Chapter II: Adventures in South America

Being now about seventeen years old, and having the reputation of being a pretty good sailor, I was offered a berth on board a vessel that was going to Surinam, a Dutch settlement in South America. This I accepted, not only because the pay was liberal, but I had a vague notion that I might there hear something of my uncle Ben; for we had always understood that when he left St. Domingo he sailed for that place. My mother seemed always to have a kind of faith that he was alive, and she hoped I might hear of him at Surinam. We set sail in November, our vessel being a brig called the Sheldrake. We proceeded for some time on our voyage without any remarkable occurrence.

When we began to approach the coast of South America, I could not but be struck with the splendor of the stars at night. In those southern latitudes, we see a different set of stars from those which are visible in New England, and many of the groups are exceedingly brilliant. The beauty of a tropical night, especially at sea, even when the moon is not visible, can scarcely be conceived. The waves of the ocean are flashing with phosphoric light, and to such a degree, as to throw a lustre upon the sides of the ship. The stars are of sufficient brilliancy to light up the atmosphere, giving to all the objects, above and around, an aspect of peculiar loveliness.

Surinam is a part of a great country called Guiana, which forms the northeastern corner of the South American continent, and belongs a part to England, a part to France, and Surinam to Holland. It is a low, level region, presenting not a single hill or highland for two or three hundred miles. When we approached the coast, I saw the land; nothing was presented to the view but a line of trees edging the shore, as far as the eye could reach. Not a house was visible, nor, indeed, any other object which could give us the least intimation as to what part of the coast we had reached. We kept off the shore, and proceeded south-eastward, keeping the land in view.

As we were proceeding in this manner, a smart gale sprung up one night, and, in spite of our efforts to keep off, we were driven in toward the land. In the morning we struck the bottom, and soon found that we were stuck fast in the mud-bank which extends out three or four miles to sea, along the whole coast of Guiana. It was now December, a time when the whole face of nature is wrapped in snow in New England; but where we were, the heat was excessive.

After about two days, we contrived to work our brig out of the mud, and once more proceeded on our course. At last we saw a house upon the land, and the captain, coming to an anchor, sent a boat ashore, to inquire whereabouts we were. The answer was that we were near the mouth of the river Courantin, about a hundred miles west of Paramaribo, to which place we were bound. This was very agreeable news. We now proceeded cheerfully on our way, and in the course of two days we could perceive, by the appearance of the water, that we were near the mouth of a large river. This we knew to be the Surinam, and now, pursuing a southerly course, soon found ourselves at the wharf of Paramaribo.

I had been a great deal around the world and seen a great many beautiful places, but never was I more delighted than when I walked about this little city. It is not larger than Providence, having only twenty thousand inhabitants, but the streets are long, straight and broad, and are lined with the most beautiful trees that can be imagined. These are of various kinds, such as oranges, lemons, shaddocks, tamarinds, &c. At all seasons of the year, these are bending with fruit, and yet covered with blossoms. The air is at all times filled with perfume, especially at night.

The inhabitants are generally Dutch. The houses are for the most part of wood, but they are of a curious fashion, having very heavy cornices, with abundance of queer ornaments. Nothing can present a stronger contrast than do the people in these streets to those of New England. In the latter place, there is great uniformity; in the former, all is variety. Here you may see the old Dutch planters, with their huge trowsers and broad-brimmed hats; sailors from all countries; soldiers, Jews, Indians and Negroes. The dresses of these people strike a Yankee as being exceedingly droll, and at first, I could not help laughing at almost everybody I met. By degrees, the singularity of things around me wore off, and I became accustomed to the manners of the place. The river before the town of Paramaribo is at least a mile in width, and as there are a great many boats and barges constantly plying upon its surface, the scene it presents is of a very lively character.

The soil of Guiana is among the richest in the world. The land lies so low that it is necessary to build dikes, for the purpose of keeping out the sea and the inundations of the rivers. The chief productions are coffee, sugar, cacao, cotton and indigo. It also produces ginger, pepper, cloves, nutmegs, castor oil, &c. The object of our voyage was to obtain coffee and spices. There is no country in the world more rich in its fruits. Yams, sweet potatoes, bananas, and the cocoa nut, are produced in abundance. Oranges, lemons, limes, figs, shaddocks, melons of many kinds, and other delicious fruits, abound.

