bridges, but the elastic and light nature of the rushes makes the
motion of the bridge very unpleasant. Indeed when I had one day gone
about half way across one of them, my head began to swim, and I was
obliged to sit down to recover myself; for I really thought I should
never reach the opposite side. I sat there for some time, swinging in
a most perilous yet ridiculous situation I assure you.
I wished much to see the interior of one of the mines, but they were
too far off. The quicksilver mines of Huancavelica is particularly
curious, having a complete town and its cathedral deep in the bowels
of the earth.
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.
[Illustration: Eel]
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.
[Illustration: Sloth]
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.
[Illustration: Turtle]
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.
[Illustration: Jaguar]
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.
[Illustration: Person sitting under tree]
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.