TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES
IN
SOUTH AND CENTRAL AMERICA.

FIRST SERIES:

BY
DON RAMON PAEZ.
“NIHIL ARDUUM MORTALIBUS.”
NEW YORK:
CHARLES SCRIBNER & CO., 654 BROADWAY.
1868.

“Oh! it is the land where brightest hues
Gild sunset skies and glow in morning dews
Where flowers the fairest ever seem to bloom,
Of the world’s empire, to adorn the tomb.
Where blandest breezes on elastic wing,
Gladness and vigor to the bosom bring;
Where hang at once, within thy sunny bowers,
On citron trees, the fruitage and the flowers;
Where hearts are ardent as the sun’s they feel,
And buoyant as the gales that o’er them steal;
Where maiden’s love as close, as sweet will twine,
As cling the tendrils of their native vine;
Where the deep lustre of soft beauty’s eye
Transcends the brightness of its own clear sky.”
Godfrey’s “Cordelia.”

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by
RAMON PAEZ.
In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for the
Southern District of New York.

TO
MORRIS KETCHUM, ESQ.,
THE
KIND AND CONSTANT FRIEND
TO THE
EXILED AUTHOR.

PREFACE.

It was my lot several years ago—I need not state how many—to be brought forth into this world amid the wild scenes which I propose to describe. Later in life I was fortunate enough to be sent by my parents to England, for the purpose of finishing my education under the tuition of the learned fathers at the College of Stonyhurst. While there, I had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of the inimitable author of “Wanderings in South America,” Charles Waterton, Esq., who years before had also been an inmate of that celebrated institution, and whose book became at once my favorite study, on account of the graphic descriptions it contains of animals and objects with which I was already familiar. The works of the distinguished traveller, Baron von Humboldt, who first made those regions known to the civilized world, next afforded me an endless source of scientific enjoyment, developing in me an early taste for the natural history and physical wonders of my native land.

On my return home, I immediately turned my steps toward

“Those matted woods ...
Where crouching tigers wait their hapless prey,”

anxious to study nature in her own sanctuary; but, owing to the unfortunate state of affairs in the country, I did not enjoy long my cherished dreams of exploring it through all its extent. Sufficient information was, however, obtained in my rambles through the plains, to enlarge upon a subject scarcely touched upon by travellers.

Thus from my earliest days have I been associated with the scenes forming the text of the present narrative, which I venture to lay before the public, trusting more in the indulgence and characteristic generosity of the Anglo-Saxon race toward foreigners, than in my own ability to fulfil the arduous undertaking.

CONTENTS.

NOTE.

The favorable—I may say flattering—notice which the previous editions of the Wild Scenes in South America received from the press of this country, and more especially from that of Great Britain, has encouraged the Author of that work to make several material changes, not only in the text—whole chapters having been stricken out and their place supplied by new matter—but in the general plan of the book, with the object of presenting it to the young American reader—to whom this edition is especially devoted—in a form which will convey a more comprehensive view of the wonders of a region scarcely known here, except to the scientific through the works of Baron von Humboldt and other European travellers who have visited it from time to time in the pursuit of knowledge, or for pleasure. It is to be hoped, however, that with the increased facilities offered by the various lines of steamships now plying regularly between this country and various points in South America, a more lively interest than hitherto has been evinced here, will be aroused among the citizens of the Great Republic towards countries which, by their geographical position and other natural advantages, are destined to become the emporiums of a vast trade with the United States of North America.

INTRODUCTION.

“Know’st thou the land where the citron grows,
Where midst its dark foliage the golden orange glows?
Thither, thither let us go.”
Goethe.

To Young America:

“Smart,” as the world over, you are acknowledged to be—in which opinion I most heartily concur, having myself spent among you the best part of my life—permit me to call your attention to one important fact which has escaped your notice thus far, or rather that of your teachers, namely, a better acquaintance with that vast and glorious portion of our great continent lying at your very portals, South America—a region of which you have only a faint idea from the meagre information supplied by your School Geographies and occasional newspaper correspondents, but in fact a land of wondrous exuberance and untold natural wealth, which offers you a field of enterprise worthy of the founders of the States of California and Oregon, and the Territories of Montana, Arizona, and Colorado.

It is a fact that while Europe, situated as it is far beyond our own hemisphere, has always sent her very best men to represent her in the South American States, and to explore and report upon every thing worth knowing, this country, America par excellence, has sent none as yet but broken down and quarrelsome politicians, who, according to the statements of some of the leading periodicals of this country,[1] are absolutely incompetent to fill their post with credit to the nation they represent. To my own personal knowledge I can testify as to the class of men sent afloat to Venezuela, one of whom had previously been master of a tug-boat on the Orinoco and Apure rivers, but through political influence at home was suddenly enabled to emerge from that obscure though honorable calling to that of a diplomatic functionary, although it is but fair to state that his social status in that country was in no wise improved by his change of vocation. When his term of office expired, with the change of administration at headquarters, he was duly replaced by another, whose conduct was so disgraceful[2] that his countrymen resident in the Republic petitioned the Government at home to remove him forthwith, which was granted, but only to replace him by another—since deceased—who, I am informed, was the only drunken man seen in the streets of the capital.

Thanks to the unaided efforts of a missionary gentleman, Rev. Mr. Fletcher,[3] the magnificent empire of Brazil has lately been brought to the notice of the people of the United States, who, quick to appreciate the commercial advantages offered by a foreign country, when fully demonstrated to them, have already established a line of steamers between New York and the principal ports of the Empire. Outside of this the people of this enterprising country have only had occasional glimpses of the vast continent of South America, from the notes of casual travellers and the official reports of Lieuts. Page, Herndon, and Gibbon, of the navy, who confined their observations principally to the practicability of navigating the two great rivers Amazon and La Plata, already surveyed by their respective governments and explored from end to end by several European travellers. It is to be hoped, however, that the eminent naturalist, Agassiz, who lately visited the former river with reference to a particular branch of science, will give us the result of his explorations as clearly, and relieved of the technicalities of scientific lore so common among naturalists, as the distinguished artist Church, who several years ago penetrated, “on his own hook,” to the heart of the Andes, has presented the grand and beautiful ridge on canvass to the eyes of admiring thousands who have gazed upon his admirable paintings, thus familiarising the outside world with that picturesque region, and earning for himself a name second to none in the estimation of the artistic world.

North Americans cannot longer ignore that great section of our continent which, during thirteen years, warred to the knife against her powerful antagonists, Spain and Portugal, for the possession of those political principles proclaimed years before by their own Great Republic; for it is a fact, that while most of the European nations hastened to acknowledge the independence of the South American States, the United States of America were the last to recognize them; and if we of the South have not been as successful in the establishment of Republican Institutions as our brethren of the North, the fault is not ours, but is to be attributed to the “peculiar institutions” implanted on our soil by its fanatical and remorseless conquerors, so utterly inimical to enlightened educational development.[4]

And now look, on the other hand, to the host of distinguished names that figure among the European representatives and explorers in the various sections of South America, and the advantages gained by the countries they represent. At the head of all stands the illustrious Humboldt, who was the first to penetrate that comparatively unknown region at the time (1799), and to lay open her wondrous treasures before the civilized world. Any eulogistic comments upon this truly great man are superfluous: the world is filled with his fame, as radiant as the celestial spheres above, which he overran likewise with his penetrating mind, and after devoting nearly three quarters of a century to the study of the Universe, he died only a few years ago at the advanced age of ninety-two, in the full enjoyment of his mental faculties. His works are the grandest monument of the nineteenth century.

To Prussia we are indebted for the services of another resolute explorer, Prince Adalbert, who fearlessly penetrated to the remotest parts of Brazil, and the botanists, von Tschudi, Karzten, and Moritz, who have enriched the European museums and conservatories with the treasures of our Flora. Other parts of Germany have sent no less distinguished individuals in the persons of Prince Maximilian of Bavaria, and the great naturalists, Narterer, Spix, and von Martius, all of whom have given to the scientific world the result of their explorations in works of enduring fame. France ranks next in distinguished names, such as La Condamine, D’Orvigni, Jussieu, St. Hilaire, Bonpland (the companion of Humboldt), Depons, Lavayesse, Webber, Liais, etc.; and Great Britain, with her Parishes and Fitzroys, who surveyed and carefully sounded every estuary, bay, and inlet which lie between the Plata and the Bay of Valparaiso, with the celebrated naturalist, Darwin, as co-laborer; Sir Robert Schumbourgh, the discoverer of that vegetable wonder, the Victoria Regia, and the hitherto unknown sources of the great river Orinoco, the lake of Parime, supposed in the seventeenth century to be the abode of a mighty and resplendent Indian king—El Dorado—the gilded, from whom that veritable land of gold, as it has subsequently been demonstrated, took the name[5]—with other equally enterprising naturalists and explorers, such as Waterton, Wallace, Bates, Vigne, Markham, and Spruce. Through the efforts of the two last named, England has succeeded in transplanting and successfully cultivating in the mountains of India the various species of cinchona trees indigenous to the Andean range of mountains, that yield that invaluable drug, quinine; while another enterprising Englishman undertook to stock Australia with the Alpaca sheep of the same region, at the risk of his life and fortune.

Thus England, France, and Germany have secured the monopoly of the South American trade, with total exclusion of this country, which has to pay cash for what the former obtain in exchange for the produce of their manufactories. All these nations, moreover, appoint permanent representatives, chosen from among their ablest diplomats, and keep them there as long as they choose to remain, to enable them to become thoroughly acquainted with the people and the peculiarities of the country, endearing themselves to the inhabitants by their munificent hospitality and courtly demeanor. Even distant and snow-bound Russia has sent to South America her commissions of savants and maintains there, as well as Sweden, competent representatives, whose duty it is to report to their respective governments on the progress of affairs and the resources of those countries.

I shall not close the list of European travellers and naturalists, with whom I am acquainted, without adding those of Holland and Belgium, viz., Mr. Langsberg, for many years Minister Plenipotentiary from the former country to Venezuela, Baron Ponthos, and Messrs. Linden and Funk, who, by their united efforts, have contributed to enlighten their countrymen respecting the source from whence India-rubber emanates, and the kind of trees that yield the valuable Calisaya and Angostura barks; what plants yield the fragrant Vanilla and Tonka beans, the healing balsams of Copaiva, Tolu, and Peru; and how indigo, cacao, and coffee are raised. “Does cotton grow in Venezuela?” “Are there any railroads in Chile?” are questions which have respectively been addressed to me and to the accredited Minister of the latter flourishing republic to the United States by persons enjoying the greatest advantages of education in this country. Now, it is a well-known fact to European merchants that the cotton raised in Venezuela ranks among the finest in the world; and as regards railroads, Chile possesses some of the most admirable works of the kind, due to the skill of North American engineers.

But no wonder that so little is known here about South America, when one of the standard School Geographies and most recent publications describes the products of Venezuela in these few lines:

“Its principal products are the woods and fruits of the forest and the cattle of the plains.”

“Exports.—The principal exports are the tropical fruits, which grow without cultivation; and hides, cattle, horses, and mules.”

Any one would be led to suppose, from the perusal of the above quotations, that the country at large is “in a state of nature,” and that the inhabitants themselves are no better off than “the cattle of the plains,”

“Where at each step the stranger fears to wake
The rattling terrors of the vengeful snake;
Where crouching tigers wait their hapless prey,
And savage men more murderous still than they.”
—The Deserted Village.

These things are only found in the depths of the primeval forest, or amidst the labyrinths of rivers that traverse the vast extent of prairie land or llanos which form the subject of this book. These are the grazing grounds as well as military school of the republic: the agricultural portion lies north of this region, amidst the great chain of mountains, which, detaching itself from the main Andean trunk in New Granada, or Colombia, as it is now called, runs eastward along the shores of the Caribbean Sea. The products of this region consist principally, as the school-book quoted above states, in the tropical fruits, not collected at random, as might be inferred from the above meager statement, but through the most careful cultivation, as a contemporary English traveller in that country rightly describes it in a few lines.

“July 11th.—Having got our passports, we started at about 3 P.M. for San Pedro, distant about six leagues. The first three leagues lay through the beautiful valley of Chacao (Caracas). Everything bore the appearance of great prosperity. The road was as good as any in Europe. The hedges were beautifully clipped; hardly a foot of ground could be seen that was not in a high state of cultivation. The plantations were numerous and in good order, and the long chimneys and black smoke showed that even in this remote valley steam was rendering its thousand-handed assistance. We crossed and recrossed the Rio Guaire several times before we arrived at Antimano, some two leagues distant from Caracas. We met several herds of wild cattle, being driven towards Caracas by the llaneros in crimson or blue ponchos, mounted on high-picked saddles, with their constant companion, the lasso, plaited into their horses’ tails, and the long cattle-spears in their hands. The cattle were magnificent-looking animals, and reminded me of the breed that one sees in the bull-rings of old Spain. Coffee is more cultivated in the valley of Chacao than any other crop, and it contributes in no small degree to the beauty of the scenery.”[6]

Besides coffee this country produces the famous Cacao and indigo of Caracas, sugar-cane, and cotton of superior quality, tobacco hardly inferior to that of Cuba, especially the celebrated Varinas and Guacharo kinds, rice, Indian-corn, and most of the cereals of northern latitudes, according to the elevation above the sea level; and as to the products gathered “in a state of nature,” such as sarsaparilla, India-rubber, Piassaba, Vanilla, and Tonka beans, cabinet and dye-woods, their name is legion, and would require a separate volume devoted to that particular branch of scientific research, which the reader can find admirably compiled in the works of Humboldt and Bonpland, St. Hilaire, Sir Robert Schombourgh, Codazzi, and others.