Nothing can equal the luxuriance of the flowering shrubs and plants. Many of these are of gigantic stature. The trees often grow to a great height, and thousands of bright-winged birds seem to live a life of perpetual bliss amid the perfume that is shed from their perennial blossoms.

As soon as I had become a little acquainted with the town, I began to make inquiry about my uncle. I could, however, hear nothing of him, until, at last, an old sailor told me that he remembered him perfectly well; that he came from Port au Prince to Paramaribo more than twenty years before, where he remained only for a year or two. The man could give me no farther information about him. He told me, however, that there was an Englishman residing up in the country about a hundred miles, who had some business with my uncle, and he could tell me all about him. As our vessel was likely to be detained about a month, I got permission of the captain to go and see this man, to whom I was referred for information respecting my uncle.

I set out on foot, and pursued my way along the banks of the river Surinam. The road was roughly paved with stones, and heavy wagons were frequently passing to and fro upon it. Although I was in a strange country, I felt no concern, for I was naturally of a fearless disposition, and beside, I was armed with a cudgel in my hand, and a pistol under my belt. So far, indeed, was I from fear, that I felt a sort of pleasant excitement in my present adventure. The strange appearance of everything around me rather excited than saddened my mind. The trees, the shrubs, the very birds, the whole aspect of nature, the forms of the houses that I occasionally met, the dress of the inhabitants, all reminded me that I was far from my own country, that I was a stranger in a strange land; but still I was light of heart, and whistling Yankee Doodle, I plodded bravely on.

I had set out before sunrise, and by ten o’clock had travelled more than a dozen miles. Finding myself weary, I turned off the road, and seated myself on the bank of the river, beneath the shade of a large tree. Here I sat for some time, listening to the incessant chatter of parrots and macaws over my head, and observing the humming birds that were buzzing among the flowering shrubs.

At last, I fell asleep, as little dreaming of danger as if I were taking a nap upon a summer day upon the banks of the Connecticut river. I slept soundly for some time, but at last I began to dream about a great many strange things. I fancied that I was wandering in a distant land――that I finally came to a great cavern, which I entered――that I was weary and laid myself down to repose――that a horrid monster stole upon me in my helpless condition, and was about to rend me in pieces; I dreamed that I attempted to rise and escape, but that I could not stir. Such at last was the horror of my mind, that I screamed aloud, and at the instant awoke from my sleep.

What was my horror to discover that my dream was almost a reality! At the distance of about twenty feet I saw an enormous alligator, with his jaws already distended, ready to press me in his fangs. He was slowly stealing upon me, but as I moved, he rushed forward, his enormous tail brandished in the air, and his claws spread, as if ready to grapple me. Quick as thought, I leaped from the ground, and at a single bound placed myself behind the trunk of the tree beneath which I had been sleeping. The monster perceived that he was foiled in his main object; but unluckily I had left my wallet, containing a loaf of bread and some cold meat, upon the ground where I had lain. The creature picked this up in his mouth, and wheeling heavily round, marched down the bank and plunged into the water. At first, I was quite satisfied to have escaped with my life; but I soon began to lament the loss of my dinner. It was in vain, however, to repine, so I seized my cudgel, and proceeded upon my journey.

[To be continued.]

Bill and the Boys.

_The Lottery Ticket, continued._

The reader will remember that Tom Trudge had set off from his home in the country, to go to New York and see to the success of his lottery ticket. He soon arrived at the great city, and found, to his vexation, that the drawing of the lottery was postponed for a week beyond the appointed time. It seemed to him hardly worth while to return to his home, but what should he do to get rid of this terrible week? When we are looking forward with impatience to a certain event, the time that stands between us and the object of desire, is considered a hateful enemy, and we set about killing it as well as we can. Some people are as anxious to kill time, as if it were a lion or a grizzly bear.

At the period we speak of, some thirty or forty years ago, a common way of killing time, or, in other words, of wasting that most precious gift of Heaven, was to go to a tap-room or tavern, and drink flip, whiskey or grog, and indulge in low and vulgar conversation. Such things are considered very silly now, but it was otherwise then. Tom could think of no other way to spend his week than to go to the Jefferson and Liberty tavern, and indulge in the amusements of the bar-room. So thither he went, and by keeping himself in a state verging on intoxication, he continued to while away the awful seven days.

