Elsie's Winter Trip

CHAPTER XII. 'My country, 'tis of thee, Sweet land of liberty, Of thee I sing.' "Other voices took it up: 'Land where my fathers died, Land of the Pilgrims' pride——' "The quivering, quavering chorus, punctuated by groans and made spasmodic by pain, trembled up from that little group of wounded Americans in the midst of the Cuban solitude—the pluckiest, most heartfelt song that human beings ever sang. There was one voice that did not quite keep up with the others. It was so weak that I did not hear it until all the rest had finished with the line: 'Let Freedom ring.' "Then, halting, struggling, faint, it repeated slowly: 'Land—of—the—Pilgrims'—pride, Let Freedom——' "The last word was a woeful cry. One more son had died as died the fathers." There was a moment's pause when Grandma Elsie had finished reading, and there were tears in the eyes of many of her hearers. It was Harold who broke the silence. "That battle of Guasimas was a complete victory for our forces, but dearly paid for," he said; "of the nine hundred and sixty-four men engaged, sixteen were killed and fifty-two wounded; thirty-four of the wounded and eight of the killed were Rough Riders." "And a scarcity of doctors seems to have caused great suffering to our wounded men," Grandma Elsie said, with a sigh. "Yes; there were too few of us," said Harold, "and, through somebody's blundering, needed supplies were also scarce. I think our men were wonderfully patient, and it is hard to forgive those whose carelessness and inefficiency caused them so much unnecessary suffering." "Yes, it is," said his mother; "war is a dreadful thing. How the people of beleaguered Santiago suffered during the siege, and especially when they were sent out of it that they might escape the bombardment. Think of eighteen to twenty thousand having to take refuge in that little town, El Caney, foul with the effluvium from unburied mules and horses, and even human victims of the battle; houses so crowded that they could not even lie down on the floors, but had to pass their nights sitting on them; and food so scarce that one small biscuit sold for two dollars, and seven dollars was refused for a chicken." "It was dreadful, dreadful indeed!" said Mrs. Lilburn. "Yet not so bad as it would have been to let Spain continue her outrageous cruelty to the poor Cubans," said Evelyn. "No," said Lucilla, "I should be sorry, indeed, to have to render up the account that Weyler and the rest of them will in the Judgment Day." "I think he is worse than a savage," sighed Mrs. Lilburn. "I should think if he had any heart or conscience he would never be able to enjoy a morsel of food for thinking of the multitude of poor creatures—men, women and children—he has starved to death." CHAPTER XII. Our friends were favored with pleasant weather on their voyage from Porto Rico to Cuba. All were gathered upon deck when they came in sight of "The Pearl (or Queen) of the Antillies," "The Ever-faithful Isle," as the Spaniards were wont to call it, and they gazed upon it with keen interest; an interest that deepened as they drew near the scene of Schley's victory over the Spanish fleet. Captain Raymond and Dr. Harold Travilla, being the only ones of their number who had visited the locality before, explained the whereabouts of each American vessel, when, on that Sunday morning of July third, that cloud of smoke told the watchers on the American ships that the enemy was coming out. Every one in the little company had heard the battle described; therefore, a very brief account, accompanying the pointing out of the progress of different vessels during the fight, and where each of the Spanish ones came to her end, was all that was needed. While they looked and talked, the "Dolphin" moved slowly along that they might get a view of every part of the scene of action on that day of naval victory in the cause of the down-trodden and oppressed Cubans. That accomplished, they returned to the neighborhood of Santiago, and entering the narrow channel which gives entrance to its bay, passed on into and around that, gazing on the steep hills that come down to the water's edge, on Morro and the remains of earthworks and batteries. They did not care to go into the city, but steamed out into the sea again and made the circuit of the island, keeping near enough to the shore to get a pretty good view of most of the places they cared to see—traveling by day and anchoring at night. "Having completed the circuit of Cuba, where do we go next, Captain?" asked Mr. Dinsmore, as the party sat on deck in the evening of the day on which they had completed their trip around the island. "If it suits the wishes of all my passengers, we will go down to Jamaica, pay a little visit there, pass on in a southeasterly direction to Trinidad, then perhaps to Brazil," Captain Raymond said, in reply, then asked to hear what each one present thought of the plan. Every one seemed well pleased, and it was decided that they should start the next morning for Jamaica. The vessel was moving the next morning before many of her passengers were out of their berths. Elsie Raymond noticed it as soon as she woke, and hastened with her toilet that she might join her father on deck. She was always glad to be with him, and she wanted to see whatever they might pass on their way across the sea to Jamaica. The sun was shining, but it was still early when she reached the deck, where she found both her father and eldest sister. Both greeted her with smiles and caresses. "Almost as early a bird as your sister Lu," the Captain said, patting the rosy cheek and smiling down into the bright eyes looking up so lovingly into his. "Yes, papa, I want to see all I can on the way to Jamaica. Will we get there to-day?" "I think we will if the 'Dolphin' does her work according to her usual fashion. But what do you know about Jamaica, the island we are bound for?" "Not so very much, papa—only—she belongs to England, doesn't she, papa?" "Yes. Her name means 'land of wood and water,' and she lies about ninety miles to the south of Cuba." "Is she a very big island, papa?" "Nearly as large as our State of Tennessee. Crossing it from east to west is a heavily-timbered ridge called the Blue Mountains, and there are many streams of water which flow from them down to the shores. None of them is navigable, however, except the Black River, which affords a passage for small craft for thirty miles into the interior." "Shall we find a good