Now it is my purpose to introduce the young American reader to a country—

“Where maidens’ love as close, as sweet will twine,
As cling the tendrils of their native vine,”

and which hitherto seems to have been a sealed book to the future “Merchant Princes” of the great North. Humboldt describes it thus, in 1802:—

VENEZUELA.

“Caracas is the capital of a country nearly twice as large as Peru, and now little inferior in extent to the kingdom of New Granada. This country, which the Spanish government designates by the name of Capitania-General de Caracas, or the United Provinces of Venezuela, has nearly a million of inhabitants, among whom are sixty thousand slaves. It comprises, along the coasts, New Andalusia, or the province of Cumana (with the island of Margarita), Barcelona, Venezuela, or Caracas, Coro, and Maracaibo: in the interior the Provinces of Barinas and Guiana; the former situated on the rivers of Santo Domingo and the Apure, the latter stretching along the Orinoco, the Casiquiare, the Atabapo, and the Rio Negro. In a general view of the seven United Provinces of Tierra Firme, we perceive that they form three distinct zones, extending from East to West.

“We find, first, cultivated land along the sea-shore, and near the chain of the mountains on the coast; next, savannas or pasturages; and finally, beyond the Orinoco, a third zone, that of the forests, into which we can penetrate only by the rivers which traverse them. If the native inhabitants of the forest lived entirely on the produce of the chase, like those of the Missouri, we might say that the three zones, into which we have divided the territory of Venezuela, picture the three states of human society; the life of the wild hunter, in the woods of the Orinoco; pastoral life in the savannas or llanos, and the agricultural state, in the high valleys, and at the foot of the mountains on the coast.”[7]

And yet this favored region can be reached in from twelve to fifteen days by sailing packets between Philadelphia and La Guaira; or, should your fast habits require it, we can avail ourselves of the Brazilian line of steamships which will leave us at St. Thomas, where we shall meet the little steamer plying regularly between both points, the whole voyage being thus accomplished in eight days. As we are not in a hurry, however, to get through our journey, we will, for the sake of convenience and diversified amusement, follow the example of the above-mentioned traveller, Sullivan, who, in company of a friend, made the trip before us in a commodious yacht by the way of the West India Islands; but having no craft of our own, we may be permitted to borrow from the New York yacht squadron one of their idle cutters, which can thus be better employed than in cruising round well-known fashionable retreats during a few months of summer, and exposed for the rest of the year to the hard knocks of a wintry climate. This is the best season to visit the tropics, as well as the West Indies, when there is no fear of the dreaded vomito or sweeping hurricanes.

Hardly a day passes without coming in sight of some lovely isle of the Caribbean sea, which, like the “Queen of the Antilles,”—Cuba—rises from amidst the placid waves, crowned with perpetual wreaths of fragrant orange-blossoms and stately palms. Cuba, Hayti, Porto Rico, St. Thomas, Sta. Cruz, Antigua, Granada, Barbadoes, Martinique, Guadaloupe, Tobago, and Trinidad, rise one after another in quick succession. When we reach the last named and most lovely of all, on the eastern extremity of Venezuela, we have the choice of either penetrating at once into the field of our adventures by entering one of the numerous outlets of the Orinoco, which here pours out its tribute to the mighty Atlantic through a hundred mouths; or, following the line of coast to the westward, we may reach a point near the fertile valleys of Aragua, where well-trained horses for the sport and hardy llaneros to guide us, await our arrival. We shall thus have an opportunity of contemplating and admiring that stupendous chain of mountains (fit offspring of the mighty Andes further west), which seems as if thrown up by Titanic force as a barrier against the encroachments of the fierce Atlantic.

Endless are the beauties and points of interest presented by this splendid chain of mountains; its varied climes, from the scorching heats of the tierra caliente on the sea level to the frigid blasts of winter at higher elevations; its silvery springs and roaring cataracts; its unrivalled vegetation and glittering veins of precious metals. The trade winds and currents are in our favor, which will enable us to reach La Guaira in a couple of days, passing in quick succession some minor ports, such as Rio Caribe, Carupano, with its silver-bearing mountains in the distance, the island of Margarita, famous for its pearls, as the name implies; its fisheries, and the gallant defence made by the inhabitants against the combined attacks of the Spanish hordes; Cumana, for its delicious grapes and pine-apples, its salubrious climate, and the purity of the sky, which enabled the immortal Humboldt to watch in wonderment the great meteoric shower in 1799, which he compared to a brilliant display of fire-works; Barcelona, noted only for its hides, and the Monagas brotherhood, who were for many years the terror of the country.

The coast, as we approach La Guaira, is lined with plantations of sugar-cane, cacao and cocoa-nuts, two articles often confounded in English spelling, but widely different in themselves. The former grows on a moderately-sized tree, with large, glossy leaves, while the latter is the product of a palm, remarkable for the height it attains, and the prodigious size of its fruit, in bunches that few men can lift from the ground. The cacao nuts, on the contrary, grow in pods, resembling large cucumbers, of a rich chocolate color outside, filled with oblong nuts enveloped in a white, sub-acid pulp, very agreeable to the taste especially of parrots, monkeys, and squirrels, who destroy great quantities of the pods for the sake of the pulp, so that they require constant watching to protect them from these pests.

A cacao plantation is one of the handsomest orchards that can be seen, shaded as they are by another tree of large proportions, the erythrina, a leguminous plant with crimson flowers, which you may have noticed in greenhouses at home, though much reduced in size, as it never attains there more than a few feet above the boxes on which they are raised as an ornament to the garden in summer. The rapidity with which these trees grow in the tropics is astonishing, for in eight or ten years, the time required to reach its maximum growth, they attain the size of the largest denizens of the forest. Observe how their tops glow with the fiery hue of their blossoms, for this is the season when they exchange their leaves for flowers, the only instance of a plant shedding its leaves in these latitudes, with the exception of the ceiba or silk cotton tree, which the author of Amyas Leigh has so admirably described as growing close to where we are journeying just now.

Here the cordillera rises considerably above the connecting mountains, attaining a height of thirteen thousand feet in the peak of Naiguata, which you may perceive peeping through the clouds yonder, and the next one eleven thousand in the Cerro de Avila, both forming what is called the Silla, or Saddle of Caracas, at the foot of which stands La Guaira, the principal port of the republic, but the vilest anchorage in the world. Here ends our yacht excursion; trusting in future to the nimble-footed mule or to the thumping stage coaches for the rest of the journey.

Despite its wretched shipping facilities, La Guaira carries on a very active trade with foreign marts, as is attested by the number of English, French, German, and Italian merchants, with a few Americans, residing here, forming, as it were a truly foreign colony. The heat, as you perceive, is intense, owing to the proximity of the barren mountain-base, which leaves room scarcely for a loaded mule to turn round in the narrow and crowded-up streets. On this account, I presume, La Guaira is very healthy, for not even the Asiatic cholera could obtain a footing here—excuse the pun—when it decimated the capital in 1853. Cases of vomito occur from time to time; but these are more the exception than the rule; so it does not follow that all hot places in the tropics are unhealthy, for Carupano, Margarita, Cumana, La Guaira, and Coro, which are within the isothermal line of greatest heat—owing, doubtless, to the dry, stony, or sandy soil on which they stand—are among the healthiest spots in Venezuela. However, we shall soon be out of this sultry place, and amidst the glories of a temperate climate. For this purpose we will hire mules at one of the posadas or hotels, to ascend the mountains on our way to Caracas, the capital of the republic, giving the preference to the old road, which is much shorter and more picturesque than the new one for carriage travel. Let us hear first the enthusiastic English tourist describe this route, as I may be accused by some of partiality towards my own country.

“The ascent is very precipitous, and the road rough and narrow, but the view of the boundless ocean on one hand, and the magnificent range of mountains on the other, was very grand. The road rather reminded me of the Great St. Bernard, though the resemblance would not bear analyzing. The sensation of rising gradually into the cooler strata of air was most delicious; and at length, being suddenly enveloped in a cloud, I felt actually cold (a novel sensation I had not experienced for several months), and was not at all sorry to put on my jacket. There is no mountain in the tropics where you rise as immediately and suddenly from the stifling heat of the Tierra Caliente to the delicious temperature of an European sunrise in spring, as the Silla of Caracas.

“On the road from Vera Cruz to Mexico, when the traveller arrives at the height of four thousand feet, beyond which the fever never spreads, he is upwards of thirty miles from the sea, whereas, on the road up the Silla at that height the ocean lies immediately at his feet, and he looks down upon it as from a tower. So perpendicular is the face of the Silla towards the sea, that any large boulder or mass of rock becoming detached high up the mountain and bounding down its face, would fall clean into the ocean. About half way up the mountain, we crossed a deep cleft in the mountain called the Salto—a jump—on rather a rickety old draw-bridge. The bridge is commanded by a ruinous old town, called Torre Quemada, or the Burnt Tower, a name it derives from its being placed just at the height where the traveller, descending to La Guaira, first encounters the stifling exhalations from the Tierra Caliente. About nine o’clock we stopped to breakfast at La Venta, an inn some five thousand feet above La Guaira. Here, in a perfectly European atmosphere, we lay out in the grass, and gazed down upon the ocean and the town of La Guaira; we could just distinguish the Ariel, looking the size of a walnut-shell, hoisting her white sail, and standing away for Porto Cabello, where we were to meet her, unless we returned to Trinidad via the Rio Apure and the Orinoco.”

Both sides of the road are lined with Maguey plants, or varieties of the Agave genus, improperly called aloes and century-plants, from a mistaken notion that they only blossom once in a hundred years. The most beautiful of these is the cocuy, with thick glossy leaves of a clear emerald color, from six to eight feet, and a flower-stock from twenty-five to thirty feet in length. I believe it is the same species that yields the famous beverage of the Mexicans, called pulque, which some compare to fermented animal juices. A much more agreeable drink is obtained here by distillation from this plant, and its leaves turned to better account by scraping out the fine fibres they contain, from which most beautiful hammocks are made in various parts of the country, besides ropes, coffee-bags, twine, etc., etc. A fortune is in store for some Yankee genius who will invent the proper machine for dressing these leaves and getting the fibres. The other varieties are the cocuiza brava, or common century-plant (Agave Americana), with serrated leaves, on which account it is very useful for making hedges, and the cocuiza dulce, with perfectly smooth leaves, containing the strongest fibres and usually cultivated for that purpose. The pith of the flower-stock is also turned to account in various ways, especially for making the best kind of razor-strops.

Were you as much a lover of plants as I am, I would invite you to descend with me to one of those lovely glens formed by these mountains. There, amid moss-covered rocks and sparkling rivulets, I would point out to you those singular orchidacœous plants usually called air-plants, because they obtain their nourishment from the moist air that surrounds them,—not a bad idea,—those lovely daughters of Flora and Favonius, so rich in perfume as well as color, but whose principal charm consists in their caricaturing most living objects in nature, from the “human form divine,” as in man-orchis (O. mascula) to the bumble-bee, often deceived by a perfect representation of his species (Ophris apifera). Thus we count among our floral treasures “angels,” “swans,” “doves,” “eagles,” “pelicans,” “spiders,” “butterflies,” “bumble-bees,” and even a perfect infant in its cradle, was found by Linden in the mountains of Merida. The celebrated Flor del Espiritu Santo (Peristeria elata) is another of this class. It is there only that are found those two most beautiful species of cattleya (C. Mossiæ and C. Labiata), so highly prized by plant collectors, from all nations, and here called Flor de Mayo, or Mayflower, because it blossoms principally in the month of May. Great favorites are they with us also, and no court-yard is deemed sufficiently ornamented at Caracas without one or more baskets of these lovely plants, the stump of a tree, or any rustic basket filled with bark or moss, being sufficient support for them. In the same manner the curious Butterfly-flower (Oncidium papillio) is raised along with the others, often deceiving persons unacquainted with it, with a perfect representation of the insect whose name it bears; and if you should visit with me some of the cacao plantations in the tierra caliente, I would point out to you two equally exquisite plants of the same family attached to the rough stems and branches of the Erythrina, namely, the Swan-flower (Cycnoches ventricosum) and the Vanilla, both filling the air with the same perfume, but in different form, the former through its swan-like flowers, in clusters of three, five, and even seven, and the latter through its ripened pods—so well known to perfumers and confectioners—as the blossoms of this last, though quite large and handsome, are destitute of perfume.

But to return to our mountain ride, for it is time that we should be prepared to behold a still more glorious view from the summit, than the one just described by Sullivan: “After a regular Spanish breakfast of chocolate and fried eggs, for which, in as regular Spanish custom, we were charged about ten times the proper amount, we continued our ascent, and gained the seat of the Saddle, a hollow between the two peaks, called the Pummel and Croup,[8] about ten o’clock. The summit of the pass called Las Vueltas, is a smooth undulating grass-land, somewhat like the sheep-downs of Sussex. The bold rocky peaks on either hand, stretching in a serrated ridge as far as the eye could reach, were very fine. I could scarcely fancy myself to be only ten degrees north of the equator, and actually on or rather only eight thousand feet above the isothermal line of greatest heat, which passes through Cartagena, La Guaira, and Cumana.

“We had left far below us all the tropical flora, and were amongst English ferns and English blackberries; and I actually discovered one familiar friend, a dandelion. From the summit of Las Vueltas, you first get a magnificent view of the valley of Chacao, lying some four thousand feet below you, with the city of Caracas in the centre of it. I don’t think the view from that height is so fine as some thousand feet lower down, where it certainly beats any view I have ever seen. It is finer in my opinion than the first coup d’œil of the Vega and city of Granada from the Ultimo Suspiro del Moro, where the degenerate Boabdil el Chico, both in mind and body, turned to take one last fond look at the luxurious abode of his chivalric ancestors and wept bitterly, though too late, at his own cowardice and duplicity, which had almost without a blow surrendered to the “curs of Nazareth” the splendid heritage of nearly seven centuries, and which was never but in imagination to return to the true sons of the Prophet. It is also finer than the Valley of Chamouni or Martigny, from the Tête Noire, but I think it bears more resemblance to the Vega of Granada.”

