The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Western World, by W.H.G. Kingston

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Title: The Western World
       Picturesque Sketches of Nature and Natural History in North
       and South America

Author: W.H.G. Kingston

Illustrator: D. Yan, W.H. Freeman, Etherington and Others.

Release Date: February 28, 2008 [EBook #24715]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WESTERN WORLD ***




Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England




The Western World, by W.H.G. Kingston.

________________________________________________________________________
This rather long book is not a novel: it is a fun-level introduction to
the natural history of the Americas, seen from a late nineteenth century
perspective.  Quadrupeds, birds, plants, trees, and the indigenous races
are covered, always in an interesting and readable style.  There are
almost 200 engravings, many of them quite excellent, done by a variety
of high-quality artists.  Unfortunately all this adds up to additional
size, such that the PDF of the book is close to 100 megabytes, when an
average novel is from 12 to 20 megabytes.

You could not use this book as a full guide to all the natural history
of the Americas, but instead it is intended to be read through in order
to gain an introductory view of it.  The book is divided into five parts
of which the first, of nine chapters, covers North America; the second,
of three chapters, covers Central America; the third, fourth, and fifth,
amounting to twenty-five chapters, covers South America.

It is a well-written and absorbing book.

________________________________________________________________________
THE WESTERN WORLD, BY W.H.G. KINGSTON.



PREFACE.

In the following pages I have endeavoured to give, in a series of
picturesque sketches, a general view of the natural history as well as
of the physical appearance of North and South America.

I have first described the features of the country; then its vegetation;
and next the wild men and the brute creatures which inhabit it.
However, I have not been bound by any strict rule in that respect, as my
object has been to produce a work calculated to interest the family
circle rather than one of scientific pretensions.  I have endeavoured to
impart, in an attractive manner, information about its physical
geography, mineral riches, vegetable productions, and the appearance and
customs of the human beings inhabiting it.  But the chief portion of the
work is devoted to accounts of the brute creation, from the huge stag
and buffalo to the minute humming-bird and persevering termites,--
introduced not in a formal way, but as they appear to the
naturalist-explorer, to the traveller in search of adventures, or to the
sportsman; with descriptions of their mode of life, and of how they are
found, hunted, or trapped.  I have described in the same way some of the
most remarkable trees and plants; and from the accounts I have given I
trust that a knowledge may be obtained of the way they are cultivated,
and how their produce is prepared and employed.  Thus I hope that, with
the aid of the numerous illustrations in the work, a correct idea will
be gained of the wilder and more romantic portions of the great Western
World.

William H.G. Kingston.



PART ONE, CHAPTER ONE.

NORTH AMERICA.

INTRODUCTORY.--PHYSICAL FEATURES OF NORTH AMERICA.

The continent of America, if the stony records of the Past are read
aright, claims to be the oldest instead of the newest portion of the
globe.  [According to some geologists, Labrador was the first part of
our globe's surface to become dry land.]  Bowing to this opinion of
geologists till they see cause to express a different one, we will, in
consequence, commence our survey of the world and its inhabitants with
the Western Hemisphere.  From the multitude of objects which crowd upon
us, we can examine only a few of the most interesting minutely; at
others we can merely give a cursory glance; while many we must pass by
altogether,--our object being to obtain a general and retainable
knowledge of the physical features of the Earth, the vegetation which
clothes its surface, the races of men who inhabit it, and the tribes of
the brute creation found in its forests and waters, on its plains and
mountains.

As we go along, we will stop now and then to pick up scraps of
information about its geology, and the architectural antiquities found
on it; as the first will assist in giving us an insight into the former
conditions of extinct animals, and the latter may teach us something of
the past history of the human tribes now wandering as savages in regions
once inhabited by civilised men.

Still, the study of Natural History and the geographical range of
animals is the primary object we have in view.

Though the best-known portions of the Polar Regions are more nearly
connected with North America than with Europe or Asia, we propose to
leave them to be fully described in another work.  It is impossible, in
the present volume, to embrace more than the continental parts of the
Western World.

Looking down on the continent of North America, which we will first
visit, we observe its triangular shape: the apex, the southern end of
Mexico; the base, the Arctic shore; the sides, especially the eastern,
deeply indented, first by Hudson Bay, which pierces through more than a
third of the continent, then by the Gulf of Saint Lawrence, and further
south by Chesapeake Bay and the Bay of Fundy.  On the western coast, the
Gulf of California runs 800 miles up its side, with the Rio Colorado
falling into it; and further north are the Straits of Juan da Fuca,
between Vancouver's Island and the mainland, north of which are numerous
archipelagoes and inlets extending round the great peninsula of Yukon to
Kotzebue Sound.

Parallel with either coast we shall see two great mountain-systems--that
called the Appalachian, including the chain of the Alleghanies, on the
east, and the famed Rocky Mountains on the west--running from north to
south through the continent.

We shall easily recollect the great water-system of North America if we
consider it to be represented by an irregular cross, of which the
Mississippi with its affluents forms the stem; Lake Superior and the
River Saint Lawrence, including the intermediate lakes, the eastern arm;
the Lake of the Woods and its neighbours, Lake Winnipeg and the
Saskatchewan, the western arm; and the northern lakes of Athabasca, the
Great Slave Lake, and the Mackenzie River, the upper part of the cross.
If we observe also a wide level region which runs north and south
between the Arctic Ocean and the Gulf of Mexico, bounded on either side
by the two lofty mountain ranges already mentioned, we shall have a
tolerably correct notion of the chief physical features of the North
American continent.

Arriving at the northern end, we shall find it reaching some four
degrees north of the Polar Circle, though some of its headlands extend
stilt further into the icy sea.  Beyond it stretches away to an unknown
distance towards the Pole a dense archipelago of large islands, the
narrow channels between them bridged over in winter by massive sheets of
ice, affording an easy passage to the reindeer, musk-oxen, and other
animals which migrate southward during the colder portion of the Arctic
winter.

NORTHERN REGION.

With that end of America will ever be associated the names of Sir John
Franklin and his gallant companions, who perished in their search of the
North-west Passage; as well as those of other more fortunate successors,
especially of Captains McClure and Collinson of the British navy, to the
first of whom is due the honour of leading an expedition from west to
east along that icy shore; while Captain Collinson took his ship, the
_Enterprise_, up to Cambridge Bay, Victoria Land, further east than any
ship had before reached from the west--namely, 105 degrees west--and
succeeded in extricating her from amid the ice and bringing her home in
safety.  Captain McClure, not so fortunate in one respect, was compelled
to leave his ship frozen up.  The two expeditions, while proving the
existence of a channel, at the same time showed its uselessness as a
means of passing from the Atlantic to the Pacific, as, except in most
extraordinary seasons, it remains blocked up all the year by ice.

The northern end of the American continent is a region of mountains,
lakes, and rivers.  Several expeditions have been undertaken through
it,--the first to ascertain the coast-line, by Mackenzie, Franklin,
Richardson, Back, and others, and latterly by Dr Rae; and also by Sir
John Richardson, who left the comforts of England to convey assistance
to his long-missing former companions, though unhappily without avail.
These journeys, through vast barren districts, among rugged hills,
marshes, lakes, and rivers, in the severest of climates, exhibit in the
explorers an amount of courage, endurance, and perseverance never
surpassed.  In the course of the rivers occur many dangerous falls,
rapids, and cataracts, amid rocks and huge boulders, between which the
voyagers' frail barks make their way, running a fearful risk every
instant of being dashed to pieces.  Not a tree rears its head in the
wild and savage landscape, the vegetation consisting chiefly of lichens
and mosses.  Among the former the tripe de roche is the most capable of
supporting life.  Here winter reigns with stern rigour for ten months in
the year; and even in summer biting blasts, hail-storms, and rain
frequently occur.  Yet in this inhospitable region numerous herds of
reindeer, musk-oxen, and other mammalia find subsistence during the
brief summer, as do partridge and numerous birds of various species.

Here the Esquimaux lives in his skin-tent during the warmer months, and
in his snow-hut in winter, existing on the seals which he catches with
his harpoon, the whales occasionally cast on shore, and the bears, deer,
and smaller animals he entraps.

The numerous rivers flowing from the mountain-ridges mostly make their
way northward.  The Mackenzie, the largest and most western, rising in
the Great Slave and Great Bear Lakes, falls, after a course of many
hundred miles, into the Polar Sea.  The Coppermine River, rising in
Point Lake, makes its course in the same direction; while eastward, the
great Fish or Back River, flowing from the same lake as the first
mentioned stream, reaches the ocean many hundred miles away from it, at
the lower extremity of Bathurst Islet.  It runs rapidly in a tortuous
course of 530 geographical miles through an iron-ribbed country, without
a single tree on the whole line of its banks, expanding here and there
into five large lakes, and broken by thirty-three falls, cascades, and
rapids ere it reaches the Polar Sea.  Not far from its mouth rises the
barren rocky height of Cape Beaufort.

It was down this stream that Captain Back, the Arctic explorer, made his
way, but was compelled to return on account of the inclemency of the
weather and the difficulty of finding fuel; the only vegetation which he
could discover being fern and moss, which was so wet that it would not
burn, while he was almost without fire, or any means of obtaining
warmth, his men sinking knee-deep as they proceeded on shore in the soft
slush and snow, which benumbed their limbs and dispirited them in the
extreme.  Through this country the unhappy remnant of the Franklin
expedition, many years later, perished in their attempt to reach the
Hudson Bay Company's territory.  Here, in winter, the thermometer sinks
70 degrees below zero.  Even within his hut, when he had succeeded in
lighting a fire, Back could not get it higher than 12 degrees below
zero.  Ink and paint froze.  The sextant cases, and boxes of seasoned
wood--principally fir--all split; the skin of the hands became dried,
cracked, and opened into unsightly and smarting gashes; and on one
occasion, after washing his hands and face within three feet of the
fire, his hair was actually clotted with ice before he had time to dry
it.  The hunters described the sensation of handling their guns as
similar to that of touching red-hot iron; and so excessive was the pain,
that they were obliged to wrap thongs of leather round the triggers to
prevent their fingers coming in contact with the steel.  Numbers of the
Indian inhabitants of the country perish from cold and hunger every
year--indeed, it seems wonderful that human beings should attempt to
live in such a country; yet much further north, the hardy Esquimaux,
subsisting on whale's blubber and seal's flesh, contrives to support
life in tolerable comfort.

To the south of the Arctic Circle stunted fir-trees begin to appear, and
at length grow so thickly, that it is with difficulty a passage can be
made amid them.  Frequently the explorer has to clamber over fallen
trees, through rivulets, bogs, and swamps, till often the difficulties
in the way appear insurmountable to all but the boldest and the most
persevering.

MOUNTAINS.

On the western side of the continent rises gradually from the Polar
regions the mighty chain which runs throughout its whole length--a
distance of altogether 10,000 miles.  The northern portion, known as the
Rocky Mountains, runs for 3000 miles, in two parallel chains, to the
plains of Mexico, flanked by two other parallel ranges on the west,--the
most northern of which are the Sea Alps of the north-west coast, and on
the southern, the mountains of California.  At the north-western end of
the Sea Alps rises the lofty mountain of Mount Elias, 17,000 feet in
height--the highest mountain in North America--not far from Behring Bay;
while another range, the Chippewayan, stretches eastward, culminating in
Mount Brown, 10,000 feet in height, and gradually diminishing, till it
sinks into insignificance towards the Arctic Circle.  Point Barrow is
the most northern point of America on the western side.  It consists of
a long narrow spit, composed of gravel and loose sand, which the
pressure of the ice has forced up into numerous masses, having the
appearance of rocks.  From this point eastward to the mouth of the
Mackenzie River the coast declines a little south of east.  The various
mountain ranges existing on the eastern side of the continent, including
the chain of the Alleghanies, form what is called the Appalachian
system.  It consists of numerous parallel chains, some of which form
detached ridges, the whole running from the north-east to the
south-west, and it extends about 1200 miles in length--from Maine to
Alabama.  Besides the Alleghany Mountains in the western part of
Virginia and the central parts of Pennsylvania, it embraces the Catskill
Mountains in the State of New York, the Green Mountains in the State of
Vermont, the highlands eastward of the Hudson River, and the White
Mountains in New Hampshire.  Mount Washington, which rises to an
elevation of 6634 feet out of the last-named range, is the highest peak,
of the whole system.  To the north of the Saint Lawrence the lofty range
of the Wotchish Mountains extends towards the coast of Labrador; while
the whole region west and north of that river and the great Canadian
lakes is of considerable length, the best-known range being that which
contains the Lacloche Mountains, which appear to the north of Lake
Huron, and extend towards the Ottawa River.  These two great ranges of
mountains divide the North American continent into three portions.

GREAT RIVERS.

The rivers which rise on the eastern side of the Appalachian range run
into the Atlantic; those which rise west of the Rocky Mountains empty
themselves into the Pacific; while the mighty streams which flow between
the two, pass through the great basin of the Mississippi, and swell the
waters of that mother of rivers.  The great valley of the Mississippi,
indeed, drains a surface greater than that of any other river on the
globe, with the exception perhaps of the Amazon.  The Missouri, even
before it reaches it, runs a course of 1300 miles, while the Mississippi
itself, before its confluence with the Missouri, has already passed over
a distance of 1200 miles; thence to its mouth its course is upwards of
1200 miles more.  The Arkansas, which flows into it, is 2000 miles long,
and the Red River of the south 1500 miles in length; while the Ohio, to
its junction with the Mississippi, is nearly 1000 miles long.

North America may be said to contain four great valleys--that of the
Mississippi, running north and south; that of the Saint Lawrence, from
the south-west to the north-east; that of the Saskatchewan, extending
from the Rocky Mountains below Mount Brown to Lake Superior; that of the
Mackenzie, from the Great Slave Lake to the Arctic Ocean.  Although a
large portion of the eastern side of the continent is densely-wooded,
there are towards the west, extending from the Gulf of Mexico to the
Arctic Ocean, vast plains.  In the south they are treeless and barren in
the extreme; while advancing northward they are covered with rich
grasses, which afford support to vast herds of buffaloes, as well as
deer and other animals.

LAKES.

The most remarkable feature in North America is its lake system--the
largest and most important in the world.  In the north-west, at the foot
of the Rocky Mountains, are the Great Bear and Great Slave Lakes, which
discharge their waters through the Mackenzie River into the Arctic
Ocean.  Next we have the Athabasca, Wollaston, and Deer Lakes.  In the
very centre of the continent are the two important lakes of Winnipeg and
Winnipegoos,--the former 240 miles in length by 55 in width, and the
latter about half the size.  The large river of the Saskatchewan flows
into Lake Winnipeg, and with it will, ere long, form an important means
of communication between the different parts of that vast district
lately opened up for colonisation.  At its southern end the Red River of
the north flows into it, on the banks of which a British settlement has
long been established.  Several streams, however, make their way into
Hudson Bay.  Between it and Lake Superior is an elevated ridge of about
1500 feet in height; the streams on the west falling into Lake Winnipeg,
while those which flow towards the east reach Lake Superior.

We now come to the site of the five largest fresh-water lakes in the
world.  Lake Superior extends, from west to east, 335 miles, with an
extreme breadth of 175.  Its waters flow through the Saint Mary's River
by a rapid descent into Lake Huron, which is 240 miles long.  This lake
is divided by the Manitoulin islands into two portions, and is connected
with Lake Michigan by a narrow channel without rapids, so that the two
lakes together may be considered to form one sheet of water.  On its
southern extremity the waters of Lake Huron flow through another narrow
channel, which expands during part of its course into Lake Saint Clair;
and they then enter Lake Erie, which has a length of 265 miles, and a
breadth of 80 miles.  It is of much less depth than the other lakes, and
its surface is therefore easily broken up into dangerous billows by
strong winds.  Passing onward towards the north-east, the current enters
the Niagara River, about half-way down which it leaps along a rocky
ledge of 100 feet in height, to a lower level, forming the celebrated
Falls of Niagara, and then passes on in a rapid course into Lake
Ontario.  The fall between the two lakes is 333 feet.  Lake Ontario is
180 miles long and 65 miles wide.  Out of its north-eastern end falls
the broad stream which here generally takes the name of the Saint
Lawrence, and which proceeds onward, now widening into lake-like
expanses full of islands, now compressed into a narrow channel, in a
north-easterly direction.  The true Saint Lawrence may indeed be
considered as traversing the whole system of the great lakes of North
America, and thus being little less than a thousand miles in direct
length; indeed, including its windings, it is fully two thousand miles
long.  To the north-west of it exist countless numbers of small lakes
united by a network of streams; while numerous large rivers, such as the
Ottawa, the Saint Maurice, and the Saguenay, flow into it, and assist to
swell its current.  There are numerous other small lakes to the west of
the Rocky Mountains, a large number of which exist in the Province of
British Columbia, and are more or less connected with the Fraser and
Columbia Rivers.  Further to the south are other lakes, many of them of
volcanic origin, some intensely salt, others formed of hot mud.  Among
these is the Great Salt Lake, in the State of Utah.  To the south of the
Saint Lawrence also is Lake Champlain, 105 miles long, though extremely
narrow,--being only 10 miles in its widest part, narrowing in some
places to half a mile.  Near it is the beautiful Lake Saint George, with
several other small lakes; and lastly, in Florida, there is a chain of
small lakes, terminating in Lake Okechodee--a circular sheet of water
about thirty miles in diameter.

We must now proceed more particularly to examine the regions of which we
have obtained the preceding cursory view, but, before we do so, we must
glance at their human inhabitants.

ABORIGINAL INHABITANTS--THE RED MEN OF THE WILDS.

While the white men from Europe occupy the whole eastern coast, pressing
rapidly and steadily westward, the Redskin aborigines maintain a
precarious existence throughout the centre of the continent, from north
to south, and are still found here and there on the western shores.  On
the northern ice-bound coast, the skin-clothed Esquimaux wander in small
bands from Behring Strait to Baffin Bay, but never venture far inland,
being kept in check by their hereditary enemies, the Athabascas, the
most northern of the red-skinned nations.  The Esquimaux, inhabiting the
Arctic regions, may more properly be described in the volume devoted to
that part of the globe.

INDIAN WIGWAMS.

Here and there, in openings in the primeval forest, either natural or
artificial, on the banks of streams and lakes, several small conical
structures may be seen, composed of long stakes, stuck in the ground in
circular form, and fastened at the top.  The walls consist of large
sheets of birch-bark, layer above layer, fastened to the stakes.  On the
lee-side is left a small opening for ingress and egress, which can be
closed by a sheet of bark, or the skin of a wild animal.  At the apex,
also, an aperture is allowed to remain for the escape of the smoke from
the fire which burns within.  Lines are secured to the stakes within, on
which various articles are suspended; while round the interior mats or
skins are spread to serve as couches, the centre being left free for the
fire.  In front, forked stakes support horizontal poles, on which fish
or skins are hung to dry; and against others, sheets of bark are placed
on the weather-side, forming lean-tos, shelters to larger fires, used
for more extensive culinary operations than can be carried on within the
hut.  On the shores are seen drawn up beautifully-formed canoes of
birch-bark of various sizes--some sufficient to carry eight or ten men;
and others, in which only one or two people can sit.

APPEARANCE OF THE INDIANS.

Amid the huts may be seen human figures with dull copper or
reddish-brown complexions, clothed in rudely-tanned skins of a yellowish
or white hue, and ornamented with the teeth of animals and coloured
grasses, or worsted and beads.  Their figures are tall and slight.  They
have black, piercing eyes, slightly inclining downwards towards the
nose, which is broad and large.  They have thick, coarse lips, high and
prominent cheek-bones, with somewhat narrow foreheads, and coarse, dark,
glossy hair, without an approach to a curl; their heads sometimes
adorned with feathered caps or other ornaments.  Often their faces are
besmeared with various coloured pigments in stripes or patches--one
colour on one side of the face, the other being of a different hue.
Their lower extremities are covered with leggings of leather, ornamented
with fringes, and their feet clothed in mocassins of the same material
as their leggings.  The men stalk carelessly about, or repair their
canoes or fishing gear and arms; while the women sit, crouching down to
the ground, bending over their caldrons, shelling Indian-corn, or
engaged in some other domestic occupation; and the children, innocent of
clothing, tumble about on the ground.  In travelling, the Indian mother
carries her child on her back.  It is strapped to a board; and when a
halting-place is reached, the cradle and the child are hung upon a tree,
or on a pole inside the wigwam.  Those who have communication with the
whites may be seen clothed in blanket garments, which the men wear in
the shape of coats; while the women swathe their bodies in a whole
blanket, which covers them from their shoulders to their feet.

Though the men assume a grave and dignified air when a stranger
approaches, they often indulge in practical jokes and laughter among
themselves; and in seasons of prosperity, appear good-humoured and
merry.  The women, however, are doomed to lives of unremitting toil,
from the time they become wives.  They are compelled to carry the
burdens, and to cultivate the ground, when any ground is cultivated, for
the production of potatoes, maize, and tobacco.  The men condescend
merely to manufacture their arms and canoes, and to hunt; or they engage
in what they consider the noblest of employments, waging war on their
neighbours.  The women, indeed, are often compelled to paddle the
canoes, sometimes to go fishing, and to carry the portable property from
place to place, or an overload of game when captured.

Intelligent as the Indian appears, it is evident that he has cultivated
his perceptive powers to the neglect of his spiritual and moral
qualities.  His senses are remarkably acute.  His memory is good; and
when aroused, his imagination is vivid, though wild in the extreme.  He
is warmly attached to hereditary customs and manners.  Naturally
indolent and slothful, he detests labour, and looks upon it as a
disgrace, though he will go through great fatigue when hunting or
engaged in warfare.

WOOD INDIANS.

The northern tribes are known as Wood Indians, in contradistinction to
the inhabitants of the open country, the Prairie Indians, who differ
greatly from the former in their habits and customs.  All the tribes of
the Athabascas, as well as those to the south of them, known as the
Algonquins, are Wood Indians.  They are nearly always engaged in hunting
the wild animals of the region they inhabit, for the sake of their furs,
which they dispose of to the agents of the Hudson Bay Company and other
traders, in exchange for blankets, firearms, hatchets, and numerous
other articles, as well as too often for the pernicious fire-water, to
obtain even small quantities of which they will frequently dispose of
the skins which it has cost them many weeks to obtain with much hardship
and danger.  These Wood Indians are peaceably-disposed, and can always
escape the attacks of their enemies of the prairies by retreating among
their forest or lake fastnesses.  They obtain their game by various
devices, sometimes using traps of ingenious construction, or shooting
the creatures with bows and arrows, and of later years with firearms.
They spear the fish which abound in their waters, or catch them with
scoop and other nets.  Although their ordinary wigwams are of the shape
already described, some are considerably larger, somewhat of a bee-hive
form, covered thickly with birch-bark, and have a raised dais in the
interior capable of holding a considerable number of people.  The
best-known of these Forest Indians are the Chippeways, who range from
the banks of Lake Huron almost to the Rocky Mountains, throughout the
British territory.

THE PRAIRIE INDIANS.

To the south of the tribes already mentioned, are the large family of
the Dakotahs, who number among them the Sioux, Assiniboines, and
Blackfeet, and are the hereditary enemies of the Chippeways, especially
of their nearer neighbours, the Crees and Ojibbeways.  These Dakotahs
occupy the open prairie country to the south of the Saskatchewan, and
are the most northern of the Prairie Indians.  In summer, they wear
little or no clothing; and possessing numerous horses, hunt the
buffaloes, or rather bisons, on horseback, armed with spears and bows
and arrows.  They are fiercer and more warlike than their northern
neighbours, and have long set the whites at defiance.  The buffalo
supplies them with their chief support.  The flesh of the animal dried
in the sun, or pounded with its fat into pemmican, is their chief
article of food; while its skin serves as a covering for their tents, a
couch at night, or for clothing by day, and is manufactured into bags
for carrying their provisions, and numerous other articles.  Physically,
they are superior to the Wood Indians.  They are both hunters and
warriors; and though they may occasionally exchange the buffalo robes--
as the skins are called--for firearms; they seldom employ themselves as
trappers, or attend to the cultivation of the ground.

The greater number of the tribes further to the south possess horses,
and hunt the buffalo and deer.  Some are even more savage than the
Dakotahs, while others, again, have made slight progress towards
civilisation, and live in settled villages, while they rudely cultivate
the ground, and possess herds of cattle.

Although the Indian languages differ greatly from each other, a great
similarity in grammatical structure and form has been found to exist
among them, denoting a common, though remote origin.  They differ,
however, so greatly from any known language of the Old World, as to
afford conclusive proof that their ancestors must have left its shores
at an early period of the world's history.

The governments also differed.  In some tribes it approached an absolute
monarchy, the will of the sachem or chief being the supreme law; while
in others it was almost entirely republican, the chief being elected for
his personal qualities, though frequently the leadership was preserved
in the female line of particular families.

When describing the customs of the Indians, we are compelled often to
speak of the past, as the tribes, from being pressed together by the
advancement of civilisation, have become amalgamated, and many of their
customs have passed away.  Most of the nations were divided into three
or more clans or tribes, each distinguished by the name of an animal.
Thus the Huron Indians were divided into three tribes--those of the
Bear, the Wolf, and the Turtle.  The Chippeways, especially, were
divided into a considerable number of tribes.

RELIGIOUS BELIEF.

Though their language differs so greatly, as do many of their customs,
their religious notions exhibit great uniformity throughout the whole
country.  They all possess a belief, though it is vague and indistinct,
in the existence of a Supreme, All-Powerful Being, and in the
immortality of the soul, which, they suppose, restored to its body, will
enjoy the future on those happy hunting-grounds which form the red man's
heaven.  They also worship numerous inferior deities or evil spirits,
whom they endeavour to propitiate, under the supposition that unless
they do so they may work them evil rather than good.  They suppose that
there is one god of the sun, moon, and stars; that the ocean is ruled by
another god, and that storms are produced by the power of various malign
beings; yet that all are inferior to the Supreme Ruler of the universe.
We can trace in some of the tribes customs and notions which have been
derived from those of far-distant nations.  Thus, the tribes of
Louisiana kept a sacred fire constantly burning in their temples: the
Natches, as did the Mexicans, worshipped the sun, from whom their chiefs
pretended to be descended.  By some tribes human sacrifices were offered
up,--a custom which was practised by the Pawnees and Indians of the
Missouri even to a late period.  Several of the tribes buried their dead
beneath their houses; and it was an universal custom among all to inter
them in a sitting posture, clothed in their best garments, while their
weapons and household utensils, with a supply of food, were placed in
their graves, to be used when they might be restored to life.  Several
of their traditions evidently refer to events recorded in Scripture
history.  The Algonquin tribes still preserve one pointing to the
upheaval of the earth from the waters, and of a subsequent inundation.
The Iroquois have a tradition of a general deluge; while another tribe
believe not only that a deluge took place, but that there was an age of
fire which destroyed all things, with the exception of a man and woman,
who were preserved in a cavern.  Many similar traditions exist; while it
is probable that those mentioned refer to the destruction of the Cities
of the Plain by fire which came down from heaven, and to the confusion
of tongues which fell upon the descendants of Noah in the plain of
Shinar.

AMERICAN ANTIQUITIES.

We are apt to suppose that the wild inhabitants of the New World have
ever existed in the same savage state as that in which they are found.
Vast numbers, however, of remains, and buildings of great antiquity,
have of late years been discovered, showing that at one time either
their ancestors, or other tribes who have passed away, had made great
progress in civilisation.  As the white man has advanced westward, and
dug deep into the soil, whilst forming railway cuttings, digging wells,
and other works, numerous interesting remains have been discovered--a
large number of fortified camps of vast extent, and even the foundations
of cities, with their streets and squares, have been brought to light.
Idols, pitchers of clay, ornaments of copper, circular medals,
arrowheads, and even mirrors of isinglass, in great numbers, have been
found throughout the country.  Some of the articles of pottery are
skilfully wrought, and polished, glazed, and burned; inferior in no
respects to those of Egypt and Babylon.

In Tennessee, an earthen pitcher, holding a gallon, was discovered on a
rock twenty feet below the surface.  It was surmounted by the figure of
a female head covered with a conical cap.  The features greatly
resembled those of Asiatics, and the ears, extending as low as the chin,
were of great size.  Near the Cumberland River an idol formed of clay
was found about four feet below the surface of the earth.  It is of
curious construction, consisting of three hollow heads joined together
at the back by an inverted bell-shaped hollow stem.  This specimen also
has strongly-marked Asiatic features; the red and yellow colour with
which it is ornamented still retaining great brilliancy.  Another idol,
formed of clay and gypsum, was discovered near Nashville.  It
represented a human being without arms.  The hair was plaited, and there
was a band round the head with a flattened lump or cake upon the summit.
Numerous medals, also, have been dug up, representing the sun, with its
rays of light, together with utensils and ornaments of copper, sometimes
plated with silver; and a solid silver cup, with its surface smooth and
regular, and its interior finely gilt.

But besides these, and very many similar articles, throughout the whole
country, and especially towards the west, immense numbers of fortresses
of great size have been discovered, with walls of earth, some of them
ten feet in height, and thirty in breadth.  There is a vast fortress in
Ohio, near the town of Newark.  It is situated on an extensive plain, at
the junction of two branches of the Muskingum.  At the western extremity
of the work stood a circular fort, containing twenty-two acres, on one
side of which was an elevation thirty feet high, partly of earth and
partly of stone.  The circular fort was connected by walls of earth with
an octagonal fort containing forty acres, the walls of which were ten
feet high.  At this end were eight openings or gateways about fifteen
feet in width, each protected by a mound of earth on the inside.  From
thence four parallel walls of earth proceeded to the basin of the
harbour, others extending several miles into the country, and others on
the east joined to a square fort containing twenty acres, not four miles
distant.  From this latter fort parallel walls extended to the harbour,
and others to another circular fort one mile and a half distant,
containing twenty-six acres, and surrounded by an embankment from
twenty-five to thirty feet high.  Further north and east the elevated
ground was protected by intrenchments.  Traces of other walls have been
found, apparently connecting these works with those thirty miles
distant.  When we come to reflect that there were many hundreds of
similar forts, some of which were of equal size, and others even of
still greater magnitude, we cannot help believing that an enormous
population, considerably advanced in the arts of civilisation, must at
one time have existed in the country, over which for ages past the
untutored savage has roamed in almost a state of nature.  And now these
wild tribes are rapidly disappearing before the advancement of a still
greater multitude, and a far more perfect civilisation.  Whether these
ancient races were the ancestors of the present Indians or not, it is
difficult to determine, as are the causes of their disappearance.  It is
possible that, retreating southward, they established the empires of
Mexico and Peru, or, overcome by more savage tribes, were ultimately
exterminated.



PART ONE, CHAPTER TWO.

NORTH AMERICA CONSIDERED AS DIVIDED INTO FOUR ZONES, WITH THE VARIOUS
OBJECTS OF INTEREST FOUND IN EACH.

The North American continent may be divided into four zones or parallel
regions, which, from the difference in temperature which exists between
them, present a great variety both in their fauna and flora.

THE FIRST ZONE.

Commencing on the east, where the Greenland Sea washes the coast of
Labrador, and Hudson Strait leads to the intricate channels
communicating with the Arctic Ocean, we have on the first-named coast a
low and level region, which rises inland to a considerable elevation,
and then once more sinks on the shores of Hudson Bay.  West of that bay
there is a wide extent of low country, intermixed with numerous lakes
and marshes; and then along the Arctic shore is a wild, barren, treeless
district, rising at length into the mountainous region of the Arctic
highlands.  Amid them numerous rapid streams find their way into the
Arctic Ocean.  Again they sink into the basin of the Mackenzie River,
which separates the in from the northern end of the Rocky Mountains.
Hence westward to the Pacific is a broad highland region, rising into
the lofty range of the Sea Alps.

THE SECOND ZONE.

THE FERTILE BELT OF RUPERT'S LAND.

The next Zone we will consider as commencing at the Gulf of Saint
Lawrence.  Westward extends an elevated region, rising in many places to
a considerable height, and forming the water-shed of the rivers which
flow on the south side into the Saint Lawrence, and on the north into
Hudson Bay.  Proceeding up the Saint Lawrence, we arrive at a great lake
district, which embraces Lakes Ontario, Erie, Huron, Michigan, and
Superior, to the extreme west.  On the north-western shores of that lake
we find an elevated district with several small lakes and streams
flowing through valleys.  This is the water-shed also of two systems.
The streams to the east, flowing into Lake Superior, ultimately enter
the Saint Lawrence; while those to the west make their way into Lake
Winnipeg, the waters of which, after flowing through a variety of
channels, fall into Hudson Bay.  To the west of this water-shed range
the first lake we meet with is known as the Lac des Milles Lacs.  Two
rivers flow from it, expanding here and there into small lakes, till
another expanse of water is reached called Rainy Lake.  This in the same
way communicates by two streams with the still larger Lake of the Woods,
the whole region on both sides being thickly wooded.  From the Lake of
the Woods flows the broad and rapid Winnipeg River, which finally falls
into Lake Winnipeg.  This large and long lake is connected with several
others of smaller size,--Lake Winnipegoos and Manitoba Lake to the west
of it.  Into the southern end of Lake Winnipeg flows the Red River,
which rises far-away in the south in the United States, taking an almost
direct northerly course.  Towards the north, about twenty miles from the
lake, is situated the well-known Selkirk settlement.  To the west of the
Red River commences a broad belt of prairie land which extends here and
there, rising into wooded heights and swelling hills, with several large
rivers flowing through it, to the very base of the Rocky Mountains.  As
we advance westward we find it extending considerably to the north,
where the large and wide river Saskatchewan, rising in the Rocky
Mountains, flows eastward into Lake Winnipeg.  Along the southern border
of this region the Assiniboine River, also of considerable size, flows
into the Red River at Fort Garry, in the Selkirk settlement.  The
prairie country indeed extends further than the Red River, up to the
Lake of the Woods.  The name of the Fertile Belt has been properly given
to it.  Commencing at the Lake of the Woods, it stretches westward for
800 miles, and averages from 80 to upwards of 100 miles in width.  The
area of this extraordinary belt of rich soil and pasturage is about
40,000,000 of acres.  Including the adjacent fertile districts, the area
may be estimated at not less than 80,000 square miles, or considerably
more fertile land than the whole of Canada is supposed to contain.  It
rises gradually towards the west, so that the traveller is surprised to
find how speedily he has gained the passes which lead him over the Rocky
Mountains into the territory of British Columbia on their western side--
often indeed before he has realised the fact that he has crossed the
boundary-line.  The Fertile Belt is considerably more to the south than
the British Islands, though, as the western hemisphere is subject to
greater alternations of heat and cold than the eastern, there is a vast
difference in temperature between the summer and winter.  While in
winter the whole region is covered thickly with snow, in summer the heat
is so great that Indian-corn and other cereals, as well as all fruits,
ripen with great rapidity.  The whole of this fertile region, which now
forms part of the Canadian Dominion, is about to be opened to
colonisation; and through it will be carried the great high road which
will connect the British provinces on the Pacific with those of the
Atlantic.

ANIMAL LIFE ON THE FERTILE BELT.

Throughout this fine region range large herds of buffalo,--not extending
their migrations, however, beyond its northern boundary.  Here, too, are
found two kind of small deer--the wapiti, and the prong-horned antelope.
Hares--called rabbits, however--exist in great numbers.  Porcupines are
frequently found.  The black bear occasionally comes out of the
neighbouring forests, while a great variety of birds frequent the lakes
and streams, whose waters also swarm with numerous fish.  The white fish
found in the lakes are much esteemed, and weigh from two or three to
seven pounds.  There are fine pike also.  Sturgeon are caught in Lake
Winnipeg and the Lower Saskatchewan of the weight of 160 pounds.  Trout
grow to a great size, and there are gold-eyes, suckers, and cat-fish.
Unattractive as are the names of the two last, the fish themselves are
excellent.  Among the birds, Professor Hind mentions prairie-hens,
plovers, various ducks, loons, and other aquatic birds, besides the
partridge, quail, whip-poor-will, hairy woodpecker, Canadian jay, blue
jay, Indian hen, and woodcock.  In the mountain region are bighorns and
mountain goats; the grizzly bear often descends from his rugged heights
into the plains, and affords sport to the daring hunter.  The musk-rat
and beaver inhabit the borders of the lakes.  The cariboo and moose
frequent the Fertile Belt, though the musk-ox confines himself to the
more northern regions.  Wolves have been almost exterminated in the
neighbourhood of the Red River settlement.  The half-breeds and Indians
possess peculiarly hardy and sagacious horses, which are trained for
hunting the buffalo.  Their dogs are large and powerful, and four of
them will draw a sleigh with one man over the snow at the rate of six
miles an hour.  Herds of cattle, as well as horses and hogs, are left
out during the whole winter, it being necessary only--should a thaw come
on, succeeded by a frost--to supply them with food; otherwise, unable to
break through the coating of ice thus formed, they are liable to starve.

The farmers of the Red River settlement grow wheat, barley, oats, flax,
hemp, hops, turnips, and even tobacco, though Indian-corn grows best,
and can always be relied on.  Wheat, however, is the staple crop of Red
River.  It is a splendid country for sheep pasturage, and did easier
means of transporting the wool exist, or could it be made into cloth or
blankets in the settlement, no doubt great attention would be given to
the rearing of sheep.

THE THIRD ZONE--THE DISMAL SWAMP IN THE UNITED STATES.

Returning again to the east coast, about the latitude of Chesapeake Bay
and Cape Hatteras, we find a low level region known as the Atlantic
plain, running parallel to the coast, on which the long-leaved or
peach-pines flourish.  This region is generally called the Pine Barrens.
Wild vines encircle the trees, and among them are seen the white
berries of the mistletoe.  In winter these Pine Barrens retain much of
their verdure, and constitute one of the marked features of the country.
Amid them are numerous swamps or morasses.  One of great size,
extending to not less than forty miles from north to south, and
twenty-five in its greatest width, is called the Great Dismal Swamp.

The soil, black as in a peat-bog, is covered with all kinds of aquatic
trees and shrubs; yet, strange to say, instead of being lower than the
level of the surrounding country, it is in the centre higher than
towards its margin; indeed, from three sides of the swamp the waters
actually flow into different rivers at a considerable rate.  Probably
the centre of the morass is not less than twelve feet above the flat
country around it.  Here and there some ridges of dry land appear, like
low islands, above the general surface.  On the west, however, the
ground is higher, and streams flow into the swamp, but they are free
from sediment, and consequently bring down no liquid mire to add to its
substance.  The soil is formed completely of vegetable matter, without
any admixture of earthy particles.  In many even of the softest parts
juniper-trees stand firmly fixed by their long tap roots, affording a
dark shade, beneath which numerous ferns, reeds, and shrubs, together
with a thick carpet of mosses, flourish, protected from the rays of the
sun.  Here and there also large cedars and other deciduous trees have
grown up.  The black soil formed beneath, increased by the rotting
vegetation, is quite unlike the peat of Europe, as the plants become so
decayed as to leave no traces of organisation.  Frequently the trees are
overthrown, and numbers are found lying beneath the surface of the soil,
where, covered with water, they never decompose.  So completely
preserved are they, that they are frequently sawn up into planks.  In
one part of the Dismal Swamp there is a lake seven miles in length, and
more than five wide, with a forest growing on its banks.  The water is
transparent, though tinged with a pale brown colour, and contains
numerous fish.  The region is inhabited by a number of bears, who climb
the trees in search of acorns and gumberries, breaking off the boughs of
the oaks in order to obtain the acorns; these bears also kill hogs, and
even cows.  Occasionally a solitary wolf is seen prowling over the
morass, and wild cats also clamber amid its woods.  Even in summer, the
air, instead of being hot and pestiferous, is especially cool, the
evaporation continually going on in the wet spongy soil generating an
atmosphere resembling that of a region considerably elevated above the
level of the ocean.  Canals have been cut through this swamp.  They are
shaded by tall trees, their branches almost joining across, and throwing
a dark shade on the water, which itself looks almost black, and adds to
the gloom of the region.  Emerging from one of these avenues into the
bright sunlit lake, the aspect of the scenery is like that of some
beautiful fairyland.

FOSSIL FOOTMARKS OF BIRDS.

A considerable way to the north of this region, on the banks of the
Connecticut River, are beds of red sandstone, on the different layers of
which are found the footmarks of long extinct birds.  The beds in some
parts are twenty-five feet in thickness, composed of layer upon layer;
and on each of these layers, when horizontally split, are found
imprinted these remarkable footmarks.  This result could only have been
produced by the subsidence of the ground, fresh depositions of sand
having taken place on the layers, on which the birds walked after the
subsidence.  They must have been of various sizes,--some no larger than
a small sand-piper, while others, judging from their footprints, which
measure no less than nineteen inches, must have been twice the size of
the modern African ostrich.  The distances between the smaller measure
only about three inches, but in the base of the largest, called the
Ornithichnites Gigas, they are from four to six feet apart.  In some
places where the birds have congregated together none of the steps can
be distinctly traced, but at a short distance from this area the tracks
become more and more distinct.  Upwards of two thousand such footprints
have been observed, made probably by nearly thirty distinct species of
birds, all indented on the upper surface of the strata, and only
exhibiting casts in relief on the under side of the beds which rested on
such indented surfaces.  In other places the marks of rain and hail
which fell countless ages ago are clearly visible.  Sir Charles Lyell
perceived similar footprints in the red mud in the Bay of Fundy, which
had just been formed by sandpipers; and on examining an inferior layer
of mud, formed several tides before, and covered up by fresh sand, he
discovered casts of impressions similar to those made on the last-formed
layer of mud.  Near the footsteps he observed the mark of a single toe,
occurring occasionally, and quite isolated from the rest.  It was
suggested to him that these marks were formed by waders, which, as they
fly near the ground, often let one leg hang down, so that the longest
toe touches the surface of the mud occasionally, leaving a single mark
of this kind.  He brought away some slabs of the recently formed mud, in
order that naturalists who were sceptical as to the real origin of the
ancient fossil ornithichnites might compare the fossil products lately
formed with those referable to the feathered bipeds which preceded the
era of the ichthyosaurus and iguanodon.

THE BIG-BONE LICK.

We will now cross the Alleghanies westward, where we shall find a
thickly-wooded country.  As we proceed onwards, entering Kentucky, we
reach a spot of great geological interest, called the Big-bone Lick.

These licks exist in various parts of the country.  They are marshy
swamps in which saline springs break out, and are frequented by buffalo,
deer, and other wild animals, for the sake of the salt with which in the
summer they are incrusted, and which in winter is dissolved in the mud.
Wild beasts, as well as cattle, greedily devour this incrustation, and
will burrow into the clay impregnated with salt in order to lick the
mud.  In the Big-Bone Lick of Kentucky the bones of a vast number of
mastodons and other extinct quadrupeds have been dug up.

This celebrated bog is situated in a nearly level plain, bounded by
gentle slopes, which lead up to wide-extended table-lands.  In the spots
where the salt springs rise, the bog is so soft that a man may force a
pile into it many yards perpendicularly.  Some of these quaking bogs are
even now more than fifteen acres in extent, but were formerly much
larger, before the surrounding forest was partially cleared away.  Even
at the present day cows, horses, and other quadrupeds are occasionally
lost here, as they venture on to the treacherous ground.  It may be
easily understood, therefore, how the vast mastodons, elephants, and
other huge animals lost their lives.  In their eagerness to drink the
saline waters, or lick the salt, those in front, hurrying forward, would
have been pressed upon by those behind, and thus, before they were aware
of their danger, sank helplessly into the quagmire.  It is supposed that
the bones of not less than one hundred mastodons and twenty elephants
have been dug up out of the bog, besides which the bones of a stag,
extinct horse, megalonyx, and bison, have been obtained.  Undoubtedly,
therefore, this plain has remained unchanged in all its principal
features since the period when these vast extinct quadrupeds inhabited
the banks of the Ohio and its tributaries.  Here and there the Big-bone
Lick is covered with mud, washed over it by some unusual rising of the
Ohio River, which is known to swell sixty feet above its summer level.

Passing on through wide-spreading prairies, we cross the mighty stream
of the Mississippi to a slightly elevated district of broad savannahs,
till we reach a treeless region bordering the very foot of the Rocky
Mountains.  Through this region numerous rivers pass on their way to the
Mississippi.  Leaving at length the great western plain, we begin to
mount the slopes of the Rocky Mountains, when we may gaze upwards at the
lofty snow-covered peaks above our heads.  Hence, crossing the mighty
range in spite of grizzly bears and wilder Indians, we descend towards
the bank of the Rio Colorado, which falls into the Gulf of California,
and thence over a mountainous region, some of whose heights, as Mount
Dana, reach an elevation of 13,000 feet, and Mount Whitney, 15,000 feet.

THE FOURTH ZONE.

The southernmost of the four zones begins on the coast of Florida,
passes for hundreds of miles over a low or gently sloping country toward
the great western plains which border the Rocky Mountains into Texas;
its southern boundary being the Gulf of Mexico.  Through this region
flow numerous rivers, the queen of which is the Mississippi.  The
western portion is often wild and barren in the extreme, inhabited only
by bands of wild and savage Indians.  The Rocky Mountains being passed,
there is a lofty table-land, and then rise the Sierras de los Nimbres
and Madre; beyond which, bordering the Gulf of California, is the wild,
grandly picturesque province of Sonora, with its gigantic trees and
stalactite caves.



PART ONE, CHAPTER THREE.

THE PRAIRIES, PLAINS OF THE WEST, AND PASSES OF THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS.

To obtain, however, a still more correct notion of the appearance of the
continent, we must take another glance over it.  We shall discover, to
the north, and throughout the eastern portion where civilised man has
not been at work dealing away the trees, a densely-wooded region.
Proceeding westward, as the valley of the Mississippi is approached the
underwood disappears, and oak openings predominate.  These Oak Openings,
as they are called, are groves of oak and other forest-trees which are
not connected, but are scattered over the surface at a considerable
distance from one another, without any low shrub or underbrush between
them.

THE PRAIRIES.

Thus, gradually, we are entering the prairie country, which extends as
far west as the Grand Coteau of the Missouri.  This prairie region is
covered with a rich growth of grass; the soil is extremely fertile, and
capable of producing a variety of cereals.  Over the greater portion of
the prairie country, indeed, forests of aspens would grow, did not
annual fires in most parts arrest their progress.  Here and there
numbers have sprung up.  The true prairie region in the United States
extends over the eastern part of Ohio, Indiana, the southern portion of
Michigan, the southern part of Wisconsin, nearly the whole of the states
of Illinois and Iowa, and the northern portion of Missouri, gradually
passing--in the territories of Kansas and Nebraska--into that arid and
desert region known as The Plains, which lie at the base of the Rocky
Mountains.

The Grand Coteau de Missouri forms a natural boundary to these arid
plains.  This vast table-land rises to the height of from 400 to 800
feet above the Missouri.  Vegetation is very scanty; the Indian turnip,
however, is common, as is also a species of cactus.  No tree or shrub is
seen; and only in the bottoms or in marshes is a rank herbage found.
Across these desert regions the trails of the emigrant bands passing to
the Far West have often been marked: first, in the east, by furniture
and goods abandoned; further west, by the waggons and carts of the
ill-starred travellers; then by the bones of oxen and horses bleaching
on the plain; and, finally, by the graves, and sometimes the unburied
bodies, of the emigrants themselves, the survivors having been compelled
to push onwards with the remnant of their cattle to a more fertile
region, where provender and water could be procured to restore their
well-nigh exhausted strength.  Oftentimes they have been attacked by
bands of mounted Indians, whose war-whoop has startled them from their
slumbers at night; and they have been compelled to fight their way
onwards, day after day assailed by their savage and persevering foes.

Civilised man is, however, triumphant at last, and the steam-engine, on
its iron path, now traverses that wild region from east to west at rapid
speed; and the red men, who claim to be lords of the soil, have been
driven back into the more remote wilderness, or compelled to succumb to
the superior power of the invader, in many instances being utterly
exterminated.  Still, north and south of that iron line the country
resembles a desert; and the wild Indian roams as of yore, like the Arab
of the East--his hand against every man, and every man's hand against
him.

Among the dangers to which the traveller across the prairie is exposed,
the most fearful is that of fire.  The sky is bright overhead; the tall
grass, which has already assumed a yellow tinge from the heat of summer,
waves round him, affording abundant pasture to his steed.  Suddenly his
guides rise in their stirrups and look anxiously towards the horizon.
He sees, perhaps, a white column of smoke rising in the clear air.  It
is so far-off that it seems it can but little concern them.  The guides,
however, think differently, and after a moment's consultation point
eagerly in the direction of some broad river, whose waters flow towards
the Mississippi.  "Onward! onward!" is the cry.  They put spurs to their
horses' flanks, and gallop for their lives.  Every instant the column of
smoke increases in width, till it extends directly across the horizon.
It grows denser and denser.  Now above the tall grass flashes of bright
light can be seen.  The traveller almost fancies he can hear the
crackling of the flames as they seize all combustible substances in
their course.  Now they surround a grove of aspens, and the fierce fire
blazes up more brightly than ever towards the sky, over which hangs a
dark canopy of smoke.  Suddenly a distant tramp of feet is heard.  The
very ground trembles.  A dark mass approaches--a phalanx of horns and
streaming manes.  It is a herd of buffaloes, turned by the fire
purposely ignited by the Indians.  The guides urge the travellers to
increase their speed; for if overtaken by the maddened animals, they
will be struck down and trampled to death.  Happily they escape the
surging herd which comes sweeping onward--thousands of dark forms
pressed together, utterly regardless of the human beings who have so
narrowly escaped them.  The travellers gallop on till their eyes are
gladdened by the sight of the flowing waters of a river.  They rush down
the bank.  Perchance the stream is too rapid or too deep to be forded.
At the water's edge they at length dismount, when the Indians, drawing
forth flint and steel, set fire to the grass on the bank.  The smoke
well-nigh stifles them, but the flames pass on, clearing an open space;
and now, crouching down to the water's edge, they see the fearful
conflagration rapidly approaching.  The fire they have created meets the
flames which have been raging far and wide across the region.  And now
the wind carries the smoke in dense masses over their heads; but their
lives are saved--and at length they may venture to ride along the banks,
over the still smouldering embers, till a ford is reached, and they may
cross the river to where the grass still flourishes in rich luxuriance.

While, on one side of the stream, charred trees are seen rising out of
the blackened ground, on the other all is green and smiling.  These
fearful prairie fires, by which thousands of acres of grass and
numberless forests have been destroyed, are almost always caused by the
thoughtless Indians, either for the sake of turning the herds of
buffaloes towards the direction they desire them to take, or else for
signals made as a sign to distant allies.  Sometimes travellers have
carelessly left a camp-fire still burning, when the wind has carried the
blazing embers to some portion of the surrounding dry herbage, and a
fearful conflagration has been the result.

Mr Paul Kane, the Canadian artist and traveller, mentions one which he
witnessed from Fort Edmonton.  The wind was blowing a perfect hurricane
when the conflagration was seen sweeping over the prairie, across which
they had passed but a few hours before.  The night was intensely dark,
adding effect to the brilliancy of the flames, and making the scene look
truly terrific.  So fiercely did the flames rage, that at one time it
was feared the fire would cross the river to the side on which the fort
is situated, in which case it and all within must have been destroyed.
The inmates also had had many apprehensions for the safety of one of
their party, from whom, with his Indians, Mr Kane had parted some time
before, and who had not yet arrived.  For three days they were uncertain
of his fate, when at length their anxiety was relieved by his
appearance.  He had noticed the fire at a long distance, and had
immediately started for the nearest bend in the river.  This, by great
exertion, he had reached in time to escape the flames, and had succeeded
in crossing.

THE BARREN PLAINS IN THE FAR WEST.

On the prairies of the east the eye ranges over a wide expanse of waving
grass, everywhere like the sea.  As, crossing the plains, we proceed
west towards the vast range of the Rocky Mountains, the country gives
evidence of the violent and irregular disturbances to which it has been
subjected.  Wild rocky ridges crop out from the sterile plains of sand;
and for hundreds of miles around the country is desert, dry, and barren.
Even the vegetation, such as it is, is of the same unattractive
character.  The ground here and there is covered with patches of the
grey gramma grass, growing in little cork-screw curls; and there is a
small furzy plant, the under sides of the leaves of which are covered
with a white down, while occasionally small orange-coloured flowers are
seen struggling into existence.

There are insects, however.  Ants swarm in all directions, building
cones a foot in height.  Grasshoppers in myriads, with red wings and
legs, fly through the air--the only bright objects in the landscape.
Sometimes the reddish-brown cricket is seen.  Even the Platte River,
which flows through this region, partakes of its nature.  It seems to
consist of a saturated solution of sand: when a handful is taken up, a
grey mud of silex remains in the palm.  Dry as this gramma grass
appears, it possesses nutritive qualities, as the animals which feed on
it abundantly prove.