harbor for our 'Dolphin,' father?" asked Lucilla. "Yes, indeed! Excellent harbors are everywhere to be found. The best is a deep, capacious basin in the southeast quarter of the island. It washes the most spacious and fertile of the plains between the hill country and the coast. Around this inlet and within a few miles of each other are all the towns of any considerable size—Spanish Town, Port Royal, and Kingston." "Is it a very hot place, papa?" asked the little girl. "On the coast; but much cooler up on those mountains I spoke of. The climate is said to be very healthful, and many invalids go there from our United States." "They have earthquakes there sometimes, have they not, father?" asked Lucilla. "They are not quite unheard of," he replied; "in 1692 there was one which almost overwhelmed Port Royal; but that being more than two hundred years ago, need not, I think, add much to our anxieties in visiting the island." "That's a long, long time," said Elsie, thoughtfully, "so I hope they won't have one while we are there. Is it a fertile island, papa? I hope they have plenty of good fruits." "They have fruits of both tropical and temperate climates; they have spices, vanilla and many kinds of food plants; they have sugar and coffee; they export sugar, rum, pineapples and other fruits; also cocoa, ginger, pimento and logwood and cochineal." "It does seem to be very fruitful," said Elsie. "Have they railroads and telegraphs, papa?" "Two hundred miles of railroad and seven hundred of telegraph. There are coast batteries, a volunteer force and a British garrison; and there are churches and schools." "Oh, all that seems very nice! I hope we will have as good a time there as we had at Bermuda." "I hope so, daughter," he said. "Ah, here come the rest of our little family and your Uncle Harold." Affectionate good-mornings were exchanged; then the talk ran on the subject uppermost in all their minds—Jamaica, and what its attractions were likely to be for them. "I have been thinking," said Harold, "that some spot on the central heights may prove a pleasant and beneficial place for some weeks' sojourn for all of us, the ailing ones in particular." At that moment his mother joined them and he broached the same idea to her. "If we find a pleasant and comfortable lodging place I am willing to try it," she replied, in her usual cheery tones. At that moment came the call to breakfast; speedily responded to by all the passengers. Appetites and viands were alike good and the chat was cheerful and lively. The weather was clear and warm enough to make the deck, where a gentle breeze could be felt, the most agreeable lounging-place, as well as the best, for enjoying the view of the sea and any passing vessel. As usual, the children presently found their way to their Grandma Elsie's side and asked for a story or some information concerning the island toward which they were journeying. "You know something about it, I suppose?" she said, inquiringly. "Yes, ma'am; papa was telling me this morning about the mountains and towns, and harbors, and fruits and other things that they raise," said Elsie; "but there wasn't time for him to tell everything; so won't you please tell us something of its history?" "Yes, dear; grandma is always glad to give you both pleasure and information. Jamaica was discovered by Columbus during his second voyage, in 1494. The Spaniards took possession of it in 1509." "Had they any right to, grandma?" asked Ned. "No, no more than the Indians would have had to cross the ocean to Europe and take possession of their country. And the Spaniards not only robbed the Indians of their lands but abused them so cruelly that it is said that in fifty years the native population had entirely disappeared. In 1655 the British took the island from Spain, and some years later it was ceded to England by the treaty of Madrid in 1670." "And does England own it yet, grandma?" asked Elsie. "Yes; there has been some fighting on the island—trouble between the whites and the negroes—but things are going smoothly now." "So that we may hope to have a good time there, I suppose," said Ned. "Yes, I think we may," replied his grandma. "But haven't we had a good time in all our journeying about old ocean and her islands?" To that question both children answered with a hearty, "Yes indeed, grandma." CHAPTER XIII. The next morning found the "Dolphin" lying quietly at anchor in the harbor in the inlet around which are the principal towns of the island—Spanish Town, Port Royal and Kingston. All were well enough to enjoy little excursions about the island, in carriages or cars, and some weeks were spent by them in the mountains, all finding the air there very pleasant and the invalids evidently gaining in health and strength. The change had been a rest to them all, but early in March they were glad to return to the yacht and set sail for Trinidad, which they had decided should be their next halting place. It was a pleasant morning and, as usual, old and young were gathered upon the deck, the two children near their grandmother. "Grandma," said Elsie, "I suppose you know all about Trinidad, where papa is taking us now, and if it won't trouble you to do so, I'd like very much to have you tell Ned and me about it." "I shall not feel it any trouble to do so, little granddaughter," was the smiling rejoinder, "and if you and Ned grow weary of the subject before I am through, you have only to say so and I will stop. "Trinidad is the most southerly of the West India Islands and belongs to Great Britain. It was first discovered by Columbus in 1498 and given the name of Trinidad by him, because three mountain summits were first seen from the masthead. But it was not until 1532 that a permanent settlement was made there. In 1595 its chief town, San Josede Oruha, was burned by Sir Walter Raleigh; but the island continued in Spain's possession till 1797, when it fell into the hands of the British and it was made theirs by treaty in 1802." "How large is it, grandma?" asked Ned. "About fifty miles long and from thirty to thirty-five wide. It is very near to Venezuela, separated from it by the Gulf of Paria, and the extreme points on the west coast are only the one thirteen and the other nine miles from it. The channel to the north is called the Dragon's Mouth; it is the deepest; the southern channel is shallow, owing to the deposits brought down by the Orinoco, and the gulf, too, is growing more shallow from the same cause." "Are