Observe how regularly laid out, at right angles to each other, the streets are; the area of the city is great for the number of inhabitants (sixty thousand), most of the houses being built one story high, and occupying in consequence a large space, on account of the earthquakes, which are of frequent occurrence all along the Andean range. As we approach the suburbs, you may notice some of the ruins still remaining of that dreadful catastrophe, which, in 1812, levelled this beautiful city to the ground, burying beneath the débris twelve thousand of the inhabitants, just as they had assembled in the magnificent churches of that time to render homage to the day, Holy Thursday. Since then the city has been rebuilt, it is to be hoped on more solid basis.

Caracas claims the honor of having given birth to several distinguished individuals, among others to Bolívar and Miranda, two of the greatest champions of South American independence; to Rosio, the Jefferson of Venezuela;

to Andres Bello, a great poet and publicist; and to the eminent surgeon and physician, Dr. Vargas, one of the Presidents of the Republic.

The climate of Caracas has often been called a perpetual spring. “What can we conceive to be more delightful than a temperature which in the day keeps between 20° and 26°,[9] and at night between 16° and 18°, which is equally favorable to the plantain, the orange tree, the coffee tree, the apple, the apricot, and corn? José de Oviedo y Baños, the historiographer of Venezuela, calls the situation of Caracas that of a terrestrial paradise, and compares the Anauco and the neighboring torrents to the four rivers of the Garden of Eden.”[10]

The hotels, Sullivan describes as being as good as any in Europe. “You might travel from one end of Old Spain to the other without finding anything to be compared to them, either as regards cleanliness or the civility of the landlords.” But as here I am at home, you are most cordially invited to our mansion at the end of the Calle del Comercio, where you may verify for yourself the truth of the statements concerning the climate and productions of this fertile valley. We may at once enter the garden, which occupies nearly the whole square, where, after our rough ride, we can refresh ourselves with the fruits of the season.

Here, as you perceive, you find growing side by side the refreshing orange and the luscious apple, the pomegranate and the peach; the banana, the citron, the guava, the sapodilla, and papaw tree, all of them eminently tropical fruits, with the pear, the grape-vine, and other productions of temperate regions. Unsurpassed by any, not even by the famous Mangosteen of the Spicy Islands, you have here the delicious Chirimoya, or cherimoyer, as pronounced by Anglo-Saxons, and which I can only liken to lumps of flavored cream ready to be frozen, suspended from the branches of some fairy tree amidst the most overpowering perfume of its flowers; for it is in bearing all the year round, as indeed are most of the fruit trees you see about this garden, and consequently you may at all times enjoy the advantage of refreshing the inner as well as the outer man with a “wilderness of sweets.” Markham,[11] who has tasted both the chirimoya and mangosteen in their native habitat, gives the preference decidedly to the former, and says of it: “He who has not tasted the chirimoya fruit has yet to learn what fruit is.” “The pineapple, the mangosteen and the chirimoya,” says Dr. Seeman, “are considered the finest fruits in the world. I have tasted them in those localities in which they are supposed to attain their highest perfection—the pineapple in Guayaquil, the mangosteen in the Indian Archipelago, and the chirimoya on the slope of the Andes, and if I were called upon to act the part of a Paris, I would without hesitation assign the apple to the chirimoya. Its taste indeed surpasses that of every other fruit, and Haenke was quite right when he called it the masterpiece of nature.”

The numerous varieties of hot-house grapes, which in your variable climate of the north require so much skill and attention to perfect their growth, here thrive without the least care, and the vines which you see struggling here and there among the trees for some kind of support, proceed from cuttings which I brought over six years ago from one of the best regulated establishments in Connecticut.

Here, too, the stately Mauritia-palm of the Orinoco, the date-palm of the burning Sahara, the royal-palm of Cuba (Oredoxa Regia), and the oil-palm of Africa (Eleis guinensis) commingle their majestic crowns with the dense foliage of the mango tree of India, the aromatic cinnamon tree of Ceylon, the bread-fruit tree of Otaheite, and the sombre pines and cypress of northern regions, forming the most effective protection to the shade-loving magnolia and the delicate violet of your native woods.

Swarms of tiny and brilliant humming-birds flutter amid masses of highly-scented orange blossoms that perfume the air around us. Any one unacquainted with that bijou of the feathered tribe, would mistake it at first sight for some of the metallic-colored beetles which dispute with them the nectar of the fragrant flowers, so brilliant is the lustre shed by both. “For that peculiar charm which resides in flashing light combined with the most brilliant colors, the lustre of precious stones, there are no birds, no creatures that can compare with the humming-birds. Confined exclusively to America—whence we have already gathered between three and four hundred distinct species, and more are continually discovered—these lovely little winged gems were to the Mexican and Peruvian Indians the very quintessence of beauty. By these simple people they were called by various names, signifying ‘the rays of the sun,’ ‘the tresses of the day-star,’ and the like.”[12]

You may have noticed in your conservatories at home a well known creeper called the passion-flower, on account of a fancied similarity in the arrangement of its inflorescence with the instruments of torture employed in the martyrdom of the Saviour, such as the crown of thorns, the three nails, the hammer, and even the spots of sacred blood round the pillar of agony. The plants of this genus are general favorites with northern horticulturists only on account of the beauty and delicious aroma of their flowers, for they bear no fruit with you; but here, this constitutes their principal merit, especially that of the granadilla, which you may perceive intertwining its graceful vines amongst yonder arbor set up for its support. Huge watermelon-like fruits hang from its delicate tendrils as if suspended by a thread; cut open one of them; you will find it filled with a nectarian juice, which, when crushed in the mouth, regale your palate with the compound flavor of the strawberry and the peach. Other varieties of passion-flower—of which there are many though less pretentious in size than the granadilla—bear fruit equally rich in flavor. Unfortunately, not all fructify in the same locality, as they require different degrees of temperature, and maybe of atmospheric pressure, also, to ripen their fruit, which they cunningly obtain for themselves by “squatting” of their own accord higher up or lower down the mountains, as the case may be.

I could still point out to you many other delicious fruits in this garden were they in season, such as the tuna or Indian-fig, borne by the nopal, a species of cactus, on the fleshy, downy stems of which the cochineal insect is reared for those most valuable crimson and scarlet dyes “which far outshine the vaunted productions of ancient Tyre;” and the pitahaya, of the same family of plants, notable for the size and effulgence of its flowers. “It begins to open as the sun declines, and is in full expanse throughout the night, shedding a delicious fragrance, and offering its brimming goblet, filled with nectarious juice, to thousands of moths, and other crepuscular and nocturnal insects. When the moon is at the full in those cloudless nights whose loveliness is only known in the tropics, the broad blossom is seen as a circular dish nearly a foot in diameter, very full of petals, of which the outer series are of a yellowish hue, gradually paling to the centre, where they shine in the purest white. The numerous recumbent stamens surround the style, which rises in the midst like a polished shaft, the whole growing in its silvery beauty under the moonbeams, from the dark and matted foliage, and diffusing its delicious clove-like fragrance so profusely that the air is loaded with it for furlongs round.”[13]

I well remember one night when a distinguished foreigner, General Devereux, who rendered the patriot cause so marked a service by bringing over the Irish Legion to assist this country in her struggle for independence, honored me with a visit while keeping bachelor’s hall in this—to me then—earthly paradise. The Queen of Night was shining in all her glory, and the air redolent with the perfume of many exquisite flowers, among others that of the pitahaya just described, while the stillness that reigned around the spot, added to my youthful dreams of fairy lands I had lately visited across the seas, made me feel a particular pride about our mansion in the capital. Although the old hero was perfectly blind—as will be recollected by many who knew him in the United States where he resided afterwards—I could not resist the wish to invite him to take a stroll about the garden. As we passed close to the flowers of the pitahaya, the gallant old soldier stopped suddenly, and seizing me by the hand with an emotion that made me feel the deepest sympathy for the blind man, said: “How happy you must be here, my young friend, surrounded as you are by plants that shed such heavenly perfume!” But when we passed a bower of English honeysuckles, which was my special favorite, as I had planted it with my own hands, his emotions were indeed those of a man who felt as though everything on earth was lost to him—sweet home, friendly associations, the world itself in fact, and that he was only a wandering spirit in a strange sphere.

This, my good companion, reminds me too that such, more or less, is my own situation in this my native land, subject as it has been for years to political convulsions more disastrous to the peacefully inclined, than those subterranean fires which agitate the soil from time to time. Therefore our rambles in the capital must be of short duration, and following the route already pointed out by the traveller Sullivan, we will proceed on our journey towards the fertile valley of Aragua, stopping for the night at Las Adjuntas, a village delightfully situated at the foot of another lofty range of mountains which separates this from that of Caracas, near the junction of two mountain streams that form the Rio Guaire which passes near the capital.

Should you ever be troubled with nervousness or dyspepsia from too close application to business, or even be threatened with that more serious complaint of cold climates, consumption, don’t let your Doctor bother you with physic, nor delude yourself with a trip “down South,” Cuba, or even Europe; all this may at best prolong a miserable existence a little longer; instead of that, come here at once; bring plenty of books to while away the dolce far niente of this quiet place; or if you are a sportsman, your gun and fishing tackle; when sufficiently convalescent to undergo the fatigues of the journey, buy or hire horses for yourself and a good peon or guide, and start for the llanos, where you will have to rough it out as I did some years ago, and I guarantee you a radical cure.

At Las Adjuntas we have the choice of two roads, one for carriages, made at great cost since Sullivan’s visit to the country, and the other one right over the mountains; as this is by far the most picturesque of the two and the one described by him, we will follow on his footsteps, if you wish to enjoy the glorious scenery, of which he says;

“Next morning, at 3 A.M., our faithful mozo roused us,—at San Pedro—and we found our mules already saddled. The morning was very cold, and a cloak was by no means disagreeable. As far as I could make out by the light of a most glorious moon, San Pedro must be a very picturesque and flourishing village. We continued ascending through a thickly-wooded, mountainous path, for about three hours, when we found ourselves along the summit of the mountain, here called Las Cocuizas. Here the scenery was truly magnificent. The road wound along the summit of the Sierra, giving alternate views of the valley of the Tuy, with the distant valley of Aragua on the one hand, and the valley of Ocumare bounded the snow-capped mountains that separate the valleys from the plains on the other. Out of the main valleys narrow little glens wind, and nestle up into the mountains, till lost to view. Their rounded sides, and the emerald brilliancy of nature’s carpet with which they were clothed, reminded me of some of the glens of the Cheviots.

“That morning’s moonlight ride along the summits of the sierra of Las Cocuizas was certainly one of the most enjoyable I ever remember. It was almost like magic, when as the sun began to approach the horizon, the perfect stillness of the forests beneath was gradually broken by the occasional note of some early riser of the winged inhabitants, till at length, as the day itself began to break, the whole forest seemed to be suddenly warmed into life, sending forth choir after choir of gorgeous-plumaged songsters, each after his own manner, to swell the chorus of greeting—a discordant one, I fear it must be owned—to the glorious sun; and when the morning light enabled you to see down into the misty valleys beneath, there were displayed to our enchanted gaze zones of fertility embracing almost every species of tree and flower that flourishes between the Tierra Caliente and the regions of perpetual snow. It certainly was a view of almost unequalled magnificence. We were riding amongst apple and peach trees that might have belonged to an English orchard, and on whose branches we almost expected to see the blackbird and the chaffinch; while a few hundred yards below, parrots and macaws, monkeys and mocking-birds were sporting among the palms and tree-ferns of a tropical climate. I consider that this view alone would repay any lover of fine scenery for all the troubles and risks of crossing the Atlantic, for I do not know where one to be compared with it is to be found in Europe.”

This mountain takes the name of Las Cocuizas from the abundance of Agave plants growing here, and which impart such peculiar aspect to the landscape as we descend towards the bed of the Tuy, at the foot of the mountain. Here we must stop to breakfast and pass the sun before we proceed on our journey along the Tierra Caliente not far from our resting-place.

“We found the pretty village of Las Cocuizas,” proceeds Sullivan, “situated at the entrance of a delicious little glen, down which warbled the waters of the Tuy. The Venta, in fact nearly the whole village was shaded by one enormous saman-tree,[14] which to the dusty and wearied traveller gave it a most enticing appearance; neither did it disappoint our expectations, for a cleaner room and a better breakfast better cooked and better served, I never wish to taste. This venta at Las Cocuizas is most enchantingly situated at the foot of the mountain and at the entrance of the valley of the Tuy, which is there a mere glen; one side is entirely shaded by this enormous tree, and the other overhanging the Tuy, which with its rocky bed and thickly-wooded, precipitous banks, reminded one very much of some of the tributaries of the Tweed. The venta would be a charming place to stay at for a few days’ angling in the Tuy, which I believe is very good.”