Storms break over these plains with tremendous fury: the thunder roars,
the lightning which flashes from the clouds illumines earth and sky with
a brightness surpassing the cloudless noon.  Then again utter darkness
covers the earth, when suddenly a column of light appears, like the
trunk of some tall pine, as the electric fluid passes from the upper to
the lower regions of the world.  The next instant its blazing summit
breaks into splinters on every side.  Occasionally fearful hail-storms
sweep over the plains; and at other times the air from the south comes
heated, as from a furnace, drying up all moisture from the skin, and
parching the traveller's tongue with thirst.

Here and there are scattered pools of water containing large quantities
of salts, soda, and potash, from drinking which numbers of cattle
perish.  The track of emigrants is strewn for many miles with bleaching
heads, whole skeletons, and putrefying carcasses;--the result of the
malady thus produced, in addition to heat and overdriving.  Even the
traveller suffers greatly, feeling as if he had swallowed a quantity of
raw soda.

Yet often in this generally desert region, where the rivers wind their
way through the plain, or wide pools of pure water mirror the blue sky,
scenes of great beauty are presented.  Nothing can surpass the rosy hues
which tinge the heavens at sunrise.  Here game of all sorts is found.
The lakes swarm with mallards, ducks, and a variety of teal.  Herds of
antelopes cross the plain in all directions, and vast herds of buffalo
darken the horizon as they sweep by in their migrations.

THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS.

At length a blue range, which might be taken for a rising vapour,
appears in the western horizon.  It is the first sight the traveller
obtains of the long-looked-for Rocky Mountains; yet he has many a weary
league to pass before he is among them, and dangers not a few before he
can descend their western slopes.  At length he finds himself amid
masses of dark brown rocks, not a patch of green appearing; mountain
heights rising westward, one beyond the other; and far-away, where he
might suppose the plains were again to be found, still there rises
before him a region of everlasting snow.  For many days he may go on,
now climbing, now descending, now flanking piles of rocks, and yet not
till fully six days are passed is he able to say that he has crossed
that mountain range.  Indeed, the term "range" scarcely describes the
system of the Rocky Mountains.  It is, in fact, a chain, composed of
numerous links, with vast plains rising amid them.

PARKS.

These ranges in several places thin out, as it were, leaving a large
tract of level country completely embosomed in snowy ridges in the very
heart of the system.  These plains are known as "parks."  They are found
throughout the range.  Several of them are of vast extent,--the four
principal ones forming the series called, in their order, "North,"
"Middle", "South," and "Saint Louis" Parks.  Portions of them,
thoroughly irrigated, remain beautifully green throughout the year, and
herbage over the whole region is abundant.  Sheltered from the blasts to
which the lower plains are exposed, these parks enjoy an equable
climate; and old hunters, who have camped in them for many seasons,
describe life there as an earthly paradise.  They abound in animals of
all sorts.  Elk, deer, and antelope feed on their rich grasses.  Hither
also the puma follows its prey, and there are several other creatures of
the feline tribe.  Bears, wolves, and foxes likewise range across them.
In some of them herds of buffalo pass their lives; for, unlike their
brethren of the plain, they are not migratory.  It is doubtful whether
or not they are of the same species, but they are said to be larger and
fiercer.

The appropriate designation of the Rocky Mountain-system is that of a
chain.  On crossing one of its basins or plateaux, the traveller finds
himself within a link such as has just been described.  A break in one
of these links is called a "pass," or "canon."  As he passes through
this break he enters another link, belonging to another parallel either
of a higher or lower series.  In some of the minor plateaux between the
snowy ridges no vegetation appears.  Granite and sandstone rocks outcrop
even in the general sandy level, rising bare and perpendicularly from 50
to 300 feet; as a late traveller describes it, "looking like a mere
clean skeleton of the world."  Nothing is visible but pure rock on every
side.  Vast stones lie heaped up into pyramids, as if they had been rent
from the sky.  Cubical masses, each covering an acre of surface, and
reaching to a perpendicular height of thirty or forty feet, suggest the
buttresses of some gigantic palace, whose superstructure has crumbled
away with the race of its Titanic builders.  It is these regions
especially which have given the mighty range the appropriate name of the
_Rocky Mountains_.

THE SAGE COCK.

In some spots, the limitless wastes are covered by a scrubby plant known
as mountain sage.  It rises from a tough gnarled root in a number of
spiral shoots, which finally form a single trunk, varying in
circumference from six inches to two feet.  The leaves are grey, with a
strong offensive smell resembling true sage.  In other places there
appear mixed with it the equally scrubby but somewhat greener
grease-wood--the two resinous shrubs affording the only fuel on which
the emigrant can rely while following the Rocky Mountain trail.

These sage regions are the habitation of a magnificent bird--the Sage
Cock.  He may well be called the King of the grouse tribe.  When
stalking erect through the sage, he looks as large as a good-sized wild
turkey--his average length being, indeed, about thirty-two inches, and
that of the hen two feet.  They differ somewhat, according to the season
of the year.  The prevailing colour is that of a yellowish-brown or warm
grey, mottled with darker brown, shading from cinnamon to jet-black.
The dark spots are laid on in a longitudinal series of crescents.  The
under parts are a light grey, sometimes almost pure white, barred with
streaks of brown, or pied with black patches.  In the elegance of his
figure and fineness of his outlines he vies with the golden pheasant.
His tail differs from that of the grouse family in general by coming to
a point instead of opening like a fan.  On each side of his neck he has
a bare orange-coloured spot, and near it a downy epaulet.  His call is a
rapid "Cut, cut, cut!" followed by a hollow blowing sound.  He has the
partridge's habit of drumming with his wings, while the hen-bird knows
the trick of misleading the enemy from her young brood.  He seldom rises
from the ground, his occasional flights being low, short, and laboured.
He runs with great speed, and in his favourite habitat dodges and skulks
with rapidity, favoured by the resemblance of his colour to the natural
tints of the scrub.  Though sometimes called the Cock of the Plains, he
never descends into the plains, being always found on the higher
mountain regions.

When the snow begins to melt, the sage hen builds in the bush a nest of
sticks and reeds artistically matted together, and lays from a dozen to
twenty eggs, rather larger than those of the domestic fowl, of a tawny
colour, irregularly marked with chocolate blotches on the larger end.
When a brood is strong enough to travel, the parents lead their young
into general society.  They are excessively tame, or bold.  Often they
may be seen strutting between the gnarled trunk and ashen masses of
foliage peculiar to the sage scrub, and paying no more attention to the
traveller than would a barnyard drove of turkeys; the cocks now and then
stopping to play the dandy before their more Quakerly little hens,
inflating the little yellow pouches of skin on either side of their
necks, till they globe out like the pouches of a pigeon.

WINTER SCENE AMONG THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS.

Descending the precipitous slopes of the Rocky Mountains on the west, we
enter on a vast plain no less than 2000 miles in length, though
comparatively narrow--the great basin of California and Oregon.  Its
greatest width, from the Sierra Nevada to the Rocky Mountains, is nearly
600 miles, but is generally much less.  The largest lake found on it is
4200 feet above the level of the sea, and is connected with the Salt
Lake of Utah.  The mean elevation of the plain is about 6000 feet above
the sea.  A mountain-chain runs across it, and through it flows the
large Colorado River, amidst gorges of the most picturesque
magnificence.

If the scenes we have described are stern and forbidding in summer, how
much more so are they in winter, when icy blasts blow through the
canons, and masses of snow cover the ground.  From one of the outer
spurs on the east, let us take a glance over the region.  Behind us
rises the chain of the Rocky Mountains, the whole intermediate country,
as well as the mountains themselves, except where the precipitous rocks
forbid it, being covered thickly with snow.  Rugged peaks and ridges,
snow-clad and covered with pines, and deep gorges filled with broken
rocks, everywhere meet the eye.  To the east, the mountains gradually
smooth away into high spurs and broken ground, till they join the
wide-spreading plains, generally stretching far as the eye can reach,
and hundreds of miles beyond--a sea of barrenness, vast and dismal.  A
hurricane blows clouds of white snowy dust across the desert, resembling
the smoke of bonfires, roaring and raving through the pines on the
mountain-top, filling the air with snow and broken branches, and piling
it in huge drifts against the trees.

The perfect solitude of this vast wilderness is appalling.  From our
lofty post on the mountain-top, we obtain a view over the rugged and
chaotic masses of the stupendous chain, and the vast deserts which
stretch away far from its eastern base; while on all sides are broken
ridges and chasms and ravines, with masses of piled-up rocks and
uprooted trees, with clouds of drifting snow flying through the air, and
the hurricane's roar battling through the forest at our feet adding to
the wildness of the scene, which is unrelieved by the slightest vestige
of animal or human life.

THE HORNED FROG.

We must now pass in review some of the numerous animals which inhabit
these regions.  In some of the mountain plateaux, among the cactuses and
sand-heaps, we find that singularly-made animal known vulgarly as the
Texan toad or horned frog--a name which in no way properly belongs to
him, as he is more nearly related to the lizards and salamanders.  He
lives as contentedly on the hot baked prairies of Texas, as amongst
their snow-surrounded heights; though, from his appearance, we should
expect to see him basking under a semi-tropical sun, rather than in this
region.  Yet here he lives, and must often have to spend much of his
time under the snow.  These toads, as the creatures are called, have
brown backs, white bellies, small twinkling black eyes, set in
almond-shaped slits, enclosed by two dark marks of the same shape.  This
has the effect of enlarging the eye, and giving it a soft look like that
of the antelope.  The two retro-curved horns, which rise out of bony
sockets above the eyes, add still more to this odd resemblance.

The skin of the back and the long stiff tail, instead of being warted
like the true toad's upper surface, is set with thorny excrescences.
That of the lower surface is a dry tough tissue, almost horny.  Whether
this armour is given him to defend himself from the rattlesnake, it is
difficult to say.  The creature itself is of a peaceable disposition;
and so unwilling is he to fight, that he will allow himself to be taken
in the hand, and if placed on it directly after capture, he will not
attempt to get away.  It is very easy to catch him in the first place,
for his movements over the loose sand of his haunts are scarcely faster
than those of a land tortoise.

The trappers and other scattered inhabitants of this region describe a
fish with hands as frequenting the brooks and pools.  Though there are,
no doubt, some curious fish, it is questionable how far these creatures
possess the members ascribed to them.

FUR-TRAPPERS OF THE FAR WEST.

The fur-trapper of America is the chief pioneer of the Far West.  His
life spent in the remote wilderness, with no other companion than Nature
herself, his character assumes a mixture of simplicity and ferocity.  He
knows no wants beyond the means of procuring sufficient food and
clothing.  All the instincts of primitive man are constantly kept alive.
Exposed to dangers of all sorts, he becomes callous to them, and is as
ready to destroy human as well as animal life as he is to expose his
own.  He cares nothing for laws, human or divine.  Strong, active,
hardy, and daring, he depends on his instinct for the support of life.

The independent trapper possesses traps and animals of his own, ranges
wherever he lists through the country, and disposes of his peltries to
the highest bidder.  There are others employed by the fur companies, who
supply them with traps and animals, and pay a certain price for the furs
they bring.

The independent trapper equips himself with a horse and two or three
mules--the one for the saddle, the others for his packs--and a certain
number of traps, which he carries in a leather bag, with ammunition, a
few pounds of tobacco, and dressed deerskins for his mocassins and
repairing his garments.  His costume is a hunting-shirt of dressed
buckskin, ornamented with long fringes; pantaloons of the same material,
decorated with porcupine quills and long fringes down the outside of the
leg.  He has mocassins on his feet, and a flexible felt hat on his head.
Over his left shoulder and under his right arm hang his powder-horn and
bullet-pouch, with flint, steel, and other articles, in a bag.  A belt
round the waist secures a large knife in a sheath of buffalo hide to a
steel chain, as also a case of buckskin, containing a whetstone.  In his
belt is also stuck a tomahawk, a pipe-holder hangs round his neck, and a
long heavy rifle is slung over his shoulder.

Arrived on the hunting-ground, as soon as the ice has broken up he
follows the creeks and streams, keeping a lookout for the signs of
beavers.  As soon as he discovers one, he sets his trap, secured to a
chain fastened to a stake or tree, baiting it with the tempting
castoreum.  He is ever on the watch for the neighbourhood of Indians,
who try to outwit him, though generally in vain, to steal his traps and
beavers.  His eye surveys the surrounding country, and instantly detects
any sign of his foes.  A leaf turned down, the slightly pressed grass,
the uneasiness of the wild animals, the flight of birds, all tell him
that other human beings are in the neighbourhood.  Sometimes, after he
has set his traps and is returning to his camp, the wily Indian who has
been watching follows, and a home-drawn arrow, shot within a few feet,
never fails to bring the hapless victim to the ground.  For one white
scalp, however, that dangles in the smoke of an Indian's lodge, a dozen
black ones surround the camp-fires of the trappers' rendezvous.  Here,
after the hunt, from all quarters the hardy trappers bring in their
packs of beaver to meet the purchasers, sometimes to the value of a
thousand dollars each.  The traders sell their goods at enormous
profits; and the thoughtless trapper, indulging in the fire-water from
which he has long abstained, is too often induced to gamble away the
gold for which he has risked life and gone through so many hardships.
When all is gone, he gets credit for another equipment, and sets off
alone, often to return and repeat the same process, although the profits
of one or two successful hunts would enable him to stock a farm and live
among civilised men.

Wonders of Nature.--Mammoth Cave of Kentucky.

There are many other wonders of Nature in different parts of North
America well worthy of more notice than we can give them.  The most
remarkable, perhaps, is the Mammoth Cave of Kentucky.  The entrance to
it is situated near Green River, midway between Louisville and
Nashville.

A lonely road leads to the entrance, from which, as we approach it in
summer, we find a peculiarly chilly air issue forth.  The sombre gloom
of the entrance does not prepare us for the enormous hall within; long
avenues leading into vast chambers, the smaller, thirty feet in height,
at least, with an area of half an acre, and, as we get lower and lower,
increasing in height.  Upwards of eighteen miles of the cavern have been
explored, and it may possibly be of still greater extent.  To give an
idea of the height of one of the chambers, we may add that the rocks
from above have fallen, and a hill has been formed one hundred feet in
elevation.  Many of the halls are ornamented with the most magnificent
stalactites.  One of them is appropriately called Martha's Vineyard, in
consequence of having its tops and sides covered with stalactites which
resemble bunches of grapes.

Several streams pass through the cavern, down the sides of which rush
numerous cataracts.  Some of these streams, which are of considerable
depth and width, are inhabited by shoals of eyeless fish, the organs of
sight being superfluous in a region doomed to eternal night.  The
atmosphere of this huge cave is peculiarly dry, and is supposed to be
extremely serviceable to persons afflicted with pulmonary complaints.

To visit any considerable portion of the cavern would occupy us at least
a couple of days.  It is calculated there are no less than two hundred
and twenty-six avenues, forty-seven domes, numerous rivers, eight
cataracts, and twenty-three pits,--many of which are grand in the
extreme.  Some of the rivers are navigated by boats, and, as may be
supposed, they have obtained appropriate names.  Here we find the Dead
Sea and the River Styx.  One of the streams disappears beneath the
ground, and then rises again in another portion of the cavern.  But
after all, as naturalists, the little eyeless fish should chiefly claim
our attention.

OIL SPRINGS.

As coal was stored up for the use of man, formed in ages past from the
giant vegetation which then covered the face of the earth, so the
Creator has caused to be deposited in subterranean caverns large
quantities of valuable oil, which not only serves man for light, but is
useful to him for many other purposes.

Whether that oil was produced from animal or vegetable substances,
appears, even now, a matter of dispute.  Some naturalists suppose that
vast numbers of oil-giving creatures had been assembled in the districts
in which these oil wells are now found, and the oil was pressed out of
them by a superincumbent weight of rock.  Others assert that the same
result might be produced from a vast mass of oil-giving vegetation
having been crushed by a similar process.  Be that as it may, in several
parts of the States, as well as in Canada, enormous pits exist full of
this curious oil.  It is obtained by boring in the ground in those spots
where the oil is likely to be found.  Often, however, the speculator,
after spending time and capital in the experiment, finds that no oil
appears at his call.

In some spots, where it was first discovered, after the boring was
completed, some hundreds of tons flowed up so rapidly, that it was
difficult to find casks sufficient to preserve the produce.  The whole
region round is impregnated with the odour of the oil.  Long teams of
waggons come laden with casks of oil on the roads approaching the wells.
Sheds for repairing the casks, and storing the oil, are ranged around.
Every one gives indubitable signs by their appearance of their
occupation, while rock-oil, as it is called, is the only subject of
conversation in the neighbourhood.

MAMMOTH TREES AND CAVERNS OF CALAVERAS.

Gigantic as are the trees found in many of the eastern forests of
America, they are far surpassed by groves of pines discovered a few
years back in the southern parts of California.  They are found in small
groves together--in some places only three or four of the more gigantic
in size; in others, as many as thirty or forty, one vying with the other
in height and girth.  In one grove, upwards of one hundred trees were
found, of great size, twenty of which were about seventy-five feet in
circumference.  One of these trees, of greater size than its companions,
was sacrilegiously cut down.  Its height was 302 feet, and its
circumference, at the ground, 96 feet.  As it was impossible to cut it
down, it was bored off with pump-augers.  This work employed five men
for twenty-two days.  Even, after the stem was fairly severed from the
stump, the uprightness of the tree and breadth of its base sustained it
in its position, and two days were employed in inserting wedges and
driving them in; but at length the noble monarch of the forest was
forced to tremble, and then to fall, after braving the battle and the
breeze for nearly three thousand winters.

Many of the trees have received appropriate names.  One has fallen, and
has been hollowed out by fire.  Through it a person can ride on
horseback for sixty feet.  Its estimated height, when standing, was 330
feet, and its circumference, 97 feet.  Another of these giants is known
as Hercules.  It is 320 feet high, and 95 feet in circumference.
Perhaps the most beautiful group is that of three trees known as the
Three Graces.  Each of them measures 92 feet in circumference at the
base; and in height they are nearly equal, measuring 295 feet.  Time was
when, perhaps, the whole forest consisted of trees of the same size; but
many have been destroyed by fire, and the time may come when none of
those now standing will remain.  The name of Wellingtonia has been given
to the species.

In the same region are numerous magnificent stalactite caverns, which
equal in beauty, if not in size, those of the Mammoth Cave of Kentucky.

There are several waterfalls, unsurpassed for picturesque beauty.

Had we time, we might pay a visit also to the gold-mines of California,
and observe the way they are worked; but we should be prevented from
giving that attention to the animal creation which is our present
object.



PART ONE, CHAPTER FOUR.

GENERAL SURVEY OF THE ZOOLOGY OF NORTH AMERICA.

Having thus obtained a bird's-eye view of the physical features of North
America, we will take a rapid survey of its zoology before we more
minutely inspect the individuals of which it consists.

In a region of extent so vast as the continent of America, reaching from
the Arctic Circle at one end far-away towards the Antarctic Ocean at the
other--with dense forests, under a tropical sun, in some parts; open
plains, lofty mountains, or a network of rivers and streams, vast lakes
and marshes, in others--we shall find all varieties of form in the
animal kingdom.  This gives to its study an especial interest.  While
the larger number of its members are especially local, confined in
narrow spaces between two streams, others range beyond 50 degrees and 60
degrees of latitude.  The puma wanders across the plains of Patagonia,
and ravages the flocks of the settlers on the western prairies of the
United States.  The reindeer feeds on the moss-covered moors of the
Arctic islands, and is chased by the hunters far south among the defiles
of the Rocky Mountains.  Vast herds of bison darken the plains of New
Mexico, and reach the upper waters of the Saskatchewan.  The same wild
fowl which hatch their young among the ice-surrounded cliffs of Northern
Greenland are found sporting in the lakes of Central America; while some
of the smallest of the feathered tribes, the gem-like humming-birds,
have been seen flitting through the damp mists of Tierra del Fuego,
sipping the sweets of Alpine flowers high up amid lofty peaks of the
Andes, and appearing on the hill-sides in sight of Lake Winnipeg, on the
north of Rupert's Land.

However, as we proceed in our survey, we shall be able to note such, and
many other interesting facts connected with the zoology of the districts
we visit.

We shall find in the northern portion of the continent, extending nearly
as far south as the sixtieth degree of latitude, and even beyond that
parallel, several animals which are identical with those inhabiting the
same latitudes in Europe and Asia.  The Polar or white bear, the
sovereign of the Arctic world, ranges entirely round the Circle; and
makes his way across the icy seas over the rugged snow-clothed rocks, so
that he belongs as much to Europe and Asia as to America.  The cunning
wolverene, the ermine, the pine-marten, the Arctic fox and common
weasel, also inhabit the same latitudes of the three continents.  Among
the herbivorous quadrupeds, there are several which have made their way
across the frozen ocean.  The American elk, though called the moose, is
identical with the same animal found in Asia and Europe; so is the
reindeer, known here as the cariboo.  Both, indeed, are Arctic animals,
though they migrate to southern latitudes when the severer cold and
depth of snow prevents them from obtaining the moss and lichens on which
they feed.  The little Polar hare ranges round the Arctic Circle; but
there is one animal, the musk-ox, which, being truly an Arctic
quadruped, is unknown either in Asia or Europe, and therefore belongs
exclusively to America.

Of the feathered tribes, the larger number of individuals, as might be
supposed, are common to the northern portions of the three continents.
Among these are the golden eagle, the white-headed or sea eagle, the
osprey, the peregrine falcon, the gyrfalcon, the merlin goshawk, the
common buzzard, rough-legged buzzard, hen-harrier, long-eared owl,
short-eared owl, great snowy owl, and Tengmalm's owl.  Nearly all the
ducks and other swimming families, as might be expected, are also
identical, as they can make their way with ease round the Circle, and
find the same food and conditions of life.  The waders, however, are
generally distinct from those of Europe, as are the grouse inhabiting
the same parallels of latitude.  Only one or two have been found in
Europe, as well as in America.

We must now take a glance at the animals which are distinctly American.
In the first place, there are three bears--the savage grizzly of the
Rocky Mountains; the cunning black bear; and the bear of the Barren
Grounds.  The beaver might take the first rank among American animals,
for his sagacity, if not for his size.  Then comes the Canada otter; the
vison or minx; the clever little tree-loving raccoon; the American
badger, differing from his European relative; and the pekan.  There are
several varieties of wolves, differing in size and somewhat in habits,
but all equally voracious.  There are several species of foxes, and no
less than thirty of lemmings, marmots, and squirrels, all of which are
to be found within the more northern latitudes of the New World.  There
are three hares--known as the American, the prairie, and the little
chief hares--which range over the northern continent.  Of the large
animals we have the wapiti, a species of deer; two species of the
black-tailed deer; a long-tailed deer; and the prong-horned antelope;
also the wild goat; the bighorn sheep of the Rocky Mountains; and last,
though not least, the American bison, familiarly known as the buffalo--
the inhabitant of the wide-spreading plains and prairies extending from
the Arctic Circle to Mexico.

Among the land birds, especially the birds of prey, there are several
which are spread over the greater part of the northern continent, some
indeed being found also in great numbers in South America.  These are
the turkey vulture, the black vulture, the little rusty-crowned falcon,
the pigeon hawk, slate-coloured hawk, red-tailed buzzard, American
horned owl, little American owl, and five other species of falcons.  The
perchers are less widely distributed.

There are, however, numerous families of insectivorous birds peculiar to
America, which either permanently inhabit the more genial portions of
the continent, or pay annual visits to those regions where the richest
fruits abound and insect life prevails, affording them an abundant
banquet.  These migrating birds, as the winter draws on, take their
departure southward to the warmer climate of Mexico, where they find
abundance of food.  As the summer returns, and the fruits of the
orchard, the corn of the field, and wild berries ripen, and insects
increase in numbers, vast flocks of warblers, woodpeckers, maize-birds,
fly-catchers, thrushes, hang-nests, pigeons, blue-birds, and others
return from their southern pilgrimage, to feed on the minute creatures
which now people the plains, the hill-sides and forests, and on the
abundant productions of the earth, enlivening the forests with their
varied plumage, and delighting man by their melodious notes.

The number of gallinaceous birds is extremely limited.  America can,
however, boast of its native wild turkey--one of the most magnificent
game-birds in existence.  There is also the pinnated or Cupid Grouse.
The Barren Grounds of Kentucky, and a few other districts, are inhabited
by the ruffle grouse, which is also often called the pheasant.  It
ranges to a considerable distance northward, and Dr Richardson found it
even on the borders of the Polar regions.  There is likewise a
small-sized partridge, which is improperly called the quail.

With the exception of the golden plover, few of the wading birds
resemble those of Europe.  The snipe, the woodcock, the curlew, most of
the sandpipers, together with the coot and the water-hen, are distinct
from those of Europe, and are not only peculiar to America, but few of
them have been found to the south of the line.  One of the most
magnificent birds is the American flamingo, which is of a more beautiful
and intense scarlet than that of Europe, and fully as tall; another
bird, the wood-ibis, has the same form as the glossy ibis of southern
Europe.  In Carolina and Florida is found the magnificent scarlet ibis,
but it seldom makes its way to the northern parts of the Union.  There
are several large and beautiful species of herons.  Although most of the
duck tribe range throughout the continent, there are some--such as the
summer or tree duck of South Carolina--which range from the States to
the warmer shores of the southern provinces, while the celebrated
canvas-back duck, so highly prized at table, is found chiefly in the
temperate parts of the continent.  The rest of the duck tribe inhabit
the northern regions, only quitting them for the United States during
the severity of winter.



PART ONE, CHAPTER FIVE.

DESCRIPTION OF VARIOUS ANIMALS--RUMINANTS.

THE MOOSE, OR ELK.

We shall not introduce the animals we are about to inspect according to
a systematic classification, but bring them forward as they appear to
the eye of the traveller or sportsman, giving the largest and the most
important the first place.  Our object is rather to view the
characteristic animals of each region we visit than to attempt a
scientific examination of the whole animated kingdom of the world--a
task which must be left to those who have far more time at their
disposal than we possess.

We will begin, therefore, with the animals belonging to the ruminantia--
the eighth in natural order; taking next the carnivora--the fifth; and
the smaller rodentia--the sixth; while the birds and reptiles will
follow in due course.  Among these, however, we shall select only the
most notable and curious; for although North America does not teem with
animal life in the same degree as the southern half of the continent,
were we to attempt to introduce all those existing in it we could give
but a meagre account of each.

Without further preface, therefore, we will commence our survey with the
elk.

The monarch of the American pine-forests--the superb moose or elk--
ranges from the mouth of the Mackenzie River to the shores of the
Atlantic, at the eastern extremity of Nova Scotia, and passing the great
lake region, is found even as far as the State of New York.  Observe him
as he stands with huge palmated horns ready for action, his vast
nostrils snuffing up the scent coming from afar; his eyes dilated, and
ears moving, watching for a foe; his bristly mane erect; his large body
supported on his somewhat thick but agile limbs, standing fully six feet
six inches in height at the shoulder, above which rise the head and
antlers.  The creature's muzzle is very broad, protruding, and covered
with hair, except a small moist, naked spot in front of the nostrils.
He has a short, thick neck, the hair thick and brittle.  The throat is
somewhat maned in both sexes.  So large is the cavity of the nose, that
a man may thrust his arm right into it.  The inter-maxillaries are very
long, and the nasals short.  He differs from the European elk only by
having much darker hair,--the coat of the male, when in its prime, at
the close of the summer, being completely black.  Under the throat the
males have a fleshy appendage termed the bell, from which grow long
black hairs.  The bristles on his thick muzzle are of a lighter colour
than those of the coat, being somewhat of a reddish hue.  The neck and
shoulders are covered with very fine soft wool, curiously interwoven
with the hair.  Out of this the Indians manufacture soft, warm gloves.
The moose hair is very brittle and inelastic.  It is dyed by the
Indians, and employed for ornamenting numerous articles of birch-bark.
The moose is of cautious and retiring habits, generally taking up his
abode amid the mossy swamps found round the margins of the lakes, and
which occupy the low ground in every direction.  Here the cinnamon fern
grows luxuriantly, while a few swamp maple saplings and mountain ash
trees occur at intervals, and afford sufficient food to the moose.

It is to these regions the bull retires with his consort, and remains
for weeks together, claiming to be the monarch of the swamp; and should
he hear the approach of a distant rival, he will crash with his antlers
against the tree stems, making sudden mad rushes through the bushes, the
sound of his blows reverberating to a distance.  He has also a curious
custom of tearing up the moss over a considerable area, exposing the
black mud by pawing with the fore-feet.  He continually visits these
hills, and in consequence a strong musky effluvia arises from them.  The
Indian hunter, by examining them, can ascertain without fail when they
were last visited by the animal.  He utters loud sounds both by day and
night, described by the Indians in their guttural voices as "quoth,
quoth," but occasionally becoming sharper and more like a bellow when he
hears a distant cow.  The cow utters a prolonged and strangely wild
call.  This is imitated by the Indian hunter through a trumpet composed
of rolled-up birch-bark, when his dogs are in chase of the animal; and
the bull being by this means attracted towards him, becomes more easily
his victim.

During the early part of the year, and the summer, the antlers are
growing; but this process ceases early in September, when the moose has
got rid of the last ragged strip of the deciduous skin against the young
larch-trees and alder-bushes.  He now stands ready to assert his claims
against all rivals.  At this season the bulls fight desperately; often
the collision of the antlers of huge rivals, driven with mighty force by
their immense and compact necks, is heard to a great distance, like the
report of a gun on a still autumnal evening.  They probably approach
from different directions, regardless of the rugged ground, the rocks,
and fallen trees in their course, bellowing loudly, and tearing up the
ground with their horns.  Now they catch sight of each other, and rush
together like two gladiators.  Now butting for some time till their
antlers become interlocked, perhaps both fall struggling to the ground.
Frequently portions of skeletons, the skulls united by firmly-locked
antlers, have been found in some wilderness arena, where a deadly fight
has occurred.  A magnificent pair of horns thus interlocked is to be
seen in the Museum of the Royal College of Surgeons.  Terrible must have
been the fate of the combatants, illustrating Byron's lines:--

  "Friends meet to part;
  Love laughs at faith:
  True foes once met,
  Are joined till death."

Captain Hardy says he has twice heard the strange sound emitted by the
moose, which, till he became acquainted with its origin, was almost
appalling.  It is a deep, hoarse, and prolonged bellow, more resembling
a feline than a bovine roar.  Sometimes the ear of the hunter is
assailed by a tremendous clatter from some distant swamp or burned wood.
It is the moose, defiantly sweeping the forest of pines right and left
among the brittle branches of the ram pikes, as the scaled pines
hardened by fire are locally termed.  When, however, the moose wishes to
beat a retreat in silence, his suspicions being aroused, he effects the
process with marvellous stealth.  Not a branch is heard to snap, and the
horns are so carefully carried through the densest thickets, that a
rabbit would make as much noise when alarmed.  He will also, when
hard-pressed, take the most desperate leaps to avoid his foes.

Though he seldom or never attacks human beings when unassailed, he will
do so occasionally when badly wounded, if nearly approached.  An old
Indian hunter had one day followed up a moose, and wounded the animal,
when it turned on him.  There being no tree near, he jammed himself for
safety between two large granite boulders which were at hand.  The
aperture, however, did not extend far enough back to enable him to get
altogether out of the reach of the infuriated bull, which set on him
with its fore-feet, and pounded him so severely that several of his ribs
were broken; indeed, for several years afterwards he was nearly bent
double by the severe beating he had received.

In the summer, when the plague of flies commences, the moose takes to
the water to avoid their bites.  There are several species--one termed
the moose-fly--which are equally annoying to the hunter.  The animal
strives to free himself from their irritation by running among bushes
and brambles; and should he reach a lake, he will plunge into the water,
allowing only his nostrils and mouth to remain above the surface.
Sometimes, indeed, he will dive altogether, and is frequently known to
hide himself from his pursuers by remaining for a long time below the
water.  He also feeds upon the tendrils and shoots of the yellow
pond-lily, by reaching for them under water.  An Indian, on one
occasion, was following the track of a moose, when it led him to the
edge of a little round pond in the woods, whence he could find no exit
of the trail.  After waiting for some time, he beheld the head of the
animal rising above the surface in the very middle of the pond.  While
hastening for his gun, which he had left at a little distance, the moose
made for the opposite shore, and emerging from the water, regained the
shelter of the forest ere he could get round for a shot.  The animals
have been known also to visit the seashore, and one was seen swimming
off to an island over a mile distant, which he reached in safety.

The moose feeds chiefly on the leaves of young shoots and bushes, or the
smaller trees--the red and other maples, the white birch, the balsam,
fur, poplar, and mountain ash; and occasionally, as has been said, on
the roots of the yellow pond-lily, with a bite now and then at a tussock
of broad-leaved grass growing in the dried bogs.  To get at the foliage
beyond the reach of his muzzle, he frequently charges a young tree and
rides it down, till he has brought the tempting leaves within his reach.

The horns of the animal begin to sprout in April, the old pair having
fallen some time before.  In the middle of this month the coat is shed,
when the animal for some time afterwards presents a very rugged
appearance.  The cow towards the end of May produces one or two calves,
generally near the margin of a lake, or in one of the densely-wooded
islands, where they are secure from the attacks of the bull moose, who,
cruel tyrant that he is, often destroys them.  Rarely more than two are
born at a time.

Besides its human foes, the moose is attacked occasionally by the bear.
Captain Hardy describes coming upon the traces of a recent struggle
between a young moose and one of these animals.  "The bear had evidently
stolen through the long grass upon the moose, and had taken him at a
disadvantage in the treacherous bog.  The grass was very much beaten
down, and deep furrows in the soil below showed how energetically the
unfortunate moose had striven to escape from his powerful assailant.
There was a broad track plentifully strewed with moose hair, showing how
the moose had struggled with the bear, to the wood, where, no doubt, the
affair ended, and the bear dined."

As the winter approaches, the cows, with the young bulls and calves,
congregate in small parties on the open "barrens" and hill-sides.  When
the snow comes thickly down, they form what is called a yard; and in
Canada, where its depth is very great, they have to remain in it during
the whole winter, feeding round the area on the young wood of deciduous
trees.  In Nova Scotia, however, they migrate to other localities when
they have consumed the more tempting portions of food in the yard.  In
the morning and afternoon they are found feeding, or chewing the cud;
but at noon, when they lie down, they are difficult to approach, as they
are then on the alert, employing their wonderful faculties of scent and
hearing to detect the faintest taint or sound in the air, which might
indicate the approach of danger.  The snapping of a little twig, the
least collision of a rifle with a branch, or crunching of the snow under
the mocassins, will suffice to arouse them.  Curiously enough, however,
they are not alarmed by any sound, even the loudest, to which they have
been accustomed.  The hunter has, therefore, to approach the yard with
the greatest possible caution, in order to get a shot.

We will, however, start off on a moose hunt, in autumn, with a practical
Indian hunter.  The air of the autumnal night is frosty and bracing.
The moose are moving rapidly from place to place.  Night is drawing on.
The last fluttering of the aspens dying away, leaves that perfect repose
in the air which is so necessary to the sport.  The moon rises, shedding
a broad and silvery light through the forest.  Mysterious sounds greet
our ears.  The Indian hunter is provided with his trumpet of birch-bark,
in the form of a cone, about two feet in length.  He shelters himself
behind the edge of the banks, a clump of bushes, or rocks; and now he
emits the cry of the cow moose, so exactly, that the male animal is
easily deceived by it.  He waits: there is no response.  An interval of
fifteen minutes elapses; still no reply is heard.  Again the Indian
sends his wild cry pealing through the wood.  Presently a low grunt,
quickly repeated, comes from some distant hill; and the snapping of
branches and falling trees attests the approach of the bull.  The hunter
is now doubly careful; kneeling down, and thrusting the mouth of his
call into some bushes close by, he utters a lower and more plaintive
sound.  At length an answer reaches his ears.  The snapping of the
branches is resumed; and presently the moose is seen stalking into the
middle of the moonlit "barren."  Our weapons are ready; and as the
magnificent animal stands looking eagerly around in the woodland
amphitheatre, a rifle ball, laden with death, brings him to the ground.

In some districts the Indians employ another method of calling.  They
conceal themselves in a swamp, in the midst of some damp mossy valley,
during a dark night.  One holds a torch of birch-bark with a match ready
for lighting.  The hunter calls, and the moose approaches more readily
than towards the open "barren."  When the creature is within distance of
the deadly rifle, the match is applied to the torch, which, flaring up,
illuminates the swamp, and discovers the startled moose standing amidst
the trees, and incapable apparently of flight.  The Indians declare that
he is fascinated by the light; and though he may walk round and round
it, he will not leave the spot, and thus presents an easy mark to the
hunter's rifle.

Let us set forth on an expedition to "creep" moose, which may be
described as a similar mode of hunting to stalking.  The ground we
select is among the "barrens" before described.  It is strewed with dead
trees in all directions, amid which briars and bushes have grown up, and
conceal their sharp, broken limbs, and the rough granite rocks scattered
in all directions.  Here, collecting wood for burning, we form our camp,
and sit round the blazing fire, on which a well-filled frying-pan is
hissing, while we are covered by our blankets to protect ourselves from
the pattering rain-drops.  Our suppers over, we stretch ourselves for
repose, and gradually fall asleep, as the snapping of the logs on the
fire, the pattering of the rain, and the hootings of the owls in the
distant forest become less and less distinct.  Our Indian brings us
notice in the morning that two moose have passed close to the camp
during the night.  However, in spite of the plaintive call from the
treacherous bark trumpet, they will not approach, having been forewarned
of danger by the smell of our camp-fire.  We make our way amid the
bushes, already leafless, except that here and there are seen bunches of
dwarf maples with a few scarlet leaves of autumn still clinging to them.
Presently our companion whispers, "Down--sink down! slow--like me!"  A
magnificent bull appears about five hundred yards off.  The wind is
blowing from him to us.  The Indian utters the usual call; but the moose
does not answer, having already a companion close at hand.  Presently he
lies down in the bushes, and we worm ourselves slowly and laboriously
towards the edge of the alder swamp.  Gently lowering ourselves into the
swamp, we creep noiselessly through the dense bushes, their thick
foliage closing over our heads.  It is an anxious moment!--the slightest
snapping of a bough, the knocking of a gun-barrel against a stem, and
the game is off.  "We must go back," whispers the Indian.  "Cannot get
near enough on this side.  Too open!"  The difficult task of retreating
is performed without disturbing the moose.  Another half-hour is then
employed in creeping like snakes through the wet bushes.  At length, as
we reach the edge of the swamp, the great animal rises directly facing
us, gazing steadily towards us.  We fire.  A headlong stagger follows
the report; and the creature, turning round, is hidden from sight behind
a clump of bushes.  The Indian at the same time fires at a large cow
moose who has, unknown to us, been lying close to the bull.  We dash
forward a few paces.  On the other side the great bull suddenly rises in
front of us and strides on into thicker covert.  Another shot, and he
sinks lifeless at our feet.

The Cariboo, or Reindeer.

We have before mentioned the extensive tracts existing in North America,
which, from their desolate appearance, are appropriately called
"Barrens."  Far as the eye can reach the whole ground is seen strewn
with boulders of rock and fallen trees, scattered round in the wildest
confusion.  Here and there charred stumps rise from the green-sward; in
some spots clumps of spruce are seen, against which the white stems of
the graceful birch stand out in bold relief; while the bank of some
stream, or the margin of a lake, is marked by fringing thickets of
alder.  In many parts are moist, swampy bogs, into which the sportsman
sinks ankle-deep at every step.  The ground, however, is everywhere
thickly carpeted by a luxuriant growth of a species of lichen.  It
possesses wonderfully nutritive qualities; so much so, that large
quantities of alcohol have lately been extracted from it, as well as
from other lichens growing in sub-arctic regions.  It is the chief food
of the cariboo, which animal frequents these desolate-looking "barrens."

Visiting one of these "barrens," we may perchance fall in with several
of the noble-looking animals known in Europe and Asia as the reindeer,
though we must look sharp to recognise them; for so similar are they in
colour to the rocks and general features of the ground, that only the
keen eye of the Indian can easily detect them, especially when they are
lying down.  Should we approach them on the weather-side, or should the
slightest noise be made, they will quickly detect us.  Up they spring,
and after a brief stare, make off in graceful bounds at a rapid rate.
Now, having got beyond danger, they drop into a long swinging trot, and
proceed in single file across the "barren," till they enter the line of
forest in the far distance.

The cariboo of North America is a strongly-built, thickset animal,
compared to the more graceful of his relatives.  He carries on his head
a pair of magnificent antlers, varying greatly in different specimens--
some palmating towards the upper ends, others with branches springing
from the palmated portions.  In most instances there is but one
developed brow antler, the other being a solitary curved prong.  The
back of the cariboo is covered with brownish hair, the tips of which are
of a rich dun grey, whiter on the neck than elsewhere.  The nose, ears,
and outer surface of the legs and shoulders are of a brown hue.  The
neck and throat are covered with long, dullish white hair, and there is
a faint whitish patch on the side of the shoulders.  The rump and tail
are snowy-white, while a band of white runs round all the legs, joining
the hoofs.

As winter approaches, the hair grows long, and lightens considerably in
hue.  Frequently, indeed, individuals may be seen in a herd with coats
of the palest fawn colour--almost white.  The muzzle is entirely covered
with hair.  The fur is brittle, and though in summer it is short, in
winter it is longer and whiter, especially about the throat.  The hoofs
are broad, depressed, and bent in at the tip.  The full-grown bucks shed
their horns, and it is seldom that they are seen in a herd after
Christmas.  The female reindeer, however, retains hers during winter.
Several theories have been advanced to account for this.  There seems no
doubt, however, that the object is to enable the female to protect her
fawns from the males, who are apt to attack the young and destroy them.

The cariboo is gregarious, and males, females, and young herd together
at all seasons; and by this provision of Nature the females are able to
defend the young, who would otherwise be subjected to injury.  In
another respect these animals are wonderfully provided for the mode of
existence they are compelled to pursue.  Not only have they to cross
wide snow-covered districts, but frequently to pass across frozen
expanses of water.  To enable them to do this in the winter, the frog of
the foot is almost entirely absorbed, and the edges of the hoof, now
quite concave, grow out in sharp ridges, each division on the under
surface presenting the appearance of a huge mussel-shell, and serving
the office of natural skates.  So rapidly does the shell increase, that
the frog does not fill up again till spring, when the antlers bud out.
With this singular conformation of the foot, it has a lateral spread;
and an additional assistance for maintaining a foothold on slippery
surfaces is given by numerous long, stiff bristles which grow downward
at the fetlock, curving over entirely between the divisions.  The
cariboo is thus enabled to proceed over the snow, to cross frozen lakes,
or ascend icy precipices, with an ease which places him, when in flight,
beyond the reach of all enemies, except perhaps the nimble and untiring
wolf.

The cariboo is essentially a migratory animal.  There are two
well-defined periods of migration, in the spring and autumn.  Throughout
the winter it appears also seized with an unconquerable desire to change
its residence.  One day it may be found feeding quietly through the
forests in little bands, and the next, perhaps, all tracks show a
general move in a certain direction.  The animals join the main herd
after a while, and entirely leaving the district, travel toward new
feeding-grounds.  Though often found in the same woodlands as the moose,
they do not enjoy each other's company.  In severe winters the cariboos
travel to the southernmost limits of their haunts, and even sometimes
enter the settlements.  Not being aquatic, like the moose, to avoid the
flies in summer they ascend the mountain ranges, where they can be free
from their attacks.  The hunter, however, follows them, and their speed
being of no avail among the precipices, many are shot.  During most of
the year the flesh of the animal is dry and tasteless; but it possesses
a layer of fat, two or more inches thick, which is greatly esteemed.
This, with the marrow, is pounded together with the dried flesh, and
makes the best kind of pemmican--a food of the greatest value to the
hunter.  The cariboo lives in herds, sometimes only of ten or twenty,
but at others consisting of thirty or more individuals.  They range
across the whole width of the continent, being found in great numbers to
the west of the Rocky Mountains, especially at the northern end of
British Columbia.  Although specifically identical with the reindeer of
Europe, it has never yet been trained by Indians or Esquimaux to carry
their goods or draw their sleighs, as in Lapland and along the Arctic
shores of Asia.

The Wapiti, or Canadian Stag.

In the wilder parts of the Southern States of the Union, herds of the
magnificent Canadian stag or wapiti--popularly called the elk--range
amid the woods and over the prairies.  Sometimes three or four hundred
are found in one herd, always led by an old buck, who exacts from them
the strictest obedience--compelling them to halt or move onward as he
judges necessary.  Now the superb herd of long-horned creatures are seen
to wheel to the right or left, now to advance or retreat at the signal
he issues.

The wapiti is indeed a grand animal, growing to the height of the
tallest ox, and endowed with wonderful activity, as well as power.  See
him as he dashes through the forest, his branched horns separating in
serpentine curves, six feet from tip to tip, laid close over his back as
he makes his way amid the trees.  His head is of a lively,
yellowish-brown hue, the neck covered with reddish and black hairs, the
latter of considerable length, descending in a thick bunch below it.
They are among the fiercest of the deer tribe.  The bucks often enter
into desperate contests with each other, battling--with their huge
horns--the fight frequently ending only with the death of the weaker
rival.  Sometimes their horns have become so inextricably interlocked,
that both have fallen to the ground, and, unable to rise, have perished
miserably.  They will frequently, when wounded, attack their human
assailants; and the bold hunter, if thus exposed with rifle unloaded to
their fierce assaults, will rue the day his weapon failed to kill the
enraged quarry at the first shot.

The wapiti, when pursued, will boldly plunge into the lake or broad
river, and breast the rapid current to avoid his foes; or will
occasionally, if hard-pressed, attack the bold hunter who ventures to
follow in his light canoe.

His cry is a sharp whistling sound, which rings through the air far and
wide on a calm day.  He feeds on the branches of the trees and grass,
and in winter scrapes, with his powerful fore-feet, deep into the snow,
to obtain the lichens and dry herbage which grow beneath.  His flesh for
several months in the year is dry and coarse, but his hide is much
prized by the Indians, who manufacture from it a leather of a peculiarly
soft character, which retains that quality after being wet,--instead of
turning hard, as is the case with that manufactured from other
deerskins.  A remarkable feature of the wapiti is that the horns differ
in form almost as greatly as do those of the branches of trees, no two
specimens being found with them exactly alike.

The Karjacou, or Virginian Deer.

The most graceful of the deer tribe, the karjacou, scours in large herds
across the prairies, frequently entering the haunts of man.  Yet so
easily is it scared that it takes to flight at the very appearance of a
human being.  Curiously enough, however, it will again return to its
favourite feeding-grounds, even though the hunter's rifle may lay low
many of the herd.  It is about the size of the fallow-deer, and of a
light brown hue.  Its horns are slender, and have numerous branches on
the interior sides, but are destitute of brow antlers.

Let us watch a herd startled by our approach.  Away they spring, leaping
into the air, turning their heads in every direction to ascertain the
cause of their alarm, and then rush off at full speed; but in a short
time, if they are not followed, we may see them return, especially as
night draws on, and crouch down in their accustomed sleeping-places.
Should a salt lake be near, they will come in vast numbers to lick up
with their tongues the saline particles adhering to the surrounding
stones, where the salt has crystallised from the evaporation of the
water.

They are at all times thirsty, and they require constant draughts of
pure water, to obtain which they are sure to visit the nearest stream or
spring as night is about to close over the scene.  Wherever the
tenderest herbage grows upon the plain, there the karjacou comes to crop
it during summer.  In winter he finds an abundant supply of food from
the buds and berries, or fallen fruits; or, when snow is on the ground,
he eats the string moss hanging in masses from the trees.  He willingly
takes to the water, and will cross a lake or broad river, swimming at a
rapid rate with his whole body submerged, his head alone appearing above
the surface; thus he will often baffle his pursuers, even though they
may follow him with a boat.  He has been known, indeed, when
hard-pressed near the sea-coast, to plunge into the ocean, and buffeting
the waves, to make his way far from the land, rather than be captured.

His flesh affords the Indian a large portion of his winter supply of
food, while his skin is manufactured into clothing, the leather from it
being especially soft and pliable.  From the settlers in the western
provinces he receives little mercy, as, without hesitation, he leaps
their fences, banqueting on their growing corn or vegetables; and, after
doing all the mischief in his power, by his activity generally again
makes his escape.  No animal surpasses in beauty the young fawn, the fur
of which is of a ruddy brown tint, ornamented with white spots arranged
in irregular lines, merging occasionally into wide stripes.

Like others of his tribe, the male is excessively combative when meeting
others of his own species; and a story is told of three animals thus
encountering each other in a desert, when all their horns becoming
entangled, they remained fixed, unable to separate, till they sank
together on the ground, their skulls and skeletons afterwards being
discovered, thus giving evidence of the combat and its fatal result.

The Antelope.

No animal of the American wilds surpasses the antelope in beauty.  The
little creatures congregate in herds of many thousands, though, from the
exterminating war waged against them by the Indians, they have greatly
decreased in numbers.  The size of the antelope is about that of the
common red-deer doe; the colour somewhat between buff and fawn, shaded
here and there into reddish-brown, and a patch of pure white on the
hind-quarters.  This gives rise to the expression of the hunter, when he
sees it flying before him, that the creature is "showing its clean
linen."  The ears are placed far back on the head, are very long, and
curved so much that at a distance they appear like horns, while the
horns themselves appear as if coming out of the animal's eyes; they are
long and slender, curving slightly backwards, and have no branches,
except a little bud, which is developed when the creature is about two
years old.  The chief peculiarity of the animal is its lack of a dewlap.

The feet have no rudimentary hoofs like the deer, yet this want in no
way interferes with its speed.  Often the creature may be seen for a
moment browsing not fifty yards off, the next it has dwindled to a mere
speck, and is in another lost to sight.  They do not leap like deer, but
run with level backs, as sheep do, their legs glancing faster than sight
can follow.  In vain the hunter attempts to follow the rapid movements
of the creatures on horseback.  Perhaps they will let him approach to
within a short distance, and then away they float on a line at
right-angles to their former retreat.  To come up with them, indeed, as
an American writer observes, is as hopeful an undertaking as trying to
run down a telegraphic message.  The only way to get near them is by a
stratagem.  They are not afraid of horses, and the hunter, by walking
behind his horse, may often approach a herd without being discovered,
provided the wind blows from them.  He then pickets his horse with a
sharp stake, and sinking down in the grass he ties a bright-coloured
handkerchief to the end of his ramrod; he then crawls forward on hands
and knees, dragging his rifle, till he approaches still nearer, when he
remains concealed, and lifts his flag in the air.  The antelopes, on
catching sight of it, stop browsing, and raising their heads, peer
towards it, exhibiting no signs of fear.  For a moment he drops his
flag; the beautiful creatures then resume their repast, but their
curiosity gets the better of their prudence.  Again they look forward,
when the flag is once more raised and waved slowly backward and forward.
The antelopes have now their curiosity excited to the utmost; for a
moment they stop irresolute, then advance a few steps snuffing the air.
Once more the flag sinks out of sight; they seem to be asking each other
what is the cause of the strange sight they have seen.  Again it is
raised; they draw nearer and nearer, till they are within range of the
hunter's deadly rifle; he fires, and almost to a certainty one of the
beautiful animals springs into the air and tumbles head-foremost on the
ground.  For a moment the survivors run off from their fallen friend,
but seldom go far.  Once more they return within easy rifle-shot of the
hunter.  Unless, however, he requires the meat, he must be greatly
lacking in right feeling if he slaughters uselessly so beautiful an
animal.  The antelope becomes so easily confused, that when met on the
prairies it frequently runs headlong into the midst of the travellers.
The creatures are often killed by being surrounded, when the whole herd
are driven into an enclosed spot and become the easy prey of the hungry
hunters.

The Bighorn, or Mountain Sheep.

Amid the almost inaccessible peaks of the Rocky Mountains, herds of
animals with enormous horns may be seen leaping from rock to rock,
sometimes descending at one spring from a height of twenty or thirty
feet--when, the Indians assert, they invariably alight on their horns,
and by this means save their bones from certain dislocation.  They are
bighorns, or mountain sheep, and are considered the chief game of these
regions.  The animals appear to partake both of the nature of the deer
and of the goat.  They resemble the latter more especially in their
habits, and in frequenting the most lofty and inaccessible regions,
whence, except in the severest weather, they seldom descend to the
upland valleys.  In size the bighorn is between the domestic sheep and
the common red-deer of America, but is more strongly built than the
latter.  It is of a brownish-dun colour, with a somewhat white streak on
the hind-quarters.  The tail is shorter than that of the deer, and
tipped with black.  As the age of the animal increases, the coat becomes
of a darker tinge.  The horns, of the male especially, are of great
size, curving backwards about three feet in length, and twenty inches in
circumference at the roots.

