Chapter II: Part 2

I shall not attempt to tell you half the dangers, difficulties, and troubles I have met with. I made the sun my guide by day, and the stars by night. I roosted in trees, like the birds, and ate fruit and herbs like the beast. I explored mountain torrents, which no human beings, probably, had never seen before; found diamonds in their beds, which had been dried up; collected gold from the mud of the rivers, and a great many curiosities, which I was obliged to throw away, for want of convenience to carry them. I met with tribes of Indians who had never heard of the name of England, or seen an Englishman.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] This part of the story may seem a little unnatural, but many travellers make similar statements.

VISIT TO A CAVERN.

Visit to a Cavern—The Guacharos—Night sounds—Return—An alarm—My
escape—Thanks for deliverance.

One evening, during my journey, having refreshed myself with some of the fruit that grew near me—for I always found food enough in South America, even in the forests—I took a fancy to explore a cavern that I saw in the rock, near which a cascade tumbled. Resolving to be well prepared for any enemy I might meet with, I took my gun with me.

I ought to tell you, by the way, that after I lost my mule, I was obliged for some time to content myself with a horse. I left him grazing at the foot of a bark tree. You have heard of the Peruvian bark, which is used so much in medicine, I dare say. I tied my horse, then, to a tree, which produces this sort of bark.

Well, all things prepared, I set out on my expedition. As I drew near the lofty cavern, I was astonished at the deafening noise of innumerable wings, and looking up in the uncertain twilight, I saw hundreds—I think I might say thousands—of birds flying about, preparing to leave their home, in search of food. They were the _guacharos_. I had read of them in Humboldt’s narrative, but to use the sailor phrase, I had never before ‘run foul’ of any of them. They are night birds, that somewhat resemble our owls, but instead of roosting on trees, these creatures build in caverns. A sight of them is well worth the trouble and danger of exploring one of these dark and gloomy mansions. Their noise is prodigious!

In fact, one of the most wonderful things a traveller meets with in South America, is the different and strange sounds at night. The howling monkeys, the night-birds, the sharp cries of the jaguars, the roar of the pumas, the flapping of wings, the rustling of branches, and other noises, are astonishing!

How different from the lone solitude of our woods in New England, where the only sound, perhaps, that disturbs the silence of the night, is the distant hooting of the owl, or the howling of some dog. Indeed, the greater part of the time, every creature is so silent that you would scarcely know that any living thing was waking.

Well, I stayed so long in the bird cavern, that it was quite dark when I got back to my horse, and I had not yet made up my nightly fire. So I groped round in the dark and collected, as well as I could, some leaves and sticks, and began to kindle my fire. But just as I was kneeling down to blow at the heap of fuel I had lighted, my horse suddenly started, drew back to the full length of his cord, rolled his eyes, enlarged his nostrils, threw his ears forward, erected his main and tail, and stood there the very picture of terror. “There is danger now,” thought I; but I was resolved to meet it. So I jumped up instantly, and looking into the gloom, in the direction which my horse’s eyes took, I saw a dark mass of something moving slowly along among the bushes.

I was up the tree instantly, I assure you, taking with me my gun, which I had rested against its trunk. For a minute or two all was quiet. Soon, however, the dark body approached a little nearer, but so quietly, that I should have thought very little more of it, had not my horse shown symptoms of so much alarm. I levelled my piece and fired, and, as I suppose, wounded the animal; for he bounded up, and darted off into the thicket.

Just at this moment the fire burst into a bright blaze, which kept the wild animals away for the rest of that night. I did not rest or sleep very well, however, for I had used the rope that I commonly tied myself with, to fasten my horse. One thing, however, you may easily suppose, I did not forget to do; which was to give thanks to my great Preserver, who ‘_guides the helm_’, as we sailors say, by land, as well as by sea.

TRAVELS AMONG THE INDIANS.

The Steppes—New troubles—Bad water—Eating clay and ants.

I came at last to the dreary plains of South America, called _Steppes_, and here my troubles were unusually severe. All kinds of stinging insects, serpents, and loathesome reptiles annoyed me; besides I could hardly get food and drink. Sometimes, though rarely, I was so fortunate as to find a plant resembling the aloe, containing a quantity of pure water in its stem; but when I could not get this, I was obliged to drink the horrible water of the rivers, swarming with animalculæ (little creatures almost too small to be seen by the naked eye) to such a degree that I seemed to swallow about as much solid matter as liquid. As to food, I was contented, often, to swallow little balls of earth, as the natives do; for though it would be disgusting now, it served then, to keep the breath of life in me. It is a very fat, buttery kind of earth, and is prepared for food by baking it slightly in the fire. You are aware, I suppose, that the natives of Japan, Siberia, Africa, and other parts of the world, also sometimes eat clay.