there mountains, grandma?" asked Ned. "Yes; mountains not so high as those on some of the other Caribbean islands; they extend along the northern coast from east to west; they have forests of stately trees and along their lower edges overhanging mangroves, dipping into the sea. There is a double-peaked mountain called Tamana, and from it one can look down upon the lovely and fertile valleys and plains of the other part of the island. There are some tolerably large rivers and several good harbors." "Are there towns on it, grandma?" asked Ned. "Yes; the chief one, called Port of Spain, is one of the finest towns in the West Indies. It was first built of wood, and was burned down in 1808, but has since been rebuilt of stone found in the neighborhood. The streets are long, wide, clean, well paved and shaded with trees. "San Fernando is the name of another town, and there are, besides, two or three pretty villages. Near one of them, called La Brea, is a pitch lake composed of bituminous matter floating on fresh water." "I don't think I'd want to take a sail on it," said Elsie. "Trinidad is a warm place, isn't it, grandma?" "Yes; the climate is hot and moist; it is said to be the hottest of the West India islands." "Then I'm glad it is winter now when we are going there." "Yes; I think winter is the best season for paying a visit there," said her grandma. "I suppose we are going to one of the towns," said Ned. "Aren't we, papa?" as his father drew near. "Yes, to the capital, called Port of Spain. I was there some years ago. Shall I tell you about it?" "Oh, yes sir! please do," answered both children, and a number of the grown people drew near to listen. "It is a rather large place, having some thirty or forty thousand inhabitants. Outside of the town is a large park, where there are villas belonging to people in good circumstances. They are pleasant, comfortable-looking dwellings with porches and porticoes, gardens in front or lawns with many varieties of trees—bread-fruit, oranges, mangoes, pawpaws—making a pleasant shade and bearing delightful fruits; and there is a great abundance of flowers." "All that sounds very pleasant, Captain," said Mr. Lilburn, "but I fear there must be some unpleasant things to encounter." "Mosquitoes, for instance?" queried the Captain. "Yes, I remember Froude's description of one that he says he killed and examined through a glass. Bewick, with the inspiration of genius, had drawn his exact likeness as the devil—a long black stroke for a body, a nick for a neck, horns on the head, and a beak for a mouth, spindle arms, and longer spindle legs, two pointed wings and a tail. He goes on to say that he had been warned to be on the lookout for scorpions, centipedes, jiggers, and land crabs, which would bite him if he walked slipperless over the floor in the dark. Of those he met none; but the mosquito of Trinidad was enough by himself, being, for malice, mockery, and venom of tooth and trumpet, without a match in the world." "Dear me, papa, how can anybody live there?" exclaimed Grace. "Froude speaks of seeking safety in tobacco-smoke," replied her father, with a quizzical smile. "You might do that; or try the only other means of safety mentioned by him—hiding behind the lace curtains with which every bed is provided." "But we can't stay in bed all the time, papa," exclaimed Elsie. "No, but most of the time when you are out of bed you keep off the mosquitoes with a fan." "And if we find them quite unendurable we can sail away from Trinidad," said Violet. "Perhaps we are coming to the island at a better time of the year than Froude did, as regards the mosquito plague," remarked Grandma Elsie. "Ah, mother, I am afraid they are bad and troublesome all the year round in these warm regions," said Harold. "But we can take refuge behind nets a great deal of the time while we are in the mosquito country, and hurry home when we tire of that," remarked Violet. "Ah, that is a comfortable thought," said Mr. Lilburn. "And we are fortunate people in having such homes as ours to return to." "Yes, we can all say amen to that," said Chester, and Lucilla started the singing of "Home, Sweet Home," all the others joining in with feeling. The next morning found the "Dolphin" lying quietly in the harbor of the Port of Spain in the great shallow lake known as the Gulf of Paria, and soon after breakfast all went ashore to visit the city. They enjoyed walking about the wide, shaded streets, and park, gazing with great interest upon the strange and beautiful trees, shrubs and flowers; there were bread-fruit trees, pawpaws, mangoes and oranges, and large and beautiful flowers of many colors. Some of our friends had read Froude's account of the place and wanted to visit it. From there they went to the Botanical Gardens and were delighted with the variety of trees and plants entirely new to them. Before entering the place, the young people were warned not to taste any of the strange fruits, and Grandma Elsie and the Captain kept watch over them lest the warning should be forgotten or unheeded; though Elsie was never known to disobey father or mother, and it was a rare thing, indeed, for Ned to do so. They were much interested in all they saw, the glen full of nutmeg trees among the rest; they were from thirty to forty feet high, with leaves of brilliant green, something like the leaves of an orange, folded one over the other, and their lowest branches swept the ground. There were so many strange and beautiful trees, plants and flowers to be seen and admired that our friends spent more than an hour in those gardens. Then they hired conveyances and drove about wherever they thought the most attractive scenes were to be found. They were interested in the cabins of the negroes spread along the road on either side and overhung with trees—tamarinds, bread-fruit, orange, limes, citrons, plantains and calabash trees; out of the last named they make their cups and water-jugs. There were cocoa-bushes, too, loaded with purple or yellow pods; there were yams in the garden, cows in the paddocks also; so that it was evident that abundance of good, nourishing, appetizing food was provided them with very little exertion on their part. Captain Raymond and his party spent some weeks in Trinidad and its harbor—usually passing the night aboard the "Dolphin"—traveling about the island in cars or carriages, visiting all the interesting spots, going up into the mountains and enjoying the view from thence