Frequently on the highest spot one of the band is stationed as a
sentinel, and whilst the others are feeding he looks out for the
approach of danger.  They have even more acute sight and smell than the
deer.  On an alarm being given the whole herd scampers up the mountain,
higher and higher, every now and then halting on some overhanging crag
and looking down oh the object which may have caused them alarm; then
once more they pursue their ascent, and as they bound up the steep sides
of the mountains throw down an avalanche of rocks and stones.

Occasionally the young lambs are caught and domesticated by the hunters
in their mountain homes, when they become greatly attached to their
masters, amusing them by their merry gambols and playful tricks.
Attempts have been made to transport them to the States; but although
milch-goats have been brought to feed the lambs, they have suffered by
the change from the pure air of the mountains to the plains, or they
have not taken kindly to their foster-mothers, and have invariably
perished on the journey.

The creatures reach a height of three feet six inches at the shoulders,
while the horns are of about the same length.  In colour they vary
greatly, changing according to the season of the year.

The Bison, commonly called the Buffalo in America.

Throughout the wide-extending prairies of North America, from north to
south to the east of the Rocky Mountains, vast herds of huge animals--
with shaggy coats and manes which hang down over the head and shoulders
reaching to the ground, and short curling horns, giving their
countenances a ferocious aspect--range up and down, sometimes amounting
to ten thousand head in one herd.  They commonly go by the name of
buffaloes, but are properly called bisons.  Clothed in a dense coat of
long woolly hair, the buffalo is well constituted to stand the heats of
summer as well as the cold of the snowy plains in the northern regions
to which he extends his wanderings.

Let us look at him as he stands facing us on his native plains, his red
eyes glowing like coals of fire from amid the mass of dark brown or
black hair which hangs over his head and neck and the whole fore part of
his body.  A beard descends from the lower jaw to the knee; another huge
bunch of matted hair rises from the top of his head, almost concealing
his thick, short, pointed horns standing wide apart from each other.  As
he turns round we shall see that a large oblong hump rises on his back,
diminishing in height towards the tail: that member is short, with a
tuft of hair at the tip.  The hinder part of the body is clothed with
hair of more moderate length, especially in summer, when it becomes fine
and smooth, and soft as velvet.  From his awkward, heavy appearance,
when seen at a distance, it would not be supposed that he is extremely
active, capable of moving at a rapid rate, and of continuing his
headlong career for an immense distance.  So sure of foot is he, also,
that he will pass over ground where no horse could follow, his limbs
being in reality slender, and his body far more finely proportioned than
would be supposed till it is seen stripped of its thick coating of hair.
While his thick coat protects him from the cold, he is also provided
with a broad, strong, and tough nose, with which he can shovel away the
snow and lay bare the grass on which he feeds.  Sometimes, however, when
a slight thaw has occurred, and a thin cake of ice has been formed over
the snow, his nose gets sadly cut, and is often seen bleeding from the
effects of his labours.  It is said that when a herd comes near the
settlements, the domesticated calves, and even the horses, will follow
the buffalo tracks, and graze on the herbage which they have disclosed
and left unconsumed.

The flesh of the buffalo, especially that of the cow, is juicy, and
tender in the extreme.  The most esteemed portion is that composing the
hump on its back, which gives it so strange an aspect.  It is indeed
frequently killed merely for the sake of this hump, and the tongue and
marrow-bones.  Sometimes, also, when parched with thirst, the hunter
kills a buffalo to obtain the water contained within certain honeycombed
cells in its stomach.  The buffalo is provided with this reservoir, in
which a large quantity of pure water can be stored, that it may
traverse, without the necessity of drinking, the wide barren plains
where none can be obtained.  Vast numbers, without even these objects in
view, are wantonly slaughtered, and the chief part of the flesh utterly
wasted, by the thoughtless Indians of the plain, who have thereby
deprived themselves of their future support.  Many tribes depend almost
entirely for their subsistence on the buffalo, of which the flesh is
prepared in several ways.  When cut up into long strips, and dried in
the sun till it becomes black and hard, it will keep for a long time.
It is also pounded with the fat of the animal, and converted into
_pemmican_--an especially nutritious food, which, if kept dry, will
continue in good order for several years.

The prairie Indians make use of the hide for many purposes.  They scrape
off the hair and tan it, when it serves them for coverings for their
tents.  It is also carefully dressed, when it becomes soft and
impervious to water.  It is then used for clothing.  Some of the tribes
also form their shields from it.  The hide is pegged down on the ground,
when it is covered with a kind of glue.  In this state it greatly
shrinks and thickens, and becomes sufficiently hard to resist an arrow,
and even to turn aside an ordinary bullet which does not strike
directly.

The buffalo is especially a gregarious animal, and is found in herds of
immense size, many thousands in number.  Their dark forms may often be
seen extending over the prairie as far as the eye can reach, a mighty
moving mass of life.  Onward they rush, moved by some sudden impulse,
making the ground tremble under their feet, while their course may be
traced by the vast cloud of dust which floats over them as they sweep
across the plain.  They are invariably followed by flocks of wolves, who
pounce on any young or sick members of the herd which may be left
behind.  They range throughout the whole prairie country, from the
"Fertile Belt," which extends from the Red River settlement to the Rocky
Mountains in British Central America, to Mexico in the south.  The bulls
are at times excessively savage.  They often quarrel among themselves,
and then, falling out of the herd, they engage in furious combats,
greatly to the advantage of the pursuing wolves.  In the summer, the
buffalo delights in wallowing in mud.  Reaching some marshy spot, he
throws himself down, and works away till he excavates a mud-hole in the
soil.  The water from the surrounding ground rapidly drains into this,
and covers him up, thus freeing him from the stings of the gnats and
flies which swarm in that season.

The buffalo is hunted on horseback both by whites and by Indians, though
the sport is one in which a considerable amount of danger must be
braved.  Let us set off from a farm in the Western States, on the border
of the prairie.  We have one or two nights to camp out before we reach
the buffalo grounds.  Mounting our horses by break of day, after an
early breakfast, we ride on with the wind in our faces, and at length
discover across the plain a number of dark objects moving slowly.  They
are buffaloes, feeding as they go.  We see through our field-glasses
that there are calves among them.  It is proposed that some of our party
should ride round, so as to stampede the herd back towards us, and thus,
by dividing them, enable us to get in the centre.  We wait for some
time, when we see a vast mass of hairy monsters come tearing over a hill
towards us.  We have shot several of the bulls, but our object is to
secure their calves and cows.  As the herd approaches us, it swings
round its front at right-angles, and makes off westward.  We dash
forward, and divide it into two parties.  We also separate, some of our
hunters following one part of the herd, the others the remainder.  The
enthusiasm of our horses equals our own.  Away we go; nothing stops us.
Now we plunge with headlong bounds down bluffs of caving sands fifty
feet high,--while the buffaloes, crazy with terror, are scrambling
half-way up the opposite side.  Now we are on the very haunches of our
game; now before us appears a slippery buffalo wallow.  We see it just
in time to leap clear, but the next instant we are in the middle of one.
Our horses, with frantic plunges, scramble out; and on we go.  We get
closer and closer to the buffaloes, when a loud thundering of trampling
hoofs sounds behind us.  Looking over our shoulders, there, in plain
sight, appears another herd, tearing down on our rear.  For nearly a
mile in width stretches a line of angry faces, a rolling surf of
wind-blown hair, a row of quivering lights burning with a reddish-brown
hue--the eyes of the infuriated animals.  Should our horses stumble, our
fate will be sealed.  It is certain death to be involved in the herd.
So is it to turn back.  In an instant we should be trampled and gored to
death.  Our only hope is to ride steadily in the line of the stampede,
till we can insinuate ourselves laterally, and break out through the
side of the herd.  Yet the hope of doing so is but small.

On we rush rapidly as before, when suddenly, to our great satisfaction,
the herd before us divides into two columns, to pass round a low hill in
front.  Still on we go, pushing our horses up the height.  We reach the
summit, the horses panting fearfully, and the moisture trickling in
streams from their sides.  But now the rear column comes on.  They see
us, not fifty rods off, but happily pay no attention to us.  We
dismount, facing the furious creatures.  Should they not divide, but
come over the hill, in a few moments we must be trampled to death.  The
herd approaches to within a hundred yards of the hill.  We lift our
rifles and deliver a couple of steadily aimed bullets at the
fore-shoulders of the nearest bulls.  One gives a wild jump, and limps
on with three legs; the other seems at first unhurt; but just as they
reach the foot of the mound, they both fall down.  The whole host are
rushing over them.  We rapidly reload.  The fate of their comrades,
however, sends a panic into the hearts of the herd.  Another falls just
when they are so close that we could have sprung on their backs.  At
that moment they divide, and the next we are standing on a desert
island, a sea of billowing backs flowing round on either side in a
half-mile current of crazy buffaloes.  The herd is fully five minutes in
passing us.  We watch them as they come, and as the last laggers pant by
the mound we look westward and see the stampeders halting.  We soon
understand the cause.  They have come up with the main herd.  Yes,
there, in full sight of us, is the buffalo army, extending its deep line
as far as the western horizon.  The whole earth is black with them.
From a point a mile in front of us, their rear line extends on the north
to the bluffs bounding the banks of the river on which we had camped.
On the south it reaches the summits of some distant heights fully six
miles away.  When it is known that with our field-glasses we can
recognise an object the size of a buffalo ten miles distant, and that
the mass extends even beyond the horizon, some idea may be formed of the
immense number of animals congregated in the herd.  To say that there
are ten thousand, would be to give a very low estimate of their numbers.

The same writer from whose work the above is taken, describes an
extraordinary instance of friendship exhibited by a buffalo bull for one
of his comrades.  (Generally speaking, the buffalo, even in the pairing
season, will forsake the wounded cow, and the cow will not stay one
moment to protect her hurt calf.)  He was out hunting on one occasion,
when, having been for some time unsuccessful, and being anxious to
retrieve his character by bringing home some meat to camp, he caught
sight of two fine buffalo bulls on a broad meadow on the opposite side
of a stream.  Dismounting from his horse, he took steady aim at the
nearest buffalo, which was grazing with its haunches towards him.  The
ball broke the animal's right hip, and he plunged away on three legs,
the other hanging useless.  He leaped on his horse, put spurs to its
flanks, and in three minutes was close on the bull's rear.  To his
astonishment, and the still greater surprise of the two old hunters who
came after him, the unhurt bull stuck to his comrade's side without
flinching.  He fired another shot, which took effect in the lungs of the
first buffalo.  The second moved off for a moment, but instantly
returned to his friend.  The wounded buffalo became distressed, and
slackened his pace.  The unwounded one not only retarded his, but coming
to the rear of his friend, stood, with his head down, offering battle.
"Here indeed was devotion which had no instinct to inspire it.  The
sight was sublime!  The hunters could no more have accepted the
challenge of the brave creature, than they could have smitten Damon at
the side of Pythias.  The wounded buffalo ran on to the border of the
next marsh, and, in attempting to cross, fell headlong down the steep
bank, and never rose again.  Not till that moment, when courage was
useless, did the faithful creature consider his own safety in flight.
The hunters took off their hats as he walked away, and gave three
parting cheers as the gallant buffalo vanished beyond the fringing
timber."

The half-breed hunters of Rupert's Land make two expeditions in the year
in search of buffaloes--one in the middle of June, and the other in
October.  They divide into three bands, each taking a separate route,
for the purpose of falling in with the herds of buffaloes.  These bands
are each accompanied by about five hundred carts, drawn by either an ox
or a horse.  They are curious vehicles, roughly formed with their own
axes, and fastened together with wooden pins and leather thongs, not a
nail being used.  The tires of the wheels are made of buffalo hide, and
put on wet.  When they become dry, they shrink, and are so tight that
they never fall off, and last as long as the cart holds together.  The
carts contain the women and children, and provisions, and are intended
to bring back the spoils of the chase.  Each is decorated with some
flag, so that the hunters may recognise their own from a distance.  They
may be seen winding off in one wide line extending for miles, and
accompanied by the hunters on horseback.  These expeditions run the
danger of being attacked by the Sioux Indians, who inhabit the prairies
to the south.  The camps are therefore well surrounded by scouts, for
the purpose of reconnoitring either for enemies or buffaloes.  If they
see the latter, they make a signal by throwing up handfuls of dust; if
the former, by running their horses to and fro.

Mr Paul Kane, the Canadian artist, describes one of these expeditions
which he joined.  On their way they were visited by twelve Sioux chiefs,
who came for the purpose of negotiating a permanent peace; but whilst
smoking the pipe of peace in the council lodge, the dead body of a
half-breed, who had gone to a distance from the camp, was brought in
newly scalped, and his death was at once attributed to the Sioux.  Had
not the older and more temperate half-breeds interfered, the young men
would have destroyed the twelve chiefs on the spot: as it was, they were
allowed to depart unharmed.  Three days afterwards, however, the scouts
were observed making the signal of enemies being in sight.  Immediately
a hundred of the best-mounted hastened to the spot, and concealing
themselves behind the shelter of the bank of a stream, sent out two of
their number as decoys, to expose themselves to the view of the Sioux.
The latter, supposing them to be alone, rushed upon them; whereupon the
concealed half-breeds sprang up and poured in a volley which brought
down eight.  The others escaped, though several must have been wounded.

Two small herds having been met with, of which several animals were
killed, the scouts one morning brought in word that an immense herd of
bulls was in advance about two miles off.  They are known in the
distance from the cows by their feeding singly, and being scattered over
the plain,--whereas the cows keep together, for the purpose of
protecting the calves, which are always kept in the centre of the herd.

We will start at daybreak with our friend, and a half-breed as a guide.
Six hours' hard riding brings us to within a quarter of a mile of the
nearest herd.  The main body stretches over the plains as far as the eye
can reach, the wind blowing in our faces.  We should have liked to have
attacked them at once, but the guide will not hear of it, as it is
contrary to the law of his tribe.  We therefore shelter ourselves behind
a mound, relieving our horses of their saddles to cool them.  In about
an hour one hundred and thirty hunters come up, every man loading his
gun, looking to the priming, and examining the efficiency of his
saddle-girths.  The elder caution the less experienced not to shoot each
other,--such accidents sometimes occurring.  Each hunter then fills his
mouth with bullets, which he drops into the gun without wadding; by this
means loading more quickly, and being able to do so whilst his horse is
at full speed.  We slowly walk our horses towards the herd.  Advancing
about two hundred yards, the animals perceive us, and start off in the
opposite direction, at the top of their speed.  We now urge our horses
to full gallop, and in twenty minutes are in the midst of the stamping
long-haired herd.  There cannot be less than four or five thousand in
our immediate vicinity,--all bulls; not a single cow amongst them.  The
scene now becomes one of intense excitement,--the huge bulk thundering
over the plain in headlong confusion, while the fearless hunters ride
recklessly in their midst, keeping up an incessant fire but a few yards
from their victims.  Upon the fall of each buffalo the hunter merely
throws, close to it, some article of his apparel to denote his own prey,
and then rushes on to another.  The chase continues for about one hour,
extending over an area of about six square miles, where may be seen the
dead and dying buffaloes to the number of five hundred.  In spite of his
horsemanship, more than one hunter has been thrown from his steed, in
consequence of the innumerable badger-holes in which the plains abound.
Two others are carried back to camp insensible.  We have just put a
bullet through an enormous bull.  He does not fall, but stops, facing
us, pawing the earth, bellowing, and glaring savagely.  The blood is
streaming from his mouth, and it seems as if he must speedily drop.  We
watch him, admiring his ferocious aspect, combating with death.
Suddenly he makes a dash towards us, and we have barely time to escape
the charge; when, reloading, we again fire, and he sinks to the ground.

The carts bring in the slaughtered animals to the camp, when the squaws
set to work, aided by the men, to cut them up, and prepare them for
drying and for making pemmican.  The women are soon busily employed in
cutting the flesh into slices, and in hanging them in the sun on poles.
The dried meat is then pounded between two stones till the fibres
separate.  About fifty pounds of it is put into a bag of buffalo skin,
with about forty pounds of melted fat, which, being mixed while hot,
forms a hard and compact mass.  Hence its name, in the Cree language, of
pemmican--_pemmi_ signifying meat, and _kon_ fat--usually, however,
spelt pemmican.  One pound of pemmican is considered equal to four
pounds of ordinary meat,--and it keeps for years, perfectly good,
exposed to any weather.

The prairie Indians obtain buffaloes by driving them into huge pounds,
where they are slaughtered.  The pounds, however, can only be made in
the neighbourhood of forests, from whence the logs for their formation
can be obtained.  The pound consists of a circular fence about 130 feet
broad.  It is constructed of the trunks of trees laced together with
withies, with outside supports about 5 feet high.  At one side an
entrance is left about 10 feet wide, with a deep trench across it, on
the outside of which there is a strong trunk of a tree placed, about a
foot from the ground.  The animals, on being driven in, leap over this,
clearing the trench, which of course prevents them from returning.  From
the entrance two rows of bushes or posts, which are called "dead men,"
diverge towards the direction from which the buffaloes are likely to
come.  They are placed from 20 feet to 50 feet apart, and the distance
between the extremities of the two rows at their outer termination is
nearly two miles.  Behind each of these "dead men" an Indian is
stationed, to prevent the buffaloes when passing up the avenue from
breaking out.  Meantime, the hunters, mounted on fleet horses, range the
country to a distance of eighteen or twenty miles in search of a herd.
The buffalo has an unaccountable propensity which makes him endeavour to
cross in front of the hunter's horse.  They will frequently, indeed,
follow a horseman for miles in order to do so.  He thus possesses an
unfailing means, by a dexterous management of his horse, of conducting
the animals into the trap prepared for them.  The men also conceal
themselves in hollows and depressions in the ground, so as to assist in
turning the herd, should they attempt to escape in that direction.  And
now some three or four hundred head of shaggy monsters are driven to the
expanded mouth of the avenue.  The horsemen follow in their rear, and
prevent them turning back.  Meantime the Indians stationed behind the
"dead men" rise, shaking their bows, yelling, and urging them on.  Thus
they proceed, madly rushing on, the passage growing narrower and
narrower, while they, pressed together, are unable to see the danger
ahead.  The foremost at length reach the fatal ditch, and leaping over,
enter the pound, the rest madly following.  "The animals now begin to
gallop round and round the fence, looking for some means of escape; but
women and children on the outside, keeping perfectly silent, hold their
robes before every orifice, till the whole herd is brought in.  They
then climb to the top of the fence, and the hunters, who have followed
closely in the rear of the buffaloes, spear and shoot with bows and
arrows or firearms at the bewildered animals, rapidly becoming frantic
with fear and terror in the narrow limits of the pound.  A dreadful
scene of confusion and slaughter then ensues.  The older animals toss
the younger.  The shouts and screams of the Indians rise above the roar
of the bulls, the bellowing of the cows, and the moaning of the calves.
The dying struggles of so many powerful animals crowded together, create
a revolting scene, dreadful for its excess of cruelty and waste of
life."  [Hind.]

In consequence of this wholesale and wanton destruction, the buffalo has
greatly diminished; and the Indians agree in the belief that their
people, in like manner, will decrease till none are left.  It is
computed that for many years past no less than 145,000 buffaloes have
annually been killed in British territory; while on the great prairies
claimed by the United States a still greater number have been
slaughtered.  In one year--1855--on the British side of the boundary,
there were 20,000 robes of skins received at York Factory alone; and
probably not fewer than 230,000 head of buffalo were slaughtered in the
previous year.  This number would have been sufficient to sustain a
population of a quarter of a million.  Yet so vast a number of the
animals are left to rot on the ground, that in all probability not more
than 30,000 Indians fed on the flesh of the slaughtered buffaloes.

The civilised fur-traders, however, with greater forethought, take means
to preserve the flesh of the animals they kill in the neighbourhood of
the forts, so that it may last them through the summer.  For this
purpose they dig a square pit capable of containing seven or eight
hundred carcasses.  As soon as the ice in the river is of sufficient
thickness, it is cut with saws into square blocks, of a uniform size,
with which the floor of the pit is regularly paved.  The blocks are then
cemented together by pouring water in between them, and allowing it to
freeze into a solid mass.  In like manner the walls are built up to the
surface of the ground.  The head and feet being cut off, each carcass,
without being skinned, is divided into quarters; and these are piled in
layers in the pit, till it is filled up, when the whole is covered with
a thick coating of straw, which is again protected from the sun and rain
by a shed.  In this manner the meat is preserved in good condition
through the whole summer, and is considered more tender and better
flavoured than when freshly killed.

Even in the winter the buffalo continues to range over the plains in a
far northern latitude.  Mr Kane mentions seeing a band, numbering
nearly ten thousand, at the very northern confines of the Fertile Belt,
where the snow was very deep at the time.  They, however, had never
before appeared in such vast numbers near the Company's establishments.
Some, on on that occasion, were shot within the gates of Fort Edmonton.
They had killed with their horns twenty or thirty horses, in their
attempt to drive them from the patches of grass which the horses had
laid bare with their hoofs.  They were probably migrating northward, to
escape the human migrations so rapidly filling up the southern and
western regions which were formerly their pasture-grounds.

The Cree Indians use dogs to draw their sleighs.  They are powerful,
savage animals, having a good deal of the wolf about them.  They are
considered as valuable as horses, as everything is drawn over the snow
by them.  When buffaloes have been killed in winter, the dead animals
are drawn in by them to the camp; and two can thus easily drag a large
cow buffalo over the snow.  The sleigh or cariole used in these regions
is formed of a thin flat board about eighteen inches wide, bent up in
front, with a straight back behind to lean against.  The sides are made
of fresh buffalo hide, with the hair completely scraped off, and which,
lapping over, entirely covers the front part, so that a person slips
into it as into a tin bath.  Each carries but one passenger.  The
driver, on snow-shoes, runs behind to guide the dogs.  Each sleigh is
drawn by four dogs, their backs gaudily decorated with saddle-cloths of
various colours, fringed, and embroidered in the most fantastic manner,
and with innumerable small bells and feathers.  Two men run before on
snow-shoes to beat a track, which the dogs instinctively follow.  A long
cavalcade of this description has a very picturesque appearance.

While thus travelling, our friend Mr Kane caught sight of a herd of
buffaloes, which did not perceive the approach of the party till the
foremost sleigh was so near as to excite the dogs, who rushed furiously
after them, notwithstanding all the efforts of the drivers to keep them
back.  The spirit of the hunt was at once communicated through the whole
line, and the entire party were in an instant dashing along at a furious
rate after the buffaloes.  The frightened animals made a bold dash at
length through a deep snow-bank, and attempted to scramble up the steep
side of the river, the top of which the foremost one had nearly reached,
when, slipping, he rolled down and knocked over those behind, one on the
top of the other, into the deep snow-drift, from which men and dogs were
struggling in vain to extricate themselves.  It would be impossible to
describe the wild scene of uproar that followed.  One of the sleighs was
smashed, and a man nearly killed; but at length the party succeeded in
getting clear, and repairing the damage.

In some districts, where the buffaloes can with difficulty be
approached, the Indians employ a stratagem to get them within reach of
their arrows or rifles.  One of the Indians covers himself in a wolf's
skin, another with a buffalo skin.  They then crawl on all-fours within
sight of the buffaloes, and as soon as they have engaged their
attention, the pretended wolf jumps on the pretended calf, which bellows
in imitation of the real one.  The buffaloes are easily deceived in this
way, as the bellowing is generally perfect, and the herd rush on to the
protection of their supposed young, with such impetuosity that they do
not perceive the cheat till they are quite close enough to be shot.

On one occasion Mr Kane and his Indian companion fell in with a
solitary bull and cow.  On this they made a "calf," as the ruse is
called.  The cow attempted to spring towards them, but the bull, seeming
to understand the trick, tried to stop her by running between them.  The
cow now dodged and got round him, and ran within ten or fifteen yards of
the hunters, with the bull close at her heels, when both men fired, and
brought her down.  The bull instantly stopped short, and, bending over
her, tried to help her up with his nose--evincing the most persevering
affection for her; nor could they get rid of him, so as to cut up the
cow, without shooting him also, although at that time of the year bull
flesh is not valued as food when the female can be obtained.  This, and
another example which has been given, show that these animals are
capable of great affection for each other.

The Indians also occasionally approach a herd from leeward, crawling
along the ground so as to look like huge snakes winding their way amid
the snow or grass, and can thus get sufficiently near to shoot these
usually wary animals.



PART ONE, CHAPTER SIX.

RODENTS.

THE BEAVER.

Of all mammals, the beaver is the most especially fitted to enjoy a
social life.  When in captivity and away from its kind, it appears to
possess but a small amount of intelligence; it forms no attachments to
its human companions, and is utterly indifferent to all around it.  But
in its native wilds, associated with others of its race, what wondrous
engineering skill it exhibits, and how curious are its domestic
arrangements!

It is essentially a hard worker.  Other animals sport and play and amuse
themselves.  What young beavers may do inside their lodges, it is
difficult to say; but the elders, from morn till night, and all night
long, labour at their various occupations, evidently feeling that they
were born to toil, and willingly accomplishing their destiny.

The beaver has fitly been selected as the representative animal of
Canada, on account of its industry, perseverance, and hardihood, and the
resolute way in which it overcomes difficulties.  Certain conditions of
country are necessary to its existence, and when it does not find these
ready formed, by a wonderful provision of Nature its instinct enables it
to produce them by its own exertions.  Where it can find rivers, brooks,
and swampy lakes which maintain an even level throughout the year, the
beaver has a tolerably idle life; but as in most districts the levels of
rivers and lakes are apt to sink at various seasons if left to
themselves,--whenever an emigrant party of beavers have fixed on a new
locality, they set to work to dam up the stream or outlet of the lake,
to prevent a catastrophe which might bring ruin and destruction on their
new colony.  In Nova Scotia, as well as in other parts of North America,
large level spaces are found covered with a rich alluvial soil, from
which spring up waving fields of wild grass.  From this the human
settler draws an abundant supply of hay for his stock in winter, and
ought to feel deeply indebted to the persevering beaver for the boon.
They are known as "wild meadows," and are of frequent occurrence in the
backwoods.  It is evident that they were formed by the following
process:--They are found in valleys through which, in ages past, a brook
trickled.  A party of beavers arriving, and finding an abundance of food
on the side of the hills, would set to work to form a dam of sufficient
strength to keep back the stream, till a pond was created, on the edge
of which they might build their dome-shaped habitations.  Extensive
spaces in the woods were thus inundated, and the colony of beavers lived
for long years on the banks of their artificial lakes.  They, however,
lacking forethought, like many human beings, did not sufficiently look
to the future.  In process of time the trees, being destroyed, decayed
and fell; while the soil, washed down from the surrounding hills, filled
up the pond constructed by the industrious animals, and they were
compelled to migrate to some other region, or were destroyed.  The dam
being thus left unrepaired, the water drained through it, and the level
space was converted into the rich meadow which has been described.
Beavers' houses, however, are seen in all directions, sometimes on the
banks of these artificial ponds, at others by the sides of large lakes
or rivers.  Though varying in size, they all greatly resemble a huge
bird's-nest turned upside down.  Some are eight feet in diameter, and
three feet in height; while others are very much larger, being no less
than sixteen to twenty feet in diameter, and nearly eight feet in height
on the outside, and perfectly circular and dome-shaped.  The walls and
roofs of these lodges, as they are called, are several feet in
thickness, so that the measurement of the interior chamber is little
more than half that of the exterior.  Several beavers inhabit a large
lodge.  Their beds, which are separated one from the other, are arranged
round the walls, a space in the centre being left free.  The exterior
also presents a very rough appearance, consisting of sticks apparently
thrown loosely together, and entirely denuded of their bark, as also of
branches of trees and bushes closely interwoven and mixed with stones,
gravel, or mud.  They are close to the banks, almost overlapping the
water, into which the front part is immersed.  The bottom of the stream
or lake is invariably deepened in the channel approaching the entrance,
thus ensuring a free passage below the ice into the structure.  The
tunnel is from two to three feet long.  In the inner part of the hut the
materials are laid with greater care, and more firmly bound together--
with mud and grass--than on the outer.  Even in one of the larger houses
the chamber--for there is but one--is only between two and three feet in
height, though as much as nine feet in diameter.  It slopes gently
upwards from the water.  Inside there are two levels: the lower one may
be called the hall.  On this the animals shake themselves when they
emerge from the subaqueous tunnel; and when dry, clamber up to the upper
story, which consists of an elevated bed of boughs running round the
back of the chamber.  It is thickly covered with dry grass and thin
shavings of wood.  The whole of the interior is smooth, the ends of the
timbers and brushwood which project inwards being evenly gnawed off.
There are always two entrances--the one serving for summer, and letting
in the light; while another sinks down at a deeper angle, to enable the
owners during winter to get below the water.  Beavers are especially
clean animals, and allow no rubbish to remain in their abode; and as
soon as they have nibbled off the bark from the sticks, they carry them
outside, and place them on the roof of their hut, to increase its
thickness, or let them float down the stream.

During the summer they are employed all day in ranging the banks and
cutting provisions for their winter consumption, all their architectural
occupations being carried on at night.  Their winter stock of food
consists of short lengths of willow and poplar,--the bark of which only,
however, they eat.  These they sink with mud or stones in some quiet
pool near their lodge, and when required for food they dive down below
the ice and bring up as many as are required for family consumption.
Besides their lodge, they form in the neighbourhood a long burrow
sufficiently broad to enable them to turn with ease.  The entrance is at
a considerable depth below the surface of the water, and extends from
ten to twenty feet into the bank.  This burrow serves as a safe retreat,
should their house be broken into, and thither they immediately fly when
their permanent abode is attacked.  In summer they regale themselves on
the roots of the yellow lilies, as well as on other succulent
vegetation, and any fruits the country affords.

But it is time that we should get a look at the curious animal itself.
We may paddle gently in a birch-bark canoe over a calm lake, and conceal
ourselves among the tall grass in some quiet cove where the yellow
water-lilies float on the tranquil surface.  Through the still air of
evening, the sound of the distant waterfall reaches our ears.  Wood
ducks fly by in vast numbers; the rich glow of the evening sky, still
suffused with the gorgeous hues of the setting sun, is reflected on the
mirror-like expanse of water.  Watching with eager eyes, we see at
length the water breaking some forty yards away, and the head and back
of an animal appears in sight.  Now another, and then a third, come into
view.  After cautiously glancing around, the creatures dive, with a roll
like that of a porpoise, but shortly appear again.  Our Indian, pushing
the light canoe from amid the grass, paddles forward with eager strokes.
One of our party fires, and misses, the echoes resounding from the
wood-covered shores, and from island to island, till lost in the
distance; but the cautious animals, forewarned, take good care not to
appear again during that evening.  We find that our only prospect of
examining them is by trapping one in the usual Indian fashion, which we
will by-and-by describe.

Mr Beaver, as the Indians are fond of calling the animal, has a body
about three feet long, exclusive of the tail, which is a foot more.  He
wears on his back a coat of long shining hair, generally of a light
chestnut colour, but sometimes of a much darker hue, occasionally
perfectly black.  Below the hair, next the skin, is a fine, soft,
greyish-brown wool.  He may be known at once by his broad horizontal
flattened tail, which is nearly of an oval form, but rises into a slight
convexity on its upper surface, and is covered with scales.  His
fore-feet are armed with nails, and serve for the purpose of hands--
indeed, he vies with the monkey in the use he can make of them.  The
hind-feet are webbed, and with these--together with his tail, which acts
as a rudder--he is enabled to swim rapidly through the water.  The
beaver is a rodent, with a short head and broad blunt snout, and his
incisor teeth are remarkably large and hard, enabling him to bite
through wood with wonderful ease and rapidity.  So great is their
hardness, that formerly the Indians were accustomed to use them as
knives for cutting bone and fashioning their horn-tipped spears.

The beaver, it has been said, always chooses banks by the side of a lake
or river of sufficient depth to escape being frozen to the bottom, even
during the hardest frost.  Thus, he can at all times obtain a supply of
water, on which his existence depends; indeed, the bark on which he
lives requires to be moistened before it becomes fit for food.  When
instinct teaches a colony of beavers that the water is not of sufficient
depth to escape freezing throughout, they provide against the evil by
making such a dam as has been mentioned, across the stream, or the
outlet of the lake, at a convenient distance from their habitations.
The plan of these dams varies according to the character of the lake or
stream.  If the current is but slight, they build the dam almost
straight; but where the water runs at a rapid rate, it is almost always
constructed with a considerable curve, the convex side towards the
stream.  Frequently, in such cases, if there is any small island in the
centre, it is taken advantage of, and the dam is built out to it from
either bank.  They make use of a variety of materials; employing
driftwood when it can be obtained, to save themselves the trouble of
cutting down trees.  This they tow to the spot, and sink it horizontally
with mud and stones.  They also employ pieces of green willows, birch,
and poplars, intermixing the whole with mud and gravel, in a manner
which contributes greatly to the strength of the dam.  They observe,
however, no order or method in the work, placing their materials as they
can obtain them, except that they make the dam maintain its regular
sweep, and form all parts of equal strength.  They carry the mud and
stones in their fore-paws; and in one night will collect as much as
amounts to many thousands of their little loads.  When driftwood is not
to be found, they obtain the timber they require from the groves
skirting the lake or pond.  To do this, they squat on their hams, and
rapidly gnaw through the stems of trees from six to twelve or fourteen
inches in diameter, with their powerful incisors.  Sometimes a tree will
not fall prostrate, the boughs being caught by its neighbours.  But the
beaver is not to be disappointed; he sets to work and gnaws away a
little above the first place, thus giving it a fresh start, in order
that the impetus may disengage it from the branches which keep it up.
The tree being cut up, the beavers, uniting, tow the pieces down to the
dam.  They then plunge into the water and bring up the mud and small
stones with which to keep it sunk.  A long constructed dam, by being
frequently repaired with fresh mud, becomes at length a solid bank,
capable of resisting a heavy rush, either of water or ice; and as the
willow, poplar, and birch generally take root and shoot up, they by
degrees form a regularly planted hedge, which in some places becomes so
tall that birds have been known to build their nests among the branches.
These beaver dams also form bridges, over which two or three men may
pass abreast, and lead their horses, without risk of breaking through.
So rapidly do the members of the industrious community labour, that even
the most serious damage to their dams, or habitations, is quickly
repaired.  They always carry the mud and stones in their fore-paws,
pressed against their chins, but they drag the wood with their teeth.

The creature does not employ its broad tail, as was once supposed, to
plaster down its mud-work, nor does it use it as a vehicle for
transporting materials; its sole object being to guide it when in the
water, and as a counterpoise, by moving it in an upward direction, to
the tendency it would otherwise have of sinking head-foremost.  The
creatures cover the outside of their houses every autumn with fresh mud
as soon as the frost becomes severe.  By this means it freezes as hard
as stone, and prevents their common enemy, the wolverene, disturbing
them during the winter.  From the beaver being seen to flap its tail
when moving over its work, but especially when about to plunge into the
water, has arisen the idea that it uses this member as a trowel.  This
custom it preserves even when it becomes tame and domesticated,
particularly when suddenly startled.

The beaver, says Captain Hardy, travels a long distance from his house
in search of materials, both for building and food.  He mentions having
seen the stumps of some trees which had been felled, at least
three-quarters of a mile from the beaver lodges.  Its towing power in
the water, and that of traction on dry land, is astonishing.  The
following account shows the coolness and enterprise of the animals,
described by a witness to the fact:--The narrator having constructed a
raft for the purpose of poling round the edge of the lake to get at the
houses of the beaver, which were built in a swampy savannah, otherwise
inaccessible, it had been left in the evening moored at the edge of the
lake, close to the camp, and about a quarter of a mile from the nearest
beaver's house, the poles lying on it.  Next morning, on going down to
the raft, the poles were missing; so, cutting fresh ones, he started
with the Indians towards the beaver village.  On reaching their abodes,
one of the poles was found deposited on the top of the houses.

In a community of beavers there are frequently some who appear to do no
work, and are called by the Canadian trappers _Les paresseux_, or
Idlers.  They live apart from the rest, taking up their abodes in long
tunnels, which they excavate.  Several inhabit the same burrow; and
being males, the idea is that they have been conquered in the combats
which take place among the males when seeking their mates, and thus,
like monks of old, have retired from the world,--or perhaps it may be
only for a period, till they have regained sufficient courage and
strength to sally forth, and commence a happier existence with the
partner of their choice.  They are far more careless of their safety
than the other beavers, and are thus easily caught by the trappers.

The body of the beaver contains a curious odoriferous substance, called
by the trappers barkstone, but more scientifically "castor," or
"castoreum."  It is contained in two little bags about the size of a
hen's egg, and is of a brownish, unctuous consistency.  At one time it
was supposed to possess valuable medicinal properties.  It is now,
however, chiefly employed by perfumers.  The beavers themselves are
strangely attracted by this substance, and when scenting it at a
distance will invariably make their way to it.  It is said that the
inhabitants of a particular lodge go forth, and having rid themselves of
their superabundant castoreum at a little distance, return home; when
the beavers of another lodge, scenting the castoreum, proceed to the
same spot, and covering it over with a layer of earth and leaves,
deposit their own castoreum upon the heap.  After a time, the former
beavers go through the same process; and this is continued until a mound
of three or four feet in height has been raised.  It is difficult to
account for the object of this strange proceeding.  It was not, however,
till of late years that the sagacious Indians discovered that the
castoreum was a certain bait for the animals themselves.  Formerly, the
bait they employed was a piece of green aspen, beaten up, and placed
near the trap.  At length an Indian tried whether a male might not be
caught by adding some of the castoreum.  By that time steel traps had
been introduced, instead of the clumsy wooden traps before used.  Not
only were the males caught, but the females also; and the trappers were
now able with their steel traps to catch vast numbers of the infatuated
animals.  It is said that the creatures, when perceiving the scent, will
sit upright, snuffing about in every direction, and squealing with
excitement.  The younger animals, however, are those chiefly caught.
The old ones are often too cunning; and it is affirmed that, instead of
touching the bait, they will cover up the trap with mud and stones till
a mound has been raised, and then, depositing their superabundant
castoreum upon it, take their departure.

We must conclude our account by again quoting Captain Hardy.  Of the
infatuation of this animal for castoreum he saw several instances.  "A
trap was fastened by its steel chain to a stake, to prevent the beaver,
when caught, taking it away.  It slipped, however, and the beaver swam
away with the trap, and it was looked upon as lost.  Two nights
afterwards he was again taken in a trap, with the other fast on his
thigh.  Another time a beaver, passing over a trap to get the castoreum,
had his hind-leg broken.  With his teeth he cut the broken leg off, and
went away.  It was supposed that he would not come again; but two nights
afterwards he was found fast in a trap--in each case tempted by the
castoreum.  The stake was always licked, or sucked, clean.  The
substance seems to act as a soporific, as the creatures, after tasting
it, always remain a day without coming out of their houses.  So wary
generally are the beavers, that a trapper is always careful not to leave
his scent on the spot.  To avoid this he frequently cuts down a tree,
and walks on its branches towards the edge of the path, afterwards
withdrawing it, and plentifully sprinkling water around."

The Indians and Canadian voyageurs eat the flesh of the beaver,
esteeming it, when roasted with the skin on--the hair having been singed
off--the most dainty of dishes.  Early in this century, when beaver fur
was much in demand for the manufacture of hats, upwards of 120,000 skins
were exported from Quebec alone in one year.  The warfare long waged
against the unfortunate rodents now goes on with somewhat diminished
activity.  A change of fashion--the substitution of silk for beaver--has
probably saved them from utter extermination.  The scientific name of
their tribe, _Castor_, was long a popular term for a hat; but now that
their fur has ceased to be employed as formerly, the term itself appears
to have gone out of use.

THE MUSK-RAT, OR MUSQUASH.

Voyaging along the margin of a lake, we may see on the shores numbers of
little flattened oval nests composed of reeds and sedges, while numerous
holes in the bank, with quantities of shells, chiefly of the fresh-water
mussel, scattered round, show the entrance to the habitations of the
musquash, or ondatra, called also the musk-rat.  As evening approaches,
the creatures may be seen in fine balmy weather gambolling on the
surface, swimming rapidly here and there, or now and then diving below,
apparently fearless of the passing canoe.  The little sedge-built hut of
the water-rat is constructed much in the same way as the beaver's larger
mansion.  The creature itself looks somewhat like the beaver, and some
of its habits are also similar.  It is rather more than two feet in
total length, of which measurement about ten inches is occupied by the
tail.  The upper part of the body is of a dark brown colour, tinged in
parts with a reddish hue, while the lower part is ashy grey.  Its tail
is flattened, but vertical.  Like the beaver, it is furnished with an
undercoat of soft downy fur.  Its safety has been provided for by its
peculiar colour, which is so like that of the muddy bank on which it
dwells, that a keen eye can alone detect it.  Its hinder feet are
webbed, the imprint on the soft mud being very similar to that of a
duck.  With the exception of the flesh of the water-mussel, its food is
vegetable.  It is a great depredator in gardens, which it has been known
to plunder of carrots, turnips, and maize--the stalks of which it cuts
close down to the ground.

It is sought-for on account of its fur, which is very valuable.  The
traps are set close to a tree, and when one of the creatures is caught,
its companions will instantly attack it and tear it to pieces.
Generally, however, in its struggles to get free, it carries the trap
under the surface, and is thus drowned.

Audubon, the naturalist, gives us an interesting description of
them:--"They are very lively, playful animals, when in their proper
element--the water--and on a calm night, in a sequestered pool, may
often be seen crossing and recrossing in every direction, leaving long
ripples in the water behind them, while others stand for a few moments
on tufts of grass, stones, or logs, and then plunge over, one after the
other, into the water.  At the same time others are feeding on the
grassy bank, dragging off the roots of various kinds of plants, or
digging underneath the edge.  These animals seem to form a little
community of social playful creatures, who only require to be unmolested
in order to be happy."

It has been proposed to acclimatise these little rodents in England,
under the idea that thus a valuable addition to the bank fauna of
sluggish English streams would be obtained.

PRAIRIE-DOGS.

Vast cities, with regularly laid streets, are often met with in
extensive level spots on the prairie.  The inhabitants are, however, not
men, but creatures the size of a guinea-pig--rodents--a species of
marmot.  In their habit of associating together in communities, they put
us in mind of the industrious beaver; but they are idle little fellows,
evidently liking play better than work.  Their heads are not unlike
those of young terrier-pups, and their bodies are of a light brown
colour.  They have little stumpy tails, which, when excited, they
constantly jerk up and twist about in a curious fashion.  Their
habitations are regular cones raised two or three feet above the ground,
with a hole in the apex, which is vertical for the depth of two or three
feet, and then descends obliquely into the interior.  From the peculiar
yelp or short squeaky bark which they give, the hunters call them
prairie-dogs.

In each separate community, which consists of many thousand individuals,
there is a president dog, who seems to have especial charge of the rest.
As a stranger approaches, the creatures who are out of their houses
scamper back as fast as their legs will carry them, and concealing all
but their heads and tails, utter loud barks at the intruder.  This done,
the greater number dive out of sight with a curious somersault, their
little tails whisking in the air.  The chief dog, and perhaps two or
three other sentinels with him, remain on the tops of their houses
barking lustily till the enemy gets within a few paces of them, when
they also disappear, and the town remains silent and deserted.  The
traveller who wishes to observe their habits, by lying concealed and
silent for a few minutes, may see after a time some little fellow pop
his head out of his house, when he gives a few barks.  It serves as a
signal to the rest that danger has disappeared, and immediately the
others emerge from their houses and begin to frisk about as usual.

The holes of these curious creatures are shared by two very different
species of guests, one of which, at all events, must prove most,
unwelcome.  One of these is a little owl, which may be seen sitting in
front of the burrows or flying about near the ground; or, when the sun
sinks low, hopping through the town, and picking up the lizards and
chameleons which everywhere abound.  He can apparently do no harm to the
inhabitants, if he fails to benefit them.  The other inmates are
rattlesnakes, who, regardless of any objections which may be raised by
the dogs, take possession of their holes, and when the sun shines lie
coiled up at their sides, now and then erecting their treacherous heads
and rattling an angry note of warning, should a thoughtless pup by any
chance approach too near.  The Indians suppose that all three creatures
live on the most friendly footing; but as the rattlesnakes when killed
have frequently been found with the bodies of the little prairie-dogs in
their insides, their object in establishing themselves in the locality
seems very evident.

The poor little dog, indeed, leads a life of constant alarm, with
numerous enemies ever on the watch to surprise him.  Hawks and eagles,
hovering high in air, often pounce down and carry off unfortunate
members of the community in their powerful talons.  The savage cayote,
or prairie-wolf, when pressed by hunger during the winter, frequently
attacks the dome-shaped habitation of the little animal, and with claws
and teeth tears to pieces the walls, plunging his nose into the passage
which he has opened, and working his way down till he seizes the
trembling little inmate, who in vain retreats to the inmost recesses of
his abode.

It has been supposed that the prairie-dog hibernates; but this is not
the case, though he lays in a store of provision for winter
consumption--he being as lively at that period as at any other, though
he wisely prefers keeping within the house while the icy blasts blow
across the plains.  The creature is especially tenacious of life, and
even when shot through the body will manage to gain his burrow at rapid
speed.  He does not run into it, but, like the rabbit, he makes a jump
in the air, turns what looks like a somersault, and, flourishing his
hind-legs and whisking his tail, disappears as if by magic.  In an
instant afterwards, however, his little sparkling eyes and nose may be
seen above the ground; and if no stranger is in sight, he, with the rest
of the community, will commence gambolling and frisking about, forgetful
of his numerous foes and previous alarm.  It is very difficult to obtain
a specimen of the prairie-dog, as, even if mortally wounded, he
generally tumbles into his hole before being captured.  The inhabitants
of the plain, however, manage to catch the animal alive by dragging a
cask of water to one of their holes which does not communicate with the
rest of the village.  They then pour the water down the hole, either
drowning the creature or compelling him to come out.  He is very soon
reconciled to a state of captivity, and after two days appears on the
most intimate terms with his captors.  Even when turned loose again the
creatures will not leave the neighbourhood of the house, but burrow
under the foundation, making themselves quite at home, and fearlessly
come out to be fed when summoned by a whistle.  They become, indeed,
very interesting and pretty little pets.

We shall meet with a similar animal on the pampas of South America, and
which has also the companionship of a little owl.

There are several other species of marmot in America.  One is called the
Quebec Marmot, which lives a solitary life, making an almost
perpendicular burrow in dry ground at a distance from water.

The beautiful little, often-tamed Woodchuck, is another American marmot.
It makes a deep burrow in the sides of hills, lining the chamber at the
inner end with dry leaves and grass.  It may frequently be seen by the
traveller running rapidly along the tops of fences, as if to keep
company with him--now getting ahead, then stopping and looking back to
see if he is coming, and then going on again, till, growing tired of the
amusement, it gives a last stare and then scampers back the way it has
come.

THE PORCUPINE.

Unattractive as the fretful porcupine appears when considered as a means
of satisfying man's hunger, it is hunted throughout North America for
the sake of its flesh, which forms an especially dainty dish, not only
in the opinion of the Indians, but in that of every European who has
partaken of it.  The creature dwells in small caverns, either under a
pile of boulders, or amid the roots of large trees; but it also, with
its sharp claws, easily climbs up the trunks, and may sometimes be seen
reposing on their very summits, where it feeds on the bark of the young
branches, or the berries when they become ripe.

The Canadian porcupine is also known as the cawquaw or urson.  It is
nearly four feet long altogether, the head and body measuring upwards of
three feet, while the tail is about three inches in length.  It is less
completely defended with spines than the porcupines of other countries--
part of its body being covered with long, coarse brown hair, which
almost conceals the deeply-set, short, pointed quills, except those on
the head, hind-quarters, and tail.  The spines are about three inches
long.  When the animal is brought to bay, it sets them up in a fan-like
shape, and presents a formidable row of points turned towards its
opponent.  When attacked, it defends itself with its thick, muscular
tail; and wherever it strikes, it leaves a number of its easily-detached
quills, with barbed points, sticking firmly in its opponent's body.
These spines are of a dull white colour, the points being dark.  Awkward
as the porcupine looks, it can gallop along at considerable speed; and
when surprised, generally escapes to its rocky den--or if it gains a
tree, scrambles up the trunk at a rapid rate.  A broad trail leads to
the porcupine's den, by which it is easily discovered, as also by the
ordure outside the entrance.  A number of these paths lead from the den
to its feeding-ground: in the autumn to a beech grove, on the mast or
nuts of which it revels; and in the winter-time, to some tall hemlock or
spruce trees.  The Indian hunter also discovers it by the marks of its
claws on the bark; and should he be unfortunate in his search for larger
game, he seldom fails to obtain a roast of porcupine.  The creature is
hunted by the Indians with little dogs, which seem to take great delight
in the sport, and, in spite of the formidable weapons of their
opponents, will rush in and draw them out of their dens without injury
to themselves.  Even the settlers' dogs exhibit the same strong fancy
for hunting porcupines, but are not so successful in coming off without
injury; indeed, they often issue from the combat covered over with
spines sticking in their flesh.

Captain Hardy gives us an anecdote of the extraordinary fancy the Indian
dogs have for hunting porcupines.  One of these dogs was quite blind;
and yet, if the porcupine "treed," the little animal would sit down
beneath, occasionally barking to inform his master where lodged the
fretful one.  Another dog was not to be beaten when once on a porcupine.
If the animal was in its den, in he went, and, if possible, would haul
it out by the tail; if not strong enough, his master would fasten a
handkerchief round his middle, and attach to it a long twisted withe.
The dog would go in, and presently, between the two, out would come the
porcupine.

By the end of the "fall," the animal becomes loaded with fat, from
feeding on the berries found in the "barrens."  Its cry is a plaintive,
whining sound, not very dissimilar to that of a calf moose.  The female
produces two at a birth early in the spring.  The porcupine can easily
be tamed; and Audubon mentions one which was so entirely domesticated,
that it would come voluntarily to its master, and take fruit or
vegetables out of his hand, rubbing against him as does an affectionate
cat.  The same animal, however, showed considerable courage.  On one
occasion it was attacked by a ferocious mastiff.  One morning the dog
was seen making a dash at some object in the corner of the fence.  This
proved to be the tame porcupine, which had escaped from its cage.  The
dog seemed regardless of all its threats, and probably supposing it to
be an animal not more formidable than a cat, sprang at it with open
mouth.  The porcupine seemed to swell up, in an instant, to nearly
double its size; and as the dog sprang upon it, dealt him such a
sidewise blow with the tail, as to cause the mastiff to relinquish his
hold instantly, and set up a howl of pain.  His mouth and nose were full
of quills.  He could not close his jaws, but hurried, open-mouthed, off
the premises.  Although the servants instantly extracted the spines from
the mouth of the dog, his head was terribly pierced, and it was several
weeks before he recovered.  The porcupine, however, suffered severely
from the combat; and as the hot weather came on, showed great signs of
distress, and finally died of heat.

The quills of the porcupine are brilliantly stained by the Indians with
a variety of colours, and are extensively used by their squaws in
ornamenting with fanciful patterns the birch-bark ware which they sell
to the white settlers.



PART ONE, CHAPTER SEVEN.

CARNIVORA.

THE BLACK BEAR.

Several species of the bear tribe inhabit America; the two most numerous
of which are the black bear, or musquaw, and the far-famed ferocious
grizzly bear of the Rocky Mountains.  The black bear is found generally
among the forests and plains of the east, though the grizzly also
descends from his mountain fastnesses, and makes his way through the low
country to a considerable distance from his usual abode.  Although the
black bear has not obtained the same character for fierceness as his
grizzly relative, he often proves a formidable opponent when attacked by
human foes, and is also dreaded on account of his depredations among
their flocks and herds.  He is, indeed, a monstrous and powerful animal,
often reaching six feet in length from the muzzle to the tail--the tail
being only about two inches long--while he stands from three to three
and a half feet in height at the shoulder.  He is covered with a smooth
and glossy coat of thick hair, without any wool at the base.  He does
not always wear a black suit; sometimes he puts on a brown one.  When
his coat is perfectly black, he has a cinnamon patch on his muzzle.  He
varies, too, in shape.  Occasionally he is long and low, at others his
body is short,--and he has great length of limb.  Under ordinary
circumstances, he restricts himself to a vegetable diet, but is very
fond of a small species of snail which feeds on the prairie grass; and,
like others of his relatives, he is greatly addicted to honey.  As his
feet are furnished with strong sharp claws, he is able to make his way
up the trunks of trees to reach his favourite food.  In this object he
displays great perseverance and acuteness.  However high up it may be,
or in positions most difficult of access, he will manage to reach the
combs containing the sweet repast.  Should the comb be hidden away in
the hollow of some aged tree, with an entrance too small for admitting
his huge paw, he sets to work with his teeth, and gnaws away the wood
till he has formed a breach of sufficient size to allow him to put it
in.  He is utterly regardless of the assaults of the tiny inhabitants of
the comb; and scooping out their honey and young together with his
fore-paws, devours the whole mass.  He will sometimes, when pressed by
hunger, break into the settler's barn and carry off sheep, pigs, and
small cattle into the neighbouring woods; and so cunning is he, that it
is not often he is overtaken, or entrapped in the snare laid for his
capture.