After travelling a long time, I came unexpectedly upon a wandering tribe of Indians, consisting of only three or four families; and, entering one of their wretched huts, built of clay and leaves, I asked them for food.

At first they did not understand me, but with the help of signs, I soon made them comprehend that I was hungry; upon which one of them took down a bag containing a kind of greasy, spotted, whitish paste, gave me some of it, pointed to the fire, and went and lay down in his hammock, which with fourteen others was slung from some beams above.

I was so tired and wet, for it was now the rainy season, and so glad to find something to eat better than clay, that I was going to cram it down, when I saw unexpectedly that the black spots on it were large ants. I threw it down instantly; but soon recollecting that a _paste_ mixed with ants, is represented by Humboldt as a very common food among some of these tribes of Indians, and feeling impelled by hunger to eat something, I at last eat a small quantity of it.

These were the laziest sort of people I ever met with. They seemed to have no wants, beyond mere eating and drinking;[2] they have no clothes to mend, or domestic cares to attend to; no fishing, no hunting to prepare for.

I quitted them as soon as I could, I assure you, for they were almost too lazy to furnish me with food; besides, I was not without fears, from the accounts given by other travellers, that they would master energy enough to kill me for food, as a treat!

Before I left them, however, I was greatly rejoiced, one day, to hear the word “Orinoco;” for, on inquiry, I found by signs that this long wished for river was only a little way to the south.

FOOTNOTES:

[2] I know we have _some_ just such people as this in every country, at least in every one that I have seen; but here they were _all_ stupid. There were no active and industrious persons among them.

BIRDS AND BEASTS OF SOUTH AMERICA.

Bathing—A shock—Electrical Eel—The Bell-bird—The Sloth—how
slandered.

One day, about noon, as I came to a pleasant looking pond or lake, beautifully over-shadowed with trees, the thought struck me that I would take a bath. But I had scarcely entered the water, before I felt a shock like that of an electrical machine, and a very severe one, too.

“An earthquake?” you will perhaps say. By no means. The shock was given by an electrical eel. However, it instantly took away all my strength, and nearly all my senses, too; and I believe, in my heart, I should never have been here, but for help. It was close to a Missionary village, and an Indian woman happening to come down to the pond to dip up water, just at that moment, and guessing my situation, lost no time in dragging me out before the animal had an opportunity of repeating his shocks.

I had now reached a better country. The mornings, especially, were uncommonly beautiful. Birds of every color greeted my ears with their songs; and among the rest, I particularly noticed the _companion_ or _bell-bird_. Perched on the top of a lofty mora tree, this bird used to awaken me by his clear ringing note that sounds exactly like a fine toned bell, and may be heard two or three miles. He is white, with a black spire on his head, and about three inches in length.

Among other creatures that arrested my attention, was the harmless, but misrepresented and slandered _sloth_. I used often to see him looking down in my face from the lofty trees, where he feels most at home and most happy.

It is true that after he has been caught and put on the ground, he is a dull lazy animal; for he is out of his element, almost as much as a fish out of water, or a human being in it.

But I will give you a few more particulars of this animal. He is formed to live on trees, and is never found any where else, unless by force or accident. While the weather is calm, he remains suspended or hanging from the branches; but during a high wind, when the boughs of the closely growing trees are shaken and _laced together_, as it were, he passes from one to the other with ease and quickness. He never moves _upon_, but _under_ the branches; he hangs there to rest, to eat, and to sleep. The color of his fur is so nearly that of the moss on the bark, that it is not easy to discover him, except when he is moving. In short, instead of being an object of disgust, or even of pity, I do not know a creature that appears more happy, as long as man and other animals will let him alone. It is man, by his “meddling” that makes a great many of the woes that his fellow animals feel. It is guns and snares, and traps, and aviaries, and cages, that make birds and beasts most unhappy.

THE WILL-O’-THE-WISP.

India rubber shoes—Aloe-leaf hats—Will-o’-the-wisps—What they are.