of the lovely, fertile valleys and plains. Then they sailed around the island and anchored again in the harbor of Port of Spain for the night and to consider and decide upon their next movement. "Shall we go up the Orinoco?" asked the Captain, addressing the company, as all sat together on the deck. There was a moment of silence, each waiting for the others to speak, then Mr. Dinsmore said: "Give us your views on the subject, Captain. Is there much to attract us there? To interest and instruct? I am really afraid that is a part of my geography in which I am rather rusty." "It is one of the great rivers of South America," said the Captain. "It rises in one of the chief mountain chains of Guiana. It is a crooked stream—flowing west-south-west, then south-west, then north-west, then north-north-east and after that in an eastward direction to its mouth. The head of uninterrupted navigation is seven hundred and seventy-seven miles from its mouth. Above that point there are cataracts. "It has a great many branches, being joined, it is said, by four hundred and thirty-six rivers and upward of two thousand streams; so it drains an area of from two hundred and fifty thousand to six hundred and fifty thousand square miles, as variously estimated. It begins to form its delta one hundred and thirty miles from its mouth, by throwing off a branch which flows northward into the Atlantic. It has several navigable mouths, and the main stream is divided by a line of islands, into two channels, each two miles wide. The river is four miles wide at Bolivar, a town more than two hundred and fifty miles from the mouth of the river, which is there three hundred and ninety feet deep." "Why, it's a grand, big river," said Chester. "Much obliged for the information, Captain. I had forgotten, if I ever knew, that it was so large, and with its many tributaries drained so large a territory." "And do you wish to visit it—or a part of it?" queried the Captain. "How is it with you, Cousins Annis and Ronald?" "I am willing—indeed, should prefer—to leave the decision to other members of our party," replied Mrs. Lilburn, and her husband expressed the same wish to let others decide the question. "What do you say, Grandma Dinsmore?" asked Violet. "I think you look as if you would rather not go." "And that is how I feel—thinking of the mosquitoes," returned the old lady, with a slight laugh. "They certainly are very objectionable," said the Captain. "I can't say that I am at all desirous to try them myself. And I doubt if they are more scarce on the Amazon than on the Orinoco. One traveler there tells us, 'At night it was quite impossible to sleep for mosquitoes; they fell upon us by myriads, and without much piping came straight to our faces as thick as raindrops in a shower. The men crowded into the cabins and tried to expel them by smoke from burnt rags, but it was of little avail, though we were half suffocated by the operation.'" "That certainly does not sound very encouraging, my dear," said Violet. "The Amazon is a grand river, I know," said Harold, "but it would not pay to visit it under so great a drawback to one's comfort; and I am very sure encountering such pests would be by no means beneficial to any one of my patients." "And this one of your patients would not be willing to encounter them, even if such were the prescription of her physician," remarked Grace, in a lively tone. "Nor would this older one," added Grandma Elsie, in playful tones. "Then we will consider the Orinoco as tabooed," said the Captain; "and I suppose we shall have to treat the Amazon in the same way, as it was at a place upon its banks that one of the writers I just quoted had his most unpleasant experience with the mosquitoes." "Well, my dear, if there is a difference of opinion and choice among us—some preferring scenery even with mosquitoes, others no scenery unless it could be had without mosquitoes—suppose we divide our forces—one set land and the other remain on board and journey on up the river." "Ah! and which set will you join, little wife?" he asked, with playful look and tone. "Whichever one my husband belongs to," she answered. "Man and wife are not to be separated." "Suppose we take a vote on the question and settle it at once," said Lucilla. "A good plan, I think," said Harold. "Yes," assented the Captain. "Cousins Annis and Ronald, please give us your wishes in regard to rivers and mosquitoes." "I admire the rivers, but not the mosquitoes, and would rather do without both than have both," laughed Annis, and her husband added, "And my sentiments on the subject coincide exactly with those of my wife." Then the question went round the circle, and it appeared that every one thought a sight of the great rivers and the scenery on their banks would be too dearly purchased by venturing in among the clouds of blood-thirsty mosquitoes. "I'm glad," exclaimed Ned; "for I'm not a bit fond of mosquitoes; especially not of having them take their meals off me. But I'd like to see those big rivers. Papa, won't you tell us something about the Amazon?" "Yes," said the Captain; "it has two other names—Maranon and Orellana. It is a very large river and has a big mouth—one hundred and fifty miles wide, and the tide enters there and goes up the stream five hundred miles. "From the wide mouth of the Amazon, where it empties into the ocean, its water can be distinguished from the other—that of the ocean—for fifty leagues. The Amazon is so large and has so many tributaries that it drains two million, five hundred square miles of country. The Amazon is the king of rivers. It rises in the western range of the Andes, and is little better than a mountain torrent till it has burst through the gorges of the eastern range of the chain, where it is overhung by peaks that tower thousands of feet above its bed. But within three hundred miles from the Pacific is a branch, Huallagais, large enough and deep enough for steamers, and a few miles farther down the Amazon is navigable for vessels drawing five feet; and it grows deeper and deeper and more and more available for large vessels as it rolls on toward the ocean. The outlet of this mighty river is a feeder of the Gulf Stream. It is only since 1867 that the navigation of the Amazon has been open, but now regular lines of steamers ply between its mouth and Yurimaguas on the Huallaga." "Are there not many and important exports sent down the Amazon?" asked Mr. Dinsmore. "There are, indeed," replied the