; expedition in search of; fishing for; ridden by author chegoe clove-trees cock-of-the-rock constable rock coral snake cotingas couguar coulacanara snake, capture of a counacouchi, _see_ bush-master coushie-ant cuia curlew, scarlet custom house difficulties demerara, falls of the river potentialities of the colony _deserted village_, goldsmith's, quoted dog, effect of wourali poison on a; probably not native to guiana dolphin dominica eagle, white-headed edmonstone, charles edmonstone, robert egret erie canal; lake essequibo river; falls of the; scenery europe, future american independence of fever, treatment of fig-tree, wild fire-fly fish, demeraran fishing, indian method of, flying-fish, forest-trees, demeraran; destruction of north american, fort st. joachim, fowl, effect of wourali poison on a, frigate pelican, goat-suckers; superstitious fear of, grand gobe-mouche, gross-beak, guadalope, guiana, future of; bird's-eye view of, hannaquoi, hermit, a white, hia-hia, _history of brazil_, southey's, horned screamer, houtou, howling monkey, _see_ monkeys hudson, journey up the, hugues, victor, humming-birds, ibibirou, impostor, an indian, indians; mode of life; religion, _see also_ macoushi indians india-rubber, inn-album, inscription in an, insects, demeraran, irish emigrants, jabiru, jacamar, jaguar, jay, guianan, jesuits, expulsion of the, kearney, dennis, kessi-kessi paroquet, kingfishers, king of the vultures, labarri snake, la gabrielle, national plantation at, land-tortoise, lizards, maam, _see_ tinamou macoushi indians; their methods of hunting; trick played by one on the author, manikins, maroudis, martin, m., martinico, metallic-cuckoo, mibiri creek, mines in guiana, monkeys; red, or howling; a specimen with grecian features, monteiro, montreal, mora-tree, museum at philadelphia, new amsterdam, new york, niagara, falls of, nobrega, father, olinda; botanic garden at, _ornithology of the united states_, wilson's, otters, owl, a crab-eating, ox, effect of wourali poison on an, pacou, paramaribo, parasitic plants, parima, lake, park, mungo, parrots, partridge, peccari, pelican, percy, earl, pernambuco; environs, petrel, stormy, philadelphia, phaeton, pi-pi-yo, pombal, preservation of colours of toucan's bill; of quadrupeds; of zoological specimens generally; of birds, purple-heart, quadrupeds, forest, quashi, daddy, quebec, quiver, indian, rattlesnake, red-headed finch, red monkey, _see_ monkeys redstart, rhinoceros-beetle, rice-bird, roseau, rubber-tree, saba, st. john's, st. lucie, st. pierre, saintes, the, sangre-de-buey, saratoga, savanna, a demerara, slavery in demerara; in west indies, slaves, encounter with runaway, sloths; three-toed, or ai; two-toed, smoking, snakes; hunting, spice plantations, spikes, poisoned, stabroek, southey, robert, sun-bird, superstition, reflections on, surinam, tangaras, tapir, tarbet, misadventures of mr., tauronina, taxidermy, _see_ preservation ticks, ticonderoga, tiger, _see_ jaguar tiger-bird, small, tinamou, toucans, travellers, advice to, travellers' tales, troupiales, troy, trumpeters, turtle, united states, progress of the, utica, vampires, vanilla, vultures, wallaba-tree, wasps, water-hens, water-mamma, weapons, indian, whip-poor-will, _see_ goat-suckers whipsnake, wild boars, hunting, wild man of the woods, a, wilson, alexander, woodpeckers, wound, treatment of a, wourali poison; its effects; ingredients; preparation; method of using: antidotes; experiments in england, yabahou, the evil spirit, yawaraciri, 