At last the appointed hour came. A firm conviction had taken possession of Tom’s mind, that he was to draw the prize of fifty thousand dollars. He did not seem to consider that there were twenty thousand tickets, and that his chance of getting it was only one in twenty thousand. To a deluded mind, such an obstacle is nothing; one chance in twenty thousand is just as good as certainty. When the drawing took place, the office was thronged with a crowd of people, most of them wretched in the extreme. There were old men, tottering upon the verge of the grave; there were haggard women, evidently starving for want of the money they had invested in the lottery; there were young persons, of both sexes, apparently sunk in vice and wasted with poverty; there were the sick and emaciated, mingled with the strong and the reckless. All anticipated with hope and expectation,――and yet all, or nearly all, were destined to go away with disappointment and sickness of heart.

Tom got close to the revolving wheel, and, with his ticket in his hand, watched the numbers as they were declared. Several times his heart beat violently, as a number came out near his own. The drawing continued for more than two hours, and his hopes began to fly, as he perceived that the prizes were nearly all out. At last his own number, which was 777, was announced, and immediately after, it appeared that it had drawn the prize of 50,000 dollars!!!

Tom Trudge was in general a pretty stable-minded man, but for a moment his eyes grew dim and his brain reeled. A strange variety of images glided in confusion before his fancy, among which, his wife, with a _yaller_ damask gown and a fine fan, were conspicuous. Finding it necessary to have air, he left the crowd, and went into the street. For some time he could hardly tell where or what he was; but at last his faculties rallied, and, coming fully to himself, he began to consider what was to be done.

He made inquiries at the office, and found that he could cash his prize at once by paying 5000 dollars discount;――this he did, and immediately found himself in the possession of the sum of forty-five thousand dollars,――an immense sum in those days, especially for a pedlar, who had seldom before had fifty dollars in hand at a time. Though he was anxious to go home and communicate his good fortune to his wife, he did not forget her injunction. He went forthwith and purchased a magnificent changeable silk dress, of yellow and purple, upon which was a representation of a bathing goddess in figures of gold. He also purchased a fan, on one side of which was a Venus, and on the other a Cupid, and started for home. Stopping at every tavern on the road, he drank liberally, and by the time he reached his cottage, his brain was not a little muddled.

When he entered the little dwelling, his hair was dishevelled, and his eyes staring,――his whole aspect, indeed, was wild and singular. He, however, rushed up to his wife, exclaiming, “I have got it! I have got it!” He then kissed her over and over again; took up his children and nearly stifled them with his obstreperous embraces; at the same time, he shouted, danced and whirled round like a bedlamite. “What is it ails you, Tom? What in natur’ is the matter? Are you drunk or mad?” said his spouse. “I have got it,――there, there!” said Tom, hurling the bundle of silk at his wife’s head. “There’s the yaller damask, and the fine fan! And here’s the fifty thousand dollars!” Saying this, he took an enormous bundle of bank bills from his pocket, and giving it a whirl around his head, threw it across the room, and scattered the precious bits of paper over the floor. It is impossible to depict the astonishment of Mrs. Trudge, as she beheld the shower of bank bills, of five, ten and even twenty dollars each, now lying before her, as abundant as the very chips around the wood-pile.

For a moment the dame was bewildered, and the idea crossed her mind that it was only a dream. It was indeed so much like one of those visions that often cheat the mind in sleep, that she stood still, rubbed her forehead and looked puzzled for several seconds. But in a few moments her husband, quite out of his head, began to dance among the scattered bills, and cutting his pigeon-wings where they lay thickest, made them fly in all directions. Several of them were near the hearth, and, caught by the draught, edged closer and closer to the heap of coals, and at last bounded under the forestick and were instantly reduced to ashes. Others took a flying leap up the throat of the chimney, and circling round and round, disappeared amidst the soot and coiling smoke.