The Indians of Nova Scotia call him Mooin, which reminds us of Bruin.
The Indians throughout the country pay great respect to the bear,
having, like the Esquimaux, a high opinion of his intellectual powers,
and believing that he is in some way related to them, and possessed of
an almost human spirit.  Still, they do not scruple to kill him; but as
soon as the breath is out of his body, they cut off his head, which they
place ceremoniously within a mat decorated with a variety of ornaments.
They then blow tobacco-smoke into the nostrils, and the chief hunter,
praising his courage, and paying a variety of compliments to his
surviving relatives, expresses regret at having been compelled to
deprive him of life, and his hope that his own conduct has been
altogether satisfactory to Mr Mooin, and worthy of the renown they have
both attained.

The musquaw hibernates, like other bears of northern regions, and is
very particular in selecting a dry cave for his long winter's nap.  At
the "fall," he is especially fat, having lived for some time on the
beech-mast, blue-berries, and other fruits which grow in great profusion
in the forest.  He then weighs 500 pounds, and even 600 pounds.  The
chief part of the fat lies along the back, and on either side, as in the
flitch of the hog.  There is no doubt that it is by the absorption of
this fat throughout his winter fast of four months that he is enabled to
exist--at this time evaporation being at a stand-still.  Having at
length selected a cavern, or the hollow of a decayed tree, for his lair,
he scrapes out all the dead leaves, till the ground is perfectly clean
and smooth.  It must be deep enough to prevent the snow from drifting
into it, and free from any water trickling down from above.  He objects
especially to a habitation which has been occupied by the porcupine,
that animal being far from cleanly in its habits.  Perhaps also he has
an objection to the quills with which the creature is furnished, from
their being likely to produce disagreeable wounds.  He forgets, perhaps,
that the rubbish he has scraped out will betray his abode to the
hunter--which it assuredly does.  The Indian, on discovering this
indubitable sign of Mooin's abode, takes steps to arouse him and plant a
bullet in his head, or to batter out his brains with his axe.  Mooin,
however, in spite of his usual sagacity, ignorant that his abode may be
discovered, perhaps already overcome with a strange desire to sleep,
crawls in for his winter's snooze.  He is frequently accompanied by a
partner, who will add to his warmth and comfort.  He there lies down
with his fore-paws curled round his head and nose, which he pokes
underneath his chest.  Here he remains asleep till the warm sun of March
or April tempts him to crawl out in search of food to replenish his
empty stomach and strengthen his weakened frame.  Madam Mooin is
generally, at this time, employed in the pleasing office of increasing
her family.  Her young cubs, when born, are curiously small, helpless
little beings, not larger than rats.  Generally there are two of them,
and they are born about the middle of February.  She manages to nourish
them without taking any food herself till March or April, when she also,
like her better half, sallies forth in search of provender.  The young
creatures grow but slowly, and do not attain their full size till they
are about four years old.  Even when about a couple of months old, the
little cubs are not much larger than a retriever puppy of the same age.

The musquaw finds great difficulty at first in satisfying the cravings
of his appetite.  He searches for the cranberries in the open bogs, and
is driven even to eat the rank marshy grass.  As the snow disappears, he
seeks for wood-lice and other creatures in rotten trunks.  Hungry as he
is, he labours very patiently for his food.  The prehensile form of his
lips enables him to pick up with wonderful dexterity even the smallest
insect or berry.  As the ice breaks up in the lakes, he proceeds thither
to fish for smelts and other small fish, which he catches with wonderful
dexterity with his paws, throwing them out rapidly behind him.  When,
however, pressed by hunger, and unable to obtain the smaller creatures
for food, he will attack young deer if he can take them by surprise; but
as he can seldom do this, he is often tempted into the neighbourhood of
settlements.  Here he lies in wait for the cattle as they wander through
the woods to their spring pastures; and when once he has taken to this
dangerous proceeding, he is said to continue it.  On catching sight of a
herd, should it not be accompanied by a human being, he drives the
animals into some boggy swamp, and there singling out a victim, he jumps
on its back, and deals it a few tremendous blows across the head and
shoulders, till the poor animal becomes an easy prey.  He then drags it
off into the neighbouring wood, and devours it at his leisure.  This
habit is often the cause of his destruction.  On any remainder of the
animal being found, the aggrieved settler sets off, rifle in hand and
axe in his belt, to punish the aggressor.  The bear, he well knows, will
revisit the carcass.  So cunning, however, is Bruin, and conscious of
guilt, that he is constantly on the watch, as he returns, for an enemy.
He creeps up, accordingly, looking on either side, his caution
increasing as he approaches his prey.  The hunter, therefore, to outwit
him, seeks his trail in the direction in which he has retreated, and
conceals himself near it, but at some distance from the carcass.  He
waits till the sun is setting, when he is almost sure to see the bear
come tripping nimbly along, not yet thinking it necessary to employ
caution.  At this moment a rifle-bullet, placed in his head, deprives
him of his intended feast and his life at the same time.

The black bear possesses wonderful strength--said to be fully equal to
that of ten men.  Experiments have been tried, in which so many persons
have attempted to drag off a cask baited with molasses, or other sweet
stuff, secured to a rope, when the bear has carried it away with perfect
ease, in spite of their united efforts to draw it from him.

The most dangerous time to attack a she-bear is in the spring; when she
is accompanied by her cubs.  If she has time, she will lead them off to
a place of safety; but if not, she will chase the intruder from her
domains--and woe betide him if he cannot manage to escape her claws!
Bears are easily taken in traps, baited with small bundles of sticks
smeared with molasses.  They are hunted in the "fall," when they have
become fat with the ample supply of blue and whortle berries or
beech-mast on which they have been feeding.  To obtain the beech-mast,
Bruin will frequently climb a tree, and sometimes, like the orang-outang
of Eastern seas, will build a rough platform for himself among the upper
branches, where he can lie concealed and munch his food at leisure.  The
most certain way to obtain the animal in this case is to cut down the
tree and shoot him as he reaches the ground, for, as may be supposed, he
is in no amiable mood when thus disturbed, and, unless speedily killed,
would attempt to wreak a fearful vengeance on his assailants.  The black
bear springs on his prey in the same way as does the tiger or panther of
the southern part of the continent.  He thus frequently kills the young
moose, though the full-grown animal is too active and powerful to be
thus caught.  He will even attack horses in the same way, though the
latter animal often receives him with a furious kick.

In the summer, the black bears unite and hunt in gangs, making the
forest resound with their fearful snarling and loud moaning cries.  They
give warning to the hunter to pile fuel on his camp-fire, and to take
his rifle in hand, for, strong in numbers, they will not hesitate to
approach him, and, if pressed by hunger, to make an assault on his camp.

THE GRIZZLY BEAR.

The most dreaded inhabitant of the Rocky Mountains and their
neighbourhood, is the savage grizzly, frequently called by the hunters
Old Ephraim.  Even the bravest hunter, when making his way through this
wild region, finds it necessary to call all his courage and hardihood to
his aid, when he sees one of these huge monsters sitting upon its
hind-legs prepared for a rush towards him, and uttering a loud, harsh
sound, like a person breathing quickly.  Should he not wish for a
contest, his best plan is to face the monster boldly, moving slowly on,
but ever keeping his eyes fixed on the animal.  The bear will, in most
cases, after watching him attentively for some time, turn round and
gallop off.  If, however, he should lose his presence of mind, and
attempt to fly--or should he fail, when he fires, to shoot the monster
through the brain--in all probability he will quickly be torn to pieces.

The grizzly frequently attains a length of nine feet, and weighs from
700 to 800 pounds.  His head, in proportion to his muzzle, is very
large.  He has a long, narrow muzzle, somewhat flattened, with large,
powerful, canine teeth.  His eyes are small, and deeply sunk in his
head.  His tail is so short, that it is completely concealed by the
surrounding hair.  He possesses remarkably long feet, which, in the
full-grown animal, are eighteen inches in length; and they are armed
with sharp and powerful claws five inches long, and so extremely sharp,
that they cut into the flesh like knives.  He can also use them
separately like fingers, so that he can grasp a dry clod of earth and
crumble it to dust as a human being could do with his hand.  He can
also, with them, dig into the ground; and when the weight of his body is
not too great, they enable him to climb trees, although not with the
speed of his black brother of the plains.  As acorns form a portion of
his food, it is said that he will climb a tree and shake the boughs
vehemently to make them fall, when he descends and revels on the fruit
his ingenuity has thus obtained.  The hunter who has to fly for his life
may however escape from a bear,--when the monster is filled out with
autumn food, and cannot manage to raise his huge body from the ground,--
by climbing a tree.

The grizzly varies much in colour.  Sometimes his fur is of a dullish
brown, freckled over with grizzly hairs; while other specimens are
entirely of a steely grey.  In all cases, the grizzly hairs give a
somewhat white appearance to the surface of the fur.  When the animal is
young, his fur is of a rich brown, and often very long and thick, and
much finer than that of the adult animal.  When the creature walks, he
swings his body in an odd fashion, rolling his head, at the same time,
from side to side, which gives him a remarkably awkward look.  Although
the grizzly occasionally satisfies himself with vegetable diet, he will
also attack and devour any animals he can kill.  He does not hesitate to
assault the powerful bison; and on overtaking a herd, he will spring
without hesitation on the largest bull, and, with the tremendous strokes
of his powerful paws, speedily bring it to the ground, when he will
without difficulty drag the enormous carcass off to his lair, to devour
it at his leisure.  All other animals stand in awe of the grizzly; and
even the largest pack of hungry wolves will not venture to attack him,
nor indeed will they touch his carcass after he has succumbed to the
rifle of the hunter.  Horses especially are terror-stricken when they
scent or see a grizzly; and not until they have been carefully trained,
will they even allow the skin of one to be placed on their backs.

The grizzly employs his claws both in digging for roots and in burying
any large animal he may have killed, to preserve the carcass till he
requires it for another meal.  An anecdote is given of a hunter who,
pursued by one of these monsters, took advantage of this propensity to
save his life.  His rifle was unloaded.  Of course he had not wounded
the bear, or his stratagem would have been in vain.  Throwing himself on
the ground, the hunter closed his eyes, and stretching out his limbs,
feigned to be dead.  It must have been a fearful moment when he felt the
bear lift up his body in his claws to carry him away to the
neighbourhood of his lair.  The bear having dug a hole, placed him in
it, and covered him carefully with leaves, grass, and bushes.  An
Indian, or hardy backwoodsman, could alone have existed under such
circumstances.  The hunter waited anxiously till he heard loud snores
proceeding from the cavern.  Then, slipping up, like Jack the
Giant-killer from the castle of the ogre, he scampered off as fast as
his legs could carry him.

Mr Kane--the Canadian artist--mentions meeting a grizzly when in
company with an old, experienced half-breed hunter, Francois by name.
Francois, however, declined firing, alleging that the risk was greater
than the honour to be obtained--his own character for bravery having
been long established.  Young hunters might do so for the sake of
proudly wearing the claws--one of the ornaments most esteemed by an
Indian chief--round his neck.  Although Kane's gun had two barrels, and
Francois had his rifle, they knew it was ten chances to one they would
not kill him in time to prevent a hand-to-hand encounter.  The bear
walked on, looking at them now and then, but seeming to treat them with
contempt.

Some years before this, a party of ten Canadian voyageurs, on a trade
excursion in the neighbourhood of the mountains, were quietly seated
round a blazing fire, eating a hearty dinner of deer, when a large,
half-famished bear cautiously approached the group from behind a
chestnut-tree.  Before they were aware of his presence, he sprang across
the fire, seized one of the men, who had a well-finished bone in his
hand, round the waist with his two fore-paws, and ran about fifty yards
on his hind-legs with him before he stopped.  The hunter's comrades were
so thunderstruck at the unexpected appearance of such a visitor, and his
sudden retreat with "pauvre" Louisson--the man who had been carried
off--that they for some time lost all presence of mind, and, in a state
of confusion, were running to and fro, each expecting in his turn to be
kidnapped in a similar manner.  At length Baptiste Le Blanc, a
half-breed hunter, seized his gun, and was in the act of firing at the
bear, when he was stopped by some of the others, who told him that he
would inevitably kill their friend, owing to the position he was then
in.  During this parley, Bruin, relaxing his grasp of the captive, whom
he kept securely under him, very leisurely began picking the bone the
latter had dropped.  Once or twice Louisson attempted to escape, which
only caused the bear to watch him more closely.  On his making another
attempt, the bear again seized him round the waist, and commenced giving
him one of those dreadful embraces which generally end in death.  The
poor fellow was now in great agony, and gave way to the most pitiful
screams.  Observing Baptiste with his gun ready, anxiously watching a
safe opportunity to fire, he cried out, "Tire! tire! mon cher frere, si
tu m'aimes!  A la tete! a la tete!"  This was enough for Le Blanc, who
instantly let fire, and hit the bear over the right temple.  He fell;
and at the same moment dropped Louisson.  He gave him an ugly claw along
the face, however, which for some time afterwards spoiled his beauty.
After he had tired, Le Blanc darted to his companion's side, and with
his _couteau de chasse_ quickly finished the sufferings of the
man-stealer, and rescued his friend from impending death.  On skinning
the bear, scarcely any meat was found on his bones, showing that it was
in a fit of hungry desperation that he had thus made one of the boldest
attempts at kidnapping over heard of in the legends of ursine courage.

WOLVES.

There are several species of wolves in North America: one, a large,
black animal, which inhabits the forests; and another, much smaller,
which hunts the bison and deer in vast packs across the prairie, and is
called the prairie-wolf.  Like the wolf of Europe, the black wolf is a
fierce, dangerous creature, and equally cowardly.  When driven into the
corner of a hut, as has sometimes occurred, or when caught in a trap, he
will not attempt to defend himself against any person who may enter to
destroy him.  Audubon mentions an instance of this.  A farmer with whom
he was staying having lost a number of his animals by wolves, dug
several pitfalls in the neighbourhood of his farm.  Three large wolves
were found in the morning in one of these traps.  The farmer, instead of
shooting them from above, boldly descended into the trap, and seizing
the creatures one by one by the hind-legs, severed the chief tendon,
thus preventing their escaping.  He afterwards killed and skinned them
at his leisure, their skins being of sufficient value to repay him for
the loss of his cattle.

The prairie-wolves are considerably smaller than their brethren of the
woods.  They travel in large packs, a solitary one being seldom seen.
Their skins are of no value.  The Indians will not waste their powder
upon them, and they therefore multiply so greatly, that some parts of
the country are completely overrun by them.  They are, however, caught
by; pitfalls covered over with switches baited with meat.  They destroy
a great number of horses, particularly in the winter season, when the
latter get entangled in the snow.  In this situation, two or three
wolves will often fasten on one animal, and speedily, with their long
claws, tear it to pieces.  The horses, however, often bravely defend
themselves; and Mr Goss mentions finding near the bodies of two of
these animals, which had been killed the night before, eight wolves
lying dead and maimed around,--some with their brains scattered, and
others with their legs or ribs broken.

Let us watch from an ambush the manoeuvres of a pack of savage cayotes--
the name given to one species of wolf--while hunting their prey.  Our
ears are first assailed by a few shrill, currish barks at intervals,
like the outpost firing of skirmishing parties.  These are answered by
similar barks from the opposite direction, till the sounds gradually
approximate on the junction of the different bands.  The horses,
sensible of the approach of danger, begin to paw the ground, snort, toss
up their heads, look wildly about them, and exhibit other symptoms of
fear.  We prepare our guns ready for action.  Three or four stallions
take the lead, and wait, with comparative composure, for the approach of
the enemy.  The allies at length enter the field in a semicircular form,
with their flanks extended, for the evident purpose of surrounding their
prey.

They are between three and four hundred strong.  The horses, from
experience, know well their object, and, dreading an encounter with so
numerous a force, instantly turn round and gallop off in a contrary
direction.  Their flight is the signal for the wolves to advance.  The
brutes, uttering a simultaneous yell, charge after the fugitives, still
preserving their crescent form.  Two or three horses, much out of
condition, are quickly overtaken, when they commence kicking at the
advance-guard of the enemy; but though several of the wolves receive
severe blows, they will, it is evident--being reinforced by others--
quickly despatch the unfortunate horses.

It is time for us to emerge from our concealment and fire a volley at
the enemy's centre, by which several are brought down.  The whole
battalion of cowards instantly wheel about, and fly towards the hills in
the utmost disorder; while the horses, hearing the sound, come galloping
up to us for protection, and by their neighing express their joy and
gratitude at our timely interference.

LYNXES.

Although lynxes are not so numerous in America as wolves, they are
equally destructive, and individually more daring--attacking deer and
smaller animals when they can take them at a disadvantage.  They seldom
fly, as wolves do, on the first approach of man.  In size, the largest
does not exceed the dimensions of an English mastiff.  The Canadian lynx
is frequently termed the Peeshoo, and sometimes "Le Chat" by the French
Canadians.  His coat is covered with long hairs of a dark grey hue,
besprinkled with black, the extremities of which are white, with dark
mottlings here and there on the back.  Sometimes the fur is of a ruddy
chestnut tinge, and the limbs are darker than the rest of the body--
which is about three feet long.  The animal possesses powerful limbs,
and thick, heavy feet, furnished with strong, white claws.  When moving
over the ground it leaps in successive bounds, its back being slightly
arched, and all its feet pitching at the same time.  It also swims well,
and can cross rivers and lakes a couple of miles broad.  Strong as it
is, it appears it is easily killed by a blow on the back with a slight
stick.  It ranges throughout the greater part of the continent, and is
shot or trapped for the sake of its fur, which is of considerable value.

THE WOLVERENE, OR GLUTTON.

The wolverene, or glutton, carries off the palm for cunning from all the
other animals.  It is also more ferocious and daring for its size than
even the huge grizzly, while for voracity it is unsurpassed.  In
appearance, it is somewhat similar to a young bear.  It is of a
brownish-black colour, with a black muzzle and eyes of a dark hue, the
space between them being of a brown tint.  The paws are also quite
black, contrasting with the ivory whiteness of the claws.  It possesses
large and expanded paws, to enable it to pass over frozen snow; indeed,
so large are they, that its footsteps are often mistaken for the tracks
of the bear.  In one of its habits it resembles Mr Bruin, having the
custom, when it finds an animal which it cannot devour at one meal, of
carrying off the remainder and hiding it in some secure place.

The glutton moves at a somewhat slow pace, and appears rather deficient
in agility; but at the same time he is persevering and determined, and
will range over a wide extent of country in search of weak or dying
animals, stealing unawares upon hares and birds, etcetera.  When he
takes a fancy to some larger quadruped as it lies asleep, he springs
upon it, tearing open the neck and throat.  He is supposed to prefer
putrid flesh, and the odour which proceeds from him would lead us to
suppose that such is the case.  The trappers look upon him with especial
hatred, as, with his usual cunning, he seeks out their hoards of
provisions in _cache_, and destroys their marten-traps.  He himself is
so sly that he is seldom caught in a snare.  When he finds one, he
approaches it from behind, and pulling it to pieces from the outside,
carries off the bait.  The marten-hunter will go forth and set a line of
traps, extending to upwards of forty miles in length or circumference.
The wolverene, observing what he is about, follows at a distance,
carefully pulling the traps to pieces as he leaves them behind, and
eating off the heads of the partridges or other birds which have been
used as bait, declining all the time to run his nose into danger.  When
a sable or marten is entrapped, he tears out the dead animal and carries
it away.  It is even supposed that he will attack a hibernating bear in
his den, and manage to kill him before Bruin has aroused himself
sufficiently for his defence.

The wolverene is the fur-trapper's greatest foe, and, as may be
supposed, he has no mercy shown him.  The cunning creature, moreover, in
spite of his cleverness, sometimes gets caught.  Mr Paul Kane, in one
of his journeys across the country, had left a _cache_ composed of logs
built together, something like a log-house, but not very closely fitted.
Impelled by hunger after a long journey, he and his companion on their
way back reached their _cache_, and began throwing off the heavy logs
which covered the top and concealed it.  The Indian, hearing a great
disturbance within, called to Mr Kane to fetch the guns.  Just as he
got up, a fine fat wolverene jumped out, but was immediately shot down.
The creature must have been starved and desperately thin to have
squeezed himself through the openings between the logs, and no doubt,
impelled by hunger and the smell of the meat inside, had not thought
much of a slight squeeze.  When, however, he was once in, and had
enjoyed a few good meals, he could not get out again, and the idea of
starving himself as long as the meat lasted did not appear to have
occurred to him.

The disappointment to the hungry travellers was very great, as but
little food was left, and that was mangled, torn, and tossed about in
the dirt by the animal.

THE RACCOON.

To obtain a satisfactory sight of the raccoon, we must set out into the
forest by torchlight, accompanied by dogs, with fowling-piece in hand.
As he remains during the day in some hollow tree, it is rarely we can
get a good view of him.  Even if by chance found on the ground, he
ascends the tree so rapidly, that he is stowed away before our rifle can
reach the shoulder.  The well-trained dog, however, quickly finds him
when roving about the woods at night.

Let us accompany Audubon on a 'coon hunt.  Our native companions have
gone before with the dogs, who are baying at the raccoon in an open part
of the forest.  On our coming up, a singular scene presents itself to
us.  The flare of our torch seems to distress him.  His coat is ruffled,
and his rounded tail seems thrice its ordinary size.  His eyes shine
like emeralds.  With foaming jaws he watches the dogs, ready to seize by
the snout each who comes within reach.  His guttural growlings, instead
of intimidating his assailants, excite them the more.  He seizes one,
however, by the lip.  It is a dangerous proceeding, for, while thus far
victorious, the other curs attack him in flank and rear, while their
companion yells pitifully.  The raccoon will not let go, but the other
dogs, seizing him fast, worry him to death.  Yet to the last he holds
tightly the dog's lip.

While we stand gazing at the poor animal, all around is, by the flare of
the torch, rendered trebly dark and dismal.  It is a scene for a skilful
painter.

The raccoon is about the same size as a small fox, and though somewhat
like it, has also rather an ursine appearance.  He has a tufted tail
marked with black and white bands.  The head tapers somewhat like that
of the fox, but the ears are short and slightly rounded, the forehead
broad, and the nose sharp.  The fore-legs being shorter than the hinder,
when he stands the tail end of his body is lifted higher than the front,
and consequently his back appears curved.  He walks like the dog,
putting the tips of his toes to the ground; but when he stops he lays
his feet flat.

He receives no mercy from the farmers, for he is of a sanguinary and
savage disposition, and commits great havoc among domestic as well as
wild birds, always destroying far more than he requires; merely eating
off their heads, or lapping up the blood which flows from their wounds.
He commits occasionally ravages in sugar-cane or Indian-corn
plantations; and, climbing with ease, catches birds, and devours their
eggs.  He resembles the squirrel in his movements; and, like that
animal, when eating, sits on his hind-legs, and uses his fore-feet to
carry his food to his mouth.  A story is told of a young tame raccoon
let loose in a poultry-yard, when, his natural disposition overcoming
his civilised manners, he sprang on a cock strutting in a dignified
fashion among the hens, and fixed himself on its back.  The bird,
surprised at so unusual an attack, began scampering round the yard, the
hens scattering far and wide in the utmost confusion.  Still the little
animal kept his seat, till he managed to get hold of the unfortunate
cock's head in his jaws, and before the bird could be rescued, had
crunched it up--still keeping his seat, in spite of the dying struggles
of his victim; and probably, had he not been bagged, would have treated
all the feathered inhabitants of the yard in the same fashion.  When out
hunting on his own account, he often hides himself among the long reeds
on the bank of a lake or stream, and pouncing out on the wild ducks as
they swim incautiously by, treats them as he does the domestic fowls on
shore.

He partakes considerably of the cunning of the fox, yet, like that
animal, is frequently outwitted.  A raccoon after a long chase managed
to reach a tree, which he quickly climbed, with the aid of his claws,
snugly ensconcing himself in the deserted nest of a crow.  In vain the
hunters sought for him, till his long, annulated tail, which he had
forgotten to coil up within the nest, was seen pendent below it; and the
poor raccoon was quickly brought to the ground by a rifle ball.

He has gained the name of the lotor, or the washer, in consequence of
his habit of plunging his dry food into water before eating it.  He also
drinks a large quantity of water.  When moistening his food, he grasps
it with both his fore-paws, moving it violently backwards and forwards,
as a person does washing clothes in a stream.  The German naturalists
call him the washing-bear.  Though savage and bloodthirsty in his wild
state, he is frequently tamed; but he is somewhat capricious in temper,
and not easily reconciled when offended.  It is curious that he should,
when domesticated, change his usual custom of sleeping in the daytime
and wandering about at night; but this he does, remaining quiet all
night, and making his appearance among the inmates of the house as soon
as the sun sheds its light abroad.  Though in his wild state a fit
member for a temperance society, he will when in captivity, as if to
recompense himself for his hard lot, drink fermented liquors of all
sorts--the stronger and sweeter the better.  An old writer on American
animals says, in reference to this propensity, that if taken young it is
easily made tame, but "is the drunkenest creature alive, if he can get
any liquor that is sweet and strong."  The same writer states that the
cunning raccoon often catches crabs by inserting one of his feet into
their holes, and dragging them out as soon as they seize hold of it.

THE AGOUAHA, OR CRAB-EATING RACCOON.

In the Southern States we find another species of raccoon, somewhat
larger than the former, who is addicted to eating molluscs and
crustaceans, whether marine or terrestrial.  It is said, also, that when
other means fail of obtaining food, he seats himself on a branch hanging
low down over some quiet pool, and using his flexible tail as a
fishing-line, waits patiently till its end is caught hold of by a
snapping turtle or other inhabitant of the water, when, whisking it up,
he tears open the creature's shell and devours the luscious flesh with
aldermanic relish.  The fur is generally of a blackish-grey hue, washed
with a tinge of yellow.  A blacker tint prevails on the head, neck, and
along the spine.  His tail, in proportion to the size of his body, is
shorter than that of the common raccoon, and is marked with six black
rings, upon a blackish-yellow ground.

THE ERMINE.

When we see the judge seated in his richly trimmed robe of ermine--
emblem of purity--or call to mind the regal robes of a proud monarch, we
are apt to forget that the fur which we so much admire is but that of
the detested stoat, turned white during his abode amid the winter's snow
of a northern clime.  He is not unlike the weasel, especially when
clothed in his darker summer dress, but with a less ruddy hue.  The
edges of the ears and the toes always remain white.

He is considerably larger than the weasel, measuring upwards of fourteen
inches, including the tail--which is about four inches long, the tip
almost black.  He is a bold hunter, and follows and destroys the hare,
and other animals of equal size.  It is said, even, that several
together will venture to attack a man.  They are caught in America by
traps, which, giving the animal a sudden blow, kill it without injuring
the skin.

The winter coat of the ermine is produced by the whitening of the fur,
and not, as was once supposed, by the substitution of white for dark
hairs.  Probably one cause of this change of hue may be that the
energies of the creature concentrate themselves on the vital organs, to
enable it to resist the extreme low temperature of the icy regions it
inhabits, and cannot thus spare a sufficient amount of blood for the
formation of the colouring matter which tinges the hair.  Human beings
as well as animals become weaker as they increase in age; and it has
been observed that their hair also loses its colour, in consequence of
such energies as they possess being required to assist the more
important functions of nature.  This corroborates the correctness of the
former remark.

The ermine, like other species of its genus, has the faculty of ejecting
a fluid of a strong musky odour.  It is abundant, not only in the barren
grounds of the Hudson Bay territories, but is also found in Norway and
Siberia.

When the fur is used for robes, or similar purposes, the black tuft at
the end of the tail is sewn on at regular distances to the skin, giving
to the ermine fur the appearance we are all familiar with.

THE PINE-MARTEN.

The pine-marten, a species of weasel, obtains its name from being found
amid pine-forests, and from its habit of climbing the trunks of pines in
search of prey.  It is a fierce and savage creature, choosing to live
alone, away from the haunts of man.  It is from eighteen to twenty
inches in length--with a tail measuring about ten inches--and is covered
with long bushy hair.  Moving without difficulty among the branches, it
seizes many an unfortunate bird in its deadly gripe before its victim
can take to flight--robbing also the nest of the eggs within it.

It is common in Europe, as well as in America; but in the cold regions
of the Hudson Bay Company it is hunted for the sake of its skin, which
is, when blanched during the winter's cold, scarcely inferior to that of
the celebrated sable.

When pursued and overtaken, it stands at bay, exhibiting its teeth,
erecting its hair, arching its back, and hissing like a cat.  It forms
its burrows in the ground, the female producing, a litter of from four
to seven.  Like other animals of its tribe, it emits a peculiar musky
smell.

THE OTTER.

In winter, along the steep banks of the frozen streams, smooth and
shining tracks may be readily detected.  They are produced by otters,
which have a curious habit of sliding downwards for their amusement--
much as human beings are accustomed to do in Canada in their toboggans.
To do this, they lie on their bellies, with their fore-legs bent
backwards, and giving themselves an impetus with their hind-legs, down
they glide, at a swift rate, upon the ice.  This sport they will
continue for some time, climbing up again to the top of the bank, and
repeating the process over and over again.  They are also accustomed to
pass through the woods from lake to lake, making a direct track in the
snow.  These tracks are easily known.  Then comes a broad trail, as if
made by a cart-wheel.  This is formed by the animal throwing itself on
its belly, and thus sliding along over the surface for several yards.
These places are called "otter rubs."

There are two species of otter in North America--one on the east, and
the other on the Pacific slope--differing slightly from each other.  The
former is considerably larger than that of the Old World, measuring,
from the nose to the tip of the tail, sometimes from four and a half to
five feet.  Like most other water animals, it possesses two sorts of
hair: the one is long and shining, and of a rich brown colour, except on
the throat, which is of a dusky white; the other is very fine and soft,
lying next the skin, and serving to protect it from the extremes of heat
and cold.  It has excessively sharp, short teeth, which enable it to
hold fast the fish, on which it chiefly feeds.  Its body is elongated
and much flattened, and the tail, which is of great length, is also flat
and broad.  The legs are short and strong, and so loosely jointed that
it can turn them in any direction when swimming.

The habitations of otters are formed in the banks of rivers or lakes,
and are not altogether of an artificial character, as they prefer
occupying any deserted hollow or natural crevice to the trouble of
digging burrows for themselves.  Though they are very playful animals,
and delight apparently in sport, they are somewhat of a savage
disposition, and must be taken very young to be domesticated.  They are
cautious, timid animals, and can seldom be approached unawares.  They
eat all sorts of fresh-water fish, such as trout, perch, eels, and
suckers; and will also devour frogs.  Occasionally they may be observed
on a rocky islet of some lone stream, resting after a banquet, or about
to plunge into the water in chase of one of the finny tribe, which their
keen eyes detect swimming by.  They are trapped, in Canada, by steel
traps, which are submerged close to the bank below their "rubs."  They
make a peculiar whistling sound, which the Indian can imitate perfectly,
and thus frequently induces them to approach.  Their skins are
manufactured into muffs and trimmings and caps, such as are usually worn
in winter by Canadians.

An otter, when attacked, will defend itself with desperation, snapping
furiously at the Indian, and then shaking its head violently as a dog
does when destroying a rat.  Their bite is severe--sufficient indeed to
snap off a man's finger--and when once its jaws are closed, no power is
capable of making it relinquish its grasp.  The Canadians do not attempt
to tame the otter; but the persevering Chinese not only contrive to
domesticate the species found in their country, but teach them to
capture fish for their benefit.

THE SKUNK.

Rambling amid the woods, even in the neighbourhood of settlements, we
may occasionally come upon a curious little animal, with a
party-coloured coat and bushy tail, and an amiable and gentle
appearance.  The creature appears to be in no way timid, and will very
likely await our approach.  As we draw near it, however, it is apt to
turn round and erect its bushy tail perpendicularly.  Let us beware of
what we are about, for, in a moment, the creature may send over us a
shower of a substance so horribly odious, that not only may we be
blinded and sickened by the effluvium, but our clothes will be made
useless, from the difficulty of getting rid of the odour.

The creature is the skunk, and is about the size of a cat.  It possesses
short round ears, black cheeks, and a white stripe extending from the
nose to the back.  The upper part of the neck and the whole back are
white, divided by a black line.  Below, it is black, as are the legs;
and it has a full tail of coarse black hair, occasionally tipped with
white.  Its legs are short, and it does not possess much activity.  Its
feet are armed with claws, somewhat like those of the badger.

It appears to use this horrid effluvium--which is generated in glands
near the tail--as a means of defence.  All other animals have a due
horror of it.  Anything which it touches is tainted: provisions are
destroyed; and clothes, though often washed, will retain the smell for
many weeks.  At one time this substance was used for medicinal purposes.
The mode of defence bestowed on the skunk is somewhat similar to that
employed by the cuttle-fish, which emits a dark liquor when pursued.
Those who have once smelt the horribly fetid odour of the skunk will not
easily forget it.

THE PEKAN, OR WOOD-SHOCK.

Still keeping to the lakes and streams, we may often fall in with a
creature of curious habits, which, unlike those just described, lives
almost entirely among the branches of the trees.  In shape it is
somewhat like a weasel, and is the largest of the tree martens.  It is
known as the wood-shock or pekan, and is also called the black cat, and
fisher.  This last term is inappropriate, as it is not in any way
piscivorous.  It is of a dark brown hue, with a line of black shining
hair reaching from the neck to the extremity of the tail.  The under
parts are lighter; some entirely white.  It possesses also a very large,
full, and expressive eye.

Though spending its time among the trees, hunting for its prey, it forms
a burrow in the ground for its usual habitation.  It lives upon
squirrels and rabbits, as well as grouse and other birds and their eggs.
Not only does it venture to attack the well-armed porcupine, but it
kills the animal, and eats it up, quills and all.  The difficulty of
accomplishing this appears very great, but there are numerous instances
in which pekans have been killed, when their bodies were found full of
quills, from which they did not appear to have suffered.  They eat up,
indeed, both the flesh and bones of the porcupine--the latter being so
strong that a small bird cannot crack them.  Mr Downs, the naturalist
of Nova Scotia, states that he has frequently found porcupine quills in
the stomach of the fisher.

The animal is hunted for the sake of its skin, which is of some value--
as also for amusement, especially by boys, as the creature is not
sufficiently formidable to cause any great danger to them or their dogs.
It is about four feet long, including the tail, which measures about
eighteen inches.

THE MINK.

Another denizen on the shores of the fresh-waters of Canada is the mink,
called also the smaller otter, and sometimes known as the water
pole-cat.  It may be seen swimming about the lakes, preferring generally
the still waters in autumn to the more rapidly-flowing currents of
spring.  It somewhat resembles the otter, and differs in shape slightly
from the marten or ferret.  Its teeth, however, are more like those of
the pole-cat than the otter; while its tail does not possess the
muscular power of the latter animal.

Like the otter, it lives upon fish and frogs, but will occasionally make
a marauding expedition into poultry-yards.  Its general colour is a dark
reddish-brown, approaching in some specimens almost to black on the
head; while there is a patch of white, varying in size, under the chin.
It is trapped by the settlers both in self-defence and on account of its
fur, which is of considerable value, and greatly resembles sable--a good
skin often fetching four or five dollars.

MARSUPIALS, OR POUCHED ANIMALS:--THE VIRGINIAN OR COMMON OPOSSUM.

The opossum, with its prehensile tail, marsupial pouch, and cunning
ways, stands alone for its singularity among all the animals of the
American continent.  Many of the tribe are found in South America; but
the Virginian opossum, the size of a full-grown cat, is larger than all
its relatives.  The head and body measure about twenty-two inches; and
the tail, fifteen.  It is covered with a light grey hair of wool-like
softness, short on the face and body, but long on the legs.  The base
end of the tail is thick and black, and is covered with small scales.
So powerful is this member that the opossum can hold on with it to the
bough of a tree, and even when desperately wounded it does not let go.
Its face is long and sharpened, the mouth very determined, and armed
with numerous sharp teeth.  It has thin, naked, round, and blackish
ears, edged with a border of white.  It has short legs, the feet being
armed with claws, and the interior toes of the hind-feet are flat and
rounded.

It has the power of emitting a disagreeable odour when chased or
alarmed.  When pursued, it makes for the nearest tree; and should it
discover the approach of a hunter and his dogs when already up a tree,
instead of taking to flight, it lies close along the branch,
endeavouring to hide itself.  When moving amidst the boughs, it swings
itself from branch to branch by means of its tail; and it may be
observed at times hanging down, with its eyes wide open, on the look-out
for any birds which may incautiously alight on the bough above, or pass
within its grasp.

It is very voracious, feeding on small quadrupeds and birds of all
sorts; while it does not disdain to prey off a brood of young cotton
rats and mice, and devours insects and a variety of reptiles.  When
unable to find sufficient food in the forest, or too lazy to look for
it, it will, without hesitation, make a raid into the farmer's
poultry-yard, and carry off or kill his fowls, and eat up any eggs it
may find.  The opossum does not always indulge in animal diet,--for he
climbs fruit-trees to carry off their luscious productions; and for the
sake of obtaining maize, of which he is especially fond, he will climb
the tallest stems, and bite them across, so as to bring the heavy ear to
the ground.  He will also clamber to some higher branch, and hang down,
in search of the fruit growing on the boughs incapable of bearing his
weight.

The quality for which he is chiefly noted is his habit of feigning
death.  Frequently he is brought to the ground, when there he lies,
every limb relaxed, evidently as dead as can be.  The knowing hunter
will, however, keep his glance on the creature.  If he withdraws it for
a moment, its eyelids will be seen slowly opening; and should he turn
his head for even the shortest space, the creature will be on its feet,
stealing away through the underwood.  Though so perfectly an adept at
"'possuming," before attempting to practise its usual ruse it will make
every effort to escape from its pursuers.  When chased alone by a dog,
it will content itself by scrambling up a tree, and sitting quietly on a
branch, out of reach, looking down on its canine assailant with contempt
as it runs barking furiously below it.  The opossum is thus said to be
"treed;" and before long, the barking of the dog brings his master to
the spot, when the opossum has to fly for its life to the highest branch
it can reach.  It is easily captured by the rudest style of trap, into
which it will walk without hesitation.  When "feigning 'possum," it will
submit to be knocked about, and kicked and cuffed, without giving the
slightest sign of life.  The flesh of the opossum is white, and
considered excellent--especially in the autumn, when, after feeding
amply on the fruits, beech-nuts, and wild berries, of which it is
especially fond, it is very fat.

The female opossum builds a warm nest of dry leaves and moss, sometimes
in the hollow of a rotten tree, or beneath its wide-spreading roots.
She has been known occasionally to take possession of a squirrel's nest;
and at other times, that of the Florida rat.  When her young--generally
thirteen to fifteen appearing at a time--are born, they are extremely
small--not an inch in length, including the tail--and weighing only four
grains.  After a couple of weeks or so, she places them in her pouch,
when they grow in size and strength, and in about four weeks may be seen
with their heads poked out surveying the world, into which they begin to
wander at the end of five or six weeks.  When first-born, they are the
most helpless of little creatures, being both deaf and blind.

The larger number of opossums, however, are to be found in South
America, where we shall have an opportunity of further examining them.



PART ONE, CHAPTER EIGHT.

THE FEATHERED TRIBES OF NORTH AMERICA.

THE BALD OR WHITE-HEADED EAGLE.

The white-headed eagle takes precedence among the feathered tribes of
America,--because he stands first in natural order, and has been
selected by the people of the United States as their heraldic emblem.
Their choice was, by-the-by, objected to by Benjamin Franklin, on the
plea "that it is a bird of bad moral character, and does not get his
living honestly."  There was justice in the remark, for the bald eagle
is a determined robber, and a perfect tyrant.  He is, however, a
magnificent bird, when seen with wings expanded, nearly eight feet from
tip to tip--and a body three and a half feet in length--his snowy-white
head and neck shining in the sun, and his large, hooked, yellow beak
open as he espies, afar off, the fish-hawk emerging from the ocean with
his struggling prey.  Downward he pounces with rapid flight.  The
fish-hawk sees his enemy approaching, and attempts to escape; but, laden
with the fish he has just captured, in spite of the various evolutions
he performs, he is soon overtaken by the savage freebooter.  With a
scream of despair he drops the fish.

The eagle poises himself for a moment, as if to take more certain aim,
then, descending like a whirlwind, snatches it ere it reaches the water.

The plumage of the bald eagle is of a chocolate-brown, inclining to
black along the back, while the bill and upper tail-coverts are of the
same white hue as the head and neck.  He and his mate build their nest
in some lofty tree amid a swamp; and repairing it every season, it
becomes of great size.  Its position is generally known by the offensive
odour arising from the number of fish scattered around, which they have
let drop after their predatory excursions.  The nest is roughly formed
of large sticks, moss, roots, and tufts of grass.  They commence making
fresh additions to their nest early in the year; and the female deposits
her eggs in January, and hatches the young by the middle of the
following month.  Robbers as they are, the white-headed eagles exhibit
great parental affection, tending their young as long as they are
helpless and unfledged; nor will they forsake them even should the tree
in which their nest is built be surrounded by flames.  Wilson, the
American naturalist, mentions seeing a tree cut down in order to obtain
an eagle's nest.  The parent birds continued flying clamorously round,
and could with difficulty be driven away from the bodies of their
fledgelings, killed by the fall of the lofty pine.

Audubon gives us an account of a savage attack he once witnessed made by
an eagle and his mate on a swan:--The fierce eagle, having marked the
snow-white bird as his prey, summons his companion.  As the swan is
passing near the dreaded pair, the eagle, in preparation for the chase,
starts from his perch on a tall pine, with an awful scream, that to the
swan brings more terror than, the report of the largest duck-gun.  Now
is the moment to witness the display of the eagle's power.  He glides
through the air like a falling star, and comes upon the timorous quarry,
which now, in agony and despair, seeks by varied manoeuvres to elude the
grasp of his cruel talons.  Now it mounts, now doubles, and would
willingly plunge into the stream, were it not prevented by the eagle,
who, knowing that by such a stratagem the swan might escape him, forces
it to remain in the air by his attempts to strike it with his talons
from beneath.  The swan has already become much weakened, and its
strength fails at sight of the courage and swiftness of its antagonist.
At one moment it seems about to escape, when the ferocious eagle strikes
with his talons the under side of its wing, and with an unresisted power
forces the bird to fall in a slanting direction upon the nearest shore.
Pouncing downwards, the eagle is soon joined by his mate, when they turn
the body of the luckless swan upwards, and tear it open with their
talons.

Along all the coasts of North America, as also at the mouths of the
chief rivers, the white-headed eagle is found watching for his prey.  An
instance is mentioned of one of these savage birds being entrapped, and
falling a victim to his voracity.  Having pursued a wild duck to a piece
of freshly-formed ice, he pitched upon it, and began tearing his prey to
pieces, when the mass on which he stood continuing to freeze, his feet
became fixed in the ice.  Having vainly endeavoured with his powerful
wings to rise in the air, he ultimately perished miserably.

THE WILD TURKEY.

The wild turkey, acknowledged to be the finest of game-birds, ranges
throughout the forests of the more temperate portions of America.  It is
the parent of the valued inhabitant of our poultry-yards; and in its
wild state utters the same curious sounds which it does in captivity.
This superb bird measures about four feet in length.  Its plumage,
banded with black, gleams with a golden brown hue, shot with green,
violet, and blue.  Its head is somewhat small, and a portion of its neck
is covered with a naked warty bluish skin, which hangs in wattles from
the base of the bill, forming a long fleshy protuberance, with hairs at
the top.

The bird, in the States, is commonly known as Bubbling Jock, and is
called "Oocoocoo" by the Indians.  The female builds her nest in some
dry, secluded spot, guarding it carefully, and never approaching it by
the same path twice in succession.  When first her young are hatched,
she leads them through the woods, but returns at night to her nest.
After a time she takes them to a greater distance, and nestles them in
some secluded spot on the ground.  At this time they are frequently
attacked by the lynxes, who spring upon them, knocking them over with
their paws.

The wild turkey wanders to a great distance from the place of its birth.
"About the beginning of October the male birds assemble in flocks,"
says Audubon, "and move towards the rich bottom-lands of the Ohio and
Mississippi.  The females advance singly, each with its brood of young,
then about two-thirds grown, or in union with other families, forming
parties often amounting to seventy or eighty individuals--shunning the
old cocks, who, when the young birds have attained this size, will fight
with, and often destroy them by repeated blows on the head.  When they
come upon a river, they betake themselves to the highest eminence, and
often remain there a whole day; for the purpose of consultation, it
would seem, the males gobbling, calling, and making much ado,--strutting
about as if to raise their courage to a pitch befitting the emergency.
At length, when all around is quiet, the whole party mount to the tops
of the most lofty trees, whence, at a signal--consisting of a single
cluck--given by the leader, the flock takes flight for the opposite
shore.  On reaching it, after crossing a broad stream, they appear
totally bewildered, and easily fall a prey to the hunter, who is on the
watch for them with his dogs."

THE OCELLATED TURKEY.

A still more magnificent species of turkey than the one just described
inhabits Honduras.  It may be distinguished from the common turkey by
the eye-like marks on the tail and upper wing-coverts.  The naked skin
of the head and neck, too, is of a delicate violet-blue, covered with
numerous pea-looking knobs arranged in a cluster upon the crown.  This
is of a pale buff-orange, while there is a row of similar marks over the
eye, and others scattered about the neck.  The wattle hanging from the
neck is of a light orange at the tip.  The greater wing-coverts are of a
rich chestnut, the feet and legs being of a lake colour.  It is somewhat
smaller than the wild turkey of the States.

THE CANVAS-BACK DUCK.

The celebrated canvas-back duck, allied to the English pochard, makes
its appearance among the numerous rivers in the neighbourhood of
Chesapeake Bay about the middle of October, as well as in other parts of
the Union.  It is at that time, however, thin; but soon grows fat, from
the abundance of its favourite food.  It is from two to three feet
across the wings.  Its glossy black beak is large.  The head and part of
the neck are of a rich glossy reddish-chestnut tint, with black breast.
The wing-coverts are grey, and the rest of the body white, marked with a
number of transverse wavy lines.

It is especially esteemed at table--and those who have eaten it at the
hospitable boards of Americans will acknowledge its excellence; though
when, on several occasions, some braces of these birds have been sent to
England, they have failed to elicit the admiration due to their merits--
in consequence, it is said, of not being accompanied by an American
cook.

THE SUMMER DUCK.

The most beautiful of the duck tribe which visits the States is the
summer or tree duck of Carolina.  It bears a strong resemblance in
plumage and habits to the celebrated mandarin duck of China.  The birds
are found perching on the branches of trees overhanging ponds and
streams--a habit not usual in the duck tribe--where they may be seen,
generally a couple together, the male in his superb garments of green,
purple, chestnut, and white, contrasting with the homely plumage of his
mate.

THE PINNATED GROUSE, OR PRAIRIE HEN.

On the open "barrens," where a few tufts of stunted brushwood are alone
found, the remarkable pinnated grouse may be seen in great numbers
running over the ground.  Their backs are mottled with black, white, and
chestnut-brown; and the male has two finely ornamented feathers on the
neck, streaked with black and brown.  It has also a slight crest on the
head, of orange colour, hanging over each eye in a semicircular form;
and naked appendages, which hang down from each side of the neck, and
can be filled at the will of the bird by air, so that when puffed out
they are like two small yellow oranges.  As the breeding season
approaches the males appear, uttering strange cries, puffing out these
wattles, ruffling their feathers, and erecting their neck-tufts, as if
wishing to appear to the greatest advantage before their mates.  They
occasionally engage in combats with each other, but their encounters are
not often of a bloody description.

They form their nests rudely of grass and leaves, under the shelter of a
bush or thick tuft of long grass.  The hen lays about fifteen eggs of a
brownish-white colour.

The most remarkable feature in the history of these birds is the way in
which they assemble, as winter approaches, in vast numbers, to obtain
protection from the biting force of the north-west winds which sweep
over the Missouri country, by huddling close together.

"As evening draws near," says Mr Webber, who has observed their habits,
"they approach the spot they have fixed on, in the usual manner, by
short flights, with none of that whirring of wings for which they are
noted when suddenly put up; but they make ample amends for their
previous silence when they arrive.  From the pigeon-roost there is a
continuous roar, caused by the restless shifting of the birds, and
sounds of impatient struggling, which can be distinctly heard for
several miles.  The numbers collected are incalculably immense, since
the space occupied extends sometimes for a mile in length, with a
breadth determined by the character of the ground.  The noise begins to
subside a few hours after dark.  The birds have now arranged themselves
for the night, nestled as close as they can be wedged, every bird with
his breast turned to the quarter in which the wind may be prevailing.
This scene is one of the most curious that can be imagined, especially
when we have the moonlight to contrast with their dark backs.  At this
time they may be killed by cart-loads, as only those in the immediate
neighbourhood of the slain are apparently disturbed.  They rise to the
height of a few feet, with a stupified and aimless fluttering, and
plunge into the snow within a short distance, where they are easily
taken by the hand.  They will, if disturbed when they first arrive at a
resting-place, change it; but after the heavy snows have fallen, they
are not easily driven away by any degree of persecution.  By melting the
snow with the heat of their bodies, and by trampling it down, they then
form a kind of sheltering-yard, the outside walls of which defend them
against the winds."

They have, besides human foes, numberless enemies among the foxes,
wolves, hawks, and other birds.  The fecundity of the survivors,
however, keeps pace with the many fatalities to which they are liable.

THE RUFFED GROUSE, OR AMERICAN PHEASANT.

"This elegant species," writes Wilson, "is known throughout North
America.  Its favourite places of resort are high mountains, covered
with the balsam-pine and hemlock."  It prefers the woods--being seldom
or never found in open plains.  They are solitary birds; generally being
seen in coveys of four or five, and often singly, or in pairs.

The stranger wandering through the forest is surprised to hear a
peculiar sound, very similar to that produced by striking two full-blown
ox-bladders together, but much louder.  It is caused by the ruffed
grouse, who, amusing himself by drumming, is little aware that it will
bring the cruel sportsman towards him.  The bird produces it when
standing on an old prostrate log.  He lowers his wings, erects his
expanded tail, and inflates his whole body something in the manner of
the turkey-cock, strutting and wheeling about with great stateliness.
After a few manoeuvres of this kind he begins to strike with his
stiffened wings, in short and quick strokes, which become more and more
rapid, till they run into each other.  The sound then resembles the
rumbling of distant thunder, dying away gradually on the ear.

The hen is an affectionate mother, and takes every means, when a
stranger approaches her nest, to lead him away from the spot.

Wilson describes observing a hen-pheasant depart from this usual custom.
He came suddenly upon one with a young bird in her company.  The mother
fluttered before him for a short time, when suddenly darting towards the
young one, she seized it in her bill, and flew off along the surface of
the ground through the woods, with great steadiness and rapidity, till
she was beyond his sight, leaving him in much surprise at the incident.
He searched round, but could find no other birds.

Here was a striking instance of something more than "blind instinct"--by
the adoption of the most simple and effectual means for the preservation
of her solitary young one--in this remarkable deviation from the usual
manoeuvres of the bird when she has a numerous brood.

The ruffed grouse is of a rich chestnut-brown, mottled with brown and
grey; while on each shoulder are the curious ruffs, or tufts, from which
he obtains his name, of a rich velvety black, glossed with green.  The
skin beneath them is bare; the tail is grey, barred with blackish-brown.

Another species of grouse, smaller than the two former, inhabits Canada.

PASSENGER-PIGEONS.

Flights of locusts are often seen passing through the air, like vast
clouds, obscuring the sky.  The passenger-pigeon of America appears in
almost equal numbers.  The accounts of their vast nights would be
incredible, were they not thoroughly well authenticated.

They are beautiful birds; the males being about sixteen inches in
length, the females slightly smaller, and usually of less attractive
plumage.  The head, part of the neck, and chin of the male bird, are of
a slaty-blue colour; the lower portions being also of a slate colour,
banded with gold, green, and purplish-crimson, changing as the bird
moves here and there.  Reddish-hazel feathers cover the throat and
breast, while the upper tail-coverts and back are of a dark slaty-blue.
Their other feathers are black, edged with white; and the lower part of
the breast and abdomen are purplish-red and white.  The beak is black,
and the eyes of a fiery orange hue, with a naked space round them of
purplish-red.

Its chief food is the beech-mast; but it also lives on acorns, and grain
of all sorts--especially rice.  It is calculated that each bird eats
half a pint of food in the day; and when we recollect their numbers, we
may conceive what an immense amount must be consumed.

The female hatches only one bird at a time, in a nest slightly made of a
few twigs, loosely woven into a sort of platform.  Upwards of one
hundred nests have been found in one tree, with a single egg in each of
them; but there are probably two or three broods in the season.  In a
short time the young become very plump, and so fat, that they are
occasionally melted down for the sake of their fat alone.  They choose
particular places for roosting--generally amid a grove of the oldest and
largest trees in the neighbourhood.