After leaving the venta of Las Cocuizas, we wade through the waters of the Tuy—no bridge being provided here—and proceed along a well graded road for carts and carriages skirting the base of another ridge of mountains until we reach the village of El Consejo, where the great valley of Aragua, seventy miles in length, properly commences. And now we are in the great coffee region, “the garden of Venezuela” as it is very aptly called by common accord. As we ride towards the town of La Victoria, where we shall stop for the night, we pass several extensive plantations of that delicious shrub, shaded like the cacao by those stupendous erythrinas which you might mistake for a primeval forest, were it not for the uniformity of their growth and dazzling blossoms. Nothing in your vaunted system of cultivation in the North can excel the care bestowed upon these plantations, which must be kept in the best order to yield handsome returns; but as we cannot stop to visit one of these just now, you will permit me to repeat what the traveller often quoted before, says in regard to the region we are traversing:

“The valleys of Aragua are the most thickly populated and the most highly cultivated of all the districts of Venezuela. The level of the valley is two thousand feet below the valley of Caracas, consequently the heat much more intense. Coffee is now the chief article of exportation from Venezuela, the fluctuating price of which has of late years been very injurious to the country. The berry grown is of a superior quality, and fetches a much better price than the Cuban or Brazilian coffee, though not quite so high as that grown in Jamaica. Some of the coffee and sugar estates we passed were on the largest scale, employing as many as two hundred slaves,[15] besides the same number of laborers. A coffee plantation, either in blossom or when the berry is ripe, is the most beautiful culture in the world. The plant itself, with its regular shoots like a miniature tree, and red berries, is one of the most graceful shrubs I know; and as between the rows of coffee-trees they usually plant plantains and bananas, these with their enormous clusters of yellow fruits and their leaves of some six or eight feet in length, add greatly to the effect, and give the country the appearance of a large fruit garden. Moreover, as it is necessary to plant the mango, and other large fast-growing trees, to protect the ripening berry from the deluging rains and scorching heats, whenever you pass a coffee plantation, even in the hottest day in the midst of summer, when the whole face of the country is parched up and of an unhealthy brown color, the eye is continually refreshed by the cool, verdant appearance of these shaded gardens.”

I may add that the coffee of Venezuela is of various qualities, according to whether it is raised in Tierra Caliente or Tierra Fria, id est, coffee of the low, warm valleys, or coffee of mountainous districts; this last is superior to the former, and bears in consequence the highest price in the market. Again, café trillado, and café descerezado, which means coffee dried in the berry as it is gathered, and husked afterwards by a tread-mill composed of a heavy wooden wheel revolving in a circular trough of masonry; and coffee deprived at once of its pulpy covering by machinery as soon as it is picked, dried afterwards in the sun upon extensive platforms of masonry called patios, and passed through different sets of machinery to deprive the grain or bean of the adhering shell and pellicle. The coffee thus prepared is superior in quality to that which is trillado for want of means on the part of the planter to put up the expensive works required for this operation, and therefore bears a higher price.

Interspersed with these plantations are others of no less importance to the industry of these valleys, such as indigo, cotton, indian-corn, wheat and tobacco, all of them requiring the same share of careful cultivation and intelligent management. “The road we were following,” continues Sullivan, “was so well kept and so well wooded, and the hedges so neatly clipped, that I could hardly sometimes help fancying myself riding down some country lanes in England. We followed one lime hedge, which enclosed a coffee plantation, for upwards of two miles. It was the most perfectly kept hedge I had seen in any country; it was four or five feet high and about three feet thick, and throughout its whole length, I don’t believe there was a single flaw through which a dog could have forced its way. Several slaves were employed in trimming it. In fact, in this climate, where the growth of all inanimate nature is unceasing, and so rapid, it must employ several hands continually to keep it in such beautiful order. The scent of the lime as we approached it from some parched country we had been crossing previously, was most delicious.”

As there is nothing to interest us in the towns along this route, we will pass by San Mateo, La Victoria and Turmero, all of them pleasantly surrounded by plantations until we reach Maracay, the point of our destination. On our way thither, we come up with that giant of the vegetable world, the Saman de Güere, so well described by Humboldt in his Travels, and subsequently by Sullivan. As their statements are corroborative of the facts given elsewhere by me respecting these enormous but most graceful mimosas, I will here use the language of the last mentioned traveller about that of the hacienda de Güere.

“Soon after leaving Turmero we caught sight of the far-famed Saman de Güere, and in about an hour’s time arrived at the hamlet of Güere, from whence it takes its name. It is supposed to be the oldest tree in the world, for so great was the reverence of the Indians for it on account of its age at the time of the Spanish conquest, that the Government issued a decree for its protection from all injury, and it has ever since been public property. It shows no sign whatever of decay, but it is as fresh and green as it was most probably a thousand years ago. The trunk of this magnificent tree is only sixty feet high by thirty feet in circumference, so that it is not so much the enormous size of the Saman de Güere that constitutes its great attraction, as the wonderful spread of its magnificent branches, and the perfect dome-like shape of its head, which is so exact and regular, that one could almost fancy some extinct race of giants had been exercising their topiarian art upon it. The circumference of this dome is said to be nearly six hundred feet, and the measure of its semicircular head very nearly as great. The saman is a species of mimosa, and what is curious and adds greatly to its beauty and softness is, that the leaves of this giant of nature are as small and delicate as those of the silver willow, and are equally as sensitive to every passing breeze.”

And now for the most picturesque of all the towns on our long ride, Maracay, not on account of any architectural display about its buildings, for it has no pretensions of this kind, but for its many gardens, each house being literally embowered in the choicest productions of the tropics in the way of fruits, such as orange, lime and lemon trees, both sweet and sour; caimito or star-apple, a creamy and luscious fruit growing upon one of the most beautiful trees with which I am acquainted; the same might be said of two other fruit-trees cultivated in these gardens, the mamon and cotopriz; both bearing great bunches of an oval fruit the size of a pigeon’s egg, olive-green in the former, and bright yellow in the latter, containing a kernel enveloped in a sweet, sub-acid pulp; bread-fruit trees of two kinds and accordingly distinguished as fruta de pan and pan de palo, bread-fruit and bread-tree—the former being a large pulpy and greenish fruit very like an Osage orange but larger, containing great numbers of chestnut-like seeds, which roasted or boiled taste very much like bread, and the latter a fruit precisely like its congener in appearance, but destitute of seeds, which assimilates it still more to the “staff of life” when boiled or baked, for it is beautifully white and compact inside.

In addition to the foregoing, these gardens offer you a fine display of other tropical trees no less esteemed for their grateful shade and their delicious fruits, such as sapotes and sapodillas, both elegant in form as well as in bearing; and so is also the splendid mamey apple-tree (mamea Americana) bearing great quantities of large, round and heavy fruits, brown outside, and golden-yellow within, from which marmalades and other delicacies are made by the charming Maracayeras.

The family to which the famous chirimoya belongs (anonaciæ) have also three other representatives hardly inferior to that “master-piece of nature,” viz.; the guanábana (anona muricata) or sour-sop—an ugly name in English for such fine fruit—from which a most cooling drink is made, and still finer ices; the custard-apple, which needs no further explanation than its name to recommend it; and the riñon, (anona squamosa) also a custardy kindney-like fruit, hence its name.

Butter being expensive, and difficult to keep in this climate, nature has provided a substitute for it in the fruit of the fine tree (Persea gratissima), consecrated, as the name implies, to Perseus, the son of Jupiter and Danaë; thus showing the wisdom of the botanist over the less cultivated English settlers of the Caribean islands, who call it alligator-pear, I presume, from the fact of its being indigenous to a country abounding in saurian reptiles, although I am of opinion that a creature of this sort would rather prefer a more substantial morsel in the shape of a fat Briton, to a fruit which is well adapted to the taste of demigods. In shape it resembles a large pear, but the interior of its rind is lined with a marrow-like substance of a yellowish color, which assimilates very nearly to butter, the place of which it supplies at the breakfast-table. It is, in fact, vegetable-butter, and many prefer it to the ordinary kind.

The extensive family of leguminous or pod-bearing trees also grace these gardens with three additional members remarkable for fine foliage and useful products, such as the algarroba, with hard-shelled pods, containing a number of brown, round seeds or beans—also very hard, enveloped in a farinaceous and very nutricious fecula; a fine aromatic resin, good for varnishes, exudes from the trunk and branches of this tree, and a still finer one can be extracted from its horny pericarp by infusion in alcohol or other extractive medium; guamos (Inga) of various kinds, with pellucid pods one and two feet in length, containing a row of beans enveloped in white, cottony pulp, most grateful to the taste; and the unrivalled tamarind, either as regards beauty of foliage, brilliancy of blossoms, or the delicacy of its acidulous pulpy pods; these are candied either in a green state or when fully ripe, affording in the latter case a most refreshing drink to the fever-stricken in this climate, when made into a decoction. In blossom, the tamarind-tree is one of the most charming objects to behold, for amid its feathery, dark-green foliage, somewhat similar to that of the hemlock, issues a profusion of golden-yellow branches of delicate flowers, almost dazzling to the eyes.

The coco-palm, although far away from the sea-coast, its native habitat, also flourishes in great perfection, contributing not a little to the splendor of the vegetation in these truly tropical gardens, with its glorious crown of monster leaves. And last, though not least, the plantain and banana claim here the supremacy which everyone accords them over all productions of the tropics. A few plants of each only are sufficient to supply a whole family with bread, vegetables, fruit, and preserves of various kinds. “We might be surprised,” observes Humboldt, “at the small extent of these cultivated spots, if we did not recollect that an acre planted with plantains produces nearly twenty times as much food as the same space sown with corn. In Europe, our wheat, barley, and rye cover vast spaces of ground; and in general the arable lands touch each other whenever the inhabitants live upon corn. It is different under the torrid zone, where man obtains food from plants which yield more abundant and earlier harvests. In those favored climates the fertility of the soil is proportioned to the heat and humidity of the atmosphere. An immense population finds abundant nourishment within a narrow space covered with plantains, casava, yams, and maize.”[16]

Well has the immortal bard of the Torrid Zone[17] sung the marvellous exuberance of this plant in the following lines, which I regret to be unable to translate.

“Y para tí el banano,
Desmaya al peso de su dulce carga.
El banano, primero
De cuantos concedió bellos presentes
Providencia à, las gentes
Del Ecuador feliz con mano larga;
No ya de humanas artes obligado
El premio rinde opimo;
No es á la podadera, no al arado,
Deudor de su racimo.
Escasa industria bástale cual puede
Robar á sus fatigas mano esclava;
Crece veloz, y cuando exbausto acaba,
Adulta prole en torno le sucede.”

Silva á la Zona Tórrida.

Water being abundant throughout these gardens by the provident care of the inhabitants in bringing it in flowing streams from a great distance, they present at all times of the year, even during the driest months of summer, the perpetual spring-like verdure which constitutes their principal charm. Not far from here is the fine lake of Tacarigua or Valencia, which by its gradual but marked evaporation, is constantly adding to the already extensive area of fertile land nowhere to be found like it in the wide world, and which doubtless extorted, even from an Englishman, the following confession:

“It is a great pity Venezuela is so much out of the high roads of travel, and that the inconveniences, for Europeans, of getting at it, are so great. It is, in my opinion, the most beautiful country, as regards climate, scenery, and productions, in the world. The inhabitants are intelligent, civil, and honest; and although there is no excessive wealth in the country, there is, on the other hand, no great poverty, and actual want is unknown, where beef can be procured to any amount for a half penny a pound, and plantains and bananas almost for nothing. The inns are excellent, and travelling perfectly safe. You may, on the sides of its precipitous valleys, in a few hours, ascend from the productions of the torrid zone to those of the frigid. You may, if you like, dine off beefsteak and potatoes, cooled down with French claret or real London stout; or, if you prefer it, you may, in imitation of Leo X. and the Emperor Vitellius, feast your guests on joints of monkey and jaguar, and have your entremêts of parrots’ tongues and humming-birds’ breasts washed down with sparkling pulque, tapped from the graceful maguey growing at your very door. In fact, there is no luxury you cannot enjoy at a moderate expense. Servants are cheap; and you can buy a horse for five shillings, though it will cost you fifteen to have him shod! The shooting on the llanos and in the mountains, according to all accounts, is very grand. The woods are filled with jaguar and ocelot, to say nothing of snakes, and the plains with deer and wild cattle.

“If any kind fairy were to offer me the sovereignty of any part of the world out of Europe, with power to rule it as I choose, my choice would certainly fall on Venezuela. I am fully convinced it only wants a government strong and stable enough to ensure the necessary protection to capital and property, to render it one of the most flourishing countries in the world. I look back upon the few weeks I spent there as amongst the most enjoyable I ever passed; and if ever any opportunity was to offer of revisiting that delicious country, I should do so with pleasure. Any traveller, wishing to judge for himself, has only to go by the West India steamer to St. Thomas, where he meets the sailing-packet for La Guaira, which he reaches in four or five days; and with a few letters of introduction, or even without any, hospitality will meet him on all hands, and he will never feel a moment hang heavy on his hands.”[18]

And now, seated under the refreshing foliage of these paradisaical gardens, rather than expose you to the dangers of a demi-savage country, I will recount to you the adventures of a former journey, and the peculiarities of a still more wonderful region.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES.

CHAPTER I.
THE DEPARTURE.

“Y greyes van sin cuento
Paciendo tu verdura desde el llano
Que tiene por lindero el horizonte,
Hasta el erguido monte
De inaccesible nieve siempre cano.”

Andres Bello, Silva á la Zona Tórrida.

On a fine morning of a tropical December month, a jolly cavalcade, or rather a heterogeneous assemblage from the various castes composing the bulk of the population in the Venezuelian Republic, was to be seen traversing the streets of the beautiful town of Maracay, in the direction of the road leading to the Llanos or Pampas of Apure, a region widely celebrated for its wildness, its dangers, and the many exploits enacted therein. There the father of the writer owned extensive cattle-farms, and the aforesaid company proposed spending the remainder of the summer season in hunting among the untamed herds constituting the wealth and commerce of that wild region.

I shall never forget the exciting scenes of that eventful day; it forms one of the most pleasing episodes of my life. Full well do I remember also the picturesqueness of the variegated costumes of the riders; their red and blue ponchos flowing in the wind as they cantered to and fro through the unusually animated streets of the little town, taking leave of their friends, and provisioning their saddle-bags with the necessaries they required; the trampling and neighing of horses; the parting adieux and waving of handkerchiefs in the hands of lively brunettes, as we defiled under the windows and balconies of the Calle Real, crowded with anxious relatives, friends, and sweethearts of many a gallant cavalier, who might never return from his distant and perilous journey. For my part, I confess, that although for sundry reasons I regretted departing from our romantic abode in the valleys of Aragua, still, so great was my desire to visit the land of the wild bull and crocodile, that for several nights before leaving home I dreamed of nothing but wild scenes and terrible encounters with the lords of the savannas.