Captain, "and the fauna of the waters have proved wonderful. Agassiz found there, in five months, thirteen hundred species of fish, nearly a thousand of them new, and about twenty new genera. The Vacca marina, the largest fish inhabiting fresh waters, and the Acara, which carries its young in its mouth, when there is danger, are the denizens of the Amazon." "Oh," exclaimed Elsie, "I'd like to see that fish with its babies in its mouth." "And I should be very sorry to have to carry my children in that way—even if the relative sizes of my mouth and children made it possible," said her mother. "Brazil's a big country, isn't it, papa?" asked Ned. "Yes," said his father; "about as large as the United States would be without Alaska." "Did Columbus discover it, and the Spaniards settle it, papa?" he asked. "In the year 1500 a companion of Columbus landed at Cape Augustine, near Pernambuco, and from there sailed along the coast as far as the Orinoco," replied the Captain. "In the same year another Portuguese commander, driven to the Brazilian coast by adverse winds, landed, and taking possession in the name of his monarch named the country Terra da Vera Crux. The first permanent settlement was made by the Portuguese in 1531 on the island of St. Vincent. Many settlements were made and abandoned, because of the hostility of the natives and the lack of means, and a Huguenot colony, established on the bay of Rio de Janeiro, in 1555, was broken up by the Portuguese in 1567 when they founded the present capital, Rio de Janeiro. "But it is hardly worth while to rehearse all the history of the various attempts to take possession of Brazil—attempts made by Dutch, Portuguese and Spanish. French invasion of Portugal, in 1807, caused the royal family to flee to Brazil, and it became the royal seat of government until 1821, when Dom John VI. went back to Portugal, leaving his eldest son, Dom Pedro, as Prince Regent. "The independence of Brazil was proclaimed September 7, 1822; and on October 12th, he was crowned emperor as Dom Pedro I. He was arbitrary, and that made him so unpopular that he found it best to abdicate, which he did in 1831 in favor of his son, then only a child. That boy was crowned in 1841, at the age of fifteen, as Dom Pedro II." "Gold is to be found in Brazil, is it not, papa?" asked Grace. "Yes," he said, "that country is rich in minerals and precious stones. Gold, always accompanied with silver, is found in many of the provinces, and in Minas-Geraes is especially abundant, and in that and two other of the provinces, diamonds are found; and the opal, amethyst, emerald, ruby, sapphire, tourmaline, topaz and other precious stones are more or less common." "Petroleum also is obtained in one or two of the provinces, and there are valuable phosphate deposits on some of the islands," remarked Mr. Dinsmore, as the Captain paused, as if he had finished what he had to say in reply to Grace's question. "Papa," asked Ned, "are there lions and tigers and monkeys in the woods?" "There are dangerous wild beasts—the jaguar being the most common and formidable. And there are other wild, some of them dangerous, beasts—the tiger cat, red wolf, tapir, wild hog, Brazilian dog, or wild fox, capybara or water hog, paca, three species of deer, armadillos, sloths, ant-eaters, oppossums, coatis, water-rats, otters and porcupines. Squirrels, hares and rabbits are plentiful. There are many species of monkeys, too, and several kinds of bats—vampires among them. On the southern plains, large herds of wild horses are to be found. Indeed, Brazil can boast a long list of animals. One writer says that he found five hundred species of birds in the Amazon valley alone, about thirty distinct species of parrots and twenty varieties of humming-birds. The largest birds are the ouira, a large eagle; the rhea, or American ostrich; and the cariama. Along the coasts or in the forest are to be found frigate birds, snowy herons, toucans, ducks, wild peacocks, turkeys, geese and pigeons. Among the smaller birds are the oriole, whippoorwill and the uraponga, or bell bird." "Those would be pleasant enough to meet," said Violet, "but there are plenty of most unpleasant creatures—snakes, for instance." "Yes," assented the Captain; "there are many serpents; the most venomous are the jararaca and the rattlesnake. The boa-constrictor and anaconda grow very large, and there are at least three species of cobra noted as dangerous. There are many alligators, turtles and lizards. The rivers, lakes and coast-waters literally swarm with fish. Agassiz found nearly two thousand species, many of them such as are highly esteemed for food." "And they have big mosquitoes, too, you have told us, papa," said Elsie. "Many other bugs, too, I suppose?" "Yes; big beetles, scorpions and spiders, many kinds of bees, sand-flies and musical crickets, destructive ants, the cochineal insect and the pium, a tiny insect whose bite is poisonous and sometimes dangerous." "Please tell us about the woods, papa," said Ned. "Yes; the forests of the Amazon valley are said to be the largest in the world, having fully four hundred species of trees. In marshy places and along streams reeds, grasses and water plants grow in tangled masses, and in the forests the trees crowd each other and are draped with parasitic vines. Along the coasts mangroves, mangoes, cocoas, dwarf palms, and the Brazil-wood are noticeable. In one of the southern provinces more than forty different kinds of trees are valuable for timber. On the Amazon and its branches there are an almost innumerable variety of valuable trees; among them the itauba or stonewood, so named for its durability; the cassia, the cinnamon-tree, the banana, the lime, the myrtle, the guava, the jacaranda or rosewood, the Brazilian bread-fruit, whose large seeds are used for food, and many others too numerous to mention; among them the large and lofty cotton-tree, the tall white-trunked seringa or rubber-tree, which furnishes the gum of commerce, and the three or four hundred species of palms. One of those is called the carnaubu palm; it is probably the most valuable, for every part of it is useful, from the wax of its leaves to its edible pith. Another is the piassaba palm, whose bark is clothed with a loose fiber used for coarse textile fabrics and for brooms." "Why, papa, that's a very useful tree," was little Elsie's comment upon that bit of information. "Are there fruits and flowers in those forests, papa?" she