I had now been so long or in the forests and among the Indians, that I began to be in want of some of those things that are only to be found in the abodes of civilized men. My shoes, in particular, began to fail me; and I dreaded the idea of going barefooted day after day.

But as good luck would have it, or rather, perhaps I ought to say, as a kind Providence _designed_ it, I fell in with an India rubber tree, into which somebody had made incisions, and from which the gum was now flowing. So I let it flow upon my shoes, in order to form a new sole. In this undertaking, however, I was not quite so successful as in making a new hat to supply the place of my old one. I found a species of aloe, from the tough thick leaves of which, by splitting them I made me a very good hat, especially for the dry season. In the rainy season, it would not have been quite so comfortable, I suppose.

One night, as I had taken up my quarters on the verge of a forest, and had got seated in my cradle, which you know was among the thick branches of some huge tree, I saw a light glancing among the trees. I came down from my roosting place, almost in an instant, and went towards it, hoping there was a village near; for I was sadly in want of a better rope to fasten myself with; and the Indians of these villages make some very ingenious ones, by twisting together the long fibres of the leaves of the cocoa-tree.

Well, as I said, I followed the light, but _where_, do you think? Why out of the forest, to be sure, but into something worse than a forest. I found myself, ere I was aware of the nature of my guide, up to my knees in a quagmire: and what was more mortifying still, I was not much nearer the light than when I set out.

I began now to suspect what it was. It was evidently one of those things to which they give the name of _ignis fatuus_, or _will-o’-the-wisp_. They are seen, as you know, (and as I might have known had my wits been about me) in low swampy places, peeping and dodging about. They are supposed to be _gaseous_; but perhaps you do not all of you know what _gaseous_ means; and I am hardly philosopher or chemist enough to tell you.

The atmosphere or air which we breathe is composed of two ingredients, or _gases_, as the chemists call them. One is oxygen. This is the supporter of life and flame, for if it could be taken out of the air we could not breathe again, and every candle and lamp would be extinguished in a moment. The other is nitrogen or azote, which _destroys_ life.

I told you the air we breathe was made up of these two airs or gases; and it is. But many other gases sometimes float in it. One of these is hydrogen. It is produced in various ways, and is one of the most inflammable substances in the world. Now electricity, (or lightning, for it is the same thing) which is a subtle or penetrating fluid, always exists in the atmosphere, and has at all times power to ignite (set on fire) a vapor so inflammable as hydrogen, if it happens to come in contact with it. Now, again, as this hydrogen gas is most readily produced by the decomposition of water, and combines or mixes with various other matters arising from decaying vegetation, putrifying animal substances, in low and marshy swamps, a tiny spark is sufficient to ignite these combined gases, and thus set off the Will-o’-the-Wisps.

THE AEROLITES.

Stones falling—Where they come from—Arrival at the river Orinoco.

Well, I extricated myself from the quagmire and returned,—though not without some difficulty, I had wandered so far, to my roosting place. The next morning as I was preparing to descend the tree, the sky being clear, and the sun shining, I was alarmed by a hissing noise in the air; and looking quickly around, I was just in time to see an immense mass of something, I could not tell what, falling from above, with a loud noise, and crushing in its fall, the branches of a lofty tamarind tree.

Hastening to the spot, I found, to my surprise, an enormous piece of metal, quite hot, which had fallen with such force that it lay half buried in the swampy ground.

I stood lost in wonder. When I was a boy, I had often picked up lumps of metal on the Wiltshire Downs, in England, but though told they were aerolites, I did not at that time believe a word of it. “Can the thin pure air,” thought I then, “form such hard bodies? Or can there be great iron mountains, and forges, and blacksmiths, and every thing of that sort, up in the air?”

But now a huge mass lay at my feet. I had seen it fall. It was still hot. The boughs of the tamarind tree lay scattered about in every direction. How could I doubt any longer? Was it reasonable to deny facts, before my eyes, because I could not account for them?

Do you wish to know if I can account for them _now_? Not a whit better. The moon, some say, has volcanic mountains which throw them out. But I don’t believe it. Think what an immense force of pressure it must take to send up a huge stone from one of our volcanoes, quite beyond the sphere of the earth’s attraction, so as to be met by the attraction of the moon and be carried to it! Do you believe such a thing could ever happen?