The method of conducting a South American cattle farm is entirely different from that usually practised among the more peaceful scenes of the North American prairies. Here the cattle, accustomed from their birth to the friendly voice of man, readily obey his commands and follow him instinctively wherever he leads them. In the plains of South America, on the contrary, the herds hear no other than the voice of Nature in her sublimest moods, in the thunders of the storm, and when in her vernal showers she calls upon the crocodiles and other drowsy reptiles, awakening them from their periodical summer’s lethargy; and nightly the roar and screams of savage beasts answering each other in the darkness. The cattle, thus roaming over extensive plains, and free of all restraint, necessarily require to be occasionally collected together for the purpose of branding and marking the young calves, which increase there with astonishing rapidity. If this precaution were neglected, they would in time become so dispersed over those boundless plains, as to be altogether irreclaimable. This operation cannot be accomplished, however, without a great number of men and horses, both well trained to and thoroughly acquainted with this demi-savage occupation. Therefore we mustered now quite a little army of Llaneros, or natives of the Llanos, who are the only individuals capable of prosecuting and successfully performing the arduous duties appertaining to these cattle forays.

Our retinue presented pretty much the appearance of an oriental caravan; it consisted of more than a hundred individuals of all grades and colors; from the bright, rubicund faces of merry England’s sons, to the jetty phiz of the native African, all of whom, notwithstanding, fraternized as though sprung from the same race.

Our company, moreover, had been organized as if for a military campaign, and formed the nucleus of a more extensive camp, to be increased by additions from different places along the route. The leader—General Paez—besides having acquired in early life a practical knowledge of this peculiar warfare, possessed in addition the rare gift of being—in the opinion of many—“the first rider in South America,” and withal the most accomplished Llanero in the Republic. His dispositions were accordingly made in a manner most likely to insure success in this strange campaign; passing in review every person and every object, with as scrupulous care as he bestowed upon the legions under his command in the long strife for his country’s freedom; distributing each particular horse with reference to the skill and special duties of his rider, and every load according to the strength of each beast of burden.

Next in importance to the Leader was a Surgeon and Physician, whose valuable services were to be frequently called into requisition. Although we were not now to encounter powder and ball, we had to deal with no less dangerous enemies in the form of wild bulls, snakes, and crocodiles, without reckoning the pestiferous marshes of the country.

After our Surgeon came the Treasurer; his duty was to conduct safely the military chest of the expedition, consisting of sundry bags of hard dollars, ponchos, checkered linen handkerchiefs of the peculiar pattern worn with so much pride by Llaneros on the head, knives, sword blades, and various other articles of barter which they prize more than money itself, and for the attainment of which they labor hard and even expose their lives.

To me was assigned the honorable post of Secretary to the expedition, whose pleasant duty was to keep its records, and at times those of the political “Bulls and Bears” of the country at large. Attached to this office were an English amateur of wild sports, an English artist of considerable merit, and a few others, who, like myself, not being sufficiently trained to the hard operations of the field, were forced to be content with the tamer occupations of the cattle farm, and only an occasional foray among the smaller game of the savannas.

I will mention two other individuals, who, although filling less exalted positions than the preceding—being the cook and the washerman—were very necessary to our comfort; not that we felt over-scrupulous with regard to the dressing of either ourselves or that of the savory dishes of the Llanos—where I relished a beafsteak au naturel with as much gusto as though prepared by the Delmonicos or Maillards of New York—but an early cup of coffee was a luxury not to be despised, and an occasional scouring of our scanty wardrobe was equally an essential. The cook was a mulatto by birth, whose name—Mónico—bore some similarity to that of the distinguished caterer of William street, and was as great a favorite with us as the latter is among the “down town” gentry of the great city, not only on account of his good nature and skill in the preparation of the delicious beverage before mentioned,

“que en los festines
La fiebre insana templará á Lieo,”

but also for the aid he lent his companions in mending their tattered garments, being as accomplished a tailor and shoemaker as cook. Gaspar, the washerman, was a lame negro rather advanced in years, but with all the vivacity of his race still sparkling in his eyes. He had earned some reputation in his time as a brave soldier during the protracted war of Independence, but, disabled now by a bullet and sundry tiger scars, testimonials of his good service in the cause of humanity, could perform no other work than the rather feminine one allotted to him on this occasion. He, however, possessed other accomplishments, among which the chief was that of recounting his adventures in the wars and with the wild beasts of the field, which made him a desirable companion and general favorite.

Poor fellows! they are both dead, and their bones, as well as those of most of that little band of heroes, are now bleaching in the hot sun of the tropics, amid the waving grass of those savannas once rendered famous by their deeds of valor and enlivened by their chivalrous songs. After faithfully following their leader through dangers and hardships no less terrible than those of the battle-field, one by one they fell, not by foe “in battle arrayed,” nor the terrible stroke of the wild bull, but by the assassin’s treacherous hand, and those of the unprincipled myrmidons of military misrule; not because of their political influence in the councils of the Nation, but for being the faithful followers of their beloved Chieftain.

The reader has now been introduced to those constituting the Staff of the expedition; but in addition a host of attendants and idlers formed the rank and file of this motley assemblage. Each one of these had a special duty to perform. Some were asistentes, or the personal attendants of the former, as no blanco ventures to travel in the Llanos without some cicerone of the country to guide him over the trackless wastes, to saddle his horse, and see that both horse and rider are comfortably quartered for the night. Others were appointed to conduct the beasts of burden, of which there were a formidable array; while the most experienced riders were intrusted with the care and guidance of our madrina, or pack of supernumerary horses, which formed by far the most efficient element of our expedition.

Our drove consisted of about two hundred spirited chargers, as swift and slim as any that ever tramped the hot sands of Yemen or the Sahara; these were to be reinforced with fresh relays from the cattle farms, to supply the place of those which might be carried off from various causes during those exciting hunts.

The only method of travelling as yet adopted in the country is on horseback. This is at first somewhat fatiguing to those unaccustomed to long journeys; but the traveller soon becomes inured to it, and ends by preferring it to any other, on account of the exhilarating sensation of independence he experiences; at all events, it is the most convenient that can be adopted in a country which, like the Pampas, is subject to vast inundations, and overgrown in all its extent by the rank herbage of the savannas. On the mountains, mules are usually preferred for their surefootedness, as also for their astonishing endurance of hunger and fatigue; but in the Pampas, where journeys must be accomplished with great expedition and rapidity, they are comparatively worthless from the shortness of their gait, and also because their hoofs become softened by the marshy soil which everywhere prevails, they being never shod, owing to a mistaken notion of the riders, who believe that by so doing the surefootedness of the animal is impaired. The best horses, consequently, had been selected on this occasion, but were not to be saddled until we reached the Llanos. These were all collected into a madrina or drove, together with the vaqueros or horses destined for the chase, and placed under the charge of half a dozen experienced Llaneros, who were to drive them loose across the country. In the mean time we would perform on mules the first four days of our journey, which lay across the rough and hilly country between the valleys and the plains. As beasts of burden, mules are particularly serviceable; in view of this we had collected a pack of about twenty for the purpose of transporting our loads, consisting partly, as I have observed, of various descriptions of goods for distribution among the Llaneros, in part payment of their wages; but the greater number were laden with our own chattels and provisions; for although the Llanos are justly regarded as a land of plenty, the habitations are yet so widely distant, that it is expedient to provide for all contingencies.

Our road, at times, lay across extensive fields of sugar cane, indigo, and tobacco; or through vast plantations of Erithynas (bucarales) raised for the protection of the shade-loving Cacao trees, loaded with the luscious bean that yields its “divine food”[19] to gods and mortals. At other times, extensive tracks of waste lands (rastrojos) overgrown with a luxuriant vegetation, intercepted the line of our march, giving the country a wild and desolate aspect. Land is so cheap and plentiful in Venezuela, that it is always more advantageous for the planter, whenever the land has become exhausted with repeated cultivation, to clear a new patch of ground for his crop, than to trouble himself about restoring to the ground by artificial means what nature will provide in the course of time. The rapidity with which a patch of waste land, that only a year or two before had been abandoned as unserviceable, becomes covered with an exuberant vegetation in the tropics, is quite extraordinary. Hardly have the plough and hoe of the industrious husbandman ceased to harass the land with their incessant toil, when an entirely different crop of indigenous plants, which had been silently struggling for existence, now make their appearance, and change the aspect of the landscape with new forms of vegetation. Insignificant weeds at first, scarcely worth noticing, they soon attain sufficient strength to arrest the progress of any stragglers that might have remained of the plantation. In a short time they have acquired the size and form of well-developed trees, with boughs spreading far above a man on horseback; and before two summers have elapsed, not a vestige remains of what was once a flourishing plantation. An endless variety of creepers, such as convolvulus, bignonias, and passion flowers, now find support among their numerous branches, forming with them the most picturesque bowers and arcades, or hanging by their sides in graceful garlands and festoons of the most exquisite beauty. Our troop of supernumerary horses, as if unwilling to leave behind these delightful retreats, did not fail to profit by the tangled nature of the cover, frequently eluding the vigilance of the drivers, and dashing forward whenever they saw an opening to decamp. The most skilful management on the part of the drivers was then required to disentangle them from the thick jungle; otherwise we should have arrived at the end of our journey with less than half their number. It was quite amusing to see those reckless fellows gliding here and there through the tangled woods in full pursuit of the refractory animals, now hanging from one leg down the sides of their steeds, or stretched over their necks to avoid being lifted from the saddle by the intervening branches. In spite of all precaution, and the vigilance of their drivers, we missed several valuable hunters in the course of the journey, every one of which made his way back to the potreros or old grazing grounds with unerring precision. So remarkable is this peculiarity in horses of one place driven across a strange country, and the cunning they display in effecting their escape, that although we left instructions along the route to secure all deserters, most of those we missed at a considerable distance from Maracay, made their way back across the fields, avoiding in their flight the public roads and populated districts through which we had passed.

Late in the evening we reached San Luis de Cura, a town of some importance on our route. Although we had there many friends of whose hospitality we could have availed ourselves, we preferred passing the night at a Pulperia, or country inn, a short distance in advance—hotels being yet unknown in that part of the country. Our numerous retinue, and especially our horses, accustomed to the unrestrained freedom of the potrero—an enclosed field attached to the Pulperia—precluded all idea of seeking accommodations within the narrow limits of a city residence. Declining, therefore, all invitations to that effect, we pushed on to a place called El Rodeo, a few miles further.

San Luis de Cura—or Villa de Cura, as it is usually called—is a sort of entrepôt to which the people of the Llanos resort from time to time to barter the products of their farms for those of foreign manufacture, retailed there by country traders. It is, in fact, the connecting link between the agricultural and pastoral sections of the republic; hence we find there the strangest admixture of wild and civilized manners and costumes curiously intermingled in all the pursuits and vocations of the people. Thus we often meet with persons of respectability clad in the elegant city dress, and riding a horse entirely caparisoned in the gaudy attire of the Llanos, and vice versa.

Our accommodations at the inn were not of the most inviting description, neither its apartments nor the potrero affording much comfort to the weary caravan, after their long ride. A stony bank on the slope of the barren hill for couch and the broad dome of heaven for roof, with not even posts enough from which to sling our hammocks, was all the hospitality we received at the Pulperia. We slept soundly notwithstanding, softening our beds of pebbles by spreading our ponchos over them, while each man’s saddle, serving at once as pillow and larder, furnished us with supper on this occasion. The llanero saddle is admirably adapted for the rough journeys of the country, and though somewhat ponderous, renders good service to the wandering Llanero in his long peregrinations. These saddles, usually styled vaqueras, in allusion to the occupations of the riders, appear to be modelled after the gay accoutrements of the Arabs; the same profusion of silver ornament and bright-colored trimmings of morocco, the high peak in front, and still higher cantle behind. A comfortable pellon or shabrack, made either of an entire sheepskin or horse hair dyed black and neatly braided at one end, covers the entire seat, and hangs from it in graceful folds. Numbers of bags and pockets—bolsas—made of the same material as the saddle, and in keeping with the rest, are affixed to it for the purpose of stowing away all those little commodities so essential to the traveller on a long journey, such as papelon, a sort of brown sugar in cakes resembling maple sugar, cheese, cakes of Indian corn, and aguardiente, a beverage equally celebrated for its use and its abuse. The stirrups, which are usually carved from a block of wood, present the peculiarity of being longer and heavier than any ever adopted by equestrians. Although termed africanos, they are just the reverse of their cognomens, as can be seen by comparing the subjoined designs.

An expert rider never places his whole foot in the stirrup, as is the case with the Arabs, but holds it with his big toe, so as to disentangle himself readily in case of a fall. This habit gives a crooked shape to the feet and legs of the rider, which peculiarity entitles him to the credit of being a good horseman.

The carvings on some of these stirrups are very fanciful, and display considerable taste. Their beauty is thought to consist chiefly in the two triangular appendages at the bottom with which they urge on their horses.