These circumstances at last recalled Mrs. Trudge to her senses. She had by degrees unravelled the tangled skein of events and made out the truth. She saw that her husband had actually drawn a great prize; that, obedient to her command, he had bought the damask and the fan, and that, between tippling and delight, his wits had gone wool-gathering for a season. She saw the necessity of immediate exertion to save the bank bills, now scattered like worthless rags upon the floor, her bewitched husband still rigadooning in their midst, and grinding them beneath his feet, or making them circle about upon the eddies of air that his brisk motions created. Like a hawk pouncing upon a brood of chickens, she now stooped upon the cash, and gathered it by handfuls into her apron, which she held up by the two corners. Seeing what she was about, her addled lord came after her and chased her round the room. But Mrs. Trudge took good care to keep out of his way, and soon succeeded in picking up the greater part of the bills. At last her husband, being completely exhausted, fell upon the floor. His good wife then dragged him to bed, and leaving him there in a sound sleep, she completed her work of securing the money.

Trudge slept long and heavy, but at last he awoke. He seemed sadly bewildered, and put his hand to his forehead in a manner which showed that he not only had a pain in his head, but was troubled in mind. At last he turned to his wife, and demanded, “Where is the money?”

“Money?” said his better half,――“Money! what man――money! money, indeed! I think I should like some money myself. ’Tis a pretty business indeed: you go away and leave your tender wife and suffering children for ten long days; you then come back drunk as a fiddler, cut up all sorts of cantraps about the house, almost murther your family, and then, after you have come to your senses, you ask, as innocent as a cat licking cream, ‘where is the money?’ Where _is_ the money? say I. Zounds, where is my yaller damask and the French fan? Come, speak, man! Or is it all a dream? Didn’t you draw the big prize, after all? Oh, Tom, Tom! I told you so; I told you how it would be; I knew you had thrown away your money, and here we are, a poor innocent family, reduced to ruin, poverty and starvation!!” Upon this, the dame held her apron to her eyes, and the tears, real tears, bright as crystals, chased each other down her rosy cheeks.

Poor Tom Trudge! There he sat on the bedside, the very image of botheration. For the life of him, he could not tell whether he had really drawn the prize, or only been visited by a bewildering vision. At last, however, the mists that had hung over his mind began to clear away; the truth came more and more distinct to his mind, and finally he recollected the drawing of the lottery, his obtaining the forty-five thousand dollars, his buying the damask and the fan――his journey homeward, and the meeting with his wife. Just as he had fully brought to recollection the whole affair, he looked up, and discovered a half malicious smile shining through the tears of his spouse. She now burst into a hearty laugh, and brought forth the bundle of bank notes, nicely done up, and Tom Trudge and his wife were the happiest couple in the universe.

[To be continued.]

The Old Mansion.

The following simple but touching ballad was composed a short time since, by a girl in Maine, about seventeen years of age, who had been suffering several years from a weakness of sight, so as to prevent her reading or writing. It was taken down, from her dictation, by a friend.

There stood a stately mansion old
On brow of sloping hill;
There many a joyous day I’ve passed,
And mem’ry loves it still.

’Twas ’neath the shade of lofty elms
And evergreen dark pine,
Where robins sing, with notes so sweet,
In spring and summer time.

There dwelt my aged ancestor,
With partner of his years;
They’d travell’d long together here
In sunshine and in tears.

Their spring-time hopes were faded,
And winter days came round,
Yet sunny ties of kindred
Their hearts to earth still bound.

My grandma’s eyes were soft and blue,
And tenderly she smiled,
She ne’er thought ill of any one,
Her words were always mild.

I never shall forget her voice,
The tones of her “Good even’;”
Nothing we ever asked her for
But what was kindly given.

My grandpa’ often told us tales,
All of the olden time;
And of the wars for liberty
He fought in “auld lang syne.”

He gave us pretty picture-books
On happy New-Year’s day;
And poor, who hither came for aid,
Ne’er empty went away.

Grandma’ would tell us of the train,
The beaver hat and plume,
And all the fashion of the dress
She wore in girlhood’s bloom.

She always kept some plums or cake
In cupboard saved away,
To give “the children,” every time
They came with her to stay.

And we assembled every year
In that wide ancient hall,
To keep the old “Election-day,”
Parents and children all.

Then rang the walls with merriment,
With laughter and with glee;
Those sounds come o’er my memory now,
And sadly seem to me.