Nearly all we know about it is briefly this. Heavy bodies, of every variety of size, from an ounce to 300 pound’s weight, have at different times fallen from the atmosphere. These heavy bodies are really composed of earth and metals. They all contain the same substances, though sometimes varying a little in the proportions; viz. iron, nickel, manganese, silica or silex, sulphur, magnesia and lime.

Perhaps I ought to add that though I _know_ nothing more about these wonderful phenomena, it is more generally believed that these substances are _formed_ in the vast regions of the _atmosphere_, by causes unknown except to Him who _created_ the atmosphere, “in whom we live, and move, and have our being.”

Soon after my last adventure I arrived at the Mission villages on the banks of the river Orinoco. Here I met with a Spanish gentleman of distinction, by the name of Don Calao. He was a merchant, and sold monkeys, mackaws, turtles’ eggs, &c., very odd things for a man to trade with, as I then thought. I have something to say about turtles’ eggs in my next letter.

THE HARVEST OF TURTLE’S EGGS.

You would wonder how there could be any turtles remaining in South America, if you were to see the thousands and thousands that are destroyed by the Indians every year, at the _Harvest of Eggs_, as they call it. I attended one of these hunts or harvests, one day, with Don Calao the merchant, and saw the whole process.

We all went in a boat, early one morning, to an Island in the river, where the sand was smooth, and which the tide had left bare. A person then took a long pole, and walked about, thrusting it into the sand, in every direction, and wherever it penetrated easily, he knew there was a nest of turtle’s eggs. So then they dug down, and when they found any, they put them in a basket which they brought for the purpose.

Numbers of Indians were there, from all the neighboring shores, and immense numbers of eggs were collected. They make a kind of oil of the yolk, which is used in cooking, as well as for burning in their houses.

It is supposed that not fewer than a million of turtles lay their eggs at the mouth of the great river Orinoco. More than three millions of eggs were taken the year I was there. Each turtle lays, on an average, seventy eggs. You may be surprised that out of seventy millions of eggs laid, only three millions were taken. But so many are broken, so many hunted out and devoured by the jaguars and other animals that feed upon them, that the wonder is, rather, that we find the vast number that we do. Many escape and are hatched however, for I saw in one instance, the whole shore of the Orinoco, swarming with little turtles, just hatched, and scrambling towards the water to escape from the Indian children who were catching them.

The turtles lay their eggs during the night, in large holes, which they scratch in the sand. They then cover them up, and leave them to be warmed into life by the sun. The eggs are larger than pigeons’ eggs, and when well preserved, by slightly boiling or by drying in the sun, are very pleasant food.

We saw some large shells of turtles which the jaguars had emptied as neatly as if the flesh had been cut away with a sharp knife. Those animals hunt the poor creatures, catch them, turn them on their backs—you know they cannot turn back again—and then devour them at their leisure.

THE ANIMALS.

[Animals of South America—Jaguar—Water Hog.]

The same day that we went to the egg harvest, as we were sailing along on the river, we saw a jaguar feasting on a chiquire or water hog, and a large flock of vultures hovering round him, as if they grudged him every mouthful he swallowed. Finally they troubled him so much, that he took up his prey and carried it off into the adjacent forest.

But I found creatures in South America, more terrible than serpents, jaguars, or crocodiles. You will wonder, perhaps, what they could be. Then I’ll tell you. They were musquetoes, white flies, and ants.

Musquetoes are indeed troublesome every where; but nowhere that I have been—and I have been in all parts of the world—so much so as in South America. Why, we seemed to breathe them, almost, instead of air. We were never free from them except at midnight; and then other insects, huge bats, and jaguars, kept us in continual alarm.

Sleeping rooms there, are sometimes built on poles, or scaffolding, higher than these cruel insects ever fly, which is found to be about twelve feet from the level of the rivers; and in these apartments we were able to obtain a little breathing comfort. Vast regions of the country are rendered uninhabitable by the different species of tormenting animals which infest it. When two persons meet in the morning, the first question often is, “How are you to-day for the musquetoes?” I have had both my legs swelled to a most enormous size, by the bites of these animals.

In some parts of the country the Indians bury themselves, all but their heads, in the sand while they sleep; in others, they assemble all the cows in the village, and pass their nights among them, for it is found that they are not so troublesome in the neighborhood of cattle.