Wilson, Audubon, and other naturalists, give us vivid descriptions of
the enormous flights of these birds.  Let us watch with Audubon in the
neighbourhood of one of their curious roosting-places.  We now catch
sight of a flight of the birds moving with great steadiness and
rapidity, at a height out of gunshot, in several strata deep, and close
together.  From right to left, far as the eye can reach, the breadth of
this vast procession extends, teeming everywhere, equally crowded.  An
hour passes, and they rather increase in numbers and rapidity of flight.
The leaders of this vast body sometimes vary their course, now forming
a large band of more than a mile in diameter; those behind tracing the
exact route of their predecessors.  Now they once more change their
direction--the column becoming an immense front, sweeping the heavens in
one vast and infinitely extended line.  Suddenly a hawk makes a sweep on
a particular part of the column, when almost as quick as lightning that
part shoots downwards out of the common track; but soon again rising,
advances at the same rate as before.

We will now hurry on towards their breeding place, a forest on the banks
of the Green River in Kentucky, fully forty miles in length, and more
than three in width.  In the neighbourhood are assembled a large number
of persons, with horses, waggons, guns, and ammunition; and a farmer has
brought three hundred hogs to be fattened on the refuse pigeons.  As the
vast flight arrives at the spot, thousands are knocked down by men with
long poles.  Some place pots of sulphur under the trees; others are
provided with torches of pine-knots; and the rest have guns.  The birds
continue to pour in.  The fires are lighted; and a magnificent, as well
as almost terrifying, sight presents itself.  The pigeons arrive by
thousands, alighting everywhere, one above another, till solid masses,
as large as hogsheads, are formed on the branches all around.  Here and
there the perches give way with a crash, and falling to the ground,
destroy hundreds of the birds beneath, forcing down the dense groups
with which every stick is loaded.  The pigeons continue coming, and it
is past midnight before there is any sign of a decrease in their
numbers.  The ground in all directions is strewed with branches broken
by the weight of the birds which have pitched on them.  By sunrise, the
enormous multitude have taken their departure, while wolves, foxes, and
other animals who had assembled to feast on the bodies of the slain, are
seen sneaking off.

Audubon describes the flight of one of these almost solid masses of
birds pursued by a hawk; now darting compactly in undulating and angular
lines, now descending close to the earth, and with inconceivable
velocity mounting perpendicularly, so as to resemble a vast column, and
then wheeling and twisting within their continued lines, resembling the
coils of a gigantic serpent.  Their assemblages greatly surpass in
numbers those of the pinnated grouse already described.

HUMMING-BIRDS.

A considerable number of these gem-like members of the feathered tribe
make their appearance in summer, even as far north as Canada, and on the
sides of the hills rising out of the "Fertile Belt," within sight of
Lake Winnipeg,--a region where snow covers the ground for so many months
in the year.  The most common, as well as the most beautiful, species of
these minute birds, is the ruby-throated humming-bird--a name given to
it on account of the delicate metallic feathers which glow with ruby
lustre on its throat, gleaming in the sunshine like gems of living fire.
From the tip of the bill to that of the tail it measures about three
and a half inches.  The belly is green, and the upper part of the neck,
back, and wing-coverts, are of a resplendent and varied green and gold.
The breast and lower parts are white, the wings purplish-brown, and the
tail partly of the same colour, with the two middle tail-feathers of
vivid green.

In the warm climate of the more southern States, the beautiful little
ruby-throat is found throughout the winter; and as the summer draws on,
the heat in the northern States suiting its delicate constitution, it
migrates in large flocks, appearing in the middle States towards the end
of April.  Tiny as they are, they pass through the air at a rapid rate,
and may be seen moving in long undulations, now rising for some distance
at an angle of about forty degrees, then falling in a curve.  Their long
flights are performed at night, it is supposed, as they are found
feeding leisurely at all times of the day.  Small as they are, from
their rapid flight and meteor-like movements they do not fear the
largest birds of prey; for even should the lordly eagle venture into
their domains, the tiny creatures will attack him without fear: and one
has been seen perched on the head of an eagle, at which it was pecking
furiously away, scattering the feathers of the huge bird, who flew
screaming through the air with alarm, to rid himself of his tiny
assailant.

As they fly, the ruby feathers of their throats may be seen changing,
according to the light, now into a greenish gold colour, now into a deep
brown, again to flash forth with the brilliancy of precious gems.  Often
they may be observed flying round the deep, cup-shaped calix of the
scarlet trumpet-flower, which with its rich foliage clings in clusters
round the gnarled stem of some withered oak, clothing it with a verdure
not its own.  Into these deep and capacious tubes the ruby-throat, with
its long bill, probes, and draws forth either the sweets it produces, or
picks up the multitude of flies entangled in the nectar.

Although the ruby-throat ventures thus far north, it is very susceptible
of cold, and returns southward immediately the summer green of the
forest gives place to the golden tints of autumn.  Brave and
high-spirited as is the little bird, it is easily tamed; and Mr Webber,
the naturalist, after many attempts, succeeded in securing several of
the species.  The first he caught did not flutter, or make the least
attempt to escape, but remained quietly in his hand; and he saw, when he
opened it, the minute creature lying on his palm, perfectly motionless,
feigning most skilfully to be dead; indeed, actually playing "'possum."
For some time he watched it with breathless curiosity, when he saw it
gradually open its bright little eyes to ascertain whether the way was
clear, and then close them slowly as it caught his glance upon it.  When
a mixture of sugar, water, and honey was brought, and a drop placed on
the point of its bill, it came very suddenly to life, and in a moment
was on its legs, drinking with eager gusto of the refreshing draught
from a silver tea-spoon.

The nest of the ruby-throat is of a most delicate nature; the external
parts being formed of a little grey lichen found on the branches of the
trees, glued together by the saliva of the bird, and neatly arranged
round the whole of the nest, as well as to some distance from the spot
where it is attached to the branch or stem itself.  The interior is
lined with a cottony substance; and the innermost, with the silky fibres
obtained from various plants.  Within this little nest the female
humming-bird lays two white and nearly oval eggs; generally raising two
broods in the season.  In one week, says Audubon, the young are ready to
fly, but are fed by the parents for nearly another week.  They receive
their food direct from the bill of their parents, who disgorge it in the
manner of canaries and pigeons.  It is my belief that no sooner are the
young able to provide for themselves than they associate with other
broods, and perform their migrations apart from the old birds, as I have
observed twenty or thirty young humming-birds resort to a group of
trumpet-flowers, when not a single old bird was to be seen.

The plumage of the female is in most respects like that of the male,
except that she is not possessed of the brilliant feathers on the throat
which especially distinguish him.

Although there are several other species of humming-birds which live
permanently in the Southern States of the Union, or migrate northward in
summer, we cannot now inspect them.  We shall have, however, many
opportunities of examining a number of the species when we come to visit
South America.  Although the number of birds and the variety of their
species inhabiting North America is very great, except those we have
mentioned, they do not in general possess any very interesting
peculiarity, which might tempt us to linger longer amongst them, and we
will therefore wander on and inspect some of the curious reptiles which
inhabit various parts of the American States and Canada.

THE COW-BIRD.

The well-known spring visitor to the woods of England,--the cuckoo,--is
undoubtedly destitute of family affection, as are others of its
relatives; but this is not the case with the whole tribe.  As the spring
advances, from the sylvan glades of Pennsylvania a curious note,
constantly repeated, is heard, resembling the word "cow-cow."  It is the
note of a bird, and from the sound it resembles it is generally known as
the "cow-bird."  It is also called the "yellow-billed cuckoo."  It is in
no respect behind any of its neighbours of the grove in conjugal and
parental affection, for it builds its nest, hatches its own eggs, and
rears its own young, Wilson assures us.  It is about a foot in length,
clothed in a dark drab suit with a silken greenish gloss.  A ruddy
cinnamon tints the quill-feathers of the wings; and the tail consists
partly of black feathers tipped with white, the two outer ones being of
the same tint as the back.  The under surface is a pure white.  It has a
long curved bill of a greyish-black above, and yellow beneath.  The
female differs from the male in having the central tail-feathers of a
drab colour, while the under part of her body is of a greyish tinge.

Early in the spring the males frequently engage in desperate battles.
After these contests are decided, the couples, pairing, begin building
their nests, generally among the horizontal branches of an apple-tree.
It is roughly formed of sticks and twigs.  On this bed the eggs, three
or four in number, of a uniform greenish-blue, are placed.  While the
female is sitting, the male is generally not far off, and gives the
alarm by his notes should any person approach.  The female sits so
close, that she may almost be reached by the hand, and then suddenly
precipitates herself to the ground, feigning lameness--to draw away the
intruder from the spot--fluttering her wings, and tumbling over in the
manner of a partridge, woodcock, and some other birds.  Both parents
unite in collecting food for the young.  This consists, for the most
part, of caterpillars, particularly such as infest apple-trees.  They
are accused, and with some justice, of sucking the eggs of other
birds,--like the crow, blue jay, and other pillagers.  They also
occasionally eat various kinds of berries; but from the circumstance of
their destroying numbers of very noxious larvae, they prove themselves
the friend of the farmer, and are well deserving of his protection.

THE BLUE-BIRD.

While the robin redbreast cheers us in England during winter with its
song, the beautiful little blue-bird performs the same office with its
rich sweet notes to the inhabitants of the United States; arriving from
Mexico, and still further off regions, as soon as the first signs of
approaching spring appear--even before the snow has melted away.
Associating fearlessly with human beings, it holds the same place in
their affections as the robin.

It is about seven inches long--a rich azure-blue covering the whole
upper surface of the head and neck, while the quill-feathers of the wing
and tail are jet-black.  The throat, breast, and sides are of a ruddy
chestnut, the lower portion of the body being white.  It builds its nest
in the hollow of a decayed tree, sheltered from the rain and cold, and
there deposits from four to six eggs at a time, generally rearing two,
and sometimes three broods in the season.  Its food consists chiefly of
spiders and small worms, and soft fruits and seeds.

It is a hardy little bird, and makes its way through all parts of the
United States; sometimes, indeed, remaining through the whole winter,
when it takes shelter in some warm hollow beneath the snow, from whence,
when the sun shines forth, it comes out to enjoy its warmth, and to sing
a few cheerful notes.  It is especially interesting to watch it take
care of its nest and young; perching near them and singing merrily,
occasionally flying off to procure a caterpillar for their gaping
mouths.

So confiding is the blue-bird, that when a box with a hole in it is
arranged in some convenient situation near a house, it will at once take
possession, building its nest in it, and never failing to utter its
sweet music in acknowledgment of the boon.

THE SNOW-BIRD.

As the cold winter approaches, large flocks of little birds about six
inches in length, with snow-white breasts and slaty-brown or blue backs,
make their appearance in the neighbourhood of villages and farmhouses;
sometimes, indeed, coming into towns as familiarly as sparrows.  Their
habits are very like those of sparrows; and when the snow deepens, they
mix with them, searching together for the seeds in the sheltered corners
of the fields, and along the borders of creeks and fences.  They differ
from the snow-bunting of the far north, with which they must not be
confounded.  In the summer they make their way to the northern regions
in large flocks, and build their nests together, being of a very
sociable disposition.

THE CAROLINA PARROT.

While viewing the birds of North America, we cannot pass by the
well-known, handsome Carolina parrot, which is, notwithstanding its
common name, a species of macaw.  Large numbers of these beautiful birds
are seen winging their way in compact bodies through the Southern
States, flying with great rapidity and uttering a loud outrageous
scream, not unlike that of the red-headed woodpecker.  Sometimes their
flight is in a direct line, but generally they perform a variety of
elegant and serpentine meanders in their course through the air.  Often
they may be seen pitching on the large sycamore-trees, in the hollow
trunks of which, as also among the branches, they generally roost--
frequently forty and more together.  Here they cling close to the side
of the tree, holding fast by claws and bill.  No creatures can be more
sociable, and they may be observed scratching each other's heads and
necks, and always nestling closely together.

Their plumage is mostly green washed with blue, but the forehead is of a
reddish-orange--as are the shoulders, head, and wings, while the neck
and back of the head are of a bright golden yellow.  The wing-coverts
are yellow tinged with green.  The bird is about twenty-one inches long.
The female is much like the male.  She makes her nest in the hollows of
trees.

The Carolina parrot exhibits great amiability of disposition, and is
easily tamed, becoming much attached to those who treat it kindly.  It
also exhibits the most extraordinary affection for its own race.  Wilson
the naturalist, having obtained one while on a journey to the Far West,
brought it home upwards of one thousand miles in his pocket.  It quickly
learned to know its name, and would immediately come when called.
Procuring a cage, he placed the parrot under a piazza, where, by its
call, it soon attracted the passing flocks of its relatives.  Numerous
parties frequently alighted on the trees immediately above, keeping up a
constant conversation with the prisoner.  One of these was wounded and
captured.  Poll evinced the greatest pleasure on meeting with this new
companion.  She crept close up to it, chattering in a low tone of voice,
as if sympathising in its misfortune, scratching its head and neck with
her bill--at night, both nestling as closely as possible to each other,
sometimes Poll's head being thrust amongst the plumage of the other.
The stranger, however, died, and Poll appeared restless and inconsolable
for several days.  On a looking-glass, however, being procured, the
instant she perceived her image all her former fondness seemed to
return, so that she could scarcely absent herself from it for a moment.
It was evident she was completely deceived.  Often when evening drew on,
as also during the day, she laid her head close to that of the image in
the glass, and began to dose with great composure and satisfaction.

On another occasion several of these birds were shot down, when the
whole flock swept rapidly round their prostrate companions, and settled
on a low tree within twenty yards of them.  Although many were killed,
the rest, instead of flying away, continued looking down at their dead
companions with manifest signs of sympathy and concern.

They render the farmer great service, by eating the cockle-burs which
grow on the rich alluvial soil of Carolina.  This prickly fruit is apt
to come off on the wool of the sheep, which, in some places, it almost
completely destroys.  The bird also lives on the beech-nut and seeds of
the cypress.  The head--with the brains--and intestines of the Carolina
parrot are said to be poisonous to eat; but how far such is the case
seems to be a matter of doubt.

Its chief abode is along the shores of the Mississippi, and it reaches
the neighbourhood of Lake Michigan; but eastward of the Alleghany
Mountains it is seldom met with further north than the State of
Maryland.  Far more hardy than the generality of the parrot tribe, a
flock has been seen facing a snow-storm along the banks of the Ohio.



PART ONE, CHAPTER NINE.

REPTILES.

TORTOISES:--THE LETTERED TERRAPIN.

Taking the reptiles in their natural order, we must begin with the
tortoises.  There is a group of these slow-moving reptiles called
terrapins in North America.  One of the most common is the lettered
terrapin, which inhabits rivers, lakes, and even marshes, where it lives
on frogs and worms.  It is especially detested by the angler, as it is
apt to take hold of his bait, and when he expects to see a fine fish at
the end of his line, he finds that a little tortoise has hold of it.

The back is of a dark brown, the edges being ornamented with scarlet
marks, like some Eastern alphabet in form.

THE CHICKEN TORTOISE.

Large numbers of these little tortoises, about ten inches in length, are
seen basking together on the logs or stones on the borders of lakes or
streams.  The slightest noise arouses them, when they slip off,
splashing in all directions into the water.  They swim with their little
heads above the surface at a rapid rate, bearing a strong resemblance to
water-snakes.  The creature takes its name from the similarity of its
flesh to that of a chicken.  It is consequently in great requisition as
food.

THE SALT-WATER TERRAPIN.

Another species--the salt-water terrapin--lives in the salt marshes and
ponds.  It is brown above, and generally yellow below--the lower jaw
furnished with a sort of hook.  The sides of the head are white,
sprinkled with black spots.

THE BOX TORTOISE.

The peculiarity of this creature is that it can draw its head within its
shell, so that, as few creatures would wish to swallow such a morsel
whole, it has no enemy except man to fear.  It might, to be sure, run
the risk of being carried off by an eagle and let drop on a hard rock,
if the savage king of birds ever does perform such a feat; but though
stories are frequently told of his doing so, their truth is greatly
doubted.

The box tortoise lives on shore among the pine-forest lands, away from
water, to which it seems to have an especial dislike.  It is frequently
called, therefore, the pine terrapin.  It is one of the smallest of its
tribe--being little more than six inches long--and varies very greatly
in its colour.  Its head is remarkable for having a somewhat broad hook
at the end of the upper jaw--the lower jaw being slightly hooked.

THE MUD TORTOISE.

The mud tortoise is smaller than the box, being scarcely four inches in
length.  It can, however, move with considerable speed, and is seen
floundering about in the ponds and muddy places, where it searches for
aquatic insects, and sometimes even fish, on which it lives.  It also
vexes the angler by taking hold of his hook, and remaining so quietly
sucking in the bait, that only when he hauls it up, and the tortoise
begins to pull and kick violently about, does he discover his mistake.

It is remarkable for exuding a strong musky odour, from which
circumstance it has obtained the name of "stink-pot."

THE ALLIGATOR TERRAPIN.

This giant of its tribe, from the great likeness it bears to the
alligator, has appropriately been called after the huge saurian.  It has
a large head covered with a hard wrinkled skin, and a long thick neck,
over which are scattered a number of projecting tubercles.  On the shell
of the adult animal there is a depression along the centre, which leaves
a sort of keel on each side of the central line.

The creature is exceedingly voracious, feeding on fish, reptiles, or any
animal substance.  It generally inhabits stagnant pools or sluggish
streams, living mostly at the bottom.  Occasionally, however, it rises
to the surface, and elevating the tip of its pointed snout above the
water, floats along with the current.  Sometimes, indeed, it lands, and
makes its way to some distance from the river; but its motions are very
awkward, not a little resembling those of the alligator.

A considerable number are taken by strong hooks, and, as the flesh is
esteemed for food, are sold in the market.

THE SNAPPING TURTLE.

Although the last-named creature is sometimes called the snapping
turtle, the animal to which the name appropriately applies is a very
different creature.  Its other name is the fierce trionyx.

It belongs to the family of tortoises, popularly called soft turtles.
Its flattened head is rather oval, with horny jaws, and hanging fleshy
lips, the mouth lengthened into a cylindrical snout.  It has an
extremely long neck, which it can contract at will; short, wide feet;
and toes connected by strong webs.  It is the most savage and formidable
of its tribe; being terribly destructive, not only among fish, but
smaller quadrupeds, birds, and reptiles, which it can capture.  For this
object it lies in wait till they come down to drink, or till some
water-fowl flies too close to its haunt.  It is said even to capture and
eat young alligators.

Though devouring so many other creatures, the snapping turtle is often
eaten himself; being hooked and drawn on shore by the fishermen.  It
fights, on such occasions, and struggles ferociously, darting its head
here and there, endeavouring to seize the hands of its captors with its
formidable jaws.

It possesses extraordinary tenacity of life; and even after the head is
cut off, the body, it is asserted, will crawl for a short way over the
ground.

LIZARDS:--THE SIX-LINED TARAGUINA.

We shall find several lizards in various parts of America--the greater
number in the Southern States.  The first we meet with is the six-lined
taraguina, belonging to the family of teguexins, which are remarkable
for the many-sided shields which cover their heads, and the double
collar on the throat.  This little creature is much smaller than the
rest of its family--being only about eleven inches in length--of a
darkish green or brown colour, with six narrow yellow streaks along its
body, one of which on each side reaches from the eye to the middle of
the tail.  The lower part is of a silvery white hue, with a bluish tinge
in some parts.

It is an excessively lively, active animal, living in dry and sandy
places, where it may be found searching for insects.  As it is very
timid, it takes to flight at the slightest sound, and is not easily
caught.

THE GLASS SNAKE.

As the spring comes on, and the warm sun bursts forth, a formidable
snake-like creature, nearly three feet in length, is often seen
frequenting the plantations of the sweet potato, or coiled up beneath
the roots of an old tree; its keen eye watching for any small reptile or
insect which may be passing.  The head is small in proportion to the
body, and of a pyramidal form--mottled at the sides with black and
green, the jaws edged with yellow.  Its abdomen is bright yellow; and
the upper part of the ear is marked with numerous lines of black, green,
and yellow.

Altogether, it has a very venomous look about it; but is truly one of
the most harmless of creatures, not being a snake at all, though it goes
by the name of the glass snake.  It is in reality a lizard; though--not
having the vestige of limbs--it is appropriately called the
lizard-snake.  It has, however, eyelids; and the tongue is not sheathed
at the base, as is the case with serpents; while its solid jaw-bones do
not enable it to open its mouth, as they are capable of doing.  It has a
tail, twice the length of its body, from which it can with difficulty be
distinguished.

Its peculiar characteristic is its extraordinary fragility--arising from
the muscles being articulated quite through the vertebras.  If struck
with a switch, the body is easily broken in two or more parts.
Sometimes, indeed, the creature breaks off its own tail, by a remarkable
habit it possesses of contracting the muscles with great force.  The
common English blind-worm breaks to pieces in a similar manner.

THE ANOLIS.

Among the true lizards is a pretty little creature known as the green
Carolina anolis.  It is especially daring; not only refusing to run away
at the approach of man, but will enter houses, and run about the room in
search of flies.  It is very active, climbing trees, and leaping from
branch to branch in its search for insects, of which it destroys great
numbers.  It is about seven inches long--mostly of a beautiful green
above, with white below; and it has a white throat-pouch, which
generally appears with a few bars of red upon it, but when inflated the
colour spreads over the whole surface.

Mr Gosse describes one which he saw running about among the branches of
a sassafras, just as it had seized a grasshopper.  He caught the
creature, which was then of a green hue; but, on placing it on an old
log, the colour changed to a brownish-black.  He was told, that if
placed on a green leaf it would again become green.  In a short time,
after remaining in the sunshine, it changed once more to green.  Again
it became almost black; and shutting it up in a desk, after half an hour
he was no less surprised than delighted to see the lizard of a brilliant
green, the line down the back only being blackish.

When the animal is excited, the pouch, swelling out, becomes of a
crimson colour.  It is covered with excessively small--scarcely
perceptible--scales.

These little creatures are at times very quarrelsome, and will fight
together, frequently both the combatants losing their tails in the
contest; while their pouches swell out as they leap at each other and
struggle furiously.

THE CROWNED TAPAYAXIN.

This is the scientific name of a creature generally known under the
title of the horned-toad, though really a lizard.  Its head is of a
light brown, marked with dark spots, the under part being of a dull
yellow; and is armed with long conical spines, set round the edge and
pointing backwards.  The back is covered with shorter and stouter
spines, of a triangular shape, extending to the very point of the tail--
also armed with a strong row of spines, which gives it a completely
toothed appearance.  The colour of this curiously covered back is grey,
with irregular bands of chestnut-brown across it.

Formidable as it looks, it is not only harmless, but never retaliates
when attacked, and remains perfectly quiet when taken in the hand.  It
is also easily tamed, and learns to know its owner, and to take food
from his hand--preferring little red ants, though it eats readily
beetles, flies, and other insects.  From its small, rounded form, and
the mode of sitting, it has in all likelihood gained its common name of
the horned-toad.

SNAKES:--THE RATTLESNAKE.

Throughout North America there are no small number and variety of
venomous snakes.  The rattlesnakes are perhaps the most numerous,
frequenting all parts of the country, though they generally keep to the
uninhabited portions.  They are found on the northern shores of Lake
Superior--though the ground is covered for several months in the year
with snow--and often appear in the regions to the west, in the same
latitude, up to the Rocky Mountains.  They would render some districts
uninhabitable, were it not for the signal-giving rattles with which they
are armed.  Even quadrupeds are alarmed at the sound, and endeavour to
make their escape from them; and horses, it is said, lately arrived from
Europe, show the same dread of these deadly serpents as do those born in
the country, so that nothing will induce them to pass within striking
distance of the creatures.

The wanderer through the forest starts back with dismay as he comes
suddenly upon one of these venomous reptiles, and hears its ominous
rattle when too near to escape.  He must muster all his nerve, and
strike it with his stick as it springs; for a wound from its fangs will,
as he knows, bring certain death, far-away from human aid.

The rattlesnake, like others of its tribe in cold regions, hibernates in
winter; and as the autumn comes on, seeks some convenient crevice in
which to pass the cold season--generally in the neighbourhood of marshy
ground, where it can cover itself up in the masses of a peculiar species
of moss growing in such situations.  The reptiles are here, during the
winter, frequently hunted out and destroyed.  At that time, too, their
bite is much less dangerous than in the summer--the amount of venom
appearing to decrease with the increase of cold.

THE BANDED AND MILITARY RATTLESNAKES.

Besides the common rattlesnake, there is another known as the banded
rattlesnake, and a third species called the small, or military
rattlesnake.  The latter is more dreaded, from being of less size, and
not so easily killed as the former.  The sound made by its rattle is
extremely feeble, so that it cannot be heard at any great distance.
However, as we shall pay more attention to the serpent tribe when we
visit South America, where the rattlesnake is also found, we will wait
till then to inspect the formation of its rattle, and its other
peculiarities.

THE CORN SNAKE.

There are many more harmless than venomous snakes in North America.  One
of the handsomest of its tribe is the corn snake, belonging to the
family of the Colubrinae.  As it avoids the daylight, though very
common, it is not often seen in a wild state.

It is, however, frequently tamed by the inhabitants of farmhouses--when
it makes itself perfectly at home, and is even of more service than a
cat in devouring rats and mice; though occasionally, if a young chicken
come in its way, it may gobble it up.  This it can easily do, as it is
of great size--varying from five to six feet in length.  The colours of
its body are remarkably brilliant; the general tint being a rich
chestnut red, with large patches of a still brighter and deeper red
edged with black running along each side, and a second row of smaller
spots of golden yellow, alternated with larger ones.  The lower portion
of the body is silvery white, checkered with black.

THE THUNDER SNAKE.

No fiercer-looking member of the snake family exists in North America--
with its mottled head, and black and white body, four feet at least in
length--than the quarrelsome thunder snake.  From the chain-like
markings on its body, it is sometimes called the chain snake; and by
others the king snake, on account of its tyrannical disposition.

Though fangless, it is fierce and bold, and has been known to attack,
kill, and eat a rattlesnake; indeed, it will assault any member of its
family, if not of its own species, even though but little smaller than
itself.  It feeds on small quadrupeds, birds, and reptiles; and few
human beings who see it moving amid the shady places it inhabits, would
fail to get out of its way as quickly as possible.

THE CHICKEN SNAKE.

The bright golden brown chicken snake--marked with narrow stripes along
the back, and from four to seven feet in length--in spite of its
beautiful and fangless mouth, is an unwelcome visitor in farmhouses when
it comes as a stranger, for it is apt to carry off fowls from their
roost--as well as their eggs--and will eat up a brood of ducklings
without ceremony.

However, as it is of an amiable disposition, it can easily be tamed; and
then, having learned good manners, it becomes a favourite, and
recompenses its protectors by killing the rats and mice which frequent
their premises.

THE MILK OR HOUSE SNAKE.

The beautiful blue house snake--four feet in length, with rows of spots
on its side--is often mistaken for the corn snake, its habits being very
similar.  The lower part of the body is of a silvery white, tesselated
with oblong marks of black.  The ignorant fancy that it sucks the milk
from the udders of the cows, and hence its name; though, probably, it
has no objection to a little milk, if it finds it in a pan.  Its object,
however, in entering houses and farms, is to search for mice and
insects, on which it in reality feeds, never interfering with the cows
or other animals.

THE BLACK SNAKE.

In many parts of the country, the black snake, on account of its rapid
movements, is called the "racer."  Though fangless, it often, in
consequence of the way in which it rustles its tail among the dry
herbage, making a sound similar to that of the rattlesnake, gives no
small alarm to the wanderer among the brushwood near the edges of
streams or ponds.  It is also frequently encountered in the fields or on
the roads.

It is generally from five to six feet in length; of a blue-black above,
and an ashy grey below.  It climbs trees in search of birds or their
eggs; and if interrupted in its employment, will turn its rage against
the intruder.  Sometimes, it is asserted, it will, to his horror, leap
down and give him a bite; though the only injury likely to arise is that
to his nervous system from fright.  Its bite is, indeed, perfectly
harmless; and it does good service in hunting rats which live in the
outbuildings, being able to climb walls and insinuate itself into the
most intricate passages when chasing them.

THE COACH-WHIP SNAKE.

The last snake we will mention is the coach-whip snake, belonging to the
family of Dryadidae.  No serpent can surpass it in the rapidity of its
movements, as, with its lithe, black body--between five and six feet in
length--and whiplike tail, it makes its way amid the grass in pursuit of
its prey.  It seems literally to fly over the ground with the speed of
lightning.

It is curiously like the thong of a whip, being very long in proportion
to its girth, with a remarkably small head and neck; its smooth scales--
so arranged as greatly to resemble the plaited leather of a whip--of a
polished brown-black hue increasing the resemblance.

When about to seize its prey, it darts forward with open mouth, grasping
the animal; in an instant it winds its lithe body and tail round and
round it, so as to make escape impossible.  It will thus attack birds of
prey of considerable size, and come off victorious.

Travellers unacquainted with the reptiles which haunt the wilds of
America, on first seeing a whip-snake rapidly approaching, will, with
sensations of alarm, urge on their steeds to escape--for it appears
fully capable of springing up and inflicting mortal injury; but, from
having no fangs, it is unable to harm any one.  From the delicacy of its
colour, the elegance of its form, and the rapidity and gracefulness of
its movements, it cannot fail to be admired.

FROGS:--THE BULL FROG.

We shall find no small number of the frog race throughout America.
Worthy of being the president of his nation is that enormous batrachian,
the bull frog, both from his size, the power of his notes, and his
hardihood and endurance.  If we visit at night the neighbourhood of some
pool or marsh, we shall soon learn to know the sound of his voice,
especially when perhaps he and five hundred of his family are, with
their heads half out of the water, amusing themselves in the performance
of a concert, each striving to outdo his neighbour in the loudness of
his tones.  He is a first-rate swimmer; and when driven out of the hole
in which he passes the warm hours of the day, he plunges into the water,
and skims along the surface some distance before he dives below it.
Only on such occasions, or when, perhaps, a dark thunder-cloud shrouds
the sky, does he appear in the daytime, and give utterance to his notes.

He feeds on snails and water creatures; sometimes on crayfish and other
crustaceans; and occasionally, if a duckling or young chicken come in
his way, he will not scruple to take them into his capacious maw.

His ordinary size is from six to seven inches; but specimens have been
met with which have measured nineteen--and even twenty--inches, from the
nose to the extremity of their feet.  He has a smooth black skin above,
with a greenish hue on the head, and lower part of the body
greyish-white--the throat being white, dotted with green.  He can take
enormous leaps; and is so admirable a swimmer, that specimens have been
known to exist in the water without once landing for several years.

THE SOLITARY FROG.

Inland, where no water is to lie found, we shall meet with a creature of
an olive colour--the back covered with tubercles--and with a blunt nose.
It might easily be mistaken for a toad, though it is a veritable frog.
Even in winter, before the snow has disappeared, we may see the hardy
little creature making its way over the frozen surface of the ground.
At the breeding season, however, it returns, like other frogs, to the
water.  It resides for the chief part of the year in sandy districts, in
which it forms burrows, about six inches in depth, by means of a flat,
sharp-edged spur, with which it is furnished.  Into these burrows it
makes its way backwards, very much as a crab crawls into its hole when
seeking shelter from danger.  There it sits, with its head poked out,
watching for passing prey.

THE SAVANNAH CRICKET FROG.

Both in the Northern and Southern States we shall find a merry little
creature, with a voice greatly resembling that of the cricket.  Living
near the borders of stagnant pools, it frequently takes its seat on the
large leaves of water-lilies and other aquatic plants; being able, by
curious discs on its toes, to crawl easily over their smooth surfaces.

It is among the smallest of its tribe, measuring only one and a half
inches in length.  It is of a greenish-brown, variegated with streaks of
green and white, the under surface being of a yellowish-grey, tinged
with pink, and the legs banded.  Its body is slender, with the hind-legs
very long, enabling it to take enormous leaps to escape danger.

THE CHANGEABLE TREE FROG.

Throughout all parts of the continent we shall find a curious little
toad, about two inches in length, which possesses the nature of the
chameleon--in being able to change its colour according to the tints of
the object on which it rests.  By this means, so completely does it
assimilate its hue to the ground, that it often escapes observation.
The changes of colour it thus rapidly passes through are indeed
remarkable.  From a nearly perfect white, it can assume every
intermediate shade to a dark brown.  It has a very toad-like look, and
possesses skin glands which secrete an acrid fluid.  Thus it is able,
when attacked, to defend itself, as well as escape observation.

It may frequently be found on old plum-trees, where it climbs in search
of the insects which there congregate.  We shall frequently hear its
voice, especially before rain, for it is a noisy creature.  It has a
liquid note, sounding like "el" frequently repeated, and then ending
with a sharp, short monosyllable.

It leaves its arborial habitation during the breeding season, and makes
its way to the nearest pools, where it joins in the concerts of its
relatives.

It hibernates during winter, burrowing beneath the damp ground.

THE SPOTTED EFT.

Related to the salamanders, we shall find a curious creature in
Pennsylvania, and other parts of the States, known as the spotted eft,
or ambystome.  It has a thick, convex head, with a rounded muzzle; and
is of a deep violet-black colour above, and purplish-black below, the
sides being ornamented with a row of large yellow spots.  Unlike other
newts, it deposits its eggs in small packets under damp stones.  There
is another similar creature with mole-like habits, which burrows under
the ground, found in various parts of the States.

THE MENOPOMA.

Another of the same order--a formidable and savage creature--is the
menopoma, inhabiting the Ohio, Alleghany, and other rivers of the south,
frequently, from its propensities, called the young alligator.  It is
also known as the "ground puppy," the "mud devil," and other
well-deserved, if not complimentary names.

It is about two feet in length; but the teeth, for its size, are small.
In appearance, it is ugly in the extreme; and as, from its voracious
habits, it devours a number of fish, and bites fiercely when captured,
it is especially hated by the fishermen, who believe it to be venomous,
and treat it as seamen do the detested shark.

The above names have been given to it in consequence of its voracity,
and its being found generally in muddy bottoms.

THE CONGO SNAKE.

In digging into the mud, sometimes a number of snake-like creatures,
between two and three feet long, are turned up--which have hidden
themselves away, often three feet below the surface--in the Southern
States.  On examination, however, they will be found to have legs,
though small and feeble, with only two toes on each foot.  They are of a
blackish-grey above, and a lighter hue beneath.

Another species of congo snake is found with three toes,--hence the name
of three-toed congo snake is given to it.

THE NECTURUS.

Related to the curious eyeless proteus, found in the celebrated cavern
of Adelsberg, is an animal very much larger, called the necturus,
inhabiting the waters of the Mississippi, and several southern lakes.
It is a creature nearly three feet in length, with a thick body, and,
being designed to live in daylight, possesses eyes.  It is between a
fish and a reptile, as it is furnished with large, well-tufted gills;
and, at the same time, has four legs, and four toes on each foot, though
it is destitute of claws.

It is of an olive-brown colour dotted with black, and a black streak
reaching from one end of the body to the termination of the somewhat
thick, short tail.

THE SIREN, OR MUD EEL.

Another curious batrachian, the mud eel, is found in Carolina, in marshy
situations.  Its total length is about three feet.  The head is small,
as is the eye, while on each side of it are three beautifully plumed
gill-tufts.  It has no hind-legs; while the front pair are very small,
and do not aid it in moving along the ground.  This it does in the
wriggling fashion of an eel; indeed, when discovered in the soft mud in
which it delights to live, the creature, at the first glance, would be
taken for an eel.  It has many of the habits of that animal, living on
worms and insects; indeed, it is difficult to say whether it should be
classed with eels or batrachians.  It is, however, a true amphibian,
respiring either in the water by means of branchiae, or in the air by
means of lungs.  It approaches, in the structure of its head, to the
salamanders, though much less so in its general form and proportions.

The curious "axolotl," which we shall meet with in Mexico, belongs to a
closely allied genus.

GRASSHOPPERS, OR LOCUSTS.

When travelling across the prairies, we may, at times, when gazing
upwards at the sky, see what appears to be a vast cloud approaching from
the horizon.  It is produced by infinite swarms of locusts, or
grasshoppers, as they are called in North America.  [From Professor
Hind's "Red River Exploring Expedition."]  About noon they appear to
lessen perceptibly the rays of the sun.  The whole horizon wears an
unearthly ashy hue, from the light reflected by their transparent wings.
The air is filled as with flakes of snow.  The clouds of insects,
forming a dense body, cast a glimmering, silvery light from altitudes
varying from 500 to 1000 feet.  The sky, as near the sun as its light
will allow us to gaze, appears continually changing colour, from blue to
silvery white, ashy grey, and lead colour, according to the numbers in
the passing clouds of insects.  Opposite to the sun, the prevailing hue
is a silvery white, perceptibly flashing.  Now, towards the south, east,
and west, it appears to radiate a soft, grey-tinted light, with a
quivering motion.  Should the day be calm, the hum produced by the
vibration of so many millions of wings is quite indescribable, and more
resembles the noise popularly termed "a ringing in one's ears," than any
other sound.  The aspect of the heavens during the period that the
greatest flight is passing by is singularly striking.  It produces a
feeling of uneasiness, amazement, and awe, as if some terrible
unforeseen calamity were about to happen.

When the grasshoppers are resting from their long journeys, or in the
morning when feeding on the grass and leaves, they rise in clouds as we
march through the prairie; and when the wind blows, they become very
troublesome, flying with force against our faces, and into the nostrils
and eyes of the horses, filling every crevice in the carts.
Fortunately, comparatively few take flight on a windy day, otherwise it
would be impossible to make headway against such an infinite host in
rapid motion before the wind, although composed individually of such
insignificant members.  The portions of the prairie visited by the
grasshoppers wear a curious appearance.  The grass may be seen cut
uniformly to one inch from the ground.  The whole surface is covered
with the small, round, green exuviae of these destructive invaders.
They frequently fly at an enormous height above the earth.  An engineer
engaged in the Nebraska survey, mentions that, when standing on the
summit of a peak of the Rocky Mountains, 8500 feet above the level of
the plains in Nebraska--being 14,500 feet above that of the sea--he saw
them above his head as far as their size rendered them visible.

Grasshoppers are excellent prognosticators of a coming storm.  They may
be seen at times descending perpendicularly from a great height, like
hail--a sign of approaching rain.  At this time the air, as far as the
eye can penetrate, appears filled with them.  Early in the morning they
commence their flight, and continue it till late in the afternoon, when
they settle round the traveller in countless multitudes, clinging to the
leaves of the grass, as if resting after their journey.

They are fearful depredators.  Not only do they destroy the husbandman's
crops, but so voracious are they, that they will attack every article
left even for a few minutes on the ground--saddle-girths, leather bags,
and clothing of all descriptions, are devoured without distinction.  Mr
Hind says that ten minutes sufficed for them to destroy three pairs of
woollen trousers which had been carelessly thrown on the grass.  The
only way to protect property from these depredators is to pile it on a
waggon or cart out of reach.

Two distinct broods of grasshoppers appear--one with wings not yet
formed, which has been hatched on the spot; the other, full-grown
invaders from the southern latitudes.  They sometimes make their
appearance at Red River.  However, Mr Ross, for long a resident in that
region, states that from 1819, when the colonists' scanty crops were
destroyed by grasshoppers, to 1856, they had not returned in sufficient
numbers to commit any material damage.  Their ravages, indeed, are not
to be compared to those committed by the red locust in Egypt; and yet
Egypt has ever been one of the chief granaries of the world.



PART TWO, CHAPTER ONE.

MEXICO AND CENTRAL AMERICA.

MEXICO.

If we glance over Mexico, we shall see that the country is, like the
continent of which it forms a part, of a triangular shape,--the eastern
portion bounded by the Gulf of Mexico, low and flat sandy deserts or
noxious marshes being spread over it, and with a narrow belt of level
land at the base of the mountains on the Pacific shore.  A series of
terraces broken by ravines form the sides of a vast table-land,--six
thousand feet above the plain,--which stretches from north to south
throughout the interior, separated here and there by rocky ridges into
smaller plateaux; while vast mountains in several parts rise from their
midst--that of Popocatepetl, the highest in Mexico, reaching to a height
of 17,884 feet, with Orizaba, almost of equal elevation, and several
mountains not much inferior to them, their snowy summits seen from afar,
through the clear atmosphere of that lofty region.  Several are active
volcanoes; the most curious being that of Jorullo, surrounded by
miniature mountains emitting smoke and fire, and presenting the wildest
scene of utter desolation.  They form pinnacles of the great range of
the Andes and the Rocky Mountains.  From the midst of the great
table-land of Anahuac, flows towards the north the river of Santiago,
its course exceeding four hundred miles, passing in its way through the
large lake of Chapala.  Some of these table-lands are even eight
thousand feet above the sea.  The most lofty is so cold, that during the
greater part of the day the thermometer varies between 42 degrees and 46
degrees.  The great table-land to the east of the Sierra Madre has an
elevation which varies from three thousand to six thousand feet.  To the
west of that sierra, is the region of Sonora; while eastward, across the
Rocky Mountains, is the great valley of New Mexico, watered by the Rio
Grande del Norte, which has a course of nearly fourteen hundred miles.

We have thus, in Mexico, a region of elevated plateaux with numerous
lofty mountains, steep and broken hill-sides, with deep valleys, watered
by numerous streams, and a wide extent of low, level country under the
rays of a tropical sun.  These several regions possess a great
difference in climate, and a corresponding variation in their
productions, and, in most instances, in the animals which inhabit them.
The domestic animals introduced by the Spaniards, have multiplied
greatly, so that vast herds of cattle and horses run wild on the
table-lands and lower tracts.  Sheep also abound, especially on the
northern table-lands.  The buffalo makes his way to the great plains
bordering the Red River and Arkansas; while deer, in large herds, abound
on the higher plains.  They are followed, as elsewhere, by packs of
wolves and foxes or wild dogs; while the puma makes himself at home
here, as he does in Southern America.  The bear takes possession of many
a mountain cavern; the beaver and otter inhabit the banks of the streams
and lakes; the raccoon is found in the woods; and the antelope bounds
across the plains.

We know more about the feathered tribes than the mammalia of Mexico.
There are upwards of one hundred and fourteen species of land birds, one
half of which are unknown in other parts of the world.  Still, out of
this entire number of species, only one new genus--which connects the
family of the tyrant-shrikes with that of the caterpillar-catchers--has
been discovered.  There are two species of this genus, in both of which
the males differ greatly from the females.  In this intermediate region
we find numerous genera which exist both in Northern and, Southern
America intermixed.  Several South American birds have found their way
into Mexico,--as the mot-mots and trogons, the harpy and carracara
eagles, the hang-nest, the true and red tanagers, parrots, parrakeets,
macaws, creepers, crest-finches, and the fork-tailed and even-tailed
humming-birds.  Of the genera peculiar to North America,--but which are
unknown in the South,--found in Mexico, are the fan-tailed wagtails,
titmice, and worm-eating warblers--blue robins, ground-finch and
sand-finch, crescent-starlings and ground-woodpecker.  The sand-finch
is, however, found in the Brazils.  Vast numbers of aquatic birds
frequent the lakes and marshes of the table-lands of the interior, as
well as the rivers and shores of the coast, nearly the whole of which
are well known in the United States, the greater number also inhabiting
the Arctic regions.

Among the reptiles, there is one curious creature, peculiar to the
country, allied to the siren of Carolina.  It is the axolotl, which
partakes of the form of a fish, and abounds in many of the lakes in
Mexico.  It is much esteemed as an article of food by the inhabitants of
the neighbourhood.

We cannot speak of Mexico without having our minds drawn to the time of
the Aztec monarchy,--when sumptuous palaces, enormous temples,
fortresses, and other public edifices covered the face of the country.
In the midst of the territory, on the western shore of the large lake of
Tezcuco, stood the city of Tenochtitlan, the superb capital of the
unfortunate Montezuma, on the site of which has arisen the modern
Mexico.  Though its glory has long passed away, the enormous ruins which
still remain attest its past grandeur.  Vast pyramids, on a scale and of
a massiveness which vie with those of Egypt, still rear their lofty
heads in great numbers throughout the country; while the ruins of other
buildings prove that the architecture of Mexico in many points resembled
that on the banks of the Nile.  Some of these pyramids might rather be
called towers.  They consist of a series of truncated pyramids placed
one above another, each successive one being smaller than the one on
which it immediately rests--thus standing in reality upon a platform or
terrace.  The great pyramidal tower of Cholula is of this character,
resembling somewhat the temple of Belus, according to the description
given of it by Herodotus.  It reaches a height of 177 feet, and the
length of each side of its base is 1440 feet.  In its neighbourhood are
two other pyramids--teocalles, as they are called--of smaller
dimensions.  These temples, or teocalles, were very numerous, and in
each of the principal cities there were several hundreds of them.  The
top, on which was a broad area, was reached by a flight of steps.  On
this area were one or two towers forty or fifty feet high, in which
stood the images of the presiding deities.  In front of the towers was
the stone of sacrifice, and two lofty altars, on which fires were kept
burning, inextinguishable as those in the temple of Vesta.  In the great
temple of Mexico there were said to be six hundred of these altars, the
fires from which illuminated the streets through the darkest night.

Deeply interesting as is the subject of the architecture and the
remarkable state of civilisation of the Aztecs, we must not dwell longer
upon it, except to mention the cyclopean roads and bridges, constructed
of huge blocks of stone, and carried on a continuous level, across
valleys, which still remain.  There are also, in various parts of the
country, excavations, rock-hewn halls, and caverns, generally
dome-shaped, the centre apartment lighted through an aperture in the
vault.  They somewhat resemble the cyclopean fabric near Argos, called
the Treasury of Atreus.  Not only the buildings, but the hieroglyphics,
of the Aztecs, so closely resemble those of the Egyptians, that there
appears every reason to suppose they were derived from the same source.

Among the natural curiosities of Mexico, one of the most remarkable is
that of the rock-bridge in the valley Icononzo, which might, from its
form--until closely examined--be mistaken for a work of art.

The great mass of the population of Mexico consists of the descendants
of those tribes which inhabited the country at the time of the Spanish
invasion.  The language most extensively spoken, as well by the
civilised as the savage tribes, is still that of the Aztecs.  The people
of pure European blood are supposed not to amount to thirty thousand.
About a quarter of the population consists of Creoles, descendants of
Europeans and Indians known as Mestizos, while there is a small number
of Mulattoes, and another race, the Zambos--descendants of Africans and
Indians.

Mexico has long been in a chronic state of revolution.  From a province
of Spain it became an independent empire; afterwards a republic; and
once more, under the unfortunate Maximilian, it was placed under
imperial rule, finally to fall into a far greater state of anarchy than
before.

Before we quit Mexico, a remarkable result of hydraulic action must be
mentioned, found on the sea-coast of that region.  It is known as the
buffadero.  At the termination of a long rugged point, the water of the
ocean, forced by a current or the waves, is projected through a fissure
or natural tube in the rock, forming a beautiful _jet d'eau_ many feet
in height.

BIRDS OF MEXICO:--THE SCARLET TANAGER.

Among the winter inhabitants of Mexico, one of the handsomest is the
scarlet tanager--a small bird, being only six or seven inches in length.
It migrates north in the spring, generally making its appearance in the
United States about the end of April, where it remains till the breeding
season is over.

The colour of the male bird is a brilliant scarlet, with the exception
of the tail and wings, which are deep black.  The tail is forked, and
has a white tip.  This gay plumage is, however, only donned during the
summer, for when it returns to Mexico in the autumn, its body is covered
with a number of greyish-yellow feathers, giving it a mottled
appearance.  Its note is powerful, but not particularly musical.

Wilson describes it as a remarkably affectionate bird.  Having captured
a young one, it was placed in a cage high up on a tree.  The father bird
discovered it, and was seen to bring it food, roosting at night on a
neighbouring bough.  After continuing to do so for three or four days,
he showed by his actions and voice that he was trying to make the young
one come out and follow him.  So distressed did he appear, that at last
the kind-hearted naturalist set the prisoner at liberty, when it flew
off with its parent, who, with notes of exultation, accompanied its
flight to the woods.

THE ANIS, OR SAVANNAH BLACKBIRD.

The farmers of Mexico and the Southern States of America whose fields
are frequented by the anis, are much indebted to that handsome and
somewhat conspicuous bird.  It is of a black hue glossed with green,
equalling a pigeon in size--its long tail adding to its apparent length.
Its chief food consists of grasshoppers, locusts, and small lizards,
but it rids cows of the ticks and other parasitic insects which fasten
on their backs, where they cannot be rubbed off.  So conscious are the
cattle of the service thus rendered them, that they will lie down to
allow the blackbird to perform the operation at its ease.  It is even
asserted that, should the cow neglect to place herself in a suitable
attitude, the blackbird will hop about in front of her nose, and allow
her no peace till she does as required.

Large flocks of these birds appear together, uttering deafening cries.
When fired at, even though many of them are killed, the survivors hover
to a short distance, regardless of the danger in which they are placed.
They build remarkably large nests; sometimes, indeed, several pairs of
birds build one together--much in the same way as do the sociable
weaver-birds of Africa--where they live together on friendly terms.

It resembles another African bird in its habit of picking off ticks from
the backs of oxen, the same duty being performed by the South American
goatsucker.

MASSINA'S TROGON--THE MEXICAN TROGON.

These birds are remarkable for their beautiful plumage.  The first
measures about fourteen inches in length.  The crown of the head, back,
and chest are of a deep, rich green; the ear-coverts and throat, glossy
black; the breast and abdomen, of a rich scarlet.  A grey tint covers
the centre of the wings, which are pencilled with jet-black lines.  The
quill-feathers are also black, each being edged with white; and the bill
is a light yellow.  The females differ considerably from the males.
They are shy and retiring birds, and their habits, consequently, are
difficult to study.

The Mexican trogon is much smaller than the former, being only a foot in
total length, of which the tail occupies nearly eight inches.  Few birds
are more beautifully adorned than the male trogon.  The head is of a
bright yellow; the upper surface of the body, with the chest, being of a
rich, glossy green; while the whole under surface is a bright scarlet.
The throat and ear-coverts are black, and a white band of a crescent
shape surrounds the throat.  The wings are nearly entirely black.  The
tail is partly black, the two central feathers being green, tipped with
black.  The females and young males differ greatly, but their plumage is
still very handsome.

THE RESPLENDENT TROGON.

The resplendent trogon is a native of Mexico, and, like all its
congeners, is fond of hiding its beauty in the dark glades of the rich
tropical forests.  Its skin is remarkably delicate, and so thin that it
has been compared to wet blotting-paper; while the plumage is so lightly
set, that when the bird is shot, the feathers will fall freely from
their sockets, through the force of the blow.

The colour of the adult male bird is a rich golden green, on the crest,
head, neck, throat, chest, and shoulder-plumes.  The breast and under
parts shine with as bright a scarlet as the uniform of an English
guardsman; the central feathers of the tail are black, and the exterior
white, with black bars.  The resplendent plumes which overhang the tail
are seldom less than three feet in length, so that the total length of
this gorgeous bird will frequently reach four feet.  The bill is of a
light yellow.

This species of trogon feeds chiefly on vegetable diet.  We may add that
in old times its long plumes were among the insignia of Mexican
monarchy, and none but members of the "blood royal" were permitted to
wear its gorgeous feathers.

REPTILES:--THE RHINOPHRYNE.

The tongues of frogs, instead of pointing outwards, are directed towards
the throat.  This species differs from the rest of its tribe, by having
its tongue free and pointing forwards.  Its rounded head sinks
completely into the body, the muzzle being abruptly truncated, so as to
form a circular disc in front.  So extremely small is the gape, that it
would not be supposed, if separated from the body, to have belonged to a
frog.  On each side of the neck there is a gland, deeply sunk, and
almost concealed by the skin.

The body of this curious creature is extremely short and thick, and its
feet are half webbed.  At the end of each of the hinder feet is a flat,
oval, horny spur--its only means of offence and defence, as it possesses
no teeth in its head.

It is of a slaty-grey colour, with yellow spots on the sides and back.
Occasionally the latter unite, so as to form a jagged line along the
back.

THE AXOLOTL.

Among the batrachians found in Mexico is the curious axolotl, which
frequents the great lake on which the chief city is built, as well as
numerous other lakes, some at a considerable elevation above the ocean.
It is between eight and ten inches long, of rather a dark greyish-brown
colour, thickly covered with black spots.  Those who have seen a newt in
its larva state, may form a correct idea of the gills which project from
either side of the head.

Naturalists differ in opinion as to whether it is really an adult
batrachian, or merely the larva of some much larger creature.  In many
localities it is very plentiful; and the flesh being eatable and of a
delicate character, the creature is sold in great numbers in the
markets.

