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."