Sometimes they build a kind of oven, without doors or windows, having only a little hole, through which they creep on their hands and knees. They then light a fire in it of wet brushwood, which makes a great smoke and drives off the insects; then closing the door of the oven, they go to sleep. But I could not endure the smoke as well as I could the musquetoes.

As to the _white flies_, they are so very small, that if you were to use musquetoe curtains, they would have to be wetted to prevent these tiny creatures from making their way through the threads. Their sting is exceedingly painful.

The _termites_ are a sort of ant that eats paper, pasteboard, parchment, &c, so that there are no ancient records of the countries in which they are found. But there is another species of ant which devours juicy green leaves, such as salads; so that when the inhabitants wish for a few dishes of pleasant cooling herbs, they make a garden _in the air_.

You will smile, but I assure you that I state nothing but what I have seen. They procure an old boat, or some frame of that description, raise it on dry poles, then fill it with earth, and sow their seeds. The destructive ants, travelling as they do in bands, not knowing there is any thing growing above, pass by these bare poles or supporters, and the plants are saved.

BEAUTIFUL ANIMALS.

Some beautiful animals in South America—The Titi Monkey The Widow
Monkey—End of the Journey.

By this time I fear you will begin to think that there is nothing to be found in all South America, but dangerous passes, savage men, ferocious beasts, venomous serpents and reptiles, and troublesome insects. But you are mistaken. Humboldt would tell you so. Woodbridge, too, in his geography says that “the finest fruits, the most beautiful vegetables, and the largest and loftiest trees, are found in the Torrid Zone,” and much of South America lies, you know, in this zone. He says also,—and he says right,—that it produces not only the fiercest and most dangerous animals, and the largest and most venomous serpents and insects, but _some_ animals which are among the “most beautiful” in the world.

I think one or two of the monkey race which I saw, are among the most beautiful of the animal kingdom. One species, called the Titi, pleased me particularly. It is very small; its hair is of a beautiful golden color; and it is a more striking resemblance to a child than any thing I ever saw in my life. It is also very timid, and when any body alarms it, its large eyes fill with tears.[3]

The Titis are very fond of insects, particularly of spiders. It is said—but I cannot vouch for the truth of it—that when an engraving of an insect on which it feeds has been shone it, it would dart out its paw in hopes of catching it; but that when pictures of those on which it does not feed are presented, it takes no notice of them.

The Titi Monkey is also very fond of warmth. If several of them are confined in a cage, and a cooling shower comes on, they crowd together, and twine their legs and tails round one another, to keep themselves warm! One that was tamed used to run after a person that wore large sleeves to get into them! The Indians say that they sometimes meet groups of ten or twelve of them in the forests, crying terribly, because those on the outside want to get in the middle to be warmer.

There is another beautiful animal of the same race called the _Widow Monkey_. Its hair is black, soft, and glossy; its face is of a whitish color; the neck has a band in front, about an inch broad, the hinder feet are black, and the fore feet white. In these white marks on the black monkey, the inhabitants imagine they discover the veil, the handkerchief, and the gloves of a _widow in mourning_.

But perhaps you are tired of my stories, and wish to come to the end of my journey. Well the rest is quickly told. Don Calao, the Spanish gentleman, very kindly assisted me in getting down the river, to the Island of St. Thome, near its mouth, where I was so fortunate as to meet with a merchant vessel bound to my native country. I procured a passage, and after a long and rather boisterous voyage, reached home in safety.

THE END.

FOOTNOTES:

[3] This is very remarkable, if true. Young naturalists, is our traveller correct?

Transcriber’s Notes

pg 50 Changed: he had no avertion to commune
to: he had no aversion to commune

pg 57 Changed: which I canght by stratagem
to: which I caught by stratagem

pg 58 Changed: perhaps it was servicable
to: perhaps it was serviceable

pg 67 Changed: We went merrilly on
to: We went merrily on

pg 82 Changed: motion of the bridge very unpleassant
to: motion of the bridge very unpleasant

pg 95 Changed: give the name of ignus fatuus
to: give the name of ignis fatuus

pg 99 Changed: the tamarind tree lay scatteried
to: the tamarind tree lay scattered

pg 103 Changed: How are you to-day for the musquitoes
to: How are you to-day for the musquetoes

pg 104 Changed: The termites is a sort of ant
to: The termites are a sort of ant

pg 104 Changed: such us sallads
to: such as salads