asked. "Yes; those I have already mentioned, with figs, custard-apples and oranges. Some European fruits—olives, grapes and water-melons of fine flavor are cultivated in Brazil." "If it wasn't for the fierce wild animals and snakes, it would be a nice country to live in, I think," she said; "but taking everything into consideration I very much prefer our own country." "Ah, is that so? Who shall say that you won't change your mind after a few weeks spent in Brazil?" returned her father, with an amused look. "You wouldn't want me to, I know, papa," she returned, with a pleasant little laugh, "for I am very sure you want your children to love their own country better than any other in the world." "Yes, my child, I do," he said. Then turning to his older passengers and addressing them in general, "I think," he said, "if it is agreeable to you all, we will make a little stop at Pará, the maritime emporium of the Amazon. I presume you would all like to see that city?" All seemed pleased with the idea, and it was presently settled that that should be their next stopping-place. They all enjoyed their life upon the yacht, but an occasional halt and visit to the shore made an agreeable variety. CHAPTER XIV. Their sail about the mouth of the Amazon was very interesting to them all, and that up the Pará River to the city of the same name, not less so. They found the city evidently a busy and thriving place; its harbor, formed by a curve of the River Pará, here twenty miles wide, had at anchor in it a number of large vessels of various nationalities. The "Dolphin" anchored among them, and after a little her passengers went ashore for a drive about the city. They found the streets paved and macadamized, the houses with white walls and red-tiled roofs. There were some large and imposing buildings—a cathedral, churches and the President's palace were the principal ones. They visited the public square and beautiful botanic garden. It was not very late in the day when they returned to their yacht, but they—especially Dr. Harold's patients—were weary enough to enjoy the quiet rest to be found in their ocean home. "What a busy place it is," remarked Grandma Elsie, as they sat together upon the deck, gazing out upon the city and its harbor. "Yes," said the Captain, "Pará is the mart through which passes the whole commerce of the Amazon and its affluents." "And that must, of course, make it a place of importance," said Violet. "It was the seat of revolution in 1833," remarked her grandfather; "houses were destroyed, lives lost—a great many of them—and grass grew in streets which before that had been the center of business." "Papa," exclaimed Ned, "there's a little boat coming, and a man in it with some little animals." "Ah, yes; small monkeys, I think they are," Captain Raymond said, taking a view over the side of the vessel. Then he called to a sailor that he wanted the man allowed to come aboard with whatever he had for sale. In a few moments he was at hand carrying two little monkeys in his arms. He approached the Captain and bowing low, hat in hand, addressed him in Portuguese, first saying, "Good-evening," then going on to tell that these were fine little monkeys—tee-tees—which he had brought for sale, and he went on to talk fluently in praise of the little creatures, which were about the size of a squirrel, of a greyish-olive as to the hair of body and limbs, a rich golden hue on the latter; on the under surface of the body a whitish grey, and the tip of the tail black. "Oh, how pretty, how very pretty!" exclaimed little Elsie. "Papa, won't you buy me one?" "Yes, daughter, if you want it," returned the Captain, "for I know you will be kind to it and that it will be a safe and pretty pet for you." "And Oh, papa, I'd like to have the other one, if I may!" cried Ned, fairly dancing with delight at the thought of owning the pretty little creature. The Captain smiled and said something to the man, speaking in Portuguese, a language spoken and understood by themselves only of all on board the vessel. The man answered, saying, as the Captain afterward told the others, that he was very glad to sell both to one person, because the little fellows were brothers and would be company for each other. Then a tee-tee was handed to each of the children, the Captain gave the man some money, which seemed to please him, and he went away, while Elsie and Ned rejoiced over and exhibited their pets, fed them and gave them a comfortable sleeping-place for the night. "What lovely, engaging little things they are!" said Grandma Elsie, as the children carried them away, "the very prettiest monkeys I ever saw." "Yes," said the Captain, "they are of a very pretty and engaging genus of monkeys; we all noticed the beauty of their fur, from which they are called callithrix or 'beautiful hair.' Sometimes they are called squirrel monkeys, partly on account of their shape and size, and partly from their squirrel-like activity. They are light, graceful little creatures. I am hoping my children will have great pleasure with theirs. They are said to attach themselves very strongly to their possessors, and behave with a gentle intelligence that lifts them far above the greater part of the monkey race." "I think I have read that they are good-tempered," said Grandma Elsie. "Yes; they are said to be very amiable, anger seeming to be almost unknown to them. Did you not notice the almost infantile innocence in the expression of their countenances?" "Yes, I did," she replied; "it was very touching, and made me feel an affection for them at once." "I have read," said Evelyn, "that that is very strong when the little creatures are alarmed. That sudden tears will come into their clear hazel eyes, and that they will make a little imploring, shrinking gesture quite irresistible to kind-hearted, sympathetic people." "I was reading about the tee-tees not long ago," said Mrs. Lilburn; "and one thing I learned was that they had a curious habit of watching the lips of those who speak to them, just as if they could understand the words spoken, and that when they become quite familiar, they are fond of sitting on their friend's shoulder, and laying their tiny fingers on his lips; as if they thought in that way they might discover the mysteries of speech." "Poor little darlings! I wish they could talk," exclaimed Grace. "I daresay they would make quite as good use of the power of speech as parrots do." "Possibly even better," said her father. "They seem