Wanderings in South America | Page 2

on foot. The sun would exhaust
him in his attempts to wade through the swamps, and the mosquitos at
night would deprive him of every hour of sleep.
The road for horses runs parallel to the river, but it extends a very little
way, and even ends before the cultivation of the plantations ceases.
The only mode then that remains is to proceed by water; and when you
come to the high-lands, you may make your way through the forest on
foot or continue your route on the river.
After passing the third island in the River Demerara there are few
plantations to be seen, and those not joining on to one another, but

separated by large tracts of wood.
The Loo is the last where the sugar-cane is growing. The greater part of
its negroes have just been ordered to another estate, and ere a few
months shall have elapsed all signs of cultivation will be lost in
underwood.
Higher up stand the sugar-works of Amelia's Waard, solitary and
abandoned; and after passing these there is not a ruin to inform the
traveller that either coffee or sugar have ever been cultivated.
From Amelia's Waard an unbroken range of forest covers each bank of
the river, saving here and there where a hut discovers itself, inhabited
by free people of colour, with a rood or two of bared ground about it; or
where the wood-cutter has erected himself a dwelling and cleared a few
acres for pasturage. Sometimes you see level ground on each side of
you for two or three hours at a stretch; at other times a gently sloping
hill presents itself; and often, on turning a point, the eye is pleased with
the contrast of an almost perpendicular height jutting into the water.
The trees put you in mind of an eternal spring, with summer and
autumn kindly blended into it.
Here you may see a sloping extent of noble trees whose foliage
displays a charming variety of every shade, from the lightest to the
darkest green and purple. The tops of some are crowned with bloom of
the loveliest hue, while the boughs of others bend with a profusion of
seeds and fruits.
Those whose heads have been bared by time or blasted by the
thunderstorm strike the eye, as a mournful sound does the ear in music,
and seem to beckon to the sentimental traveller to stop a moment or
two and see that the forests which surround him, like men and
kingdoms, have their periods of misfortune and decay.
The first rocks of any considerable size that are observed on the side of
the river are at a place called Saba, from the Indian word which means
a stone. They appear sloping down to the water's edge, not shelvy, but
smooth, and their exuberances rounded off and, in some places, deeply

furrowed, as though they had been worn with continual floods of water.
There are patches of soil up and down, and the huge stones amongst
them produce a pleasing and novel effect. You see a few coffee-trees of
a fine luxuriant growth, and nearly on the top of Saba stands the house
of the post-holder.
He is appointed by Government to give in his report to the protector of
the Indians of what is going on amongst them and to prevent suspicious
people from passing up the river.
When the Indians assemble here, the stranger may have an opportunity
of seeing the aborigines dancing to the sound of their country music
and painted in their native style. They will shoot their arrows for him
with an unerring aim and send the poisoned dart, from the blow-pipe,
true to its destination: and here he may often view all the different
shades, from the red savage to the white man; and from the white man
to the sootiest son of Africa.
Beyond this post there are no more habitations of white men or free
people of colour.
In a country so extensively covered with wood as this is, having every
advantage that a tropical sun and the richest mould, in many places, can
give to vegetation, it is natural to look for trees of very large
dimensions. But it is rare to meet with them above six yards in
circumference. If larger have ever existed they have fallen a sacrifice
either to the axe or to fire.
If, however, they disappoint you in size, they make ample amends in
height. Heedless, and bankrupt in all curiosity, must he be who can
journey on without stopping to take a view of the towering mora. Its
topmost branch, when naked with age or dried by accident, is the
favourite resort of the toucan. Many a time has this singular bird felt
the shot faintly strike him from the