The cobija or poncho is also a most indispensable commodity on these long journeys; and no traveller should omit providing himself with one, especially during the rainy season. It is fully six feet square, with a hole in the centre to admit the head, and its office is twofold, viz., to protect the rider and his cumbrous equipment from the heavy showers and dews of the tropics, and to spread under him when there is no convenience for slinging the hammock. It also serves as a protection from the scorching rays of the sun, experience having taught its wearer that a thick woollen covering keeps the body moist and cool by day, and warm by night. The poncho used in Venezuela is made double, by sewing together two different blankets, the outside one being dark blue and the inner one bright red, which colors, as is well known, are differently acted upon by light and heat. By exposing alternately the sides of the poncho to the light according to the state of the weather, those modifications of temperature most agreeable to the body are obtained. Thus, when the day is damp and cloudy, the dark side of the poncho, which absorbs the most heat, is turned towards the light, while the reverse is the case when the red surface is presented to the sun. On the same principle, the manta, or white linen poncho, is worn when the sun is very powerful, the color in this instance repelling the rays of light more readily than the red surface of woollen materials. The manta is a very expensive luxury on account of the embroideries that usually decorate it, and which might rival in elegance the finest skirt of a New York or Parisian belle. When worn by a gallant cavalier on a sunny day, it presents in the distance a very picturesque appearance, not unlike the graceful bornouse of the Arabs.

Equally useful and expensive is the hammock, one of the few articles of native manufacture produced in Venezuela, and one which has thus far baffled the ingenuity of foreign weavers to imitate. It is woven by hand on looms of rude construction in very tasteful designs, and trimmed with fringings of the most complicated pattern. A fine hammock costs from fifty to sixty dollars.

It may truly be said that with hammock, poncho, and the saddle with its array of pockets, &c., the roving dwellers of the pampas are at home wherever they may be. They are, in fact, the tent, bed, and valise best adapted to the country, affording them all the comfort that a princely rajah could experience under his gorgeous panoply of oriental magnificence, and possessing, moreover, the advantage of being easily conveyed from place to place, in a small compass, by the riders. The hammock and the poncho usually form a bundle behind the saddle; with them the traveller makes himself a tent when camping out, by stretching out a rope from end to end of the hammock, over which the poncho is thrown at oblique angles, and then tied securely to the rope. Under it the traveller may now defy the storm, and even Old Boreas himself, as the stronger the tent is impelled to and fro, the more lulling to the sleeper will be the motion imparted to it from the outside.

It is surprising to see a horse of so small stature as those from the Llanos generally are, carry on his back both the weight of the rider and his ponderous equipment for such considerable distances; but the fact is, that the loads are so well distributed and counterbalanced, that the animals feel no material inconvenience therefrom.

CHAPTER II.
THE MORROS.

Early the next morning we were aroused by the trampling of horses and tinkling of stirrups close to our resting places, apprising us that the hour of departure was near at hand. To travel with comfort in those hot regions, it is necessary to make the most of the absence of the sun, before its rays descend to the earth in glowing streams, parching the body and spirits of the traveller. Our people, therefore, commenced to saddle and load as early as three o’clock A.M. The operation usually occupied considerable time, as each animal had to be hunted in the dark, as well as its accoutrements. The baggage mules, especially, required more than ordinary skill in replacing and adjusting the loads upon their backs by means of a hundred turns of the lazos, or raw-hide halters. And even after the greatest precautions, the vicious creatures endeavored to displace their loads by running against each other or rolling on the ground, to the inconceivable disgust of the drivers, who were often compelled to alight from their sumpters to put things to rights.

Our road lay this day across a wild and desolate valley, presenting the appearance of having once been the scene of violent convulsions of nature, judging from the distorted masses of granite and gneiss piled along the route. The morning, though moonless, was bright with stars, which in those latitudes sparkle like diamonds in a setting of azure. The air was balmy; and the solitude of the spot, only broken by the occasional shriek of a night owl, or the refreshing murmur of a mountain stream, was truly sublime.

Slowly winding our course down the rugged sides of a deep ravine, we came suddenly in view of a most glorious spectacle. The delicate tints of dawn were already gilding the rugged crest of the distant mountains; above these rose in silent grandeur what appeared at first a heavy cloud of an intense blue, the irregular outlines of which set in bold relief against the transparent sky, forming the background to the picture. I eagerly spurred my mule forward to gain an eminence from whence I could contemplate more advantageously that magnificent spectacle, when, to my great astonishment, I discovered that, what I had supposed a cloud, was in fact the famous promontory known as the Morros de San Juan, the singular conformation of which has given rise to many speculations and legendary dissertations on the part of savants and others less versed in scientific researches. When the sun rose above the horizon, a more extraordinary scene was never unfolded to the eye of the spectator. The huge and rugged mountain, some thousand feet high, stood in the midst of a desolate gulf, apparently of volcanic origin; while the vegetation, stunted and scrubby for want of adequate nourishment, contrasted singularly with the granite masses scattered all over the valley. The meandering rivulet of La Puerta, twice the scene of sanguinary conflicts between patriots and Spaniards, threaded its sparkling way through that Valley of Death, to mix its waters with those of the beautiful Guárico in the distance. In both of those engagements the arms of Spain were victorious; but, as often happened in those days of guerra á muerte, the victors steeped their laurels in the blood of the vanquished with unsparing hand. These triumphs were shared alternately by the monster Boves and the sanguinary Morillo. It would be difficult to find two more bloody wretches than these myrmidons of despotism, whose very names are to this day the avenging cry against the race from which they both sprang. The forces opposed to them in these engagements hardly amounted to one-half their own numbers; but the patriots under Bolívar accepted the battle with the despair of men who have no alternative between death and an ignominious yoke. It is asserted that the rivulet became, on both occasions, completely glutted with the gore and dead bodies of the vanquished. Morillo had a very narrow escape from the lance of the famous Juan Pablo Farfan, who deliberately attacked the Spanish chieftain in the midst of his staff. Although the bold Llanero succeeded in piercing the groin of the Spaniard with his lance, the wound was not sufficiently deep to cause his death.

The rugged crest of the mountain surrounded by an atmosphere resplendently clear, the wild and shattered rocks, piled like the giant skeletons of an extinct race, together with the painful associations connected with the spot, made an impression upon my mind not easily forgotten.

Although I had often experienced a keen desire to see this natural wonder of my country, I could not repress a feeling of regret at the recollection of the sanguinary scenes enacted on this spot, and that my first impressions of astonishment should be replaced by others of a less pleasing character.

On awakening from the reverie into which the scene had plunged me, I perceived for the first time that I was alone, my less contemplative companions having proceeded on their journey while I was absorbed in wonder. I felt glad of my solitude, for the very silence seemed to breathe a prayer to the Almighty for the martyred children of Liberty before one of his most glorious temples.

We reached the village of San Juan in time to breakfast at the house of our excellent friend Don José Pulido, a gentleman of most amiable and hospitable disposition. While they prepared our morning meal, I repaired to the outskirts of the village to sketch the Morros, which from the distance appeared two huge castles in ruins. The continued action of the waters has furrowed the sides of the mountain—composed principally of a peculiar limestone—into many fantastic forms. The same wearing action has in like manner perforated the calcareous rock into a thousand subterranean passages or chasms of fathomless depth, it being asserted by persons who have approached sufficiently near the entrance of these caves, that a bowlder rolled down the abyss, is never heard to strike the bottom. I regretted exceedingly that our short stay at this place would not permit me to visit the interior of the main entrance to these subterranean passages, no person ever having ventured within the dark abode—as it is currently believed—of demons and the like. As a proof of this assertion, the villagers point out to the inquisitive traveller a spring issuing from that Tartarus highly charged with sulphurated hydrogen gas, the fumes of which are in themselves sufficiently powerful to convey the idea that something diabolical must be brewing in the bowels of the stupendous mountain. The spring, however, possesses highly medicinal virtues; on this account it is often visited by invalids from various parts of the country, especially those affected with rheumatic or scrofulous complaints.

During a heavy freshet, the bones of an antediluvian animal, supposed to be those of a mastodon, were disinterred by the torrent in the bed of a ravine. A portion of these bones were sent to us by our zealous friend Don José, as a great curiosity; as such they were transferred to the British Minister at Caracas, and finally consigned by him to the great Museum in London.

The village of San Juan is likewise noted for its fine climate and the total absence of epidemics. Invalids affected with pulmonary complaints find there also an air and temperature most congenial. Beyond these advantages, San Juan offers no other attractions to the stranger capable of inducing a longer sojourn than is absolutely necessary, as not even a ranch has been raised there for the convenience of those seeking its beneficent waters.

After partaking of a substantial breakfast, composed of the most popular dishes of the country, such as carne frita, sancocho, and some delicious fish from the river Guárico, we bade adieu to our estimable host, Don José, and continued our journey down the stony bottom of a narrow quebrada or ravine, noted for its many windings, and the quantities of sharp stones that pave the way; these are evidently the detached fragments of the basaltic formation constituting the base of the Morros. At Flores, a miserable country inn like all the rest along this route, we stopped a few moments to refresh ourselves with guarapo, a kind of cider made from the juice of sugar cane, or by dissolving papelon in water and allowing it to ferment for a few days. The guarapo of Flores is celebrated throughout the country, and no person passing through this place ever omits to call for it. When mixed with aguardiente, it forms what is termed carabina, (carbine;) the effects rarely fail to knock down those who rashly brave its fire.

Our next stopping place was the village of Ortiz, a little beyond that of Parapara. Taken together, they might be considered as the Pillars of Hercules to the grassy Mediterranean of the Llanos, and the terminus of civilized pursuits in that quarter, as there you find the last vestiges of agriculture and the useful arts. In addition to small patches of sugar cane and Indian corn raised by the inhabitants for their own consumption, they excel in the manufacture of leather, saddles, and their appurtenances, which they sell to all parts of the country. Beyond this, nothing is to be met with but wild herds of cattle grazing on prairies or steppes of vast extent, with the exception of the narrow belt of park-like scenery intervening between these and a ridge of low, rocky hills—galeras—which skirts the ancient shore of the great basin of those pampas. The galeras were doubtless the natural rampart of that extraordinary body of waters which, at some remote epoch, must have filled the space now forming the grazing grounds of Venezuela, as attested by the nature of the soil and the organic remains found imbedded in the clay.

I noticed at Ortiz the same trap formation of the Morros, with extensive beds of basaltic slate protruding through the sides of the hills. Entire columns of this slate, varying from four to five feet in length by six inches diameter, are used in the village for paving the thresholds of houses, their quadrangular form adapting them perfectly for this purpose without any additional labor after being detached from the rock. The action of the waters during the untold lapse of ages, or perhaps the irruptions of the sea itself when it beat against the sides of the hills, has caused the partial disintegration of the rock in many places, and scattered the debris far and wide over the surrounding country. Nevertheless, vegetation seemed nowhere affected in the least by this vast accumulation of loose stones; on the contrary, wherever it was favored by the depressions of the ground, trees of large dimensions, noted for hardness and durability, sprang up, forming dense forests on either side of the road. Foremost in the long catalogue of splendid timber trees of Venezuela, we found there growing in great perfection the Vera, or Lignum Vitæ—Zigophylum arboreum—the wood of which is so hard that it turns the edge of the best-tempered tools; breaking or splitting it seems equally impossible, on account of the interweaving of its fibres, which cross each other in diagonal layers. This tree has a wide range over the country, especially near the sea-coast, which circumstance renders it extremely useful in the construction of wharves, as well as for the keels of ships; the attacks of the teredo or seaworm are futile upon the iron network of its fibres, on which account it can remain under water for an indefinite period and eventually become petrified. The useful Guayacan or guaiacum of the arts, a nearly allied species of this tree, is also found here in the greatest abundance; unfortunately it is too short to be employed for the same purposes as the former; it finds, however, numerous applications in naval construction, especially for blocks and pulleys for the rigging of vessels. Turners employ it likewise for various articles requiring extreme hardness and a close grain.

The Alcornoque, a most beautiful tree, somewhat resembling the American elm, and scarcely inferior to the foregoing, raises here its graceful head above the rest, affording the cattle a permanent shade even during the driest seasons. It must not be confounded, however, with the well-known Spanish oak—Quercus suber—which yields the cork of commerce. It is largely employed in the Llanos in the construction of houses and fences. Braziletto wood—Cesalpinia braziletto—so celebrated for its beautiful dye, is so abundant here also, that all the fences at Ortiz and Parapara are made of this valuable dyewood.

The list of useful trees peculiar to this region could be extended beyond the limits of this chapter, were it not for the fear of taxing the patience of my reader with an abstract nomenclature. I cannot pass unnoticed, however, two other trees of no less importance to the natives, on account of their timber and medicinal properties; these are the Tacamahaca—Elaphrium tomentosum—and the tree that yields the precious balsam of copaiva—Copaifera officinalis. By making incisions in the trunk and branches of both these trees, a resinous fluid, possessing great healing powers when applied to wounds and other ailments of the flesh, is obtained in great abundance and collected in tin cans placed under the incisions. The former is particularly abundant in the province of Guayana, where it attains to great dimensions. Its resin, an opaque, lemon-colored substance resembling wax, is very fragrant, and when mixed with that of Caraña or Algarroba, forms excellent torches which burn with great brilliancy, and emit a delicious odor. The bark is also remarkable as affording a material similar to that employed by the North American Indians in the construction of their canoes, and used similarly by their brethren of the Orinoco for their light pirogues. With this object the Indian separates the bark without breaking, and cutting it of the required dimensions, proceeds to join the extremities by means of bejucos or slender vines, filling the interstices with a little moist clay to throw off the water; the whole is then well bound with stronger vines, and a couple or more sticks are affixed between the borders of the pirogue to prevent its collapsing when launched into the broad stream.

CHAPTER III.
THE LLANOS.

We left Ortiz as usual, very early the next morning, stumbling here and there amidst the mass of loose stones which paved the way all along the winding bed of the quebrada. In proportion as we advanced on our route, the hills decreased in size, while the loose stones seemed to increase in quantity. The splendid groves of hardy and balsamiferous trees, which near Ortiz formed an almost impenetrable forest, gradually became less imposing in appearance, until they were replaced by thickets of thorny bushes, chiefly composed of several species of mimosas, with a delicate and feathery foliage. The traveller accustomed to the shade of a luxuriant vegetation, and to the sight of cultivated valleys, is struck by the rapid diminution of the former, and the total disappearance of the latter, as he emerges from the Galeras of Ortiz: yet he is somewhat compensated by the almost overpowering perfume shed by masses of the canary-colored blossoms with which these shrubs are loaded, from the

summits down to the bending branches that trail the ground at every passing breeze.