Being furnished with both kinds of respiratory organs, it can breathe
equally well on land or in the water.  It has a broad, flat head, blunt
nose, and eyes situated near the muzzle.  Though living so much in the
water, its toes are not connected by intermediate membranes--indeed,
they appear only to be intended for service on shore--its tail, nearly
as long as its body, serving as a propeller in the water.



PART TWO, CHAPTER TWO.

CENTRAL AMERICA.

Leaving the continent of North America, which may be said to terminate
at the southern end of Mexico, we enter that extremely irregular portion
of land which, now widening, now narrowing again, stretches in a
south-easterly direction till it unites with the southern half of the
American continent at the Isthmus of Panama.  We find in Central America
three marked centres of elevation.  The first we reach is the great
plain, nearly 6000 feet above the level of the sea, on which the city of
Guatemala is situated.  Numerous volcanic peaks rise from its midst;
from it also flow several large rivers, some falling into the Gulf of
Mexico, others eastward into the Gulf of Honduras, while smaller streams
send their waters westward into the Pacific Ocean.  The banks of these
rivers are mostly covered with the richest tropical vegetation--the
scenery of the river Polochie in Guatemala being especially beautiful.
Another high plain occupies the centre of Honduras, and extends into the
northern part of Nicaragua.  From it also rise numberless streams, some
emptying themselves into the Caribbean Sea, and others into the Lakes of
Nicaragua and Managua.  Further south rises the volcano of Cartago.
Here the Cordilleras resume their general character of a vast mountain
barrier, but once more sink down into low ridges as the chain passes
through the Isthmus of Panama.

As in South America, the Cordilleras run close along the Pacific coast.
In consequence, the rivers which flow from their heights have a long
course on the Atlantic side, and have carried down a large quantity of
alluvial soil.  Here, too, rain falls in greater or lesser quantities
throughout the year.  The vegetation is consequently rank, and the
climate damp, and proportionately unhealthy.  As the trade-winds blow
from the north-east, the moisture with which they are saturated is
condensed against the mountainsides, and flows backwards towards the
Atlantic.  The Pacific slope is, therefore, comparatively dry and
salubrious--as indeed are also the elevated table-lands of the interior.

The whole region is subject to earthquakes, and numberless volcanoes
rise in all directions.  In the low ridge which separates the Lake of
Nicaragua from the Pacific are several volcanic hills, most of them
active; while further to the north-west, in the district of Conchagua--
scarcely more than one hundred and eighty miles in length--there are
upwards of twenty volcanoes.  The two most lofty are found in the
Guatemala range--that of Fuego being upwards of 12,000 feet in height,
and that of Agua, 18,000 feet.

Many parts of the interior of the country have been but very partially
explored, and are, indeed, almost unknown.  Of the purely native tribes,
most of them have become mingled with Spaniards or negroes.  Parts of
the coast are inhabited by mixed races of Caribs, who have migrated from
Saint Vincent, one of the Leeward islands.  These Caribs are known as
the Black and Yellow Caribs--the former being the descendants of the
survivors of the cargo of an African slaver, wrecked in the
neighbourhood of that island.  The descendants of the Spaniards are the
dominant race, and they have divided the country into various republics,
though the greater portion is still in almost as savage a condition as
when first discovered.

HONDURAS AND THE MOSQUITO COUNTRY.

The English have, however, a settlement in Honduras; and there is an
Indian state forming the eastern portion of Nicaragua, under the
government--if so it can be called--of a native king.  His territory is
known as the Mosquito Country, from the name of the chief native tribe
over which he rules.

The climate is very similar to that of the West Indies.  On the lower
lands a variety of tropical productions can be brought to perfection,
while in the high regions cereals of various sorts are abundantly
produced.

FAUNA.

The fauna partakes partly of the character of that of the equatorial
regions of South America, and of the semi-tropical districts of Mexico.
There are several varieties of ant-eaters, similar to those found in the
valley of the Amazon, while the grey squirrel of more northern latitudes
skips playfully amid the forests of the interior.  In the woods and wide
savannahs are two or more varieties of deer--one resembling the European
deer in colour, but of less size, and adorned with large antlers.  The
other is of a lighter and browner tint, possessing short, smooth-pointed
horns.  The peccary is common in the valleys and low ground along the
coast; while the waree, or wild hog, runs in large droves in many
districts.  The tapir, similar to that of the southern continent, also
frequents the seashore and banks of the rivers; and another species,
peculiar to the region, is said to have been discovered lately.  There
are numerous varieties of monkeys, among which are the brown, the
horned, and the little, playful capuchin.  The raccoon, as elsewhere, is
common, and is noted for its thieving propensities.  It lives chiefly on
animal food.  There is an interesting little opossum of about ten feet
in length, of a grey colour, with a somewhat large head, and a long and
very flexible tail--the feet being provided with sharp claws.  When the
young leave the mother's pouch, she can place them on her back, to which
they cling, while she scrambles amid the forest boughs.  Besides the
great ant-eater, there is the smaller striped ant-eater, and the little
ant-eater.  There is a curious creature, called the quash, resembling
the ichneumon, which possesses a peculiarly fetid smell, and is known
for its powerful, lacerating teeth.  There are several species, also, of
the armadillo, distinguished as the three-banded, eight-banded, and
nine-banded.  The paca is also very plentiful, and becomes easily
domesticated.  It reaches two feet in length, and its thick, clumsy
form, of a dusky brown colour, may be seen scampering through the woods.
The agouti, or Indian cony, or rabbit, frequents the same region as the
paca, and is about the size of an ordinary hare.  It does not, however,
run in the same way, but moves by frequent leaps.  The jaguar ranges
through the whole of this part of the continent, and is remarkable for
its large size and great strength.  Not only does it frequently kill
full-grown cattle, and drag them to its lair far-away in the woods, but,
if irritated, it does not hesitate to attack human beings.  The
tiger-cat, or ocelot, which much resembles a common cat, but is
considerably larger, is also found in the forest; but at the sight of
man it takes to flight, and is, therefore, less frequently seen than its
fiercer relatives.  The puma also makes its way from one end of the
country to the other; but though destructive to cattle, it is said here,
as elsewhere, to fly from the face of man.  The savage wolf, the cayote,
is frequently met with.

A considerable number of the birds of South America, or of allied
species, are found in many parts of the country.  This is the home of
the resplendent trogon, called the quetzal--the imperial bird of the
Quiches.  It, however, has but a limited range, being found only in the
mountains of Merendon in Honduras, and in the department of
Quezaltenango in Guatemala.  There are numerous varieties of the parrot
tribe, many of them of the most magnificent description with regard to
their colouring.  Here, also, the forests are adorned with the gay
plumage of the red and blue macaws, as also by a toucan with a yellow
tail.  It is remarkable not only for its bright colour, but for its
curious pendent nests, of which frequently fifty are seen hanging
together from the branch of a single tree.  Among the birds of prey, the
ever-present turkey-buzzard and other vultures, hawks, owls, and
sea-eagles, are common; as is the Mexican jay, the ring-bird, the
rice-bird, swallow, and numerous varieties of humming-birds.  Among the
water birds are the pelican, the muscovy, and black duck; the
spoon-bill, plover, curlew, teal, darter; while herons, ibises, and
cranes, are found in great numbers on the shores of the lagoons and
rivers.  In the interior of the country the splendid Honduras turkey, as
well as the curassow, and several varieties of the wood-pigeon and dove,
as also the partridge, quail, and snipe, exist in abundance.

Of the reptile tribes, alligators of great size are found in nearly all
the lagoons and rivers.  There is an infinite variety of lizards,--the
most noted of which is the iguana, which frequently attains a length of
four feet;--and its flesh is here, as in other parts of the continent,
esteemed.  There are many varieties of serpents, some of which are
harmless.  Of the venomous species, there are the golden snake, the
whip-snake, and the tamagas--the bite of which is considered deadly.  So
is also that of the corral.  It is of the most brilliant colour, covered
with alternate rings of green, black, and red.  To this last may be
added the rattlesnake and the ordinary black snake.  Most of these
snakes are found in the lower region near the sea-coast.

In all the rivers and lakes, tortoises and turtles of several kinds are
abundant.  The land turtle reaches a foot in length.  Its shell is of a
dark colour.  It is eaten, but is not esteemed of so good a quality as
the sea turtle.  The coasts are frequented by various species of sea
turtle, known as the green, the hawks-bill--which affords the best
tortoise-shell to commerce--and the trunk-turtle, which is larger than
either of its two relatives.  From its flesh is extracted a kind of oil,
which is of considerable value.

The hawks-bill turtle, which gains that name from its narrow, sharp, and
curved beak, like that of a hawk, is also called the imbricated turtle,
because its scales overlap each other at their extremities, as tiles are
placed on the roofs of houses.

The green or edible turtle is of great size, weighing often six hundred
pounds, and being upwards of five feet in length.  It gains its name
from its rich fat, which is of a green colour; and its flesh is
considered very much superior to that of all its relatives.

The variety and kinds of Crustacea are almost numberless, from the
largest lobster to the smallest crab.  Two species--the mangrove crab,
and the white and black land crab--are found near the mouths of the
rivers and in all the lagoons; while the curious soldier crabs, which
seem as much at home in one element as in the other, inhabit in vast
numbers the trees which lie rotting half submerged in the water.  At
certain times they may be found making their way into the interior, to
return afterwards to the ocean.

The neighbourhood of the ocean, and the rivers and lakes of the
interior, swarm with an endless variety of fish; while the huge manatee,
or sea-cow, is found in most of the rivers.

THE MAHOGANY-TREE.

The most valuable production of the forests of this part of the world is
the mahogany-tree of Honduras, well-deserving, from its magnificent
foliage and vast size, to be called the king of the forest.  It is
remarkably slow of growth, its increase during half a century being
scarcely perceptible.

The life of the mahogany-cutter is wild in the extreme, yet he carries
on his occupation in a systematic manner.  Parties, or gangs, are
formed, consisting of fifty men, with a captain, or hunter, attached to
each.  The business of the hunter is to search out the mahogany-trees
fit for cutting.  To do this, he makes his way through the thick forest
to the highest ground in the neighbourhood he can find, and then climbs
one of the tallest trees.  From thence he surveys the surrounding
country in search of the foliage, which presents a yellow, reddish hue,
assumed by the mahogany--tree at that season of the year--about August.
Having thus discovered a spot on which a number of the sought-for trees
grow, he descends, and as rapidly as possible leads his party to it,
lest any others on the search should be before them.  Huts are now
built, roofed with long grass, or the branches of the thatch-palm.  His
furniture consists of a hammock swung between two posts, and a couple of
stones on which his kettle is supported.  Stages, on which the axemen
stand, are erected round the trees, which are cut down about ten or
twelve feet from the ground.  The trunk is considered most valuable, on
account of the size of the wood it furnishes; but the branches are also
of value, from their grain being closer and more variegated.

While one party is employed in cutting down the trees, another is
engaged in forming a main road to the nearest river, with others from
the various spots where the axemen are at work leading to it.  This
operation is concluded by the end of December.  The trees are now sawn
into logs of various lengths, and are squared by the axe, in order to
lessen their weight, and to prevent them from rolling in the truck.
When the dry weather sets in--about April or May--trucking commences.
The trucks are drawn by seven pair of oxen.  Each is accompanied by two
drivers, sixteen men to cut food for the cattle, and twelve to load the
trucks.  In consequence of the hot sun during the day; trucking is
always carried on at night.  A wild scene is presented while the trucks
are moving from the forest, each accompanied by several men carrying
torches, the drivers cracking their whips and uttering their shouts.
Thus they go on till they reach the river's brink, when the logs--each
marked with the owner's initials--are thrown into the water, and the
trucks return for a fresh load.  When the rains commence, the roads are
impassable, and all trucking ceases.

As the rivers are swelled by the rains, the mahogany-logs are floated
away, followed by the gangs in flat-bottomed canoes, called pit-pans.
Their crews are employed in liberating the logs from the branches of the
overhanging trees and other impediments, till they are stopped by a beam
placed near the mouth of the river.  The logs of each owner are now
collected into large rafts, in which state they are floated down to the
wharves of the proprietors.  Here they are newly smoothed, and made
ready for shipping to England.

Many other valuable woods come from this region.  Rosewood is common on
the northern coast of Honduras.  The bushes which produce gum-arabic
abound in all the open savannahs on the Pacific slope.  In the forest is
found the copaiba-tree, producing a healing liquid.  Here also are found
the copal-tree, the palma-christi, the ipecacuanha--the root of which is
so extensively used in medicine--the liquid amber, as well as
caoutchouc.  Here the vast ceiba, or silk-cotton-tree, is abundant, from
which canoes are frequently hollowed out.  Indeed, a considerable number
of the trees found on the banks of the Orinoco and Amazon here also come
to perfection.

HUMMING-BIRDS:--THE SLENDER SHEAR-TAIL.

Central America is the home of several beautiful species of those minute
members of the feathered tribe--the humming-birds.  Among them is found
the slender shear-tail, which will be known by its deeply-forked black
tail, its wings of purple-brown, and its body of deep shining green,
changing to brown on the head, and bronze on the back and wing-coverts.
The chin is black, with a green gloss; the throat is of a deep metallic
purple; while a large crescent-shaped mark of huff appears on the upper
part of the chest.  There is a grey spot in the centre of the abdomen,
and a buff one on each flank, the under tail-coverts being of a greenish
hue.

The female differs greatly from her consort.  Her tail is short, the
central feathers being of a golden green; the exterior ones rusty-red at
their base, and black for the greater part of their length, with white
tips.  The upper part of her body is also of a golden green; the lower
of a reddish-buff.

THE RUFUS FLAME-BEARER.

The beautiful little rufus flame-bearers belong to the genus
Phaethornis.  They are known by their long, graduated tails, all the
feathers of which are pinnated--the two central ones extending far
beyond the others.  "They may be seen early in the year, darting,
buzzing, and squeaking in the usual manner of their tribe, engaged in
collecting sweets in all the energy of life, appearing like breathing
gems--magic carbuncles of glowing fire--stretching out their glorious
ruffs, as if to emulate the sun itself in splendour.  The female sits
towards the close of May, when the males are uncommonly quarrelsome and
vigilant, darting out as the stranger approaches the nest, looking like
angry coals of brilliant fire, returning several times to the attack
with the utmost velocity, at the same time uttering a curious,
reverberating, sharp bleat, somewhat similar to the quivering twang of a
dead twig, and curiously like the real bleat of some small quadruped.
At other times the males may be seen darting high up in the air, and
whirling about each other in great anger and with much velocity.

"The nests are funnel-shaped, measuring about two and a quarter inches
in depth, and one and three-quarters in breadth at the upper part,
composed of mosses, lichens, and feathers woven together with vegetable
fibres, and lined with soft cotton."

This description is given by Mr Nuttal the naturalist, and quoted by
Audubon.

PRINCESS HELENA'S COQUETTE.

This beautiful little gem--a native of Vera Paz, in Guatemala--is
adorned somewhat after the fashion of the Birds of Paradise, its head
being ornamented with six long, green, hair-like feathers, three on
either side of the body.  The upper part is of a coppery bronze colour,
a band of buff crossing the lower end of the back.  The face is green;
and the throat is adorned with emerald feathers surrounded with others
long and white.  These start from the neck, being edged with blue-black.
Beautifully adorned as is the male, the hen-bird possesses neither
crest nor neck-plumes, her colour being of a dull, bronze-green, and
greyish-white sprinkled with green on the under part of the body.

THE SPARKLING-TAIL HUMMING-BIRD.

The little sparkling-tail is one of the boldest and most familiar of its
tribe, being seen flitting from flower to flower among the gardens in
Guatemala, and remaining with perfect confidence even while people are
moving about near it.  It is one of the smallest of its tribe--the nest
being also of a proportionate size, formed of various delicate fibres,
such as spider's webs and cottony down, and covered with lichens.
Within it the female lays two eggs, scarcely larger than peas, of a
delicate, almost transparent, pearly white.  This nest is secured to a
slight twig by spider's webs.

The general colour of the male is bronzed green above, with a
crescent-shaped white mark on the lower part of the back.  It has a rich
metallic blue throat, changing in certain lights; and the wings are of a
dark purple-brown.  The tail is composed of feathers of different
tints--the two central of a rich, shining green; the next, green, marked
with bronze; and the outer, dark brown, with triangular white spots on
the inner web.

The whole length of the bird, with its forked tail, is about four
inches.  The hen has a shorter tail, the feathers purple-black, bronzed
at the base, and most of them tipped with white and ringed with buff.
The upper part of the body is of a rich bronzed green; and the lower, a
rusty-red.

Many other beautiful humming-birds appear throughout different parts of
Mexico and Central America; but we may grow weary even when examining
caskets of the most brilliant gems; and we shall have many others to
describe when we reach the southern part of the continent.

LOCUSTS.

Insect life is as active in Central America as in other parts of the
tropics.  The most dreaded insect is the locust, which makes periodical
attacks on the plantations, and in a single hour the largest fields of
maize are stripped of their leaves, the stems alone being left to show
that they once existed.  This creature is called by the natives the
"chapulin," or langosta.  They make their first appearance as little
wingless things, swarming over the ground like ants, when they are
called "santones."  In order to destroy them, the natives dig long
trenches, into which they are driven, when, unable to leap out, they are
easily buried and destroyed.  Still, vast numbers escape, when they
appear in enormous columns, darkening the air, and as they sweep
onwards, destroy every green thing in their course.  They cover the
ground on every side, then rising in clouds, fill the atmosphere with
their multitudes, causing the trees to appear brown, as if seared by
fire.  Frequently, as their hosts sweep onwards, they are seen falling
like flakes in a snow-storm from a dark cloud.  Every device that the
farmer can think of is employed to prevent their settling: sulphur is
burned, drums beaten, guns fired, and other noises made.  Often, by such
means, a plantation is preserved from destruction; but when the columns
once alight, no device avails to save the plantation from speedy
desolation.

This locust or grasshopper is generally from two and a half to four
inches in length, but specimens sometimes appear five inches long; and
it may be conceived what an enormous amount of food such monsters must
consume.



PART TWO, CHAPTER THREE.

RUINS OF CENTRAL AMERICA.

In all parts of Central America are found numerous signs that the
country was, in bygone days, inhabited by a numerous population far more
advanced in civilisation than the tribes which peopled it when first
discovered by Columbus and his companions.  In Yucatan and Chiapas,
especially, ruins of numerous houses exist, with elaborately carved
monuments and large buildings, bearing a remarkable resemblance to those
of Egypt and Babylon.  Throughout Nicaragua and other districts many
remains--such as tombs, monuments, and edifices--are found, as well as
carved rocks, which were probably the work of a people of still greater
antiquity than those who inhabited the first mentioned region.

Dr Seeman describes some rocks near the town of David, in Chiriqui, on
which characters are engraved similar, or indeed absolutely identical,
with inscriptions which have been found in the northern parts of the
British Islands.  The rock is fifteen feet high, nearly fifty feet in
circumference, and rather flat on the top.  Every part--especially the
eastern portion--is covered with incised characters about an inch or
half an inch deep.  The first figure on the left hand side represents
the radiant sun, followed by a series of heads with some variation.
These heads show a certain resemblance to one of the most curious
characters found on the British rocks.  They are followed by
scorpion-like and other fantastic figures.  The tops of the stones on
either side are covered with a number of concentric rings and ovals,
crossed with lines.  He considers them to be symbols full of meaning,
and recording ideas held to be of vital importance to the people who
used them, and whose names have become a matter of doubt.

In the district of Chontales, a vast number of ancient tombs are met
with in almost every direction.  They are found in plains having a good
drainage, such as was generally selected by the Indians for the sites of
their villages.  These tombs are of different heights and sizes.  Some
are about twenty feet long by twelve feet wide, and eight feet above the
ground.  In one which was opened was found a round pillar seven feet
high and eighteen inches across, which was standing upright in the
centre of the tomb.  There was a hand-mill for grinding corn--in shape
like those still in use in the country--a knife ten inches long, a
hatchet like a reaping-hook, and a tiger's head of natural size,--all of
stone.  In some instances gold ornaments have been found, but not in
sufficient numbers to induce the people to destroy the relics.

The Indians inhabiting Nicaragua in ancient days did not apparently
construct any large temples or stone buildings, as some other natives of
Central America have done.  They, however, formed stone figures of
considerable size, which remind us greatly of those which exist in
Easter Island in the Pacific.  These stone figures, often of colossal
dimensions, are of two different descriptions--the one having a mild,
inoffensive expression of countenance; while the others, presenting a
combination of both human and animal, have invariably a wild, savage
look, apparently for the purpose of terrifying the beholders.  The
first, it is supposed, are the idols which the ancient Nicaraguans
worshipped before the Aztec conquest of their country; while the latter
were introduced when the people had been taught to engage in the bloody
rites practised by the Mexicans.

These stone monuments, though similar, as has been remarked, to those of
Easter Island, and to others found far-away across the Pacific, are
strong corroborative proofs that America was first peopled by tribes who
made their way by various stages from the continent of Asia, though, at
the same time, that long ages have passed away since they first left
that far-distant region--the cradle of the human race.  The Indian
priests, like the Druids of old, appear to have chosen the hill-tops and
mountainsides, shady groves and dark ravines, for the sites of their
temples or places of worship.

From the midst of Lake Managua, in Nicaragua, rises the volcanic island
of Momotombita, towering in a perfect cone towards the blue sky.  In the
midst of a natural amphitheatre on the slope of the mountain were
discovered a large number of statues (fifty or more), arranged in the
form of a square, their faces looking inwards.  Many were cast down, but
others stood erect, though all apparently had been more or less
purposely mutilated.  Some of the figures represent males, but others
are undoubtedly those of females.  They are cut in black basalt of
intense hardness.  The features of the face of one, which has been
conveyed to the Museum at Washington, are singularly bold and severe in
outline.  The brow is broad, the nose aquiline, while the arms and legs
are rudely indicated.  Other curious idols have been dug up in the
neighbourhood of the town of Leon.  The Spanish priests, anxious to put
down the ancient idolatry from the time of their arrival in the country,
have taken pains to destroy these idols, and many have been mutilated
and others buried by their orders.

In the island of Zapetero, rising out of Lake Nicaragua, there are a
still greater number of statues--some from eight to twelve feet in
height, and others of still greater magnitude--elaborately carved out of
hard stone.  Sometimes they are placed round mounds which have evidently
served the purpose of altars, on which human sacrifices probably were
offered.  One of the most interesting which has been brought to light is
twelve feet high, sculptured from a single block, and representing a
human figure seated on a high pedestal, the stone at the back of the
head being cut in the form of a cross.  The limbs are heavy, and the
face large and expressive of great complacency.

Some of the idols represent an animal, apparently a tiger, springing
upon the head and back of a human figure.  One--also at the Washington
Museum--represents a man squatted on his haunches, with one hand at his
side, and the other placed on his breast.  The head is erect, and the
forehead encircled by a fillet, much carved.  The features are unlike
most others--indeed, it seems as if each one had its individual
characteristic.  A jaguar appears on the back of this statue, its
fore-paws resting upon the shoulders, and its hind ones upon the hips,
while it grasps in its mouth the back part of the head of the figure.

Although many of the figures represent human beings, others are those of
animals.  One, a jaguar, is seated on its haunches, the head thrown
forward, the mouth open,--the attitude and expression being that of
great ferocity.  It is very boldly sculptured.  Another, a very well
proportioned human figure, is seated on a square throne raised five feet
from the ground.  It is remarkable for having on its head another
monstrous head, representing some fierce animal.  The heads of several
of the idols are thus surmounted.  These symbolical heads were probably
introduced with the same object as those which were so general among the
Egyptian idols.

In the midst of this collection of idols are two or more oblong stones,
on the sides of which are hieroglyphical inscriptions.  In the centre
are hollow places, probably designed to receive the blood of the
victims.

It is remarkable that the heads of many of the figures are surmounted
with cross-shaped ornaments similar to the one discovered at Palenque by
Mr Stevens.  One of these crosses--which no doubt had their origin in
Babylon, where they are well-known symbols--was set up by the Spaniards
in the convent-church of Tonala, and there venerated.

The Mexicans possessed a symbol called the _Tonacaquahutl_, or "tree of
life," which was represented with branches somewhat in the form of a
cross, surmounted by a bird.  This symbol also appears on a tablet
discovered by Mr Stevens at Palenque.  In various parts of the country
terra cotta figures have been dug up.  Some of them are rude, but others
are extremely artistic; and though not equally graceful, resemble much,
in the form of the limbs, many Egyptian figures.  Among them is a figure
from the island of Ometepe, which represents an alligator upon the back
of a human figure, which apparently originally surmounted a large vase.

Mounds similar to those found in the valley of the Mississippi have been
discovered in Honduras.  But by far the most interesting remains are
those of Palenque, in Chiapas; of Copan, in Honduras; and of Uxmal and
Chi-chen, in Yucatan.  Here are extensive ruins of cities, containing
the remains of pyramids, and the walls of massive buildings, broken
columns, altars, statues, and numberless sculptured fragments, showing
that a large population inhabited this country, and that the people had
attained a considerable knowledge of the arts, though, at the same time,
they seem to have been sunk in the grossest idolatry.

In the western part of Honduras, adjoining the province of Guatemala,
are extensive ruins, which stretch for more than two miles along the
banks of the river Copan.  The outer walls, which run north and south
along the margin of the stream, are from sixty to ninety feet high;
while other walls, of a similar character, surround the principal ruins.
Within these walls are extensive terraces and pyramidal buildings,
massive stone columns, idols, and altars covered with sculpture.  The
numerous terraces and pyramids are also walled with cut stone, and
ornamented with carved heads of gigantic proportions, and colossal idols
of solid stone from ten to fifteen feet in height.  The altars in front
of the statues are of single blocks of stone, many of them richly
carved, but all differing from each other.  One of the most remarkable
altars stands on four globes cut out of the same stone.  It is six feet
square and four feet high, its top covered with hieroglyphics, while
each side represents four individuals.  The figure is sitting
cross-legged, in the Oriental fashion, and the head-dresses are
remarkable for their curious and complicated forms.  All have
breastplates, and each holds some article in his hand.

From these carvings we read, though indistinctly, some of the
characteristics of the people.  From the absence of all weapons of war,
however, we may suppose them peaceable, though grossly idolatrous, and,
from being unwarlike, easily subdued.

On entering the town, after some adventures, Mr Stevens made his way to
an area, which he ascertained to be a square, with steps on all sides,
almost as perfect as those of the Colosseum.  He ascended the steps,
which were ornamented with sculptures, till he reached a broad terrace,
one hundred feet in height, overlooking the river.  The whole terrace
was covered with trees, among which were two gigantic cotton-trees of
about twenty feet in circumference, extending their roots fifty to one
hundred feet round, and which had, in many places, displaced the stones.
Among other ornaments were rows of gigantic heads, which, no doubt,
were intended to represent those of apes; for amongst the fragments were
the remains of the body of a colossal ape, strongly resembling in
outline and appearance one of the four monstrous animals which once
stood in front of the obelisk of Luxor, and which, under the name of
Cynocephali, were worshipped at Thebes.  This fragment was about six
feet high.

No verbal description can give a correct idea of the elaborate
workmanship of the numberless idols.  One, described by Mr Stevens as
the most beautiful in Copan, he considers equal to the finest Egyptian
sculpture; and thinks, indeed, it would be impossible, with the best
instruments of modern times, to cut stones more perfectly.  They are
generally from twelve to fourteen feet in height, about four wide, and
two or three deep.  On the front is, in all cases, a human head, with
arms and hands, surrounded by the most intricate carving.  Frequently
other smaller heads appear below the large one.  In many instances the
legs and feet, as well as the body, are represented.  The backs and
sides are covered with the most elaborate hieroglyphics, deeply carved--
the whole forming a mass of rich ornamentation.  Before several of the
idols stand altars, also carved in the same finished way.

The most interesting figure--which, unlike all the others, is remarkable
for its simplicity--is that of a human being, bearing on its head a
heavy cross-like crown.  It cannot fail to remind those acquainted with
the idols of Babylon of the Triune God represented in the sculptured
stones of those far-famed ruins.

STONE QUARRIES.

Some two or three miles from the ruins are the quarries, from which the
stones for the buildings and statues of Copan are evidently taken.  Here
still exist huge blocks of stone, in different degrees of preparation.
Near a river was found a gigantic block, much larger than any in the
city, which was probably on its way thither, to be carved and set up,
when the labours of the workmen were arrested.  It is difficult to
conjecture how these vast masses were transported over the irregular and
broken surface of the country, and particularly how one of them was set
up on the top of a mountain two thousand feet in height.

A place of this name was captured by Hernandes de Chaves at the time
when its now broken monuments, ruined terraces, walls, and sculptured
figures, were entire, and were all richly painted; and it seems strange
that Europeans could have beheld its wonders without spreading the
report of them throughout the civilised world, yet no account of this
strange city was extant till it was visited by Mr Stevens.

PALENQUE.

Still more curious and interesting than the last described city, are the
ruins of Palenque, in the province of Chiapas, bordering upon Yucatan.
One of the chief structures of this ancient city stands on an artificial
elevation 40 feet high, 310 feet in length, and 260 feet in width.  The
sides were originally covered with stones, which have been thrown down
by the growth of trees.  On the summit are the ruins of a building,
known as the Palace, about 25 feet in height, with a front measuring 228
feet by 180 feet deep.  In front were, originally, fourteen doorways,
with intervening piers, covered with human figures, hieroglyphics, and
carved ornaments.  The walls are of stone, laid with mortar and sand;
and the whole is covered by stucco, nearly as hard as stone, and richly
painted.  On each side of the steps are gigantic human statues carved in
stone, with rich head-dresses and necklaces.

In one of the buildings is a stone tower of three stories, thirty feet
square at the base, and rising far above the surrounding walls.  The
walls are very massive, and the floors are paved with large square
stones.  In one of the corridors are two large tablets of hieroglyphics.

There are numerous other buildings, all standing on the summits of
similar pyramids.  In several of the buildings the roofs still remain,
and preserve the stuccoed ornamentation with which the walls are
adorned.  The colours, in many of them, are still bright; and could the
hieroglyphics with which they are surrounded be read, they would
probably give as clear a history of the departed inhabitants as do those
found in the tombs on the banks of the Nile.  The most remarkable
figures are the bas-reliefs, in stucco, representing a woman with a
child in her arms--which forcibly remind us of the statues in ancient
Babylon representing the goddess mother and son (the same worshipped in
Egypt under the names of Isis and Osiris; in India, even to this day, as
Isi and Iswara; and also in China, where Shingmoo, the holy mother, is
represented with a child in her arms, and a glory round her head).  It
is impossible, looking at these figures, to suppose otherwise than that
they were derived from the same source whence the idols of Egypt,
Greece, and pagan Rome had their origin.

RUINS OF QUICHE.

In the north-east of Guatemala are the ruins of another city, the
capital of the province of Quiche.  It is surrounded by a deep ravine,
which forms a natural foss, leaving only two very narrow roads as
entrances, guarded by the castle of Resguado.  The palace of the kings,
which stood in the centre of the city, surpasses every other edifice,
competing in magnificence with that of Montezuma in Mexico.  It was
constructed of hewn stones, of various colours.  So large was the city,
that it could send no less than seventy-two thousand fighting men to
oppose the Spaniards.  The whole palace is now, however, completely
destroyed, and the materials have been carried away to build a village
in the neighbourhood.  The most conspicuous portion of the ruins
remaining is called El Sacrificatorio.  It is a quadrangular stone
structure, rising in a pyramidal form to the height of thirty-three
feet.  At the corners are four buttresses of cut stone.  Steps lead up
on the eastern side.  On the top it is evident that an altar was once
placed, for the sacrifice of human victims, which struck even the
Spaniards with horror.  The whole was in full view of the people who
collected round the base.  The ruins differ entirely from Copan and
Palenque.  Here no statues, carved figures, or hieroglyphics are seen.
It is therefore supposed that these cities are of a much older date, and
built by another race.

UXMAL.

The most magnificent and perfect remains in the country are those of
Uxmal, about fifty miles south of Merida, the principal city of Yucatan.
Here, amid the dense forest, are found walls of considerable elevation,
with very extensive buildings,--the walls still standing to their full
height, and even the roofs, in some places, perfect.  The largest
building--supposed to be the palace of the sovereign--stands on the
uppermost of three terraces, each walled with cut stone.  It is 322 feet
in length, 39 broad, and 24 high.  The front has thirteen doorways; the
centre of which is 8 feet, 6 inches wide, and 8 feet, 10 inches high.
The upper part is ornamented with sculpture in great profusion, of rich
and curious workmanship.  The walls are covered with cement; and the
floors are of square stones, smoothly polished, and laid with as much
regularity as that of the best modern masonry.  The roof forms a
triangular arch, constructed with stones overlapping, and covered by a
layer of flat stones.  It is remarkable that the lintels of the doorways
are of wood, known as Sapote wood.  Many of them are still hard and
sound, and in their places; but others have been perforated by
wormholes, their decay causing the fall of the walls.

Two other large buildings, facing each other, are embellished with
sculpture, the most remarkable features of which are two colossal
serpents, which once extended the whole length of the walls.  Further on
are four great ranges of edifices, placed on the uppermost of three
terraces.  The plan of these buildings is quadrangular, with a courtyard
in the centre.  The walls are, like the others, ornamented with rich and
intricate carving, presenting a scene of strange magnificence.  One of
the buildings is 170 feet long, and is remarkable for the two colossal
entwined serpents which run round it, and encompass nearly all the
ornaments throughout its whole length.  These serpents are sculptured
out of small blocks of stone, which are arranged in the wall with great
skill and precision.  One of the serpents has its monstrous jaws
distended; and within them is a human head, the face of which is
distinctly visible in the carving.

The most tastefully ornamented edifice is know as the "House of the
Dwarf."  It stands on the summit of a lofty mound, faced with stone,
nearly ninety feet high, the building itself being seventeen feet high.
Its purpose it is difficult to divine.

Scattered throughout the ruins are a number of dome-shaped subterraneous
chambers, from eight to ten feet deep, and from twelve to twenty in
diameter.  The floor is of hard matter, and the walls and ceilings of
plaster.  A circular hole at the summit of each, barely large enough to
admit a man, is the only opening into them.  It is not known whether
they were used as cisterns, or for granaries, like those of Egypt.

OTHER RUINS.

The whole country to the south of Uxmal is covered with ruins.  At a
place called Labra, there is a tower richly ornamented, forty feet in
height, which stands on the summit of an artificial elevation.  In
another place there is one forty-five feet high; along the top of which,
standing out from the wall, is a row of deaths' heads--or perhaps
monkeys' heads--and underneath are two lines of human figures, greatly
mutilated.

At Kewick, a short distance from Labra, are numerous other ruins, mostly
remarkable for the simplicity of their architecture and the grandeur of
their proportions.  It is still uncertain whether these cities were
inhabited by the unhappy people conquered by the Spaniards, or whether
they were built by a race which, from some unknown cause, had already
passed away.  We see how completely the Mexicans and Peruvians, after
the conquest, sunk from their comparatively high state of civilisation
into barbarism; and such might have been the case with the inhabitants
of these cities.  Their origin will probably for ever afford matter for
speculation.

The different cities vary in their style of architecture almost as much
as as they do from those of Assyria or Egypt; but when we come to
examine the sculptures, we may be able to trace a much stronger
resemblance.  The statues of the woman and child, the cruciform
ornaments, the serpents and gigantic heads of apes, as well as those of
the typical heads of savage animals surmounting the heads of the
statues, are all to be found on the banks of the Nile, and were probably
derived from the same central source.  While the tribes who proceeded
westward peopled Egypt, others, among whom a similar system of idolatry
prevailed, may have migrated towards the east, and finally made their
way across the Pacific to the shores of America.



PART THREE, CHAPTER ONE.

SOUTH AMERICA.

SCENES OF ANCIENT DAYS.

Time was when a rocky island, against which dashed the surges of the
Atlantic on the east and of the Pacific on the west, rose in solitude
from the wide-extending ocean where now the highlands of Guiana appear
above the surrounding plains.  Not another spot of dry land was to be
found--so geologists affirm--between that point and the hills of Canada
on the north, or for thousands of miles southward towards the pole, over
that portion of the globe's surface now occupied by the vast continent
of America.  Then, by slow degrees, the mountains of Brazil, with their
mines of glittering gems, appeared above the surface of the waters, amid
which huge reptile-like whales, ichthyosaurs, plesiosaurs, and
cetiosaurs buffeted the billows, and vast saurians, lizards, and
alligators, rivalling the elephant in bulk, and twice his length--such
as the megalosaurus, the iguanodon, and teleosaurus--crawled along the
slimy shores; while giant birds, with wide-spreading feet, stalked
across the newly-formed plains, or flew shrieking, with wings of
prodigious expanse skimming the glittering sea,--the lords paramount of
this lower world.  At length the earth, convulsed by mighty throes in
the far-away west from north to south, began to cast up a long line of
rocky heights, now to sink, now to rise once more above the surface,--
till by degrees Pelion piled on Ossa--the vast chain of the Cordilleras
rose towards the skies, forming a mighty barrier between the two great
oceans.

On the eastern side, the waves of the Atlantic, beating continuously,
brought down into the shallow sea the debris from the newly-formed
rocks, gradually filling up the spaces between the already created
islands; and the streams, running down from the mountain heights, formed
the plan of the three great river-systems of the continent--the Orinoco
in the north, the Amazon in the centre, and La Plata in the south.

The Almighty Creator appears always to have worked by mechanical means
in preparing the globe for the habitation of man.  There came then a
glacial period.  Ponderous blocks of ice, resting not only on the
mountainsides, but extending over the plains, and acting the part of
mighty mill-stones, ground into impalpable powder the pieces of detached
rock of which the lower surface was composed, till a soil was formed
capable of producing a wondrous and varied vegetation to clothe that
Amazonian valley.

[The continent, Professor Agassiz supposes, extended at that time
between 200 and 300 miles further east than it does at present; but the
waters from the rapidly-melting mass of ice, forcing a passage towards
the ocean, carried a large portion away, leaving only certain tracts
which now appear in the form of islands at the mouths of the Amazon and
Orinoco.]

The work has been accomplished--the land prepared for its future
inhabitants!  Mighty torrents fall from the lofty mountains, meandering
through the vast Amazonian plain.  The age of winter has passed away.
The earth, warmed by the fires beneath and the hot sun above, steams
with vapour.  Lofty trees rise from the alluvial soil.  A dense mass of
underwood springs up; creepers innumerable hang from the boughs;
countless multitudes of insects have been called into existence--
termites, ants, and beetles--feeding on the leaves and herbage, and on
the giant trunks themselves.  It might seem, numerous and voracious as
they are, that they must quickly destroy the clothing of verdure which
covers the soil.  But they are not destined thus to triumph over the
wonderful work of the Creator's hand.

A law has been framed by which all things are beautifully and
wonderfully balanced.  Monstrous animals have been created to place
bounds on their too great increase.  Huge, awkward-looking beasts
covered with shaggy hair, with thick, short limbs, and powerful, sharp
claws bent inwards on soft pads--compelling them to move on the edge of
their paws--are busy with the clay-formed nests of the insects, dashing
them asunder, and devouring their active builders--taking in whole
armies at a mouthful.

See yonder huge creature, its body the size of a rhinoceros, covered
with a coat of armour, a convex oval shield, formed of hexagonal plates
wonderfully fitted to each other!  It is an armadillo, the precursor of
a race still abounding in the land, though of diminutive form compared
to its mighty predecessor.  See how, with powerful jaws, it crunches up
a fallen tree, perforated through and through by ants,--grinding the
papery partitions of the dry wood, licking in and chewing between its
wonderful cylinder teeth the whole mass into a black pulp!

"But lo! here are mightier creatures yet.  See the vast mylodon, the
scelidothere, and the still more colossal megathere!  Ponderous giants
these.  The very forests seem to tremble under their stately stride.
Their immense bulk preponderates behind, terminating in a tail of
wonderful thickness and solidity.  The head is mean, and awakens no
terror.  The eye lacks lustre, and threatens no violence, though the
whole form betokens vast power; and the stout limbs are terminated by
the same thick, in-bent, sharp, hoofed claws.  One of them approaches
that wide-spreading locust-tree.  He gazes up at the huge mud-brown
structures that resemble hogsheads affixed to the forks of the branches,
and he knows that the luscious termites are filling them to overflowing.
His lips water at the tempting sight.  Have them he must; but how?
That heavy stern-post of his was never made for climbing.  Yet, see! he
rears himself up against the tree.  Is he about to essay the scaling?
Not he.  He knows his powers better.  He gives it one embrace--one
strong hug, as if to test its thickness and hold upon the earth.  Now he
is digging away below, scooping out the soft soil from between the
roots; and it is marvellous to note how rapidly he lays them bare with
those great shovel-like claws of his.  Now he rears himself again;
straddles wide on his hind-feet, fixing the mighty claws deep in the
ground; plants himself firmly on his huge tail, as on the third foot of
a tripod, and once more grasps the tree.  The enormous hind-quarters,
the limbs and the loins, the broad pelvis and thick spinal cord,
supplying abundant nervous energy to the swelling muscles inserted in
the ridged and keeled bones, all come into play as a _point d'appui_ for
the Herculean effort."  [Gosse's "Natural History."]

"And now conceive the massive frame of the megathere convulsed with the
mighty wrestling, every vibrating fibre reacting upon its bony
attachments with the force of a hundred giants.  Extraordinary must be
the strength and proportions of the tree if, when rocked to and fro to
right and left in such an embrace, it can long withstand the efforts of
its assailant.  It yields!  The roots fly up.  The earth is scattered
wide upon the surrounding foliage.  The tree comes down with a
thundering crash, cracking and snapping the great boughs like grass.
The frightened insects swarm out at every orifice, but the huge beast is
in upon them.  With his sharp hoofs he tears apart the crusty walls of
the earth-nests, and licks out their living contents--fat pupae, eggs,
and all--rolling down the sweet morsels, half sucking, half chewing,
with a delighted gusto that repays him for all his mighty toil.  While
this giant is absorbed in his juicy breakfast, see! there lounges along
his neighbour the macrauchen--equally massive, equally heavy, equally
vast, equally peaceful.  The stranger resembles the huge rhinoceros,
elevated on much loftier limbs.  But his most remarkable feature is the
enormously long neck, like that of the camel, but carried to the
altitude of that of the giraffe.  Thus he thrusts his great muzzle into
the very centre of the leafy trees, and gathering with his prehensile
and flexible lip the succulent twigs and foliage, he too finds abundance
of food for his immense body in the teeming vegetation without intruding
on the supply of his fellows."  [Owen on the "Mylodon."]

Emerging from the water appears a great head, with little piggish eyes
set wide apart, with immense muzzle and lips, and broad cheeks armed
with stiff projecting bristles--the sluggish toxodon.  The creature
opens its cavernous mouth to seize a floating gourd; and now it tears up
the great fleshy arum roots from the clay bank, and grinding them to
pulp, sinks below to masticate its meal.  Numberless other curious
creatures are roaming through the forest, or feeding on the banks; many
others, having run their destined course, disappear from the face of the
globe, to be replaced by a new creation of far less magnitude--the mild
llama, the savage jaguar, the nimble monkey with prehensile tail, the
ant-eater, arborial and terrestrial; the diminutive sloth, thick-skinned
tapir, alligators, turtles, and manatees; lizards, serpents; the
beautiful denizens of the air with superb plumage, numerous species of
humming-birds, gorgeous butterflies and beetles, vieing in their shining
hues with the rich gems hidden within the bowels of the earth.

It is of these, and of many others in wonderful variety; as well as of
their master--man--in his savage state; and of the curious trees and
shrubs, whose fruits afford him and the lower orders abundant
nourishment, that some outline sketches will now be given.



PART THREE, CHAPTER TWO.

A GENERAL VIEW OF SOUTH AMERICA.

Three separate mountain-systems exist in South America:--that of the
Andes on the west, Guiana and Venezuela on the north, and the serras of
Brazil in the centre.  The surface of the remainder of the continent is
occupied by vast level, or undulating tracts of different elevations.
The chief portion of the region through which the Amazon flows, but
slightly raised above its surface, is covered with the richest and most
varied vegetation to be found on any part of the globe, extending on
either side of its course, as also along the shores of the Atlantic,
north and south, for many hundreds of miles.  Here enormous trees of
many descriptions, of varied shapes and heights, grow in wonderful
profusion.  The candelabra, sumaumera, the manicaria, and raphia, with
their enormous leaves, and other palms innumerable, tower towards the
sky.  To the south of the Orinoco is another thickly-wooded region,
known as the Silvas; which, united to the woods of Guiana and those of
Brazil, Eastern Peru and Bolivia, form one enormous forest.  From the
north bank of the last-named river, the ground gently rises towards the
interior at the rate of five feet in a mile.  At a distance of one
hundred miles from its hanks, at a slightly increased elevation, appears
a sandy terrace--the greater portion barren, though in some places
bearing grasses, and supplying water to the wide-extending plains below.
This barren region, which occupies the most northern part of South
America, is called the Llanos Altos.  A far wider and more level country
extends between the base of the Andes and the banks of the Orinoco, at a
height of between two hundred and five hundred feet.  Not a stone or
rock, not even a pebble, is to be seen on these vast plains.  So level
are they, that the currents of the rivers crossing them are almost
imperceptible, and are frequently sent back towards their sources when
met by strong winds.  They are covered with grass, which affords
pasturage to large herds of wild cattle--the only other species of
vegetation being a few bushes growing on the banks of the streams; while
here and there, scattered at considerable distances apart, a few tall
palm-trees are seen, reminding the traveller of the deserts of Arabia.

In the southern part of the continent are the treeless plains of the
Pampas, extending from about 20 degrees south latitude for a distance of
fully two thousand miles into Patagonia, and averaging in width five
hundred miles.  Stretching, as do these plains, across a large portion
of the South Temperate Zone, they present great varieties of climate.
The northern portion is watered by the River La Plata and its
tributaries.  To the south of Buenos Ayres the rivers are fewer and of
less extent.  The north-western Pampas consist of slightly undulating
and dry plains, though interspersed with vast tracts on which lofty
thistles rear their heads--useful, however, as fuel to the inhabitants.
Further on, to the west, is a wide-extending pastoral district; and yet
beyond, reaching to the foot of the Cordilleras, the soil is well-suited
for agriculture.  The pastoral region is almost a dead level, with large
shallow salt-lakes,--one of them measuring fifty miles in length by
twenty in width.  Scarcely a tree is to be found throughout this region,
and but few permanent water-courses.  To the north extends a salt desert
for upwards of one hundred miles, with a width of two hundred miles.  It
is crossed by the River Salado, which, rising in the Cordilleras, falls
into the Plata, to the south of which rises a number of step-like
terraces, sterile during the heats of summer, but covered with verdure
after the rains of spring.  Huge boulders, brown grass growing in tufts,
and low spine-covered bushes, diversify the surface.  In this
inhospitable region transitions from heat to cold are very great.  Now
the traveller is panting under the intense heat of the sun's rays; and
anon an icy blast rushes across the plain, compelling him to draw close
around his body his thick poncho, for protection against its chilling
influences.

Further to the south are found large swamps and lagoons, one of them
having an area of one thousand square miles, its surface covered with
aquatic plants.  In the rainy season, the rivers, overflowing their
banks, inundate the plains--leaving behind, however, a thick deposit of
fertilising soil, from which, as elsewhere, rich crops are capable of
being produced.  Further on, to the south, the Pampas, over which the
yet savage and untamed Patagonians roam, and hunt the huanacu and
ostrich, is generally higher and drier.

The South American continent, it will thus be seen, consists of several
distinctly different descriptions of country:--the long line of the
Cordilleras, with their snow-capped peaks and their lofty punas or high
table-lands, and the narrow strip of arid soil at their western base;
the three separate mountain-systems of Venezuela, Guiana, and the
Brazils; the mighty forests bordering the great rivers and their
tributaries, to which must be added the wooded heights of the
inter-tropical regions, where tall trees, including several palms,
flourish at an elevation of many thousand feet above the level of the
ocean; and lastly, the wide-extending regions of the Llanos and the
Pampas.  These, as might be supposed, present great varieties of animal
life--though scarcely so great as might have been expected, when it is
remembered that they extend from 10 degrees north to 50 degrees south
latitude.  Several species indeed are found far to the north of the
equator, and also near the southern end of the continent.  But to give
an idea of these different regions, they must be described in detail.



PART THREE, CHAPTER THREE.

VALLEY OF THE AMAZON.

Standing on the eastern spur of the Andes, between 3 degrees and 4
degrees south of the equator, the eye of the traveller may see in
imagination a vast valley, clothed with a dense forest, stretching
towards the far-distant Atlantic.  Behind him, on the west, tower the
lofty peaks of the Cordilleras; on his left, in a northerly direction,
appear the mountains and highlands of Venezuela and Guiana; while to the
south rise the serras and table-lands of the Brazils.  It is the Valley
of the Amazon, in which more than half of Europe might be contained.
Down the centre flows a mighty stream, the tributaries of which alone
contain a bulk of water greater than all the European rivers put
together.

Upwards of five hundred miles away to the south of the spot where the
traveller stands, is the little lake of Lauricocha, near the
silver-mines of Cerro de Pasco in Peru, just below the limit of
perpetual snow--14,000 feet above the level of the sea.  This lake has
the honour of giving birth to the mighty stream: its waters forming the
River Tunguragua, which, roaring and foaming in a series of cataracts
and rapids through rocky valleys, flows northerly till it reaches the
frontier of Ecuador.  It then turns suddenly to the east, which
direction it maintains, with a slightly northerly inclination, for two
thousand miles--its volume greatly increased by numerous large streams,
each of which is by itself a mighty river--till, attaining a width which
may vie with that of the Baltic, it rushes with such fierce force into
the Atlantic as to turn aside on either hand the salt-waters of the
ocean.  Thus the seaman approaching the shore of South America, when
still out of sight of land, may lower his bucket and draw up the
fresh-water which, it may be, has issued forth weeks before from the
sides of the Andes.  The whole length of the river, following its main
curves, is but little under three thousand miles, while the tributaries
from north to south stretch over seventeen hundred miles.

The basin of the Amazon may be considered like a shallow trough lying
parallel to the equator, the southern sides having double the
inclination of the northern, the whole gently sloping eastward.  The
channel of the river lies rather to the north of the basin, some hills
rising directly above its waters; while the falls of several rivers to
the south are two hundred miles above their mouths.  Two thousand miles
from its mouth the depth of the river is never less than eighteen feet,
while many of its tributaries at their embouchures are of equal depth;
and at the junction of the great rivers the hollows of its bed attain a
depth of twenty-four fathoms.  At Tabalingua, two thousand miles from
its mouth, it is a mile and a half broad; and lower down, at the
entrance of one of its tributaries--the Madeira--it measures three miles
across.  Still further to the east its sea-like reaches extend to the
north for ten miles, with still wider lake-like expanses, so that the
eye of the voyager can scarcely reach the forest-covered banks on the
opposite side; while if the River Para is properly considered one of its
branches, its measurement from shore to shore, across a countless number
of islands, is one hundred and eighty miles--equal to the breadth of the
widest part of the Baltic.

After receiving the waters of numerous streams, many of which flow for
considerable distances parallel with its shores, and are united by a
network of channels, it is joined by its most considerable northern
tributary--the Rio Negro.  This stream, rising in the mountains of
Venezuela, and passing amidst the Llanos, robbing the Orinoco of part of
its waters, has already, before it reaches the Amazon, flowed for a
course of one thousand five hundred miles.  It is called the Negro from
its black colour.  It is here not less than nineteen fathoms deep, and
three thousand six hundred paces broad.  The next great affluent is the
Yapura, which, rising in the mountains of New Granada, takes a
south-easterly course for one thousand miles, its principal mouth
entering the Amazon opposite the town of Ega; but it has numberless
small channels, the streams of which, two hundred miles apart, flow into
the great river.  The upper part of the Amazon is frequently called the
Solimoens, which name it retains as far south as the mouth of the River
Negro.

About sixty miles further east, its largest southern affluent--the
gigantic Madeira--unites its milky waters with the turbid stream of the
main river.  One branch, the Beni, rises in the neighbourhood of the
ancient Cuzco in Peru, near Lake Titicaca, its whole extent from the
centre of the province of Bolivia being nearly the length of the Amazon
itself.  At its mouth it is two miles wide and sixty-six feet deep; and
five hundred miles up it is a mile wide.  Numerous islands are found in
its course: for nearly five hundred miles it is navigable for large
vessels, when a cataract intervenes.  Were it not for this, there would
be a free navigation from the centre of the province of Bolivia to the
ocean, embracing islands the size of many of the Old World provinces,
and widening into broad lakes.  The monarch of waters flows on between
its low forest-clothed banks till, four hundred miles from its mouth, it
reaches the Strait of Obydos, where it is narrowed to two thousand
paces.  Through this channel its waters rush with immense force,
calculated at five hundred thousand cubic feet in one second--sufficient
to fill all the streams in Europe, and swell them to overflowing.  No
plummet has hitherto sounded the depth of its bed at this point, the
force of the stream probably rendering the operation almost
impracticable.