Oh, there were entries long and dark,
Clock-room and pantry too;
And a hole was cut in the cellar-door,
Where fav’rite cat went through.

Grandma’ wore parted on her brow
Her own soft, silvery hair;
And scissors bright at her girdle hung,
E’er knitting her fingers were.

A buck-horn head had grandpa’s cane,
His hat was wide of brim;
His silver snuff-box was a gift
From Washington to him.

Up in the garret long and low,
Was spinnet and spinning-wheel;
For grandmamma, though lady bred,
Could deftly spin a reel.

Then at foot of the kitchen stairs
There stood a “settle” low;
And cheerily the large fire blazed
With log and fore-stick too.

With wheels and bucket in the porch,
There was a deep old well;
We thought, as in its depths we gazed,
A fairy there might dwell.

And there were haunts so old and dark
We hardly dared to stay,――
Where bones and curious things were kept,
And mouldering rubbish lay.

We wandered in the orchard green,
Where large red apples grew,
And damsons purple, moose-plums sweet,
Of varied size and hue.

We shook the branches merrily,
And strewed them on the ground;
Such mellow and delicious fruit
Could nowhere else be found.

Down in the “Happy Valley” near
A streamlet wandered by;
We often crossed its bridge, to climb
For wild choke-cherries high.

We ran, too, in the long, straight mall,
Bordered with poplar trees,
Mingled with rose and currant bush,
Lilacs and gooseberries.

We sported in the garden aisles,
And sat in the arbors old,
Whose many-fancied tales of love
Then laughingly we told.

There grew the honied columbines,
And fragrant fleur-de-lis;
And grandma’s yellow marigolds,
And full-blown peony.

And there, with many a frolic wild,
We fled the hornets’ rage;
And grandma’ smiled, tho’ footsteps marred
Her much-prized bed of sage.

Her fav’rite pinks and southernwood
With fragrance filled the air;――
The summer days were always warm,
And every spot seemed fair.

The violets were very blue,
The grass was tall and green;
Such colors in my womanhood
I never since have seen!

The cows from their rich pastures came
Just at the sunset glow;
And laughing maids came out to milk,
And sat on cricket low.

’Tis the same sun in the sky, I ween,――
Ah, now it seems more cold;
And my cousin’s happy tones I miss
That fell in the arbors old.

That cherished place is still most fair,
There blooms the peony,――
He walks not o’er his broad lands now,
Nor she her flowers to see.

Alas! I never shall forget
When cold I saw her lay;
And full of years and goodness too,
They bore grandma’ away.

Eight times, as wont, the summer bloomed,
Eight times the autumn fell,
And he, the lonely, grey-haired man,
Was borne by her to dwell.

The flame broke wild and brightly forth,
One Sabbath evening still!――
In ruins fell the mansion old
On brow of sloping hill.

The Desman, or Russian Musk-Rat.

This creature resembles the common musk-rat, and is found both in Russia and Sweden. It is about the size of the common hedgehog, the body being eight or nine inches long. Its coat is like that of the beaver, and is composed of hair intermixed with soft, clear and delicate fur. The color is brown above, and silvery beneath. The tail, which is seven inches long, is one of the most extraordinary mechanical instruments in the whole animal kingdom. It is composed of three parts, each of which has a motion peculiar to itself.

The Desman chooses the margin of such places as are convenient for the burrows which it digs under water. These are sometimes seven yards in length, and are used as hiding-places. The water freezes over these entrances, and numbers of the animals are suffocated every winter. If there are any cracks or fissures in the ice, they crowd to them, eagerly thrusting their noses up to get the air.

The Desman preys at the bottom of the water, and dabbles with its nose in the mud, in search of the small insects which inhabit it. Its senses of touch and smell are very acute; this is rendered necessary from the fact that the animals upon which it preys are silent and invisible. Although nearly blind, it is not a nocturnal animal, but sleeps during the night, at which time it keeps its nose constantly moving, in order, it is supposed, to retain the organs in a proper state for work. Water is indispensable to its existence, and after having remained in a small quantity for any time, it is rendered very offensive from a strong musky odor, from which it derives its common name of musk-rat.

Inquisitive Jack.