Suddenly we entered a widely-extended tract of level land almost destitute of vegetation. With the exception of a few clumps of palm-trees with fan-like leaves, nothing but short grass covered its entire surface, almost realizing the idea of “an ocean covered with sea-weed.” A dense mass of vapor pervading the atmosphere obscured the horizon, while the fan-palms, seen from afar, appeared like ships enveloped in a fog. Gradually the circle of the heavens seemed to close around us, until we became, as it were, encompassed by the sky. We were, in fact, treading the shores of the great basin of the Llanos, over one of the ancient shoals or Mesas, which, like successive terraces, now form the borders of those grassy oceans known as the Pampas. This was the Mesa de Paya, the seat of one of the cattle-farms to which we were bound.

After wandering for nearly three hours over this monotonous landscape without compass, and guided only by certain landmarks known to the vaqueanos, we came unexpectedly upon the borders of the Mesa, which commands an extensive view of the lower savannas. As if by magic the dreary scene changed to one of the most glorious panoramas in existence. At our feet lay a beautiful expanse of meadow, fresh and smooth as the best cultivated lawn, with troops of horses and countless herds of cattle dispersed all over the plain. Several glittering ponds, alive with all varieties of aquatic birds, reflected upon their limpid surface the broad-leaved crowns of the fan-palms, towering above verdant groves of laurel, amyris, and elm-like robles. Further beyond, and as far as the eye could reach, the undulating plain appeared like a petrified ocean, after the sweeping tempest.

But I feel that my descriptions fall short of the reality, and that I am unable to depict the harmonious effects of light and shade, and the blending of the various tints of green, blue and purple, dispersed over this extensive panorama; the gentle undulations of the plain; the towering palms gracefully fanning the glowing atmosphere with their majestic crowns of broad and shining leaves; and myriad other beauties difficult to enumerate.

I could scarcely tear myself away from the spot, so fascinated was I with the novelty of the scene. My companions, more concerned for the speedy termination of the journey than the beautiful in nature, set off at a brisk trot towards the house, which was at no great distance. Fearing to lose my way among the intricate paths leading to it, I was compelled to follow in their wake, stopping occasionally to gaze once more upon those enchanting groves, which seemed to return me to the highly cultivated fields and green meadows of glorious “Old England,” whence I had just returned.

On descending to the plain below, my attention was attracted to an unsightly group of palm-thatched huts, looking more like huge bee-hives than the abode of human beings. A formidable fence of palm trunks surrounded the premises, and several acres of ground beyond. These were the corrals, or enclosures where the training of the fierce herds was practised by the hardy dwellers of the Llanos; but no signs of cultivation, or aught else connected with the rural occupations of the farmer, were visible in the neighborhood. Presently the cavalcade stopped before the gate, and all the individuals composing it dismounted and began to unsaddle their horses amidst the barking of a legion of dogs, and the braying of all the donkeys in the vicinity.

This was the hato or cattle-farm of San Pablo we were in quest of, famous in the annals of the civil wars in Venezuela, as the occasional head-quarters of the constitutional armies, commanded by the owner of this farm. Our leader was received at the entrance of his estate, by a grave and elderly negro slave, who acted as overseer, and had under his control all the men and property attached to it. Kneeling upon the stony court-yard, he kissed the hand extended to him in friendly greeting, after which he proceeded to unsaddle his master’s horse, which he led to a pond within the enclosure, where the horses were watered.

We purposed remaining a few days at San Pablo, with the object of incorporating some fresh relays of mules and horses from the abundant stock of this estate: so we of the staff installed ourselves under the palm-roof of our rustic mansion, while the rank and file of the expedition found accommodation in the open barracoons adjoining it; although none of the party had reason to boast of being better off than their neighbor.

“It is sad when pleasing first impressions are obliterated,” remarks a sentimental writer; “always painful to become desenchanté on a more intimate acquaintance with either people or places.” I soon found that I was not in the fairy land I had imagined, abounding in grottos and refreshed by sparkling fountains, but in the region of the Llanos where the French adage, chacun pour soi et Dieu pour tous, is verified to its fullest extent. San Pablo, with its vaunted prestige, and in spite of its proximity to several important marts, was no better provided with accommodations than the untidy douar of the wandering Arab of the Desert. A rickety table standing against the wall for fear of tumbling down, two or three clumsy cedar chairs covered with raw-hide, and a couple of grass hammocks, serving the double purpose of beds and lounges, constituted all the furniture of the great farm. As a substitute for wardrobes and hat-stands, we were shown a number of deer-antlers and bull-horns imbedded in the walls of reeds and mud, on which to hang our pouches, bridles, &c. I searched in vain, on our arrival, for something like a bowl in which to lave my hands and face, covered with dust and parched by the broiling sun of the savannas. Even water was so scarce that it was served to us sparingly from a large calabash gourd used in bringing it from the river, nearly a mile distant. It is true there was, within the enclosure of the houses, a pond or excavation, made while searching for the remains of a brave officer who fell fighting for his country’s freedom. Sufficient water had accumulated there during the rainy season to entitle it to the name of Laguna, or Lake of Genaro Vazquez, the name of the afore-mentioned hero; but it was so filled with Bavas—a small species of alligator,—terrapins, and toads, as to render the water undrinkable.

But to return to our head-quarters, the structure of which struck me so forcibly at first as a bee-hive of vast proportions, naturally suggesting the idea of a “land of milk and honey.” Unfortunately neither of these could be obtained either for love or money, although the woods and pastures of the estate abounded in both the creatures that produced them. So we were compelled to resort to our reserved stock of papelon to sweeten our coffee, and to its own delicious natural aroma in the place of milk. As to the house itself, it only differed from the rest in that region in being larger, and perhaps in better order than are the generality. Imagine a pyramidal structure, thatched with palm leaves, the roof slanting to within a few feet of the ground, and supported on stout posts of live timber, which served also as framework for the walls, and you will have some idea of the style of architecture peculiar to the country. Doors and windows are of no account in a country uniformly warm throughout the year, and where the inhabitants possess few articles capable of tempting the cupidity of light-fingered gentry. Therefore, an ox-hide stretched across the openings left in the walls to admit light and the inmates, is all that is required to keep off uninvited guests. As an exception, to this rule, our mansion of San Pablo had one or two rooms set apart for invalids, provided with doors and windows of solid planks of timber in the rough; the other apartments had the upper half of the walls purposely left open, to admit full and free entrance of light and air. A narrow piazza or corridor, formed by the slanting of the roof to within five feet of the ground, ran along the entire length of the main building, and was intended more as a protection to the rooms against the sun and rains, than as a resort for the inmates.

The first step, on arriving, was to secure a place in the open reception room, for my own chattels and hammock, before all the spare posts and hooks had been appropriated by my companions. This accomplished, I proceeded to a thorough examination of my saddle and its accoutrements, so as to have them adapted to the peculiar mode of travelling in the Llanos. This care I left to the good judgment of our attendants, not being myself sufficiently skilled in the art of mending, greasing, and putting in order the complicated gear of our riding equipment. In the same predicament were also my two English companions, and our worthy doctor; a kind word, however, addressed to the good-natured Llaneros—especially if accompanied with a drop of aguardiente—never failed of enlisting their services in our favor.

Habit, as well as necessity, is sometimes the mother of invention, as my experience soon taught me that, to get along in my new quarters, it would be requisite to set aside the airs and insignia of civilization. Divesting myself, therefore, of all such superfluities as coat, cravat, pants, and shoes, I adopted the less cumbrous attire of the Llaneros, consisting mainly of breeches tightly buttoned at the knee, and a loose shirt, usually of a bright checkered pattern. Shoes are altogether dispensed with in a country like the Llanos, subject to drenching rains, and covered with mud during a great portion of the year, besides the inconvenience they offer to the rider in holding the stirrup securely when in chase of wild animals. The leg, however, is well protected from the thorns and cutting grass of the savannas by a neat legging or botin, made of buffskin, tightly buttoned down the calf by knobs or studs of highly polished silver. Another characteristic article of dress, and one in which the wearers take great pride, is the linen checkered handkerchief, loosely worn around the head. Its object is ostensibly to protect it from the intensity of the sun’s rays; but the constant habit of wearing it has rendered the handkerchief as indispensable a headdress to the Llaneros as is the cravat to the neck of the city gentleman.

One angle of the building was devoted to the kitchen, and rooms for the overseer and his family; the other was set apart for a store-room, suggesting hidden treasures of good things for the comfort of the inner man. Being naturally inquisitive, I lost no time in investigating the contents of the bodega; but instead of sweetmeats, fresh cheese, or even bread, and butter,—articles of easy manufacture in the Llanos, on which I had feasted my imagination,—I found the place filled with roaches, pack-saddles, old bridles, lazos, and tasajo or jerked beef. This last is prepared by cutting fresh beef into long strips, and exposing them to dry in the sun, first rubbing them thoroughly with salt. Animal substances spoil so readily in tropical climates, that unless this precaution is taken immediately after a bullock is slaughtered, the meat becomes tainted in a short time. Two or three days’ exposure to the hot sun of the Llanos, is sufficient to render the beef as dry and tough as leather; in this state, it may be stored away for six months without spoiling. The older the better; age imparting to it that peculiar rank flavor which makes tasajo so highly prized by people of all ranks in Cuba and other West India Islands. Large shipments of this beef have been made from Venezuela to those places; but the competition of Buenos Ayres has reduced of late the profits arising from this branch of our exports. The manner of killing and quartering an animal in the Llanos deserves particular mention. The cattle being usually some distance from the house, two horsemen are despatched after the victim; one of them gallops close to the animal’s rear, and throwing his unerring lazo at its head, drags it along, while his companion urges it on by means of his garrocha or goad, until they reach the sacrificial post: one or two turns of the lazo around this, bring the animal close to the botalon; the matador then plunges the point of his dagger into the vertebræ back of the head, and the struggling beast drops as if struck by an electric spark; a second thrust of the bloody dagger into his throat severs the artery, and the blood gushes in torrents through the wound from every part of his body. The prostrate victim is now turned upon its back, and a long incision made lengthwise of the belly, preparatory to flaying and cutting up the carcass. When the animal is not intended to be immediately slaughtered, he is tied to the post by a succession of coils from the lazo around his horns, and left there until the fatal moment comes to despatch him.

One night I was awakened by a terrific bellowing proceeding from the botalon; but, as I knew there was no bullock there for slaughter at the moment, I was at a loss how to account for this uproarious serenade. Curiosity led me to inquire into the cause, and directing my steps towards the spot, I beheld a group of about a dozen bulls, smelling at the blood of their former companions, and ploughing up the gore with their hoofs, evidently in great distress. This continued for some time, until, finding their bewailing by moonlight rather too touching even for artists’ ears, we ordered them to be driven away, in spite of the sublimity of the scene. I had other opportunities of witnessing similar testimonials of respect, whenever a herd of cattle approached the place of execution, which never failed to impress me deeply with a feeling of compassion for their sorrows.

Every morning an animal was slaughtered for us. Our meals consisted of roast beef, without either vegetables or wheaten bread. Indian corn we had in abundance, both in the grain and in the husk; but before it could be converted into arepas—the favorite bread of the country—it required to be passed through a variety of operations each day, which made the process rather tedious, as the grain must first be hulled by pounding it in large wooden mortars, adding a handful of sand and a little water: next the grain must be separated from the chaff, thoroughly washed, and then boiled over a slow fire. In doing this, care must be used, for if too soft it will not answer the purpose. Finally it is ground to a paste between two stones, formed into flat cakes, and baked in shallow pans of earthenware. The result of all this labor is bread exceedingly white and nourishing; but it has the disadvantage of becoming tough and unpalatable when cold. Under the popular name of tortillas, this bread is also extensively used in Mexico and Central America, although inferior to our own.

Even this was considered a great luxury at San Pablo, few other cattle-farms being provided with the necessary utensils for its manufacture, and still fewer the number of those that will grow sufficient corn for the consumption of their inmates. The Llaneros are essentially a pastoral people, and trouble themselves but little with the cultivation of the land, considering it rather derogatory to bend their heads, even to mother Earth. Hence their homes are usually in a state of utter wretchedness, being unprovided even with the commonest necessaries. Although the land is extremely fertile, and would well repay the labor with abundant crops of every kind of grain, they do not consider bread an essential, using instead a piece of boiled liver, which in their estimation answers just as well. Therefore the divine command, which enjoins us to earn our daily bread by the sweat of the brow, is not much regarded by them. In the midst of countless herds, and surrounded with the most munificent gifts of a bountiful Providence, they are often even without fresh meat; not because they are sparing of their cattle, which in that country bears a nominal value, but because they are naturally abstemious; and as for milk and butter, they despise both as food only fit for children. Cheese, however, is a favorite article of food with them, and in its preparation, they display considerable ability, especially the delicious kind termed queso de manos, a species of boiled cheese. As some of my readers may wish to experiment in making it, I will give them the recipe. Curd the milk in the usual way, and boil the curd in its own whey. When about the consistency of molasses candy, stretch it out repeatedly with the hands until cold. Add a little salt to the mass; roll it into flat cakes, and hang the cheese to drain in nets suspended from the ceiling. When pulled, it will separate in layers which look like parchment, retaining all the flavor of the milk.

The cows, being half wild in most cases, require to be milked by main force. To accomplish this, one of the dairymen throws a noose around the horns of the animal, and holds it secure by means of a long pole attached to the thong, while another proceeds to milk it in the usual way; but none will yield a drop, unless the calf is first allowed to suck a little, and then tied to the mother’s knee.