Its last two great tributaries are the Tapajos, six times the length of
the Thames, and the Xingu, twice that of the Rhine; while further east a
narrow channel unites it with the River Para, into which flows the broad
stream of the Tocantins.  This river, rising in the Minas-Geraes, six
hundred miles from Rio Janeiro, is one thousand six hundred miles long,
and ten miles wide at its mouth.  Opposite to Para is the large island
of Marajo; and if Professor Agassiz is right in supposing that the
continent once extended much further to the east than it now does, this
island may properly be considered in the centre of the mouth of the
river, and the River Para might then properly be called one of its true
embouchures.  But only a few of the streams which feed the Amazon have
been named.  Numberless other rivers swell its waters, united to it by
countless channels which form a wonderful network throughout the whole
region, joining also many of the main rivers together, with the
intricate navigation of which the natives alone are acquainted.

These curious water-paths, or igarapes, as they are called, are often so
narrow that the branches of the lofty trees meet overhead, enabling the
traveller in his canoe to proceed for miles together sheltered from the
noonday sun.  Here and there a glimpse of the sky can be discovered
through the umbrageous foliage overhead, while birds of gay plumage flit
to and fro, or sit perched on the branches uttering their strange and
varied cries.  In the intervals, or sometimes forming the termination of
the water-path, numerous pools of various sizes exist--some a few yards
across, others expanding into lakes--filled mostly by the overflowing of
the main river during the rainy season.  They are the habitations of a
great variety of fishes.  Here several species of turtles and alligators
swarm in vast numbers; electric eels, too, abound in them, as well as
many of the other curious water-creatures of that region.  Water-fowl
and various other aquatic birds dwell on their banks, while on the
surface of their placid waters float the wide-spreading leaves and
magnificent blossoms of the Victoria Regia, as also of other lilies and
water-plants.

SCENES ON THE AMAZON.

The chief feature of the Lower Amazon is the vast expanse of smooth
water, of a pale yellowish-olive colour, bearing on its bosom detached
masses of aquatic grass floating down like islands, sometimes mixed with
huge trees, their branches and roots interlocked, and often carrying
among them wild animals, which, unconscious of their character, have
there taken refuge from their foes, or have ventured thither in search
of prey.  The timid stag and fierce jaguar are sometimes thus entrapped
and carried out to sea.  At even and morn flocks of parrots and large
and yellow macaws, fly backwards and forwards, uttering their wild and
hoarse cries; herons and rails frequent the marshes on its banks; while
all night long the cries of gulls and terns are heard over the sandy
banks where they deposit their eggs, while they may be seen during the
day sitting in rows on floating logs gliding down the stream, motionless
and silent, as if contemplating the scenery.  There are divers and
darters, too, in abundance.  Now and then a huge manatee comes gliding
by, its cow-like head rising to breathe the upper air; while dolphins,
porpoise-like, rear their backs above the surface, or leap half out of
the water as they swim up the stream.  On the low banks, huge alligators
with open jaws are basking in the sun, or leisurely swimming across the
river.

THE RAINY SEASON.

This magnificent region enjoys a perpetual summer, its various fruits
coming to maturity, according to their character, at different periods
throughout the year.  It has, however, its wet and dry seasons.  The
rain occurs at one time in the Upper Amazon, and at another in the
Lower,--greatly swelling the volume of water in the main stream, which,
unable to find its way towards the ocean, rushes through the countless
channels and igarapes, overflowing the lower portions of a vast district
called the Gapo.  The waters begin to rise in February, and progress
inch by inch until the middle of June, gradually swelling the rivers and
lakes, when, these becoming filled, the lower lands and sand-banks are
overflowed even far-away in the interior.  The forests are traversed by
numerous gullies, which in the dry season are wide dells, but now become
transformed into broad creeks, through which canoes can proceed to great
distances under the shade of the lofty trees.

At this period of the year the inland pools are frequented by swarms of
turtle, as well as alligators, and shoals of fish which leave the main
river; while the flocks of wading birds migrate northerly, thus greatly
dispersing the food on which the natives depend for their existence.
The fishermen who have been employed during the dry months in catching
turtle and fish on the sand-banks return to their villages, though some
employ themselves in collecting the Brazil-nut and wild cacao, which are
now ripe.

About the first week in June, the flood has risen sometimes to the
height of forty feet above the usual level of the river, when it now
begins to subside.  The rains, however, do not fall continuously, though
very heavy at times.  Several days of beautiful sunny weather generally
intervene.  The fine season begins with a few days of brilliant
weather--the rays of the sun breaking forth among the passing clouds.
Towards the middle of July the sand-banks again appear, flocks of gulls
and other water birds fly by, and the gaily-plumaged inhabitants of the
forest come forth into full activity and life.

STORMS.

The navigation of the Amazon is not free from danger.  Fierce storms
arise; black clouds gather over the blue expanse, suffused anon with a
lurid yellow tinge, and the fierce whirlwind howls along the
river-banks, tearing the placid stream into masses of foam; the tall
trees bend before the blast, and huge branches are wrenched off and
hurled into the water.  The long-legged waders and other water birds,
unable to face it, throw themselves on the ground, and cling with claws
and beak to the sand to escape being carried helplessly away.

THE POROROCCA.

Sometimes, too, the destroying pororocca--a vast wave rising across the
whole width of the stream, to the height of twelve or fifteen feet--
sweeps up the stream.  Advancing noiselessly over the deeper portions of
the river-bed, it rises into an angry billow, with a fearful roar when
passing over a shallow, or meeting any impediment in its course.  A
French traveller describes an island where he and his companions had
rested on their voyage down the stream.  They had happily gone over to
the mainland on the previous evening, when, as they stood on the shore,
the pororocca was heard approaching.  Onward it came till the island was
reached, when, with an angry roar, it burst into masses of foam, and
swept over the devoted spot, carrying in its fierce embrace not only the
whole mass of vegetation, but overturning the foundations of the island
itself, so that in a few seconds not a vestige remained.  Sometimes,
too, the higher banks of the Upper Amazon, crowned by lofty trees, are
worn away by the rapid current, increased during the rainy season,
continually passing beneath them, till the upper portions, deprived of
their support, fall over with a terrific roar into the stream, dragging
with them their neighbours.  The earth trembles with the concussion, the
waters hiss and foam and rush furiously over the impediments in their
course.  Sometimes miles of the bank thus give way, the sound being
heard far up and down the stream.  Occasionally a canoe and its crew--
who, to avoid the current, have been toiling close along the bank--have
been thus overwhelmed; while others, descending, unaware of the
obstruction, have been dragged by the furious whirlpool thus formed amid
the tangled branches, and destroyed.



PART THREE, CHAPTER FOUR.

CHARACTER OF VEGETATION ON THE BANKS.

A dense vegetation, though somewhat varied in character, rises like a
lofty wall of verdure along the banks of the mighty stream, from the
base of the Andes to its mouth in the Atlantic.  There, where the
influence of the sea-breeze is felt, the ever-present mangrove of the
tropics forms a thick belt round the shores of its numberless islands.
Higher up, various palms of many graceful forms appear, interspersed
with numberless other trees, some bearing huge pods a yard long, others
vast nuts and other curious fruits,--the banks below fringed either with
giant grasses and broad-leaved bananas, or here and there with the large
wide heart-shaped leaves of the aninga growing on the summit of tall
stems, or in other places with the murici of a lower growth close to the
water's edge.  Among the most remarkable is the white-stemmed cecropia,
the lofty massaranduba, or cow-tree, often rising to the height of one
hundred and fifty feet; the seringa, or india-rubber tree, with its
smooth grey bark, tall erect trunk, and thick glossy leaves.  The
assai-palm, with its slender stem, its graceful head and delicate green
plumes, is at first more numerous than any other.  Now appears the
miriti, or mauritia--one of the most beautiful of its tribe, with
pendent clusters of glossy fruit, and enormous spreading fan-like leaves
cut into ribbons; the jupati, with plume-like leaves forty feet and
upwards in length, graceful in the extreme, starting almost from the
ground.  Here is seen also the bussu, with stiff entire leaves, also of
great length, growing upright from a short stem, close together, and
serrated along their edges.  Higher up still, while the palms become
less numerous, other trees take their places.  Among them appears
conspicuous the majestic sumaumera, its flat dome rounded, but not
conical, towering high above the forest.  The branches of this tree are
greatly ramified and knotty, and the bark is white.  Conspicuous, too,
is the taxi, with brown buds and white flowers; while the margin of the
water is thickly fringed by a belt of arrow-grass, or _frexes_--so
called by the Portuguese--six feet in height.  Its name is given in
consequence of being used by the Indians in making arrows for their
blowpipes.

Amid this wonderful mass of forest vegetation grows an intricate tracery
of lianas and climbing sipos, some running round and round the trees,
and holding them in a close embrace; others hanging from branch to
branch in rich festoons, covered with starlike flowers, or dropping in
long lines to the ground,--often to take root and shoot upwards again
round a neighbouring stem, or drooping like the loose cordage of a ship
swinging in the breeze.  Often they form so dense and impenetrable a
thicket from the ground upwards that a way must be cleared with an axe
to proceed even a short distance from the banks towards the inner
recesses of the forest.

THE GAPO.

On the Gapo, or submerged lands, however, a considerable difference in
the vegetation appears.  The palms are here often more numerous than in
other parts.  This is the region where the cacao-tree and prickly
sarsaparilla grow.  Here the underwood is less dense, the sipos retiring
to weave their tracery among the upper branches alone.  Though during
the dry season the vegetation springs up with wonderful rapidity, it is
swept away by the next overflow.

Here the lovely orchis tribe adorn the gloomy shades with their
brilliant flowers.  Among the most beautiful is the oncidium, of a
yellow hue, often seen--apparently suspended in air between the stems of
two trees--shining in the gloom, as if its petals were of gold.  In
reality it grows at the end of a wire-like stalk a yard and a half long,
springing from a cluster of thick leaves on the bark of a tree; others
have white and spotted blossoms, growing sometimes on rotten logs
floating on the water, or on moss and decayed bark just above it.  Still
more magnificent is the Flor de Santa Ana, of a brilliant purple colour,
emitting a most delicious odour.

Peculiar and strange is this region of the Gapo.  When the waters are at
their height it can be traversed in all directions.  The trees which
grow on it, and the animals which here have their abodes, appear to
differ from those of other districts.

Let us accompany the naturalist Wallace, in his canoe, through a
district of this description; now forcing our way under branches and
among dense bushes, till we get into a part where the trees are loftier
and a deep gloom prevails.  Here the lowest branches of the trees are
level with the surface of the water, many of them putting forth flowers.
As we proceed we sometimes come to a grove of small palms, the leaves
being now only a few feet above us.  Among them is the maraja, bearing
bunches of agreeable fruit, which, as we pass, the Indians cut off with
their long knives.  Sometimes the rustling of leaves overhead tells us
that monkeys are near, and we soon see them peeping down from among the
thick foliage, and then bounding rapidly away.  Presently we come out
into the sunshine, on a lake filled with lilies and beautiful
water-plants, little bladder-worts, and the bright blue flowers and
curious leaves with swollen stalks of the pontederias.  Again we are in
the gloom of the forest, among the lofty cylindrical trunks rising like
columns out of the deep water; and now there is a splash of fruit
falling around us, announcing that birds are feeding overhead, and we
discover a flock of parrakeets, or bright blue chatterers, or the lovely
pompadour, with its delicate white wings and claret-coloured plumage.
Now, with a whir, a trogon on the wing seizes the fruit, or some clumsy
toucan makes the branches shake as he alights above our heads.

This region, as might be supposed, is not destitute of inhabitants.
Several tribes of Indians dwell within it all the year round.  Among
them are the Purupurus and Muras tribes, who, spending most of their
time in their canoes, in the dry season build small huts on its sandy
shores; and when the waters overflow it, form rafts, which they secure
between the trees, sleeping in rude huts suspended from the stems over
the deep water, and lighting their fires on masses of mud placed on
their floating homes.  They subsist entirely on fish, turtle, and
manatee.

Several species of trogons are peculiar to this submerged region.  The
curious black umbrella-bird is entirely confined to it, as is also the
little bristle-tailed manakin.  Several monkeys visit it during the wet
season, for the sake of its peculiar fruits; and here the scarlet-faced
urikari has its home.

For miles and miles together the native traverses this region in his
canoe, passing through small streams, lakes, and swamps, scraping the
tree trunks, and stooping to pass between the leaves of the prickly
palms, now level with the water--though raised on stems forty feet
high--while everywhere round him stretches out an illimitable waste of
waters, but all covered with the lofty virgin forest.  In this trackless
maze, by slight indications of broken twigs or scraped bark, he finds
his way with unerring certainty.

"This curious region," says Wallace, "extends from a little above
Santarem to the confines of Peru, a distance of about 1700 miles; and
varies in width on each side of the river from one to ten or twenty
miles."

TRIP UP AN IGARAPE INTO THE INTERIOR.

Let us leave the mighty stream, and wander amidst the picturesque
windings of an igarape, into the depths of the forest, with Professor
Agassiz.  Passing into its narrow entrance, the lofty trees arching
overhead shelter the voyager in his light canoe from the glaring heat of
the noonday sun.  The air is cool and refreshing.  Not a ripple stirs
the water, save that caused by the paddles of the Indian crew.  Clumps
of the light and exquisitely graceful assai-palm shoot up everywhere on
either side from the denser forest.  Here and there the drooping bamboo
dips its feathery branches into the water, covered sometimes to their
very tips with the purple of convolvuli; yellow bignonias carry their
golden clusters to the very summits of some of the more lofty trees;
while white-flowering myrtles and orange-coloured mallows border the
stream.  Life abounds in this quiet retreat.  Birds and butterflies are
numerous on the margin of the water.  Crabs of every variety of colour
and size sit on the trunks of decaying logs, watching for their prey,--
to make their escape, however, with nimble feet, when pursued.

Or let us start before daylight, on a calm morning, along the banks of a
larger tributary, to proceed towards the heights of the Sierra Erere.
As dawn begins to redden the sky, large flocks of ducks and of a small
Amazonian goose may be seen flying towards the lake.  Here and there we
see a cormorant, seated alone on the branch of a dead tree; or a
kingfisher poises himself over the water, watching for his prey.
Numerous gulls are gathered in large companies on the trees along the
river-shore.  Alligators lie on its surface, diving with a sudden splash
at the approach of the canoe.  Occasionally a porpoise emerges from the
water, showing himself for a moment, and then disappearing.  Sometimes a
herd of capybaras, resting on the water's edge, are startled at our
approach.

There sits, on the branch of an imbauba, rolled-up in its peculiar
attitude, a sloth, the very picture of indolence, with its head sunk
between its arms.  The banks, covered in many places with the beautiful
capim-grass, afford excellent pasturage for cattle.

Now we turn into an inner stream, or igarape, often having to make our
way with difficulty amid islands of capim-grass.  Now we pass through a
magnificent forest of the beautiful fan-palm--the miriti--overshadowing
many smaller trees and innumerable shrubs, bearing light conspicuous
flowers.  Among them are numerous Leguminosae--one of the most striking,
the fava, having a colossal pod.

The whole mass of vegetation is interwoven with innumerable creepers,
amid which the flowers of the bignonia, with their open trumpet-shaped
corollas, are conspicuous.  The capim is bright with the blossoms of the
mallow growing in its midst, in some places edged with the broad-leaved
aninga--a large aquatic arum.  Through these forests, where animal life
is no less rich and varied than the vegetation, our canoe glides
silently for hours.

The sedgy grasses on either side are full of water birds.  One of the
most common is a small chestnut-brown wading bird--the jacana--whose
toes are immensely long in proportion to its size, enabling it to run
over the surface of the aquatic vegetation as if it were solid ground.
It is their breeding season--January.  At every turn of the boat we
start them up--usually in pairs.  Their flat, open nests generally
contain five flesh-coloured eggs, streaked in zig-zag with dark brown
lines.  Among the other waders are a snow-white heron, another
ash-coloured, and a large white stork.  The ash-coloured herons are
always in pairs--the white always singly, standing quiet and alone on
the edge of the water, or half hidden in the green capim.  The trees and
bushes are full of small warbler-like birds.  The most numerous and
interesting is one which builds a very extraordinary nest, considering
the size of the bird.  It is known among the country people by the name
of _pedreiro_, or the _forneiro_--both names referring to the nature of
its habitation.  This singular nest is built of clay, and is as hard as
stone--_pedra_; while it is the shape of the mandioca oven--_forno_--in
which the country people prepare their farina.  It is about a foot in
diameter, and stands edgewise upon the branch or crotch of a tree.
Among the smaller birds are bright tanagers, and a species resembling
the canary.  Humming-birds are scarce, though here and there a few
appear; while countless numbers of parrots and parrakeets fly overhead
in dense crowds, at times drowning every other sound with their noisy
clatter.

Birds of prey are not wanting.  Among them is the red hawk, about the
size of a kite--and so tame, that even when a canoe passes under the
branch on which he is sitting, he does not fly away.

Among the most striking are the gallinaceous birds.  The commonest is
the cigana, to be seen in groups of fifteen or twenty perched on trees
overhanging the water, and feeding upon berries.  At night they roost in
pairs; but in the daytime are always in larger companies.  In appearance
they have something of the character of both the pheasant and peacock,
and yet do not closely resemble either.  With the exception of some
small partridge-like gallinaceous birds, the representatives of this
family in Brazil belong to types which do not exist in any other parts
of the world.  Here the curassow, the jacu, the jacami, and the unicorn
resemble as much the bustard and other ostrich-like birds as the hen and
pheasant.

The most numerous insects to be met with are dragonflies; some with
crimson bodies, black heads, and burnished wings; others with large,
green bodies, crossed by blue bands.

THE CAMPOS.

Although the forests cover generally the whole length and breadth of the
Amazonian Valley, there are here and there, on the higher ground, open
dry plains with scanty vegetation,--the ground in the water-courses or
gullies, formed of clay, being baked by the heat of the sun into
slate-like masses.  One of these spots we now reach.  The most prominent
plants of this sandy or clayey region are clusters of cacti and curua
palms--a kind of stemless, low palm, with broad leaves springing,
vase-like, from the ground.  Here also grow wild pineapples; and in
broad sunlight numerous humming-birds delight to sport and feed upon the
blossoms of the various plants which find no room to bloom in the darker
shades of the forest.

GEOLOGY OF THE AMAZONIAN VALLEY.

Professor Agassiz remarks that no formation--known to geologists--
resembling that of the Amazon exists on the face of the earth.  Its
extent is stupendous.  It stretches from the Atlantic shore through the
whole width of Brazil into Peru, to the very foot of the Andes--one vast
extent of red sandstone, capped by a yellow-ochred clay; not only along
the banks of the main river, but forming the sides of those of its
tributaries, to their far-off sources, probably over the whole basin of
the Paraguay and the Rio de la Plata.  How are these vast deposits
formed? is the question.  The easiest answer, he observes, and the one
which most readily suggests itself, is that of a submersion of the
continent at successive periods--to allow the accumulation of these
materials--and its subsequent elevation.  This explanation is rejected,
for the simple reason that the deposits show no signs whatever of a
marine origin.  No sea-shells, or remains of any marine animal, have as
yet been found throughout their whole extent--over a region several
thousands of miles in length, and from five to seven hundred miles in
width.  It is evident, he considers, that this basin was a fresh-water
basin, these deposits fresh-water deposits.  It is true that calcareous
layers thickly studded with shells have been found interspersed with the
clay; but though supposed to be marine fossils, he recognised them for
what they really are--fresh-water shells of the family of the Naiades.
As their resemblance is very remarkable, the mistake as to their true
zoological character is natural: indeed, many travellers have confounded
some fresh-water fishes from the Upper Amazon of the genus of
Pterophyllum with the marine genus Platax.  He considers that the
immense glacier which probably existed at the same time that ice,
thousands of feet thick, covered the centre of Europe, must have been
formed in this valley, and then, ploughing its bottom over and over
again, and grinding all the materials beneath it into a fine powder,
must ultimately have forced its way through the colossal sea-wall which
it had built up eastward into the Atlantic.

A DAY AND NIGHT ON THE AMAZON, WITH THEIR SIGHTS AND SOUNDS.

Day is beginning to dawn, the birds are astir, the cicada have begun
their music; flocks of parrots and macaws, and other winged inhabitants
of the forest, pass by in numbers, seeking their morning repast;
beautiful long-tailed and gilded moths like butterflies fly over the
tree-tops.  Rapid is the change from the dark night.  The sky in the
east assumes suddenly the loveliest azure colour, across which streaks
of thin white clouds are painted.  The varied forms of the numberless
trees, imperceptible during the gloom of night, now appear, the smaller
foliage contrasting with the large glossy leaves of the taller trees, or
the feathery, fan-shaped fronds of palms.  For a time the fresh breeze
blows, but flags under the increasing power of the sun, and finally dies
away, the heat and electric tension of the atmosphere becoming almost
insupportable.

The heat increases as the day draws on.  Languor and uneasiness seize on
every one;--even the denizens of the forest betray it by their motions.
By this time every voice of bird or mammal is hushed.  Only in the trees
is heard at intervals the whir of the cicada.  The leaves, so soft and
fresh in the early morn, now become lax and drooping.  The flowers shut
their petals.  The natives, returning to their huts, fall asleep in
their hammocks, or, seated on mats in the shade appear too languid even
to talk.  White clouds now appear in the east, and gather into cumuli,
with an increasing blackness along their lower portions.  The whole
eastern horizon becomes rapidly black, the dark hue spreading upwards.
Even the sun is at length obscured.  Then the rush of a mighty wind is
heard through the forest swaying the tree-tops.  A vivid flash of
lightning bursts forth, then a crash of thunder, and down streams the
deluging rain.  The storm soon ceases, leaving the bluish-black
motionless clouds in the sky till night.  Meantime all nature is
refreshed, but heaps of flower petals and leaves are seen under the
trees.

Towards evening life revives again.  The noises of the forest animals
begin just as the sun sinks behind the trees, leaving the sky above of
the intensest shade of blue.  The briefest possible twilight commences,
and the sounds of multifarious life come from every quarter.  Troops of
howling monkeys, from their lofty habitations among the topmost
branches--some near, some at a distance--fill the echoing forest with
their dismal noise; flocks of parrots and blue macaws pass overhead, the
different kinds of cawing and screaming of the various species making a
terrible discord.  Added to them are the calls of strange cicada--one
large kind perched high on the trees setting up a most piercing chirp.
It begins with the usual harsh jarring tone of its tribe, rapidly
becoming shriller, until it ends in a long and loud note resembling the
steam whistle of a locomotive engine.  A few of these wonderful
performers make a considerable item in the evening concert.  The uproar
of beasts, birds, and insects lasts but a short time; the sky quickly
loses its intense hue, and the night sets in.  Then begin the
tree-frogs--Quack, quack!  Drum, drum!  Hoo, hoo!  These, accompanied by
melancholy night-jars, keep up their monotonous cries till late at
night.

The night, however, is not given over to darkness.  In every forest
path, across the calm waters of the igarapes, along open spaces, in the
village as well as in spots remote from man's abode, the whole air is
full of bright and glittering lights of varied hue; now darting here,
now there, like meteors flashing through the sky--now for a moment
obscured, to burst forth again with greater brilliancy.  Beautiful as is
the English glow-worm, the fire-flies and fire-beetles, the elaters of
the tropics, far surpass them in brilliancy.  Their light is redder and
more candle-like, and being alternately emitted and concealed, each of
the tiny vermilion flames performing its part in the aerial mazy dance,
the spectacle is singularly beautiful.  In the marshy districts is seen
the large elater, which displays both red and green lights; the red
glare, like that of a lamp, alternately flashing on the beholder, then
concealed as the insect turns his body in flight, but the ruddy
reflection on the grass beneath being constantly visible as it leisurely
pursues its course.  Now and then a green light is displayed, and then
the mingling of the two complementary colours, red and green, in the
evolutions of flight, surpasses description.  Even the brilliant
elaters, however, will scarcely enable the traveller to find his way
amid the darkness through the forest.

Wallace describes a midnight walk he was compelled to take.  He was
barefooted, every moment stepping on some projecting root or stone, or
treading sideways on something which almost dislocated his ankles.  Dull
clouds could just be distinguished in the openings amid high-arched,
overhanging trees, but the pathway was invisible.  Jaguars, he knew,
abounded, deadly serpents were plentiful, and at every step he almost
expected to feel a cold gliding body under his feet, or deadly fangs in
his leg.  Gazing through the darkness, he dreaded momentarily to
encounter the glaring eyes of the jaguar, or to hear his low growl in
the thicket.  To turn back or stop were alike useless.  Unpleasant
recollections of the fangs of a huge dried snake's head he had just
before examined, would come across his memory; and many a tale of the
fierceness and cunning of the jaguar would not be forgotten.  Suddenly
he found his feet in water, and then he had to grope for a narrow bridge
it was necessary to cross.  Of its height above the water, or the depth
of the stream, he was utterly ignorant.  To walk along a plank four
inches wide, under such circumstances, was a nervous matter.  He
proceeded, however, placing one foot before the other, and balancing
steadily his body, till he again felt himself on firm ground.  Once or
twice he lost his balance, but happily he was only a foot or two from
the ground and water below--though, had it been twenty it would have
been all the same.  Half-a-dozen such brooks and bridges had to be
passed, till at length, emerging from the pitchy shade upon an open
space, he saw two twinkling lights, which told him that the village was
ahead.

But we were describing a tropical day.  Night is over.  The sun rising
again in the cloudless sky, the cycle is completed--spring, summer, and
autumn, as it were, in one tropical day.  The days are more or less like
this throughout the year.  A little difference exists, between the dry
and wet seasons.  The periodical phenomena of plants and animals do not
take place at about the same time in all the species, or in the
individuals of any given species, as they do in temperate countries.
The dry season here is not excessive, nor is there any estivation, as in
some tropical countries.  In these forests the aspect is the same or
nearly so every day in the year--budding, flowering, fruiting, and
leaf-shedding, are always going on in one species or other.  The
activity of birds and insects proceeds without interruption, each
species having its own breeding-times.  The colonies of wasps, for
instance, do not die off annually, leaving only the queens, as in cold
climates, but the succession of generations and colonies goes on
incessantly.  It is never either spring, summer, or autumn, but each day
is a combination of the three.  With the day and night always of equal
length, the atmospheric disturbances of each day neutralise themselves
before each succeeding morning.  With the sun in its course proceeding
midway across the sky, and the daily temperature the same within two or
three degrees throughout the year, how grand in its perfect equilibrium
and simplicity is the march of nature under the equator!

"Oppressive, almost fearful, is the silence and gloom of the Brazilian
forest," says Bates.  "The few sounds of birds are of that pensive or
mysterious character which intensifies the feeling of solitude, rather
than imparts a sense of life and cheerfulness.  Sometimes, in the midst
of the stillness, a sudden yell or scream will startle one.  This comes
from some defenceless fruit-eating animal, which is pounced upon by a
tiger-cat or stealthy boa-constrictor.  Morning and evening howling
monkeys make a most fearful and harrowing noise, under which it is
difficult to keep up one's buoyancy of spirit.  The feeling of
inhospitable wildness which the forest is calculated to inspire, is
increased tenfold under this fearful uproar.  Often, even in the still
hours of mid-day, there is a sudden crash, resounding afar through the
wilderness, as some great bough or entire tree falls to the ground.
Sometimes a sound is heard like the clang of an iron bar against a hard
hollow tree, or a piercing cry rends the air.  These are not repeated,
and the succeeding silence tends to heighten the unpleasant impression
which they make on the mind.  The natives believe it is the curupira--
the wild man of the forest--who produces all the noises they are unable
to explain.  He is a mysterious being,--sometimes described as a kind of
orang-outang, covered with long shaggy hair, and living in trees; at
others, he is said to have cloven feet and a bright red face.  He has a
wife and children, who, as well as himself, come down to the plantations
to steal the mandioca."

Such is a faint outline of some of the more prominent features of the
great Amazonian Valley--the most interesting portion of the southern
half of the New World.  No verbal descriptions can do justice to the
reality--although drawn, as some of the above are, by master hands.  We
will next range along the mighty Cordilleras to the ancient kingdom of
the Incas, looking down on the Pacific shores; and then, again
descending from the mountain heights, take a brief glance at the debased
human beings who people the valley, and pass in review the more
interesting of the countless wild creatures which inhabit its forests
and waters.  Afterwards we will traverse Venezuela, Guiana, the rest of
the Brazils, and the wide-spreading level regions to the south of that
vast country, the river-bound province of Paraguay, the territories of
the Argentine Republic, the wild district of the Gran Chaco, the
far-famed Pampas, and the plains of Patagonia.



PART THREE, CHAPTER FIVE.

THE CORDILLERAS.

The voyager sailing from the Atlantic into the Pacific Ocean passes a
dark granite headland rising nearly three thousand feet out of the
water, and which may be distinctly seen at a distance of sixty miles.
It is Cape Horn--the southern end, broken off by the Strait of Magellan,
of that range of mighty mountains which runs in a northerly course along
the western coast of South America, rising into lofty pinnacles--the
summits of many covered with perpetual snow--sinking at length only at
the northern extremity, where the narrow Isthmus of Panama unites the
two continents.  Again it gradually rises in Mexico, and runs on under
the name of the Rocky Mountains, at a less elevation and a greater
distance from the sea, till it sinks once more into the snow-covered
plains of the Arctic region.  We must, however, confine ourselves to the
South American portion of the range.  For the entire distance its
summits are distinctly seen from the ocean, many at a distance of
upwards of a hundred miles.  Between their base and the shores of the
Pacific there is, however, a level tract, in some parts consisting of
arid plains, from fifteen to fifty miles in width.  In crossing them the
traveller finds not a drop of water to quench his raging thirst, nor a
blade of grass to feed his weary steed.  Among the rocky caverns of
those mountain heights the savage bear has its abode, the mighty condor
takes its flight from their rugged peaks into the blue ether, and the
cold-looking llama, the vicuna, and alpaca find ample pasturage.  In the
lower, the fierce jaguar ranges amidst its forests of graceful
palm-trees, the terrible alligator dwells on the banks of its streams,
and the anaconda watches for its prey; while bananas, yams, mandioc, and
all the fruits of a tropical clime, attain perfection.  This mighty
range, however, does not run its length in one distinct line, but
separates; in some parts with deep valleys between them, like that of
the Puncu of Avisca, while at others there are vast table-lands; again,
however, to unite and spread out into numerous rugged sierras.

The western portion of these ranges is properly the Cordilleras; while
the eastern, which slopes towards the wide-extending plains of Brazil,
forms the true Andes.  The southern portion skirts the bleak shores of
Patagonia in a single sierra, for a distance of nearly one thousand
miles, in some parts rising to the height of seven thousand feet above
the ocean.  Entering Chili, the mountains rise higher and higher, till
they culminate in the mighty peak of Aconcagua, the most lofty height of
the whole range.

At the boundary-line of Bolivia the chain separates into two portions,
enclosing the great table-land of Desuguadero, thirteen thousand feet
above the sea.  At one end of this lofty region is the city of Potosi,
rising above the clouds--the highest in the world, erected amid the
groans and tears of the hapless natives compelled to labour at its
far-famed silver-mines.  At the other is found Cuzco, the ancient
capital of the Incas.  Between them lies the Lake of Titicaca, the
centre of bygone Peruvian civilisation.

Running still parallel with the coast, and looking down upon the modern
city of Lima, the range passes through Peru till it again divides in
three portions at the confines of the equator, where it once more forms
two lines, which rise in that magnificent congregation of mountains
which surround the famous Valley of Quito.  Here no less than twenty-one
volcanoes rear their lofty summits, many of them crowned with perpetual
snow, amid which Chimborazo and Cotopaxi are pre-eminent.

To the north of the equator, the Cordilleras again form one vast ridge,
and passing through New Granada, spread out like the branches of a palm
through Venezuela and along the northern shores of the continent washed
by the Caribbean Sea.

The whole of this vast range, from Cape Horn to Panama, gives evidence
of the hidden fires which glow beneath its base, and by which it was
originally created.  Fifty-one volcanoes are found along the line.  Of
the twenty which surround the Valley of Quito, three are active, five
dormant, and twelve are supposed to be extinct.  By far the larger
number rise out of the eastern range; indeed, the western contains only
one active volcano, but out of it tower the peerless Chimborazo, and
Pichincha with its deep crater.  The whole region is subject to terrific
earthquakes, which have from time to time shaken down its cities, caused
huge waves to flow over the level land, and destroyed countless
thousands of its inhabitants.  Chimborazo was long supposed to be the
most lofty mountain on the globe.  It is 21,420 feet high; but Aconcagua
in Chili rises to the height of 23,200 feet.  Several of the summits of
the Himalayan range in Asia are over 25,000 feet; and Kilima Njaro, the
most lofty peak in Africa, is about the same altitude as Chimborazo.
Chimborazo, for solitary grandeur--and from the excessive steepness of
its sides, which has prevented the foot of man from reaching its
summit--stands, however, unrivalled.

From the lofty heights over which we have thus rapidly passed,
numberless streams take their rise, rushing and foaming down their steep
sides to feed those mighty rivers which, flowing across the continent,
seek an outlet in the far-distant Atlantic.  On the western side,
comparatively few and insignificant rivers cross the narrow plains into
the Pacific.  Thus the inhabitants of the tropical portions have to
depend on artificial irrigation for the cultivation of the land.

What mighty force must have been required to raise those mountains to
their present elevation,--and how fearful must be the fires which still
rage beneath their bases!  Gigantic, however, as they seem to human
eyes, the most lofty could be represented on a globe six feet in
diameter by a grain of sand, less than one-twentieth of an inch in
thickness.  How insignificant then must the proudest works of man
appear--what a mere speck himself--to One who looks down from on high on
this earth of ours!

On examining their sides in various parts, proof is afforded that these
vast mountains have been heaved upwards from beneath the ocean.  Shells
are found 1300 feet above the sea, covered with marine mud.  On a beach
elevated 2500 feet above the Pacific, numerous species of patella and
other shells can be picked up, identical with those obtained on the
coast with the living animal inhabiting them.  At Huanuco, in Peru,
there is a coal-bed existing at the height of 14,700 feet.  Shells have
also been found at the height of 13,000 feet; and on the side of
Chimborazo there is a salt spring 13,000 feet above the ocean.

The surface of the great lake of Titicaca--the largest piece of
fresh-water in South America--is 12,795 feet above the Pacific; an
elevation greater than that of the highest peaks of the Pyrenees.  In
the neighbourhood of this lake, remains exist which speak of the
advanced state of civilisation of the inhabitants before the appearance
of the Incas, with whose latter history alone we are acquainted.  So
completely is the lake surrounded by mountains, that, though fed by
numerous streams, not the smallest rivulet escapes to find its way
either into the Pacific or Atlantic.  One large river, however, the
Desaguadero, flows out of its south-west corner, and disappears in the
swampy Lake Aullagas in the south of Bolivia.  Its superabundant water
must, therefore, be taken off by evaporation, excessive in that elevated
region.  High above it, amid chilling mists and biting storms of driving
snow, are found the silver-mines of Potosi and Pasco.

However, before we wander further amid the giddy precipices and
snow-capped summits of this mighty range of mountains, we will descend
for a time to the lower world, and glance round its southern extremity
and along its western shores, bathed by the waters of the
wide-stretching Pacific.



PART THREE, CHAPTER SIX.

SOUTHERN AND WESTERN SHORES OF THE CONTINENT.

Tierra Del Fuego appears as if a mountain region had been partly
submerged in the ocean, so that deep inlets and bays occupy the place
where valleys would have existed had its base still been above the sea.
The greater portion of the mountainsides are covered, from the water's
edge upwards to the elevation of 1500 feet, by one wide-extending forest
of evergreen beeches.  Scarcely a level spot is to be found throughout
the whole country; and so dense is the wood, and encumbered by the
trunks of fallen trees and waterfalls, that it is scarcely possible to
penetrate it.  Here and there on the western side, and in the Strait of
Magellan, the forest disappears, and magnificent glaciers extend down to
the very water's edge.  The mountains on the north side rise to the
height of 4000 feet, with one peak above 6000 feet high, covered with a
mantle of perpetual snow; while numerous cascades pour their waters
through the woods into the narrow channel below.  It is scarcely
possible to imagine anything more beautiful than the beryl-like blue of
these glaciers, especially contrasted with the dead white of the upper
expanse of snow.

The inhabitants of this region are among the lowest in the scale of
human beings, living in wretched hovels, composed often merely of boughs
and leaves, their only clothing scanty pieces of skin, worn on one side,
to defend themselves from the icy winds.

These evergreen forests, consisting of only two or three species of
trees, with several Alpine plants growing on the heights above them,
continue round the coast for six hundred miles or more northward of Cape
Horn, till, in the more northern and warmer latitudes, they give place
to semi-tropical vegetation.  Now stately trees of various kinds appear,
with smooth and highly-coloured bark, loaded with parasitical plants;
while large and elegant ferns, and numerous and arborescent grasses,
entwine the trees into one entangled mass.  Palm-trees appear in
latitude 37 degrees; and an arborescent grass, very like the bamboo,
three degrees further north.

In many places the ocean washes the base of the Andes, or huge spurs
project from the mountains; and in others a narrow belt alone is left
between them and the water.  The whole of Chili, indeed, consists of a
narrow strip of land between the Cordilleras and the Pacific; while this
strip is often traversed by several mountain lines, which in some parts
run parallel to the great range.  Extending to the south, between these
outer lines and the main Cordilleras, we find a succession of level
basins, generally blending into each other by narrow passages.

In the neighbourhood of Valparaiso, above which Aconcagua (23,000 feet
in height) looks down on the Pampas on one side and the blue Pacific on
the other, is the beautiful valley of Guillota, thoroughly irrigated and
brought under cultivation.  It has, during the whole summer, the hot sun
striking down from a cloudless sky.  It is only in these parts where the
nature of the streams affords means of irrigation that vegetation can
exist.

Further north, the western shore is in many parts very arid; and about
latitude 20 degrees south the burning desert commences, extending 540
leagues--almost to the Gulf of Guayaquil--and varying in width from
three to twenty leagues.  Over this region of death, heaps of stone or
mounds of sand are alone seen, except where, at wide intervals, some
mountain stream, fed by the melting snows of the lofty peaks, finds its
way into the ocean.  It is only in the neighbourhood of these rivers
that man can venture to take up his abode.  On the banks of most of them
have been built the few cities which exist near the sea in Peru.  For
some miles the traveller finds not a drop of water, no trace of
vegetation.  His weary horse sinks, overcome with the pangs of thirst
and the fatigue of dragging its limbs through the soft sand.  Through
this region the mule can alone be trusted, as, like the camel of the
Eastern desert, it will longer endure fatigue and want of water.  Here,
as in the deserts of Africa, violent winds stir up the sand, forming
vast columns, as terrible in their effects as the flames of the prairie.
Rising to a hundred feet in height, they are seen approaching, whirling
through the air, till the unhappy traveller finds himself surrounded by
an overwhelming mass, and, unable to breathe, sinks exhausted on the
ground.  Flight alone can save him.  Many have here perished.  On
several occasions, troops attempting to cross the desert have been
overwhelmed.  Others have lost their way when traversing the sandy
plains, and have wandered about, in vain seeking for water to quench
their burning thirst.  On one side is the salt ocean, on the other the
rocky precipices of the mountains.  Wandering on for hours and hours, at
length, exhausted, they have abandoned themselves to despair.  These
sand-storms occur more especially during the heats of summer, so
completely altering the appearance of the country, by covering it with
large hillocks, that the most experienced guides find it at times
impossible to discover their way; and perhaps, when searching for it,
another storm arises, and once more spreads the mounds over the level
plain.

In some places the whole soil is covered with a thick crust of salt,
white and hard, giving the country the appearance of being covered with
snow.  For months and months together, in many parts not a drop of rain
falls.  At length a shower descends, and, as if by magic, the grass
springs up in spots where not a blade was before visible; and for a
short time the whole country puts on a green mantle, soon, however, to
be withered up by the burning heat.

Northward of this desert region, the land on the shores of the Gulf of
Guayaquil and its neighbourhood is covered with the richest vegetation,
supported by the numerous streams which descend from the Andes of Quito
and Columbia.



PART THREE, CHAPTER SEVEN.

THE INDIANS OF THE CORDILLERAS.

Leaving the burning sand-coast, we will ascend once more the steep sides
of the Cordilleras to those fertile tracts found at an elevation of many
thousand feet above the ocean; but, before describing the brute creation
and the vegetable products of this interesting region, we should
properly take a glance at the human beings inhabiting it.

When, in 1524, the Spaniards first reached the western coast of South
America, of which they were soon to become the conquerors, they found a
people greatly advanced in civilisation.  They consisted of two distinct
races; the one, known as the Incas, showing a decided superiority in
intellectual power over the other.  Whence they came is unknown; but a
tradition existed, that two persons--husband and wife--had appeared some
four hundred years before that period in the neighbourhood of Lake
Titicaca, announcing themselves as the Children of the Sun.  The
husband, Manco Capac, taught the men the arts of agriculture; and his
wife, Mama Oello (_mama_, meaning mother), initiating her own sex in the
mysteries of weaving and spinning.  The wise policy which regulated the
conduct of the first Incas (kings, or lords), was followed by their
successors, and under their mild sceptre a community gradually extended
itself along the surface of the broad table-land, which asserted its
superiority over the surrounding tribes.

Fine cities sprang up in different parts of their kingdom, connected by
well-formed roads, suited to the nature of the country.  Their capital
was Cuzco, at some distance to the north of the lake, in latitude 14
degrees south; while the city next in importance to it was Quito, in a
rich valley, beneath the equator.  These cities were connected by two
roads; one passing over the grand plateau, and the other along lowlands
at the borders of the ocean.  The first was conducted over
mountain-ridges, frequently buried in snow; galleries were cut through
the living rock; rivers crossed by suspension-bridges; precipices scaled
by stairways; and deep ravines were filled up with solid masonry.

This road was upwards of fifteen hundred miles long; and stone pillars,
to serve the purpose of mile-stones, were erected at intervals of about
a league along the route.  Its breadth was about twenty feet.  In some
places it was covered with heavy flagstones; and in others, with a
bituminous cement, which time has rendered harder than the stone itself.
Where the ravines had been filled with solid masonry, the mountain
torrents have eaten a way beneath it, leaving the superincumbent mass
still spanning the valley like an arch.  The suspension-bridges--instead
of which wretchedly inferior ones of wood are now used--were composed of
the tough fibres of the maguey; a species of osier, possessing an
extraordinary degree of tenacity and strength.  The fibres were woven
into cables of the thickness of a man's body, which were then stretched
across the water, and conducted through rings or holes cut in immense
buttresses of stone raised on the opposite banks of the river, and there
secured to heavy pieces of timber.  Several of these enormous cables
bound together, side by side, formed a bridge--which, covered with
planks well secured, and defended on each side by a railing of the same
material, afforded a safe passage for the traveller.  The length of this
aerial bridge, sometimes exceeding 200 feet, caused it--confined as it
was only at the extremities--to dip, with an alarming inclination
towards the centre; while the motion given it by the passenger created
an oscillation frightful to one whose eye glanced down into the dark
abyss of waters, that foamed and tumbled many a fathom beneath.

Over these roads a system of communication throughout the country was
kept up by running postmen, called chasquis.  Along the roads small
buildings were erected, within five miles of each other, at which a
number of chasquis were stationed.  They were trained to the employment,
and selected for their speed and fidelity.  As the distance each had to
perform was small, he ran over the ground with great swiftness, and
messages were carried along all the routes at the rate of a hundred and
fifty miles a day.  The chasquis not only carried despatches, but
brought fish from the distant ocean, and fruits, game, and other
commodities, from the warm regions on the coast.

It is not our province to describe the gorgeous temples, palaces, and
convents, in which the Virgins of the Sun resided, and the numerous
other public buildings, extensive remains of which still exist scattered
throughout the region.  The glory of the Incas has departed.  But few of
their descendants remain, and their blood has generally mingled with
that of their conquerors.

THE NATIVE INDIANS.

The tribes over whom they ruled are still to be found, though in
diminished numbers, and debased by the cruel system of oppression under
which they long groaned.  The native inhabitants of the central region
of the Andes are known as the Quichuas, and their chief characteristics
are common to the greater number of the tribes along the whole extent of
the range.  Though the languages of the different tribes vary, they are
probably derived from the same source.  The head of the Quichua is an
oblong longitudinal, somewhat compressed at the sides.  He has a low and
very slightly arched forehead; a prominent, long, aquiline nose, with
large nostrils.  The mouth is large, and the teeth very fine, while the
lips are not thick; the chin is short, but not receding; cheek-bones not
prominent, eyes horizontal and never large, eyebrows long, the hair
jet-black--and, though thick, straight and coarse, yet soft.  He has
little or no beard.  In stature they seldom reach five feet.  The chest
is long, broad, deep, and highly arched.  The hands and feet are small.
The colour is between olive, brown, and bronze,--somewhat like that of
the mulatto.  Though their chests are broad, and their shoulders square,
their arms are weak--their chief strength existing in their backs and
legs.  Mild, generous, and submissive, they have existed when a fiercer
race would have been exterminated; but, on several occasions, they have
shown that they can be goaded into revolt.  About the year 1770, under
Tupac Amaru, they broke into rebellion, when, had they possessed better
arms and more discipline, they might, with the courage they exhibited,
have driven the Spaniards from the country.  The rebellion was put down
with the atrocious cruelties to which the Spaniards have invariably
subjected this unhappy race.

On the eastern slopes of the Andes are found savage tribes, wearing few
or no clothes, painting their skins, and ornamenting themselves with the
coloured feathers of birds.  Towards the southern end of Chili, the
fierce Araucanians inhabit the mountains.  Beyond them are the
large-limbed Patagonians, clothed in skins; and at the extreme end, the
wretched Fuegans, living in nearly a state of nature, on seals and fish.

The race supposed to have been the most civilised before the time of the
Incas were the Aymaras, whose descendants still inhabit the shores of
Lake Titicaca.  Their language differs from the Quichua, though
evidently a sister-tongue.

This expanse of water, already mentioned, is about eighty miles long and
forty broad.  Numerous rivers flow into it; in some places it is very
deep, but in others so shallow that there is only just room to force the
balsas through the rushes.  It abounds in fish of peculiar form, and in
aquatic birds.  Several islands rise above its surface.  That of
Titicaca, from which it takes its name, is most celebrated.

During one of the several occasions when the Indians rose against their
taskmasters to free themselves from the mita--a system which compelled
one-seventh part of the male population to labour in the mines--the
lake, for a long time, afforded them a place of refuge.  In some places
along the shores, beds of rushes exist nine leagues long and one broad.
In the midst of them there is an island, to which lanes were cut through
the tangled mass.  This watery labyrinth was navigated by the Indians in
their balsas; and, secure in their retreat, they contrived to make
inroads on the Spanish towns in the neighbourhood for a length of time.
(These balsas are composed of reeds, tightly fastened together on the
sides, in the form of boats, and are propelled both by sails and
paddles.)  Several of the Indian chiefs were at length captured and
executed.  This, however, only exasperated the rebels, who, under an
enterprising leader, attacked the bridge over the Desaguadero, and
carried off the heads of their chiefs, which had been stuck on poles
above it.  The Spanish troops sent against them waded to some islets,
but the Indians, hovering round them in their balsas, prevented them
from advancing further.  At length the Spaniards embarked in twenty
balsas, and came in sight of the native squadron.  The Indians, however,
going in and out among the lanes and rushes, baffled their oppressors,
cutting off several Spanish balsas.  A party of cavalry also, advancing
into the swampy ground, was suddenly surrounded and cut to pieces, with
a loss to the Indians of only three men.

These outbreaks, and the far more important rebellion under Tupac Amaru,
show that Spanish tyranny had not entirely succeeded in crushing the
spirit of the Indians.  During the civil wars which for so long
devastated the Spanish provinces of South America, the Indians fought
with a courage fully equal to that of the whites.

THE PUNA.

An elevated region called by the Quichuas the Puna, or "the
uninhabited," must be described.  A scanty vegetation covers these vast
plains.  Man can with difficulty breathe on them, or produce the means
of existence.  Barley, though cultivated, seldom ripens; the chief plant
which grows to maturity being the _maca_, which has tuberous roots, and
is used like the potato.  In consequence of the diminished pressure of
the air, water begins to boil at so low a temperature that neither meat,
potatoes, nor eggs, can be sufficiently cooked.  From the same cause,
those unaccustomed to the rarefied air are afflicted with an attack
called the _vela_--consisting of headache, nausea, and producing even
spitting of blood, and other disorders of the mucous membrane.  Horses
suffer in the same way; and cats are so affected that they die in
violent convulsions.  There is another complaint, called the _chanu_,
affecting the skin of the hands and face, as well as the eyelids; when,
the skin breaking, blood flows from every opening.  The _surumpe_, by
which travellers are affected--the inflammation of the eyes caused by
the reflection from the snow--is still more painful.  Often the agony
which even an Indian suffers from it is so great, that he has been known
to sit down and utter cries of anguish; while, occasionally, total
blindness has been the ultimate consequence.

But it is time that we should turn to the brute creation existing in
these regions, noticing the interesting specimens of the vegetable
kingdom as we proceed in our survey.  As the camel is the characteristic
animal of the sandy deserts of Arabia and Africa, the royal tiger of the
jungles of Bengal, and the kangaroo of the wide-extending plains of
Australia, so the llama brings to our recollection the lofty plateaus of
the Andes, and the mighty condor its still higher peaks.



PART THREE, CHAPTER EIGHT.

THE WILD ANIMALS OF THE CORDILLERAS.

THE LLAMA.

It is on the above-mentioned bleak table-land that the llama, with its
kindred--the alpaca, vicuna, and huanucu--are found.  The historian of
the conquest calls them the sheep of Peru, but the llama is more allied
in its characteristics to the camel of the desert.  In outward form,
except that it has no hump on its back; in the structure and cellular
apparatus of the stomach, which enable it to abstain for a long time
from water; in the expression of its large full eye; in the mobility and
division of the upper lip; in its fissured nostrils; in the nature of
its teeth; and in its long woolly clothing and slender neck,--the llama
has a strong resemblance to the camel of the deserts of Arabia.  While
the camel's feet, however, are formed for passing over the burning sands
or level ground, and are therefore broad and cushioned, those of the
llama, to enable it to climb the rugged crags of the Cordilleras, are
slender, elastic, and claw-tipped.  The llama has indeed been rightly
called the camel of the mountains, and was employed by the ancient
Peruvians--as it is at present--as a beast of burden.  The load laid
upon its back rests securely upon a bed of wool, without the aid of
girth or saddle.  It cannot carry more than from eighty to one hundred
pounds.  If overladen it will lie down, and nothing will induce it to
rise till it has been relieved of its burden.

The llamas move in troops of five hundred or even one thousand, and
thus, though each individual carries but a little, the aggregate is
considerable.  The whole caravan travels at a regular pace--passing the
night in the open air without suffering from the cold--marching in
perfect order, and in obedience to the conductor.  Thus they proceed
over rugged passes from twelve to fifteen miles a day.  They were
especially employed in bearing the produce of the mines of Potosi to the
coast, often in places where the hoof of the mule could find no support.
It was estimated, after the conquest, that 300,000 were thus employed.
As they never feed after sunset, it is necessary, when journeying, to
allow them to graze for several hours during the day.  They utter a
peculiar low sound, which at a distance resembles, when the herd is
large, the tone of numerous Aeolian harps.  On seeing any strange object
which excites their fears, they immediately scatter in every direction,
and are with difficulty reunited.  The Indians treat them kindly,
ornamenting their ears with ribbons, and hanging little bells about
their necks.  When any of them, over-fatigued, fall to the ground, their
conductors endeavour by every gentle means to induce them to proceed.
In spite, however, of the kind treatment they receive, numbers, from the
heat of the coast region, which they cannot stand, annually perish.

When offended, the llama shows its anger by turning its head at its
driver, and discharging a saliva with a bad odour in his face.  It is
about the size of the stag.  It carries its long neck upright,
constantly moving its long ears.  The animals vary in colour.  Some are
of a light brown, the under part being whitish; others dappled; but they
are seldom found quite white or black.  In consequence of the
introduction of the mule and horse into the country, which have
superseded them in many places as beasts of burden, their price seldom
exceeds three or four dollars.  The flesh of the llama is eaten; and as
many as 4,000,000 were, in days gone by, annually killed for food.

THE ALPACA.