to be more affectionate." "Do they live in flocks in their own forests, papa?" Grace asked. "Yes," he replied, "so the traveler, Mr. Bates, tells us, and that when on the move they take flying leaps from tree to tree." "I am very glad you bought those, papa," she said. "I think they will be a pleasure and amusement to us all." "So do I," said Lucilla, "they are so pretty and graceful that I think we will all be inclined to pet them." "So I think," said her father, "they seem to me decidedly the prettiest and most interesting species of monkey I have ever met with." "And it is really pleasant to see how delighted the children are with their new pets," said Grandma Elsie. "Yes," the Captain responded, with a pleased smile, "and I have no fear that they will ill-use them." "I am sure they will be kind to them," said Violet. "They were much interested in the monkeys we saw in going about the city. I saw quite a number of various species—some pretty large, but most of them small; some at the doors or windows of houses, some in canoes on the river." "Yes, I think we all noticed them," said her mother. "Yes," said the Captain, "I saw several of the midas ursulus , a small monkey which I have read is often to be found here in Pará. It is, when full grown, only about nine inches long, exclusive of the tail, which is fifteen inches. It has thick black fur with a reddish brown streak down the middle of the back. It is said to be a timid little thing, but when treated kindly becomes very tame and familiar." "What do monkeys eat, papa?" asked Grace. "I have been told the little fellows are generally fed on sweet fruits, such as the banana, and that they are also fond of grasshoppers and soft-bodied spiders." "They have some very large and busy ants in this country, haven't they, father?" asked Evelyn. "Yes," replied the Captain. "Bates tells of some an inch and a quarter long and stout in proportion, marching in single file through the thickets. They, however, have nothing peculiar or attractive in their habits, though they are giants among ants. But he speaks of another and far more interesting species. It is a great scourge to the Brazilians, from its habit of despoiling the most valuable of their cultivated trees of their foliage. In some districts it is such a pest that agriculture is almost impossible. He goes on to say that in their first walks they were puzzled to account for mounds of earth of a different color from the surrounding soil; mounds, some of them very extensive, some forty yards in circumference, but not more than two feet high. But on making inquiries they learned that those mounds were the work of the saubas—the outworks and domes which overlie and protect the entrances to their vast subterranean galleries. On close examination, Bates found the earth of which they were made to consist of very minute granules heaped together with cement so as to form many rows of little ridges and turrets. And he learned that the difference in color from the earth around was because of the undersoil having been brought up from a considerable depth to form these mounds." "I should like to see the ants at work upon them," said Grace. "It is very rarely that one has the opportunity to do so," said her father. "Mr. Bates tells us that the entrances are generally closed galleries, opened only now and then when some particular work is going on. He says he succeeded in removing portions of the dome in smaller hillocks, and found that the minor entrances converged, at the depth of about two feet, to one broad, elaborately-worked gallery or mine, which was four or five inches in diameter." "Isn't it the ant that clips and carries away leaves?" asked Evelyn. "Yes, Bates speaks of that; says it has long been recorded in books on natural history, and that when employed on that work their procession looks like a multitude of animated leaves on the march. In some places he found an accumulation of such leaves, all circular pieces about the size of sixpence, lying on the pathway, no ants near it, and at some distance from the colony. 'Such heaps,' he says, 'are always found to have been removed when the place is revisited the next day. The ants mount the trees in multitudes. Each one is a working miner, places itself on the surface of a leaf, and cuts with its sharp, scissors-like jaws, and by a sharp jerk detaches the leaf piece. Sometimes they let the leaf drop to the ground, where a little heap accumulates until carried away by another relay of workers; but generally each marches off with the piece he has detached. All take the same road to their colony and the path they follow becomes, in a short time, smooth and bare, looking like the impression of a cart-wheel through the herbage.'" "I am sorry the children have missed all this interesting information," said Violet. "Never mind, my dear," said her husband, "it can be repeated to them to-morrow. I think there is a storm gathering, and that we are likely to have to stay at home here for a day or two." "Should it prove a storm of any violence we may be thankful that we are in this good, safe harbor," remarked Mr. Dinsmore. "And that we have abundance of good company and good reading matter," added Grandma Elsie. "Yes," responded her father, "those are truly additional causes for thankfulness." "The little monkeys are another," laughed Lucilla. "I think we will have some fun with them; and certainly the children are delighted with their new pets." "They certainly are engaging little creatures—very different from those we are accustomed to see going about our streets with organ-grinders," said Grandma Dinsmore. The children were on deck unusually early the next morning, their pets with them. They found their father, mother, Eva and Lucilla there. The usual affectionate morning greetings were exchanged; then, smiling down upon Elsie and her pet, the Captain said, "I think you have not yet tired of your new pet, daughter?" "No, indeed, papa," was the quick, earnest rejoinder, "I'm growing fonder of him every hour. Oh, he's just the dearest little fellow!" "And so is mine," added Ned. "I think I'll name him Tee-tee; and as Elsie's is a little smaller than this, she is going to call him Tiny." "If papa approves," added Elsie. "I am well satisfied," returned their father. "You have begun your day rather earlier than usual," Captain Raymond went on, addressing the two children, "and I am well pleased that it is so, because now you can take some exercise