The alpaca is smaller than the llama, and somewhat resembles the sheep.
It has a long, soft, fine fleece of a silky lustre.  In the domestic
breeds the wool falls in large flakes reaching down to the knees.  This
wool was employed by the ancient Peruvians for weaving a kind of cloth.
It approximates in character to silk, and a large quantity is now
exported to Europe for the manufacture of shawls and other delicate
fabrics.  Immense herds of the llama or alpaca were held by the Peruvian
government, and placed under the protection of herdsmen, who conducted
them from one quarter of the country to another, according to the
season.  They were exclusively the property of the Incas; as were the
vicunas, which roam in native freedom over the frozen ranges of the
Cordilleras.

THE HUANUCU.

The huanucu is considerably larger than the llama, which it so much
resembles, that it was formerly considered to be the same animal in a
wild state.  The body is brown, with the under parts white; the face is
of a blackish-grey, approaching to white about the lips.  The fleece is
shorter and not so fine as that of the llama.  The huanucus are very
shy, and only when caught young can they be tamed--and even then they
can rarely be induced to carry burdens.  They generally live in small
troops of from five to seven.  Not unfrequently they may be seen scaling
the snow-covered peaks to a height which no other living thing save the
condor can reach.  They find sustenance in the _ychu_, a species of
grass which grows all along the great ridge of the Cordilleras, from the
equator to the southern limits of Patagonia.

THE VICUNA.

The vicunas are very beautiful and graceful creatures, with the habits
of antelopes.  They have long, slender necks, and rich fawn-coloured
coats, with patches of white across the shoulders and inside the legs.
The wool is shorter and more curly than that of the three other species,
and, from its extreme fineness, is of much greater value.

During the dry season, when the grass of the plains has withered, they
descend to the swampy ground below.  One male is followed by a dozen or
more females, over whom he watches with the most faithful care.  Should
he apprehend danger, he utters a loud, shrill cry of alarm, and rapidly
advances.  The herd then collecting, moves forward slowly; but
immediately they discover the approach of an enemy they wheel round and
fly--at first at a slow pace, frequently looking round, and then away
they dart, fleet as the wind, the male covering their retreat.  Should
their protector be wounded, the females return and keep circling round
him, uttering piercing notes of sorrow, and remain to be shot rather
than desert their companion.

Although it is only when enraged that the llamas and huanucus spit upon
those near them, the vicunas and alpacas invariably eject saliva and
undigested food--which has a peculiarly disagreeable smell--upon all who
approach them.

Vicunas in vast numbers are found ranging over the more remote and lofty
regions of the Puna, where they are able to find a safe retreat from the
attacks of man.  They have, however, a very formidable enemy in the
ravenous condor, who frequently robs them of their young.

These two wild species the Peruvian peasants were never allowed to hunt,
they being as much the property of the government as if enclosed within
a park.  Only on stated occasions, once a year, great hunts took place
under the superintendence of the Inca, or his principal officers.  They
were never repeated in the same quarter oftener than once in four years,
that time might be allowed for the waste occasioned by them to be
replenished.  At the time appointed the whole surrounding population--
sometimes, it is said, amounting to nearly ten thousand men--formed a
circle round the area which was to be hunted over.  Armed with spears,
they gradually closed in, destroying the beasts of prey, and driving the
huanucus, vicunas, and deer towards the centre, where the male deer and
the huanucus were slaughtered.  Their skins were reserved for various
useful manufactures; and their flesh, cut into thin slices, was
distributed among the people, who converted it into chasqui, or dried
meat (constituting then, as it does now, the principal animal food of
the lower classes of Peru).

The vicunas are hunted at the present day.  A member from each family of
the Puna villages joins the hunting party, forming altogether a band of
about one hundred persons.  They carry poles with cordage.  The poles
are placed in the ground, and united by ropes at about the height of two
feet, forming a circle of half a league in circumference, enclosing a
space called the _chasqu_.  Coloured pieces of rag are attached to the
ropes, which are moved about by the wind.  Some of the hunters are on
horseback, others on foot.  Each man is armed with the well-known bolas;
which consists of three balls of lead, two of which are heavy and one
lighter, attached to a long leathern thong knotted together at one
extremity.  The hunter takes the lighter ball in his hand, and swings
the other two in a wide circle over his head.  When at a distance of
fifteen or twenty paces from the animal, the lighter is let loose, when
the three fly in circles towards it, encompassing it in their snake-like
folds.  Thus prepared, the hunters disperse, forming a circle several
miles in circumference, driving all the vicunas before them towards the
entrance of the circle.  As soon as the animals have entered, it is
closed.  The vicunas, afraid to spring over the ropes with the coloured
rags fluttering in their faces, are attacked by the hunters with their
bolas, the hind-legs being generally aimed at.  The huanucus, which are
much wilder, invariably leap the barriers and escape, when frequently
the vicunas follow their example.  As soon as the animals within the
_chasqu_ are killed, it is carried off and again erected at a distance
of twelve or more miles, when the same operation is gone through.  Thus
from one hundred to three hundred animals are killed during the chase,
which generally lasts for a week.

Notwithstanding the opposition from the Peruvian government, a large
herd of alpacas were, some years ago, successfully carried to the coast
and shipped off to Australia, where, in a high and dry district, they
appear to be flourishing.

THE CONDOR.

The traveller standing on the rocky heights of the Cordilleras, at an
elevation which Etna does not surpass, though still with many a
snow-capped mountain round him, may see, on one of the dizzy pinnacles
amid which he stands, a vast bird.  It is the condor, the largest of the
vulture tribe; the monarch of the birds of that region.  He may know it
by the glossy black colour, tinged with grey, of its body; the greater
wing-coverts, except at the base and tips, and the quill-feathers being
mostly white.  Round the neck is a white ruff of down; the skin of the
head and neck is excessively wrinkled, and is of a dull reddish colour
with a tinge of purple.  Surmounting the forehead is a large, firm comb,
with a loose skin under the bill which can be dilated at pleasure.  Now
it expands its wings, nine feet from tip to tip.  Off it flies from its
rocky perch, now appearing to sink with its own weight; but, gradually
rising, it soars aloft, even above the glittering dome of Chimborazo, no
vibration seen in its powerful wings.  Higher and higher it soars, till
it appears a mere speck in the blue ether; then, lost to the sight of
human eye, darts rapidly downwards towards the sultry coast of the
Pacific, there to prey upon the putrefying carcasses of animals it may
espy from afar.

On that lofty pinnacle, or some jutting ledge near it, the female has
laid its two eggs, and here it rears its young.  The eggs are large and
white, and laid upon the bare rock.  The young are covered with a
whitish down, and, it is said, are unable to fly for an entire year.
Few other birds can fly to so great a distance above the earth.  It
appears to respire as easily in the most rarefied air as on the
seashore.  They do not live in pairs, like the eagle, but several are
generally found together.  When an animal falls dead, a number of the
vast birds are soon seen coming from afar to feast on the carcass.

Great as is the altitude to which the condor can fly, and although it
ranges through clouds and storms to the southern end of the Andes, it is
not found to the north of Panama.

The condor is a true vulture, gorging itself on dead and putrid
carcasses.  It will also attack the young llama, as well as lambs and
calves, which it carries away in its powerful talons.  This makes it
dreaded and hated by the shepherds of the hills and plains alike, who
seek its destruction by a variety of means.  Firearms are, however,
useless, as its thick and strongly-constructed coat of feathers will
turn aside a bullet.  Besides, it is so tenacious of life, that one has
been known to receive several bullets in its body, and to have lived a
considerable time afterwards.  The shepherds train their dogs to give
notice of the approach of a condor; and the moment one appears in the
sky, they look upwards, and bark violently till their masters appear.
Among other modes which the natives employ to capture it, they kill an
old mare--which they have an idea is better than a horse--and allow the
bird to gorge itself.  It then becomes so sluggish, that they can
without difficulty throw their bolas round its neck and legs.  It also
sleeps so soundly, that they frequently manage to approach it when at
roost, and capture it in the same way.

In the province of Abacay, in Peru, another method is employed.  A
native fastens a quantity of putrid flesh to a fresh cow-skin, under
which he lies hid with a supply of rope.  When the condor pounces down
upon the meat, and remains gorging himself, the native fastens its legs
by means of the rope to the skin.  As soon as this is done, he creeps
from beneath it.  The frightened bird in vain attempts to escape.
Immediately the hunter's companions, rushing forward, throw their bolas
over the bird, and make it captive.  Frequently several are thus caught
at the same time.

The cruel and disgusting custom of bull-baiting is still kept up in the
country, and the condors are employed to add to the terror and
sufferings of the unhappy bull.  Before the unfortunate animal is driven
into the circus, his back is laid bare with a lance, and one of the
birds, which has been starved for a week or more, is bound upon it.  The
famished condor immediately attacks the raw, quivering flesh of the poor
beast; and while it is thus engaged, the bull is driven into the midst
of the arena, to afford amusement to the savage spectators.

There is among the mountains a natural funnel-shaped excavation, sixty
feet in depth, and about eighty feet in diameter at the top.  The
Indians place, on the edge of the pit, the putrid body of a mule, so
balanced that it will easily fall over.  In a short time it is
discovered by numbers of condors, which, darting down, greedily attack
it.  Tugging and pulling at the flesh, they soon draw it over the edge,
when it falls to the bottom of the pit.  Not to be disappointed of their
prey, they hold tightly to the body, and descend with it.  Here, having
gorged themselves, they are unable to rise again to the mouth of the
pit, and are speedily killed with stones and sticks by the natives who
collect round it, or are drawn captive to the surface.  Dr Tschudi, in
his Travels, mentions having seen twenty-eight birds at one time thus
destroyed.

They are caught in a similar manner in other places, and brought down to
the coast, where they are sold for a few dollars; and often thus find
their way to Europe.  It was long an unsettled point whether the condor
discovers the dead animals on which it feeds by the power of sight or of
scent; but Darwin, by several experiments, has settled the question in
favour of the bird's keenness of vision.

A number of condors were kept captive in a garden, secured by ropes.
Wrapping up a piece of meat in white paper, and holding it in his hand,
he walked up and down in front of the birds; but they took no notice of
it.  He then threw it down in front of an old male bird; but it was
still disregarded.  He then pushed it with a stick till it touched the
condor's beak, when the paper was torn off with fury, and every bird in
the row began struggling and flapping its wings to reach the food.
Under the same circumstances, no dog would have been deceived.

The condor is said formerly to have been worshipped in Peru.  Perhaps
the Peruvians, seeing it descend through the air from beyond their
sight, supposed it a celestial messenger from the sun, which they
worshipped.  If so, their descendants treat it in a very different way
to what they must then have done.

A condor ordinarily measures nine feet from tip to tip of the wings, and
slightly over four feet from beak to tail.



PART THREE, CHAPTER NINE.

THE VEGETABLE PRODUCTIONS OF THE CORDILLERAS.

CHINCHONA OR PERUVIAN BARK.

The chinchona (it is erroneously spelt cinchona) tree constitutes the
type of a natural order (Chinchonaceae), which also includes
ipecacuanhas and coffees.

On the western slopes of Chimborazo, and in several other regions
extending from the wooded heights of Merida and Santa Martha, at the
northern end of the Cordilleras, as far as the Republic of Bolivia, 19
degrees south, the chinchona-tree has its range.  Vegetation in the
Cordilleras within the tropics reaches to a much greater height than in
higher latitudes.  The sun's rays have there great power in heating the
soil; while the mists drawn from the broad Pacific, rising above the
plains, rest upon the lofty sides of the mountains.  The warm and humid
atmosphere thus created is especially favourable to the growth of
certain trees and shrubs.  Among others is the chinchona-tree, from
which quinine is obtained.  It is generally found growing at a height of
from 6000 feet to 10,000 feet above the ocean.

It would have been strange had not the native Peruvians been acquainted
with the qualities of the bark.  The Quichua name for the tree,
_quina-quina_--"bark of barks"--shows that they believed it to possess
medicinal properties; indeed, there is little doubt that they were aware
of its febrifugal qualities, though they might not have attached much
importance to them.  Through them, probably, the Spanish colonists in
the neighbourhood of Loxa first discovered its virtues.  It was,
however, but little known till the year 1638, when the wife of the Count
of Chinchon, Viceroy of Peru, lay sick of an intermittent fever in the
palace of Lima.  The corregidor of Loxa, who had himself been cured of
an ague by the bark, hearing of her sickness, sent a parcel of powdered
quinquina bark to her physician.  It was administered to the Countess
Anna, and effected a complete cure.  She, in consequence, did her utmost
to make it known.  Her famous cure induced Linnaeus long afterwards to
name the whole genus of quinine-yielding trees Chinchona, in her honour.
The Jesuit missionaries, who had learned its virtues, also sent parcels
of the bark to Rome, whence it was distributed to members of their
fraternity throughout Europe by the Cardinal de Lugo.  Hence it was
sometimes called Jesuits' bark, and sometimes Cardinal's bark.  For many
years, however, great opposition was made by European physicians to its
use.  Some Protestants, indeed, went so far as to decline taking it,
because it was favoured by the Jesuits.  Although the bark was used for
many years, it was not till Dr Gomez, a surgeon in the Portuguese navy,
in 1816 isolated the febrifugal principle, and called it chinchonine,
that its true value became known.  But the final discovery of quinine,
as it is now used, is due to the French chemists Pelletier and Caventon,
in 1820.  It is a white substance, without smell, bitter, fusible, and
crystallised.

Chinchonine is of less strength than quinine, and is used in mild cases
of intermittent fever; but in severe cases, the use of quinine is
absolutely necessary.  Since the discovery of the medicinal properties
of this bark, it has proved an inestimable blessing to the human race.
For many years the bark itself was used as a febrifuge; but quinine,
which is extracted from it, is of still greater value in curing or
preventing ague.  On various occasions it has rendered great service by
preserving the health of troops.  Many lives were saved by it in the
disastrous Walcheren expedition.  In India it is now universally used
with the same beneficial effect; and several African explorers have been
enabled to prosecute their journeys through pestiferous regions by its
frequent use.  Dr Livingstone, among others, speaks of it as the chief
remedy he has employed when attacked by sickness on his journeys.

Most of the Chinchonae, when growing in good soil, and under favourable
circumstances, become large forest-trees.  When crowded, they frequently
run up to a great height without a branch; while at the upper limit of
their zone, they become mere shrubs.

There are numerous species of chinchona, producing bark of greatly
different values.  There are upwards of nineteen different species of
the true Chinchonae, and upwards of seventy once received as such,
though now considered of no commercial value.  The three characteristics
by which the true chinchona may be known are--the presence of curly
hairs bordering the laciniae of the corolla; the peculiar mode of
dehiscence of the capsule from below upwards; and the little pits at the
axils of the veins on the under sides of the leaves.  The leaves are of
a great variety of shapes and sizes.  In the finer species they are
lanceolate, with a shining surface of bright green, traversed by crimson
veins and petioles of the same colour.  The flowers are very small, and
hang in clustering panicles like lilacs.  They are generally of a deep
roseate colour, paler near the stalk, and dark crimson within the tube,
with white curly hairs bordering the laciniae of the corolla.  The
colour of one species is entirely white.  They send forth a delicious
fragrance, which scents the air in their neighbourhood.

The region round the little town of Loxa, on the southern frontier of
Ecuador, is the original home of the chinchona.  In its sheltered
ravines and dense forests were found those precious trees which first
made known to the world the healing virtues of Peruvian bark.  They grow
at a height above the sea of from 6200 to 8200 feet.  The trees are
there from 30 to 48 feet high, with three or more stems growing from the
same root.  The leaves are like those already described.  The bark is
black when exposed to the sun and wind, but of a brownish colour when
surrounded by other trees; and is always covered with lichens.  The bark
from the Loxa region is known as crown bark; that from Chimborazo, as
red bark; while in the Huanaco region of Northern Peru grey bark is
produced.

When first the demand for the bark was established, bark-collectors,
called _cascarilleros_, entered the forests in parties of a dozen or
more, supplied with food and tools.  At their head was a searcher
(_cateador_), who, climbing a high tree, looked out for the _manchas_,
or clumps of chinchona-trees, which experience taught him to know by
their dark colour and the peculiar reflection of the light from their
leaves amidst those endless expanses of forest.  Having marked the spot,
he descended, and led his party, sometimes for hours together, through
the tangled wilderness, using the wood-knife to mark his way to the
chinchona clump.  As soon as it was found, rude huts were built, and the
parties commenced their work.  Having with their axes laid the tree
level with the ground, cutting it as close as possible to the roots, the
work of stripping off the bark was commenced.  The original mode of
doing this is still continued.  It is done by dividing the stems into
pieces of uniform length.  The bark is then cut lengthwise, so as to
remove the rind without injuring the wood, or severing any of the
fibres.  In a few days the bark is taken off in strips as broad as
possible, and is afterwards pressed out into flat pieces.  That,
however, taken from the thinner branches is allowed to retain its form,
and is known as quill bark--called by the natives _canuto_; that from
the solid trunk is called _tabla_ or _plancha_.  It is sewn up in coarse
canvas, with an outer covering of fresh hide, forming packages called
_serons_.  Thus prepared, it is transported to the coast for shipment.

From the careless way in which the bark-collectors have hewn down the
trees, often digging up the roots themselves, the production has greatly
decreased.  When the root is allowed to remain, and the stem hewn as
near as possible to it, an after-growth is produced, which, in the
milder regions, in the space of six years again produces bark.  In the
colder regions twenty years are required before a tree is fit to be cut
down.

With great care and trouble chinchona plants and seeds have been
transported from South America to India by Professor Markham; and in the
mountainous regions of the East the tree is now cultivated and
flourishing.  It had some years before been carried by the Dutch to
Java, where, however, from want of sufficient care at first, its
cultivation has not been so successful as it appears to be in India,
Coca.

The native Indian, as he climbs the dizzy precipice, or passes over the
rocking bridge, in his journey across the rugged mountains, or leads his
troop of llamas to the seashore, or labours in the dark mines, bringing
up vast weights from the bowels of the earth, is enabled to bear the
fatigue he is called on to undergo by putting a few dried leaves into
his mouth, which he chews, and replenishes from time to time.  Thus the
coca leaf is a great source of comfort and enjoyment.  As he journeys,
his _chuspa_ or coca-bag, made of llama cloth, dyed red and blue in
patterns, is hung over his shoulders.  In his bag he also carries small
cakes--composed of carbonate of potash mixed with lime and water--called
_clipta_.  Sitting down, he first puts a few leaves into his mouth,
which he chews, and turns over and over till he has formed a ball.  He
then adds a small piece of the cake; and, sustained by the wonderful
qualities of the morsel, will go on for many hours without food.  He
usually replenishes his mouth about three times in the day.

The smell of the leaf is agreeable and aromatic, and gives out a
grateful fragrance.  When, however, used to excess, like other
narcotics, coca--though the least injurious--is still prejudicial to
health.

The coca plant (Erythoxylon coca) grows at an elevation of between 5000
and 6000 feet above the level of the ocean, in the warm valleys of the
eastern slopes of the Andes, where rain frequently falls.  It is from
four to six feet high, with straight and alternate branches.  The
leaves, which are of a light green, are alternate, and in form and size
similar to tea leaves.  The flowers, which are solitary, have a small
yellowish white corolla.  It requires careful cultivation.  It is
produced from seeds, and the plants are then transplanted into soil
carefully weeded and broken up.  It is found growing on terraces on the
mountainsides, which will allow of but a single row of plants.  At the
end of eighteen months the plants yield their first harvest, and
continue to yield for upwards of forty years.  The green leaves, when
picked, are carefully spread out in the sun to dry.  The name of "coca"
is bestowed on them only when they are dried and prepared for use.

Some writers, objecting altogether to stimulating narcotics, assert that
the use of coca produces all the evil results of opium; but this, from
the evidence of many enlightened travellers, seems not to be the case.
Taken immoderately, no doubt it is injurious,--as is tea, coffee,
tobacco, or wine; but used as it generally is by the natives, it is to
them a great blessing.  The valleys, however, most suitable for its
cultivation are reputed to be unhealthy.

So valuable was coca considered in the days of the Incas, that divine
honours were paid to it, and it was especially the property of the
sovereign.  Even at the present day the miners of Peru throw a quid of
coca against the hard veins of ore, under the belief that they are
thereby more easily worked.  The natives also sometimes put coca in the
mouth of the dying man, believing that if he can taste the fragrant leaf
it is a sure sign of his future happiness.

Its moderate use is considered wholesome; and European travellers who
have chewed coca state that they could thus endure long abstinence from
food without inconvenience, and that it enabled them to ascend
precipitous mountainsides with a feeling of lightness and elasticity,
and without losing breath.



PART THREE, CHAPTER TEN.

HUMMING-BIRDS (TROCHILIDAE) OF THE CORDILLERAS AND WESTERN COAST.

We should scarcely have expected to find the smallest specimens of the
feathered tribe inhabiting the same region as the mighty, coarse-feeding
condor; but whereas the latter pounces down on his carrion banquet into
the plains below, the little humming-bird seeks his food from the bright
flowers which clothe the mountainside, or the minute insects which fly
amid them.

Humming-birds are found throughout the whole of the New World, from the
borders of the great Canadian lakes, along the entire range of the
Cordilleras, down to the shores of Tierra del Fuego; also in the West
India Islands, and over the whole wide-extending plains watered by the
Orinoco, the Amazon, and other great rivers which empty themselves into
the Atlantic.  The greater number of the species exist about the
equator, and, as might be expected, diminish as we proceed either to the
south or north.

They obtain their name on account of the humming sound which their wings
produce when they are hovering over the flowers in which they seek their
food.  The sound, however, varies in the species; and the well-practised
ear of the naturalist is often able to distinguish without difficulty
one from the other.  Some are furnished with strong wings, with which
they can extend their flight over a large extent of country; and many
are migratory.  Others again have only small wings, and are compelled to
remain always in the same locality.  So rapid is their flight, that the
eye can scarcely distinguish the little bird as it cleaves the air; and
when hovering over a flower, the wings appear like filmy grey fans on
either side.

The food of most species consists partly of insects and partly of the
honey extracted from flowers.  In order to obtain its food from the deep
recesses of flowers, it possesses a long delicate beak; in some birds
straight, in others curved downwards, while some, again, have a double
curve.  These variations in form are undoubtedly to suit the particular
flowers on which they feed.  By means of the peculiar structure of its
tongue, which is long, filamentous, and doubled nearly to the base, it
is enabled to project it to a great distance--even into the very depths
of the largest flowers.

There are upwards of three hundred species of these beautiful birds, and
others are being constantly discovered--one vying with the other in
beauty and richness of plumage--truly described as the "feathered gems
of the mountain and forest."  Some humming-birds tower, like the lark,
to a great height in the air; while others keep always near the ground,
among the shrubs in which they live.

The nests of humming-birds vary in form and structure, but they are all
of a most delicate nature.  The external parts of some are formed of
light grey lichen, and so perfectly arranged round it as to appear at a
little distance as if only forming part of the branch to which it is
attached.  The interior consists of the silky fibres of the cotton-tree,
extremely delicate and soft.  The female lays a couple of eggs only,
purely white, and about the size of peas.  Ten days are required for
their hatching, and the birds raise two broods in a season.  When first
hatched they are not larger than an ordinary-sized fly.  Small as is the
male humming-bird, he is a brave little fellow, and will courageously
fly at the largest bird which approaches his nest; while, by the
rapidity of his flight, he can avoid the attacks of even the swiftest of
the larger race.

There is a remarkable circumstance connected with humming-birds,
especially in lofty regions, where they are more particularly
susceptible of electric influences.  It is well known that in many
regions small birds are found killed after a thunder-storm, in
consequence of the amount of electricity in the air.  The humming-birds,
as if conscious of this danger, build their nests of peculiar form, and
of materials which are bad conductors of electricity, within which they
are thoroughly protected.  The nests of some are shaped like inverted
cones, tapering to a fine point--that, as is supposed, the electricity
which would destroy the delicate young ones, or the vitality of the
eggs, may pass off into the air.

Their notes are very feeble, rarely rising into a whistle.  In one week
after they are hatched, the young birds are ready to fly, but they are
fed by their parents for nearly another week.  Their plumage, however,
does not attain its full brilliancy till the succeeding spring.

But we must confine ourselves to the humming-birds of the Cordilleras,
on the western coast.

SWORD-BILL HUMMING-BIRD.

At the north of the range, between Santa Fe de Bogota and Quito, at an
elevation often of 12,000 feet, is found the sword-bill humming-bird.
Its name is derived from the length of its beak, which is nearly as long
as its body, and enables it to seek its food from the long pendent
corollas of the Brugmansae.  Nothing can exceed the elegance of its
movements as it probes the pendent blossoms, searching to their inmost
depths.  Its nest, woven with wonderful skill and beauty of
construction, is fastened to the end of a twig.  The head and upper part
of the body of the male bird are green, glossed with gold in some parts,
and with bronze in others.  The wings are dark black-brown, with a
purple gloss; while the tail is dark black, the upper surface being
bronzed.  A conspicuous white, slightly elongated spot exists behind
each eye, and on each side of the chest there is a broad crescent-shaped
mark of light green.  The under parts are of a bronzed green, and the
under tail-coverts are flaked with a little white.

COPPER-BELLIED PUFF-LEG.

In the neighbourhood of Santa Fe, another very beautiful and curious
little bird, the copper-bellied puff-leg, is found, at an elevation of
about 9000 feet.  (Unlike the greater number of birds, the female
humming-birds are generally as richly ornamented as the male.)  It is
named from the curious white puffs or ruffs--looking as if formed of
swan's-down--on the legs.  The head of the male, the sides of the neck,
and back, are green, with a bronzed tint, except on the tail-coverts,
where the green is pure, and of metallic brilliancy.  The tail is black,
with a purple gloss; the throat is of a shining, metallic green; while
the breast and under portion of the body is green, glossed with gold.

This bird, probably on account of the vegetation of the locality, from
which it obtains its food, is restricted to a narrow mountain-ridge, not
three-quarters of a mile in width.

WHITE-BOOTED RACKET-TAIL.

The rapid flying white-booted racket-tail is likewise common near Santa
Fe.  It possesses muffs, like the former, and is found at an elevation
of nearly 10,000 feet.  It is named from the long, racket-shaped
feathers of the tail, which, when flying, are in constant motion, waving
softly in the air, opening and closing in the most beautiful manner.  In
its flight it may vie with the arrow as it darts from a bow; and when
the bird rapidly cleaves the air, the tail-feathers lie straight behind
it.

The chief colour of this bird is a bronzed green, the upper tail-coverts
being of a richer and redder hue.  The wings are of a purple-brown, as
is the tail; but the rackets are black, shot with green.  The feet are
yellow, with two beautiful white ruffs surrounding the legs.

COLUMBIAN THORN-BILL.

In the same district, invariably keeping at the bottom of the valleys,
is found the Columbian thorn-bill.  It does not even mount, as do many
humming-birds, to the tops of the trees, but seeks its food among the
low, flowering shrubs.  It is of a golden green colour on the upper
parts, and of a dull green below; except on its curious tuft, which
hangs from the chin, and is of a light green at the base, and a
purple-red towards the points.  The wings are of a purple-brown hue, as
is the tail, with a bronzed gloss, while the under tail-coverts are
brown-yellow.  It is curious that the hen, though in other respects like
the male, has no beard.

BLACK WARRIOR.

At the height of 13,000 feet above the ocean is found a curious bird,
which, from the pointed plume crowning the top of its head, and the long
beard-like projection from its chin, is very appropriately called the
helmet-crest or black warrior.  It inhabits regions immediately below
the line of perpetual snow, where we should least expect to find so
delicate a creature.  Its food it gathers from the thinly scattered
shrubs projecting from the ledges of rock near the snow.  Its flight is
swift, but very short.  When launching itself from the lofty height on
which it is perched, it flies obliquely downwards, uttering at the same
time a plaintive, whistling sound.  It is more sedate in its habits than
its brethren, nor does it seem to partake of their joyous spirit.  The
head and neck of the male are black, with a line running along the
centre.  The long beard is white, and round the neck and back of the
head is a broad band of white.  The upper surface of the body and the
two central feathers of the tail are bronzed green, the others being of
a warm reddish bronze.  Its length is a little over five inches.

The female is chiefly brown, and possesses no beard or helmet-like
plume; it is also considerably smaller.

THE SICKLE-BILL.

In the humming-birds, we see the same perfect adaptation of their
construction to their peculiar wants which is found throughout the whole
animal creation.  This is beautifully exhibited in the sickle-bill,
which is occasionally found in Bogota.  Its bill is very short and
sharply curved, in order that it may enter the short, curved flowers of
that region.  It is generally of a duller hue than most of its tribe.
Its head and small crest are blackish-brown, each feather having a spot
of buff on its tip.  The upper part of the body is of a dark, glossy
green, slightly touched with buff.  The under part is a brownish-black,
with a few buff streaks upon the throat and breast.  It is about four
and a half inches long.

MARS' SUN-ANGEL.

Mr Gould describes the Mars' sun-angel as among the most beautiful of
the genus Heliangelus inhabiting the northern end of the Cordilleras.

"It has all the charms of novelty to recommend it, and it stands alone
among its congeners; no other member of the genus, similarly coloured,
having been discovered up to the present time.  The throat vies with the
radiant topaz, while the band on the forehead rivals in brilliancy the
frontlet of every other species.  The male bird has a fiery red mark on
its forehead, and the crown of the head and upper surface of the body
are bronzed green.  The throat is ornamented with a gorget of deep fiery
red, and below it is a crescent-shaped band of light buff, while the
under part is of a deeper buff, changing to green at the sides.  The
tail is of a bronzed brown, with the two centre feathers of bronzed
green.  The female is destitute of the red mark on the throat and
forehead."

HELIANGELUS CLARISSA.

Another sun-angel, the Heliangelus Clarissae, has a deep ruby crimson
gorget.

SNOW-CAP HUMMING-BIRD.

In New Granada is also found the curious little snow-cap humming-bird,
one of the most rare of the Trochilidae.  It is of a brown colour, with
a coppery hue, in which, in certain lights, a purple reflection can be
perceived.  The crown of the head and the tip of the tail-feathers are
of a dazzling white.

Mr Gould describes one he saw perched on a twig, pluming its feathers.
At first he was doubtful whether so small an object could be a bird.  It
was standing over a pool of water.  "At first the little creature would
poise itself about three feet or so above the water, and then, as quick
as thought, dive downwards, so as to dip its miniature head in the
placid pool.  Then up again it would fly to its original position, as
quickly as it had descended.  These movements of darting up and down it
repeated in rapid succession, producing a wonderful disturbance of the
surface of the water for so diminutive a creature.  After a considerable
number of dips it alighted on a twig near at hand, and commenced pluming
its feathers."

SPANGLED COQUETTE.

The spangled coquette, like all of its genus, possesses a well-defined
crest on the head, and a number of feathers projecting from the neck.
This singular crest it can raise or depress at will, producing a curious
effect in the appearance of the little bird.  When depressed, the crest
lies fiat, and projects on either side, so that the sparkling eyes can
scarcely be seen.  The crest and feathers projecting from the neck are
of a light, ruddy chestnut, the latter having dark bronzed green spots
on the tip.  The head is of the same colour; the throat and face of a
lustrous green.  Below the gorget projects a small crossing from side to
side, and the rest of the plumage is of a dark, ruddy chestnut colour.
The female has neither crest nor gorget.

TRAIN-BEARER (LEOBIA AMARYLLIS).

Professor Orton tells us that the valley of Quito swarms with those
winged jewels--of varied hue--the Trochilidae.

Among them is the train-bearer, which, small as it is, has a straight
tail nearly six inches in length.

HILL STAR.

The neighbouring heights of Chimborazo and Pichincha are adorned with
two beautiful little creatures, well called "Hill Stars;" and it is
curious that the hill star of Chimborazo never visits Pichincha, nor
does the latter ever approach Chimborazo.  They are very like each
other; but while that of Chimborazo has a triangular green spot upon the
throat, it is wanting in the Pichincha hill star.  The colour of the
upper part of the Chimborazian hill star is of a somewhat dark
olive-green, except the wings, which are of a purple-brown tint.  The
under parts are white; but they deepen into a dusky black upon the under
tail-coverts.  The head and throat are of the most glorious blue, with
the exception of the before-mentioned emerald-green patch on the centre
of the throat, which is of a triangular form, one angle pointing
upwards.  It has a broad collar of velvety black round the neck, the
dark hues of the head contrasting curiously with the dark body.  In the
tail there are two white feathers, edged with greenish-black.  The hen
is of a more sombre hue, having an olive-green head, and the throat
white, spotted with green.

THE SAPPHO COMET.

Proceeding southwards, we find numerous beautiful humming-birds in
Bolivia.  Among them is the sappho comet, or bar-tailed humming-bird.
In winter it descends into the lowlands of Peru, among the abodes of
men, visiting their gardens and orchards with perfect fearlessness.  The
larger part of the plumage is of a light green, the lower portion of the
back a deep crimson-red.  The throat is metallic green, and the wings
are purple-brown.  The base of the tail is brown, but the greater part
is of a fiery hue, tipped with velvety black.

As it darts from flower to flower--now describing a circle, now turning
and performing numberless other evolutions--the eye is unable to follow
it, and it is lost to sight, until it again returns to the flower which
at first attracted its attention.

On arriving at its winter abode, it takes up its residence in the
shrubberies and gardens of the Indian cottages, says Mr Bonelli.  The
hill-side of the neighbouring country, clothed with the indigenous trees
and shrubs, also affords it a fit place of abode, whence it descends
several times a day to the cultivated plains below, particularly to the
fields of maize and pulse, and other leguminous plants.  The rich
flowers of the large cacti are also frequently visited, as they afford
it a constant and abundant supply of insect food.

The nest is a somewhat loose structure, outwardly composed of vegetable
fibres, slight twigs, and moss, and frequently lined with soft hair.
The lower portion is prolonged considerably below the cup-shaped
interior, which is about an inch and a half in diameter, and an inch in
depth; the total length of the nest being nearly three inches.  The nest
is placed against the sides of the walls, supported by any hanging root
or twig that may be best adapted to afford it security.  The eggs are
two in number, and oblong in form, of a pure white, half an inch in
length, by about five-sixteenths of an inch in breadth.

THE PHAON COMET--BLUE-TAILED SYLPH.

The phaon comet is considerably larger, but very similar to the former,
except that the whole of its tail is of a crimson-red.

The blue-tailed sylph has a wide range along the temperate regions of
the Cordilleras.  The genus of sylph to which it belongs is among the
most beautiful and graceful in form of the humming-birds.  The body is
of a bronzed green, and the crown of the head of a metallic golden
green; while the throat is adorned with a gorget of the most intense
purple-blue.  It has a superb tail, the two central feathers of which
are of a shining metallic green; the two next are black at their base,
and rich blue towards their extremities, tipped and edged with bright
metallic green, shot with blue.

But we have not space to describe one-tenth part of those wonderful,
bright, and small specimens of the feathered tribe which inhabit the
mountains for their entire length.  Darwin found one of the species--the
Trochilus forficatus--flying about amid the snow-storms in the forests
of Tierra del Fuego; while in the wooded island of Chiloe, which has an
extremely humid climate, he saw it skipping from side to side amid the
dripping foliage.

In the same island is found another species, the Trochilus gigas--a very
large bird for so delicate a family.  When on the wing, it moves from
place to place with the most rapid flight; but whilst hovering over a
flower, it flaps its wings with a very slow and powerful movement,
totally different from that of the vibratory one common to most of the
species which produces the humming noise.  When hovering by a flower,
its tail is constantly opened and shut like a fan, the body being in a
nearly vertical position.  This action appears to steady and support the
bird between the slow movements of its wings.  It feeds chiefly on
insects.  The note of this species, like that of nearly the whole
family, is extremely shrill.

In Bolivia are found the Bolivian violet-ear, Warren's wood-star, and
many others; but we must bring our description of the humming-birds of
this region to a conclusion.



PART THREE, CHAPTER ELEVEN.

MAMMALIA.

THE SAVAGE INHABITANTS OF THE AMAZONIAN VALLEY.

Full of animal life as are the forests of South America, the number of
species of what are generally called wild beasts is remarkably small.
Four only are capable of attacking man--the jaguar, the puma, the great
ant-eater, and the savage little peccary, with its lancet-like tusks.
The first only is universally dreaded; the puma flies when bravely
confronted; the great ant-eater is not dangerous, except to those who
get within its reach; and the peccary is dreaded chiefly when hunting in
a pack, as it does, like the wolf.  The burly tapir, the largest animal
of the continent--though a hippopotamus would look at it with contempt--
is perfectly harmless; and, with the exception of a few species of
tiger-cats, nearly all the other Mammalia are rodents, or belong to the
order Quadrumana.  The latter are by far the most numerous inhabitants
of its wide-extending forests.  It is especially the country of monkeys,
where they have arrived at their highest development.  Several of the
species are not only furnished with four hands, but they have tails
which serve them, to all intents and purposes, as a fifth hand.  They
can hang by them, or insert them into a hole and pick out a bird's egg,
or a minute insect, with the greatest ease.  They are generally, with
the exception of the howlers, amicably disposed, easily tamed, with
beautiful coats of fur, and, if not exactly elegant in their forms, very
agile, and generally attractive, interesting little creatures.

The serpents and insects are far more dreaded and annoying than the wild
beasts.  Many of the former are fearfully venomous.  The boa
occasionally finds a human being in the forest, sick or wounded, and
unable to fly, and winds its huge coils round his body.  The anaconda is
equally dangerous to those sleeping near the river's edge; while the
cunning and savage alligator lies in wait for the unwary bather or
drawer of water who ventures into the stream; and termites and ants
devour the stores of the inhabitants, and, in certain localities,
well-nigh sting them to madness.

THE PUMA.

The gaucho of the Pampas, the llanero of the savannahs in the north, the
herdsman on the slopes of the Cordilleras facing the Pacific, and the
settlers on the eastern shore, dread the wide-ranging puma--or the
American lion, as the creature, on account of its tawny hide, is wrongly
called.  Supplied with powerful limbs, capable of climbing tall trees
and swimming rivers, neither mountains, forests, open plains, nor
streams stop its progress.  Like the cat, to which genus it belongs, it
stealthily approaches its prey, and, seizing it with a sudden spring,
rends it to pieces.  When coming upon a flock of sheep or vicunas, it
deals havoc and destruction on every side, often striking down in mere
wantonness a far greater number than it can carry off or devour.  Yet,
though far larger than the jaguar, it is inferior to it in courage, and,
when boldly opposed by man, will always take to flight; though, like the
jaguar, it will track a human being through the forest, in the hope of
springing on him when unobserved.  Yet, boldly faced, it plays the
coward, and will creep off, unable to stand man's steady gaze.  Like a
wild cat, it climbs a tree with ease; and, taking post on a branch,
crouches down, stretched out at full length along it, its colour
harmonising with the bark, so that it cannot be seen by its unwary prey
moving near it.  As the deer or vicuna passes below, it launches itself
on the doomed creature, and, drawing back its neck with its powerful
claws, breaks the vertebra, and instantly kills it.  Darwin states that
he has frequently seen skeletons of huanucus with their necks thus
dislocated.

In the Amazonian forests the puma is not so common as the jaguar.  The
colour of its fur resembles that of the deer in these forests.  The
natives call it the _sassu-arana_, or the false deer, as it frequently,
in consequence, deceives them at first sight.  "It was from this name
being misspelt that it is called the _cuguacuarana_, the first _c_ being
soft," observes Bates.  Hence the name cougar, employed by French
zoologists, and copied in most works on natural history.  The hunters do
not fear it, describing it as a coward; and such, in spite of its
strength, it undoubtedly is.  Still, instances have occurred of its
killing human beings.

It is often found at an elevation of upwards of 10,000 feet.  After
killing an animal and eating its fill, it covers over the carcass with
bushes, and lies down to watch it.  This habit frequently causes its
destruction, for the condors, attracted by the carcass, assemble from
far and near to their expected feast, when the puma springs out to drive
them off.  The gauchos of the Pampas, observing the birds rise together
on the wing, hurry with men and dogs to the chase.  Whirling their bolas
round their heads, they quickly entangle the animal's limbs, and then,
throwing their lassoes over it, drag it along the ground till rendered
insensible, when its brains are quickly beaten out.  In Chili it is
hunted with dogs, or, driven up a tree, is easily shot.  It is noted for
its craft.  When once it has been betrayed when watching a carcass, and
has managed to make its escape, it is said never to resume that habit.
When pursued it will stop and spring on one side, and wait till the dogs
have passed by.  Unlike the jaguar, which is among the most noisy of
beasts of prey, the puma seldom utters any sound, even when wounded, but
silently takes its way, its presence only known as it makes the fatal
spring on its victim.

THE JAGUAR.

The Indian, as he roams through the forest, turns many a cautious look
over his shoulder, lest the savage jaguar, with stealthy feet, may be
following his trail.  Meeting the monarch of his forests face to face,
he fears it not, provided he is armed with a bow and poisoned arrows, or
sumpitan and envenomed dart, which will soon compel the fierce creature
to succumb to its deadly influence.

Of the jaguar, or ounce (Felis onca), there are two species--the one of
a palish brown-yellow, variegated on the upper parts of the body with
streaks and regular oblong spots of black; while the other is of a
general black hue, and is considered the more savage of the two.  It
reaches a size which may vie with the tigers of India, though it is
often not much larger than a wolf.  It is frequently called the tiger or
panther of the New World.  The tail is not so long as the body.  In
outward appearance it closely resembles the leopard, especially in its
arborial habits, as by means of its powerful claws it can with ease
spring up the trunk of a tree, and make its way along the branches,
ready to pounce down upon a foe.  Nearly every creature of the forests
and arid plains over which it roams, and many which frequent the margins
of the rivers and lakes, have to dread its voracious jaws.  It will
spring from the bough, along which it lies crouching, on the back of the
thick-skinned tapir, which, with those powerful claws clinging to its
hide, dashes terror--stricken through the thickets, endeavouring to
shake off its foe.  It will even fearlessly attack the alligator, in
spite of the latter's enormous jaws,--avoiding which, by its agility, it
will tear open the reptile's side, and devour it before life is extinct.
It lies watching from a projecting trunk for the huge manatee swimming
by, and grappling it with its claws, holds it fast in the struggle for
life and death, by degrees dragging the vast body out of the water, and
never letting go its grasp till it has succeeded in capturing its prey.
Turtles become its easy victims.  Watching for them as they crawl up the
sandy banks, it turns them helplessly over with its paws.  The capybara,
or water-hog, seems born for the especial purpose of serving it as food,
enormous numbers of that big rodent being devoured by it.  Even active
monkeys cannot escape it.  It will climb the trees and surprise them
when sleeping; or sometimes, lying in concealment, springs out among a
troop of them joyously gambolling, unsuspicious of danger, when their
shrieks of terror and the hoarse roar of the jaguar may be heard
resounding through the forest.

But where flocks and herds are collected in the neighbourhood of man's
abode, the jaguar is especially dreaded, as it will spring upon a horse
and bring it to the ground with ease; it has been known to drag one many
yards to the water's side, and swim across the river with its prey,
carrying it away on the opposite side to its home in the forest.  Sheep
and deer fall easy victims.  When seizing a deer or horse, it leaps on
the animal's back, and grasping the head with its claws, wrenches it
back till the vertebrae of the neck are broken.

There are but two animals who do not fear the jaguar.  The great
ant-eater is defended from the monster's attacks by its shaggy, thick
coat.  It will often grasp the jaguar in its powerful claws, and keep it
in a close embrace, while these formidable weapons tear open its side--
treating it as some chiefs in India were in the habit of treating their
guests, whom they pretended to receive with an embrace of friendship,
their hands armed with the steel-formed claws in imitation of those of
tigers.  Though the savage little peccaries, when caught singly, are
quickly despatched by the jaguar, yet when meeting it collected in a
herd, they so fiercely assault it with their sharp tusks, that it is
either pierced to death, in spite of the blows of its claws, or
compelled to take to flight.

It catches fish as it does the manatee, suddenly thrusting forth its
talons as they pass below it; while it scrapes up the turtle's eggs in
numbers.  It even pounces on birds and lizards, in spite of their
activity and means of escape; and, when pressed by hunger, it will
attack a native village, and carry off, not only fowls and other tame
animals, but the children, and sometimes full-grown people, whom it may
catch unawares.

Darwin says, that when the floods drive these animals to drier ground,
they are most dangerous; and mentions many instances of people being
destroyed by them.  On the Parana they have been known to get on board
vessels at night.  He heard of a man who, coming up from below when it
was dark, was seized on the deck by a jaguar.  He escaped, however, with
the loss of the use of an arm.  At Santa Fe, two padres entering, one
after the other, a church into which a jaguar had made its way, were
both killed.  A third, who came to see what was the matter, escaped with
difficulty.  The beast was destroyed by being shot at from a corner of
the building which was unroofed.

The gauchos say, that when wandering at night, it is frequently followed
by foxes yelping at its heels.  If such is the case, it is a curious
coincidence with the fact, generally affirmed, that jackals accompany
the East Indian tiger.

The jaguar often leaves marks on the bark of trees, which it scrapes for
the purpose of tearing off the rugged parts of its claws; a habit common
also to the puma, as Darwin says he frequently found in Patagonia scores
so deep on the hard soil, that no other animal could have made them.

Brett mentions several instances which came under his notice of human
beings being killed by jaguars.  A Carib Indian had gone into the forest
to procure touari,--the inner bark of the sapucaya-nut tree, of the thin
papery layers of which the Indians form the envelopes of their
cigarettes.  While employed in cutting off the long strips of the bark,
on turning round he discovered a jaguar stealthily approaching.  His
friends, as he did not return, set out in search of him.  For a whole
day they searched in vain; but on the second they discovered his
foot-tracks, and those of a large jaguar.  Following these for a long
way in anxious suspense, they at length came to a spot where there were
marks of a conflict, and they discovered their comrade's bow lying
broken on the ground.  Still it was apparent that the Indian had beaten
off his assailant, for the tracks of both led still further into the
forest.  At length they reached the scene of the last desperate
struggle.  On the ground lay the man's knife, which he had lashed to the
end of a stick; but it had been loosened and turned aside against the
tough hide of the animal.  From the marks on a tree it was evident that
the poor fellow, in dire extremity, at the approach of night, had been
trying to climb it, but ere he had ascended ten feet the jaguar had
sprung after him, and pulling him down, had torn him to pieces.  The
remains, terribly mangled and half-devoured, lay near.  One of the
Caribs who had found the body described the sickness which came over him
at the sight, and remarked that he had never since felt secure when
traversing the forest with only his knife and bow and arrows.  On the
banks of the Pomaroon lived a Carib family, with a number of small
children.  The young ones had gone into the water to bathe, when they
were startled by the cry of the smallest of their party--a little boy--
whom they had left seated at the water's edge.  On looking round they
beheld a huge jaguar which had been attracted by their noises of
splashing, and which, having come behind the poor child, was standing
with one paw on his shoulder.  The elder children, screaming for help,
attempted bravely to drive away the savage beast, but their efforts only
resulted in it seizing the poor little fellow's head with its powerful
jaws.  It was a moment of agony.  Their father was absent, but another
Carib who was near rushed to the spot, followed by the child's mother
and some other females.  The beast, startled at this sudden increase in
the number of its assailants, dropped its victim, whom the man
immediately took up and gave to the mother.  But assistance had come too
late.  The child gave his last struggle as his mother received him in
her arms.  When night set in, the disappointed beast came back to claim
his prey, roaring and yelling through the hours of darkness around the
open shed which formed their dwelling.  Females alone were present, as
the man had gone off to call the child's father; and they had great
difficulty, with firebrands and shouting, in keeping the brute off till
help arrived.

Some time after this, another man, of considerable personal strength and
cool courage, was one day in his field, with a little dog playing by his
side, when he saw a jaguar at a distance watching his movements.  The
beast slunk away when observed, and as the Carib had no gun, he went on
quietly with his work, clearing away the bush with his cutlass, which
was a new and sharp one.  The jaguar had, however, marked the dog for
its prey, and only retreated to execute a flank march through the bush,
and to come unperceived on his rear.  Having effected this, it crept
noiselessly forward, and sprang on the dog, which was instantly killed.
The Carib rushed to the assistance of his favourite, compelling the
savage jaguar to relinquish its hold, but the creature turned and sprang
upon him.  The man, however, anticipating the attack, dashed forward and
decided the contest by a single blow, which buried his cutlass deep in
the jaguar's skull.  The same man, on another occasion, clove the skull
of a second jaguar with an axe with which he was about to fell some
trees.

The jaguar, however, is capable of being tamed.  The well-known Captain
Inglefield possessed one, afterwards placed in the Zoological Gardens.
It was so tame that he used to lie down and place his head on its body
as on a pillow.  It was allowed to roam at liberty about the ship.  It
was remarkable, however, that this creature could never be trusted when
a young child or a dog was present.  On such occasions it became greatly
excited, endeavouring to break away from the chain with which it was
secured when on shore.  Probably in its native wilds both would have
fallen victims to its natural ferocity.

The Bishop of Demerara witnessed an instance of the way in which these
savage creatures may occasionally be tamed, while on an expedition up
the River Demerara.  On approaching the falls, he and his party halted
at an Indian settlement on the left bank, where they saw a young jaguar
only a few weeks old, which appeared to be extremely savage, when any of
them went near it.  "But," he continues, "never did I observe such
apparent gentleness and attachment in any animal; as, when one or two of
our party had certainly not gone the way to win the creature's
affections, it allowed itself to be drawn close to us by an Indian
woman, and afterwards by a little child.  Not a moment before, it was as
angry and savage as could be; but no sooner did the child draw it
towards her, than, looking up with an expression of intelligence and
trustfulness quite new to me, it nestled itself within the embrace of
its kind protectress."

The Indians are proverbially famous for the facility with which they
attract animals towards them.  Bates and Wallace also mention having
seen, on several occasions, jaguars perfectly tame, roaming in and out
of the huts, as their smaller feline relatives would have done.

ANT-EATERS.

Within the recesses of the primeval forest, near the borders of a river
or lake, a large mass of what looks, at a little distance, like a
collection of some long, coarse, curled, fibrous substance, is often
seen by the hunter.  The jaguar glances at it askance and passes it
by,--although, when hunger presses him, he may long to obtain the dainty
meal which lies beneath.  The huge hairy mass is the tail of the
ant-bear, which serves it as a shelter from the rays of the noonday sun
and from the deluges of the rainy season: spread out over its body, it
is the sole covering it seeks, as it neither burrows, nor takes up its
abode in the hollows of trees nor in artificial caves.  With its
elongated toothless head and thin tongue, it seems utterly incapable, at
the first glance, of defending itself, not only against the jaguar or
puma, but, notwithstanding its great size, against even the attacks of
the smallest carnivorous animals of the wilds, as it moves with toilsome
and awkward steps over the ground.  It cannot climb the trees; unadapted
for swimming, it dare not seek safety in the water; and incapable of
moving rapidly, it is unable to run from its foes.  Its hind-feet,
unlike those of many animals, are valueless for defence; but yet it has
not been left without ample means of protection.  Examine its fore-feet,
and on each will be seen two large, powerful, trenchant claws.  With
these, aided by its muscular power, and thick hide covered with long
coarse hair, it boldly defies the attacks of the fiercest creatures.

Of a peaceable disposition, it makes its solitary way through the
forest; but woe betide the hunter's dogs, or any other animals, which
venture to assail it!  With one blow of these sharp weapons it rips up
its assailant, or hugs it in a close embrace, where its own thick skin
resists the teeth of its foe; and, able itself to endure hunger longer
than any other animal, it keeps it thus till starved to death.

Vast numbers of ants and termites swarm in the tropical forests of South
America, of great varieties of form and mode of life and occupation.
Their business in the economy of nature is chiefly the consumption of
decayed vegetable matter, which would otherwise contaminate the
atmosphere.  They are furnished with incalculable powers of increase,
and, to prevent their too great excess, other animals have been created
to prey on them.  The chief creature engaged in that work is this most
extraordinary denizen of the forest--the ant-bear, or great ant-eater
(Myrmecophaga jubata), called also the tamanoir.  It often measures,
from the tip of its snout to the extremity of its tail, eight feet; and
though it seems wonderful that so large an animal should be able to
subsist solely on such minute insects, yet, from the formation of its
mouth, it is unable to consume any other.  It has a long slender head,
with a pointed snout; and its mouth, entirely destitute of teeth, is
furnished with a long flexible tongue, covered with a glutinous saliva.
This it passes lightly over the swarms of ants which rush out when it
attacks their dwelling, and they, adhering to it, are speedily dragged
into its maw.

Its body is covered with long, coarse, shaggy hair, except on the head,
where it is short and close; while its black bushy tail is of great size
and length.  It is plantigrade--that is, it stands lower on the
hind-legs than in front.  Though its mouth appears so incapable of
enabling it to defend itself, it can do so effectually with the two
long, sharp claws of its fore-feet.  With these claws it opens the
ant-hills, on whose inhabitants it subsists.  Its hind-feet have five
toes, but they are furnished with short