about the deck, which may be prevented later by a storm," and he glanced up at the sky, where black clouds were gathering. "Yes, papa, we will," they answered, and set off at once upon a race round the deck, carrying their pets with them. The storm had begun when the summons to breakfast came, but the faces that gathered about the table were cheerful and bright, the talk also. All agreed that it would be no hardship to have to remain on board for some days with plenty of books and periodicals to read, the pleasant company which they were to each other, and the abundance of fruits and other dainties which the Captain always provided. When they were done eating, they repaired to the saloon, held their usual morning service, then sat about singly or in groups, talking, reading, writing, or, if a lady, busied with some fancy work. The children were much taken up with their new pets, fondling them and letting them climb about their shoulders. Cousin Ronald watched them with interest and pleasure. Elsie was standing near, her Tiny on her shoulder, gazing into her eyes with a look that seemed to say, "You are so kind to me that I love you already." Elsie stroked and patted him, saying, "You dear little pet! I love you already, and mean to take the very best care of you." "Thanks, dear little mistress. I am glad to belong to you and mean to be always the best little tee-tee that ever was seen." The words seemed to come from the tee-tee's lips, and its pretty eyes were looking right into Elsie's own. "Why, you little dear!" she said, with a pleased little laugh, stroking and patting him, then glancing round at Cousin Ronald, "How well you talk. In English, too, though I don't believe you ever heard the language before you came aboard the 'Dolphin.'" "No, we didn't, though we can speak it now as well as any other," Ned's pet seemed to say, lifting its head from his shoulder and glancing around at its brother. That brought a merry laugh from its little master. "Speak it as much as you please, Tee-tee," he said, fondling his pet, "or talk Portuguese or any other language you're acquainted with." "I'm afraid they will never be able to talk unless Cousin Ronald is in the company," said Elsie; "or Brother Max," she added, as an after-thought. "Yes, Brother Max could make them talk just as well," said Ned. "Oh, here come the letters and papers!" as a sailor came in carrying the mailbag. Its contents gave employment to every one for a time, but, after a little, Violet, having finished the perusal of her share, called the children to her and gave them an interesting account of the talk of the night before about the strange doings of South American ants. They were much interested, and asked a good many questions. When that subject was exhausted, Elsie asked to be told something about Rio de Janeiro. "There is a maritime province of that name in the south-east part of Brazil," her mother said. "I have read that in the southern part of it the scenery is very beautiful. The middle of the province is mountainous. About the city I will read you from the "New International Encyclopedia," which your father keeps on board whenever we are using the yacht." She took down the book, opened and read: "'Rio de Janeiro, generally called Rio, the capital of the Brazilian empire, and the largest and most important commercial emporium of South America, stands on a magnificent harbor, seventy-five miles west of Cape Frio. The harbor or bay of Rio de Janeiro, said, and apparently with justice, to be the most beautiful, secure, and spacious bay in the world, is land-locked, being entered from the south by a passage about a mile in width. It extends inland seventeen miles, and has an extreme breadth of about twelve miles. Of its numerous islands, the largest, Governor's Island, is six miles long. The entrance of the bay, guarded on either side by granite mountains, is deep, and is so safe that the harbor is made without the aid of pilots. On the left of the entrance rises the peak called, from its peculiar shape, Sugarloaf Mountain; and all round the bay the blue waters are girdled with mountains and lofty hills of every variety of picturesque and fantastic outline. The harbor is protected by a number of fortresses. The city stands on the west shore of the bay, about four miles from its mouth. Seven green and mound-like hills diversify its site; and the white-walled and vermillion-roofed houses cluster in the intervening valleys, and climb the eminences in long lines. From the central portion of the city, lines of houses extend four miles in three principal directions. The old town, nearest the bay, is laid out in squares; the streets cross at right angles, are narrow, and are paved and flagged; and the houses, often built of granite, are commonly two stories high. West of it is the elegantly-built new town; and the two districts are separated by the Campo de Santa Anna, an immense square or park, on different parts of which stand an extensive garrison, the town-hall, the national museum, the palace of the senate, the foreign office, a large opera house, etc. From a number of springs which rise on and around Mount Corcovado (three thousand feet high, and situated three and a half miles southwest of the city) water is conveyed to Rio de Janeiro by a splendid aqueduct, and supplies the fountains with which the numerous squares are furnished. Great municipal improvements have, within recent years, been introduced; most of the streets are now as well paved as those of the finest European capitals; the city is abundantly lighted with gas; and commodious wharfs and quays are built along the water edge. Rio de Janeiro contains several excellent hospitals and infirmaries, asylums for foundlings and female orphans, and other charitable institutions, some richly endowed; about fifty chapels and churches, generally costly and imposing structures, with rich internal decorations, and several convents and nunneries. In the College of Pedro II., founded in 1837, the various branches of a liberal education are efficiently taught by a staff of eight or nine professors; the Imperial Academy of Medicine, with a full corps of professors, is attended by upward of three hundred students; there is also a theological seminary. The national library contains one hundred thousand volumes.' "There, my dears, I think that is all that will interest you," concluded Violet, closing the book.

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