Every cow is distinguished by a fancy name, such as Clavellina, Flor del Campo, Marabilla, and others equally euphonious and poetical. When called to be milked, the tame ones immediately answer in suppressed bellowings, and come forward of their own accord, while the calves confined in the pen, on hearing their mothers’ names, run along the fence in search of the gate; a boy, stationed there for the purpose, lets fall one of the bars, and off they bound after the mothers.

The men perform there altogether the occupations allotted to women in other countries, such as milking the cows, curding the milk, and turning out the cheese when ready. They do not even disdain cooking their own food, and washing their own garments, when occasion requires. Of the women, I may be permitted to quote here what Sir Francis Head, in his quaint style, says with reference to those in the Pampas of Buenos Ayres, as being equally applicable to their sisters of the Llanos: “The habits of the women are very curious: they have literally nothing to do, the great plains which surround them offer no motive to work, they seldom ride, and their lives certainly are very indolent and inactive. They all have families, however, whether married or not; and once when I inquired of a young woman employed in nursing a very pretty child, who was the father of the ‘criatura,’ she replied ‘Quien sabe?’ ”[20]

But it is time to introduce my reader to a more intimate acquaintance with this singular race of people, whose manliness, bravery, and skill in waging a constant war, not only with the wild animals of the field, but against the proud legions of Iberia, entitle them to a place among the heroes of the earth.

CHAPTER IV.
THE LLANEROS.

“Dicheso aquel que alcanza
Como rico don del Cielo,
Para defender su suelo
Buen caballo y buena lanza.”
—Arolas.

The people inhabiting the vast region of the Llanos, although claiming descent from the old Castilian race, once the rulers of the land, are, in fact, an amalgamation of the various castes composing the present population of the Republic. These are, the whites, or the descendants of the European settlers of the country; the aboriginals or Indians, and a great proportion of blacks. In most of the towns the native whites preponderate over all others, and represent the wealth, as well as the most respectable portion of the community; in the villages and thinly populated districts of the plains, a mongrel breed resulting from the admixture of these three, constitute the majority of the inhabitants. These are dispersed over an area of 27,000 square miles, making a proportion of only fourteen individuals, out of a population of 390,000, to every square mile.

This race, although vastly inferior to the first in mental capacity and moral worth, is endowed with a physique admirably adapted to endure the fatigues of a life beset with dangers and hardships.[21] Cast upon a wild and apparently interminable plain, the domain of savage beasts and poisonous reptiles, their lot has been to pass all their life in a perpetual struggle, not only with the primitive possessors of the land, but with the elements themselves, often as fierce as they are grand. When it is not the alarm of the dreaded viper or the spotted jaguar, it is the sudden inroad of vast inundations, which, spreading with fearful rapidity over the land, sweep off in one moment their frail habitations and their herds. Nevertheless, this insecure existence, this continual struggle between life and death, between rude intellect and matter, has for the Llanero a sort of fascination, perhaps not so well understood by people possessing the blessings and ideas of civilization, but without which he could not exist, especially if deprived of his horse and cast among the mountain region north of his cherished plains. The Modern Centaur of the desolate regions of the New World, the Llanero spends his life on horseback; all his actions and exertions must be assisted by his horse; for him the noblest effort of man is, when gliding swiftly over the boundless plain and bending over his spirited charger, he overturns an enemy or masters a wild bull. The following lines of Victor Hugo seem as though copied from this model: “He would not fight but on horseback; he forms but one person with his horse; he lives on horseback; trades, buys, and sells on horseback; eats, drinks, sleeps, and dreams on horseback.” Like the Arab, he considers his horse his best and most reliable friend on earth, often depriving himself of rest and comfort after a hard day’s journey to afford his faithful companion abundance of food and water. It is not at all surprising, therefore, to hear the bard—all Llaneros are poets more or less—exclaim, after the loss of both his wife and valued horse:

Mi muger y mi caballo
Se me murieron á un tiempo;
Que muger, ni que demonio,
Mi caballo es lo que siento.

My wife and my valued horse
Died both at the same time;
To the devil with my wife,
For my horse do I repine.

Few people in the world are better riders than the Llaneros of Venezuela, if we except perhaps the Gauchos of Buenos Ayres, or equal to either in the dexterity they display in the wonderful feats of horsemanship to which their occupations in the field inure them from childhood. Their horses, moreover, are so well trained to the various evolutions of their profession, that animal and rider seem to possess but one existence.

The life of the Llanero, like that of the Gaucho his prototype, is singularly interesting, and resembles in many respects that of others who, like them, have their abode in the midst of extensive plains. Thus they have been aptly styled the Cossacks and the Arabs of the New World, with both of whom they have many points in common, but more especially do they resemble the last named. When visiting the famous Constantine Gallery of paintings at Versailles, I was struck with the resemblance of the Algerine heroes of Horace Vernet with our own, revealing at once the Moorish descent of the latter, independently of other characteristic peculiarities.

The inimitable author of “Journeys Across The Pampas,” already quoted, alluding to the life of these wild shepherds of the plains, compares it very appropriately to the rise and progress of a young eagle, so beautifully described by Horace in the following verses:

Olim juventas et patrius vigor
Nidum laborum propulit inscium;
Vernique, jam nimbis remotis,
Insolitos docuere nisus
Venti paventem; mox in ovilia
Demisit hostem vividus impetus;
Nunc in reluctantes dracones
Egit amor dapis atque pugnæ.

—Horace, Book iv., Ode iv.

“Whom native vigor, and the rush
Of youth have spurr’d to quit the nest,
And skies of blue, in springtide’s flush,
Entice aloft to breast
The gales he fear’d before his lordly plumes were drest.

“Now swooping, eager for his prey,
Spreads havoc through the flutter’d fold;
Straight, fired by love of food and fray,
In grapple fierce and bold,
The struggling dragons rends, e’en in their rocky hold.”

—Translation by Martin.

“Born in the rude hut, the infant Gaucho receives little attention, but is left to swing from the roof in a bullock’s hide, the corners of which are drawn towards each other by four strips of hide. In the first year of his life he crawls about without clothes, and I have more than once seen a mother give a child of this age a sharp knife, a foot long, to play with. As soon as he walks, his infantine amusements are those which prepare him for the occupations of his future life; with a lazo made of twine he tries to catch little birds, or the dogs, as they walk in and out of the hut. By the time he is four years old he is on horseback, and immediately becomes useful by assisting to drive the cattle into the corral.”

When sufficiently strong to cope with a wild animal, the young Llanero is taken to the majada or great cattle-pen, and there hoisted upon the bare back of a fierce young bull. With his face turned towards the animal’s tail, which he holds in lieu of bridle, and his little legs twisted around the neck of his antagonist, he is whirled round and round at a furious rate. His position, as may be imagined, is any thing but equestrian; yet, the fear of coming in contact with the bull’s horns compels the rider to hold on until, by a dexterous twist of the animal’s tail while he jumps off its back, he succeeds in overturning his antagonist.

In proportion as he grows older and stronger, a more manly amusement is afforded him with the breaking in of a wild colt. This being, however, a more dangerous experiment, in which many a “young eagle” is rendered a “lame duck,” he is provided with the necessary accoutrements to withstand the terrible struggle with the animal. Firmly seated upon his back and brandishing overhead a tough chaparro vine for a whip, the apprentice is thus installed in his new office, from which he must not descend until the brute is perfectly subdued; the coil of lazo in the hands of his merciless instructor would be the least evil awaiting him should he otherwise escape safe and sound from the desperate kicks and plunges of the horse.

Here commences what we may term, the public life of the Llanero; his education is now considered complete. From this moment all his endeavors and ambition will be to rival his companions in the display of physical force, which he shows to an admirable degree when, armed with his tough lazo, he pursues the wild animals of his domain. If a powerful bull or wild horse tries to escape into the open plain, the cavalier unfurls the noose which is always ready by his side, and the fugitive is quickly brought back to the corral. Should the thong give way under the impetuous flight of the animal, the rider seizes him by the tail, and whirling round suddenly, pulls towards him with so much force as to cause his immediate overthrow.

In all these exercises the roving cavalier of the Llanos acquires that feeling of security and enduring disposition for which he is famous. Unfortunately, it is often turned to account in disturbing the balance of power among his more enlightened countrymen; for he is always ready to join the first revolutionary movement offering him the best chances for equipping himself with arms of all descriptions. Next to the horse, the Llanero esteems those weapons which give him a superiority over his fellow-creatures, viz., a lance, a blunderbuss, and a fine sword. If he is unprovided with either of these, he considers himself a miserable and degraded being, and all his efforts will tend to gratify this favorite vanity, even at the risk of his own life. Therefore he goes to war, because he is sure, if victorious, of finding the battle-field covered with these tempting trophies of his ambition. In this, unfortunately, he is too often encouraged by a host of unprincipled politicians who, not wishing to earn a livelihood by fair means, are eternally plotting against the powers that be.

The style of sword worn by the Llaneros differs little from that used by Spaniards of the middle ages, the hilt being surmounted by a guard in the shape of a reversed cup, affording an excellent protection to the hand that wields it, while the blade is made with two edges, instead of one. Most of these swords are mounted in silver, the same as the accompanying dagger, another of their favorite weapons; and such is the passion among Llaneros for glittering swords and daggers, that they would sooner dispense with a house or a corral, than with either of these expensive commodities.

The lance comes next in importance, and in their hands is quite a formidable weapon, which they are enabled to handle with great dexterity, from their constant practice with the garrocha or goad with which they drive and turn the cattle. As an element of war, the lance has become celebrated in the country, having rendered the cause of Independence the most effectual service in repelling the attacks of the sanguinary hosts sent by Spain against the indomitable “Rebeldes” of Colombia.

The trabuco or blunderbuss, too, is held in great estimation as a weapon of defence, or rather of aggression, as they are at all times ready to test its powers on the slightest provocation; and nobody thinks of travelling in that desert country without one of these wide-mouthed spitfires by his side.

Being rather of a superstitious turn of mind, these people believe that by decorating their deadly weapons with some insignia of their religion, they are rendered more effectual; the cross surmounts their swords and daggers; while the rosary and agnus Dei entwine the butt-end of their trabucos, when called into requisition. Thus they are emboldened to perform acts of desperate valor which, under any other circumstances, would be considered rash in the extreme.

Such is the religious faith of these benighted people; a religion of form and superstition rather than conviction. Christianity, like the Spanish language, exists among them, it is true; but corrupted and enveloped in dark superstition, almost bordering on idolatry. It cannot, however, be expected that a widely scattered population over so extensive an area of desert plains, should possess any means of enlightenment beyond what is conveyed to them through the few teachers distributed among the principal towns of the interior. Therefore it is not an unusual thing to meet with persons owning extensive cattle farms, and even holding important commissions in the army, who cannot read or write. During the good old times of the Capuchin Missions, the youth of the villages under their control received at their hands a scanty education, principally in the primary notions of the catechism; but with the destruction of those beneficent establishments, during the protracted struggle between natives and Spaniards, they were replunged into utter ignorance, and most of their places of worship have long since gone to decay. They have retained, nevertheless, enough of the extravagant notions of that school to establish a creed singularly at variance with the teachings of the Gospel, and founded principally on a belief in saints and amulets. The latter consist in little trinkets wrought in gold or silver; or written orisons carefully preserved in leathern bags and worn suspended from their rosaries around their necks. Most of these orisons are the more extravagant from the fact they have no meaning whatever; yet this very obscurity seems to attach greater value to them, their principal charm consisting, as they say, in their mysterious import.

Great faith is also placed in certain prayers which are supposed to have the power of driving away the Devil, curing diseases and averting all kinds of evil.

As regards their Creator, they only have some vague ideas; they believe, for instance, in one God; mais voila tout. They seem to entertain greater fear of Beelzebub and Death personified, both of whom they imagine to possess undisputed sway over His creatures. The first they fancy to be fashioned with horns, hoofs, and claws like some of their wild beasts. Their ideas of death are no less extravagant. A respectable old gentleman of my acquaintance who once found himself very low with fever, thus related his experience respecting this fearful vision. “Why!” said he to a circle of friends who came to congratulate him on his recovery, “I had always supposed that Death was actually a horrid skeleton skulking about the world in search of victims, and carrying in his hand a fearful hook with which he angled for us as we do for fish. No such thing, my friends, I assure you; Death, after all, is nothing more than lack of breath;” accompanying the assertion with a gentle pressure of his nose with his fingers and a hearty laugh.

As a natural consequence, the Llaneros, in spite of their bravery and sang froid in other respects, entertain great fear of espantos or ghosts and apparitions. One of the most popular hallucinations of this kind is la bola de fuego, or “light of Aguirre the Tyrant,” as the natives usually style it—a sort of ignis fatuus, arising from the decomposition of organic substances at the bottom of certain marshes. Superstitious imaginations, unacquainted with this phenomenon, readily transform these gaseous exhalations into the soul of the famous Lope de Aguirre wandering about the savannas. This adventurous individual had the satisfaction, while he lived, of discovering the great river Amazon. Being of a restless and bloody disposition, like all the heroes of that epoch, he started in search of El Dorado with a powerful expedition from Peru, which resulted in the discovery of the Father of Waters. He stained his laurels, however, with the blood of his own daughter, as well as with that of his companions, for which unpardonable atrocities it is believed his accursed soul was left to wander over those countries which he sullied with his crimes.[22] Now it appears before the terrified traveller in the form of a blazing ball of fire; a minute after it will be seen one or two miles off. If sufficiently near, the spectator cannot fail to observe the entrails of the wicked wanderer enveloped in the flames of this extraordinary apparition. Such is the power of affrighted imaginations which have converted one of the commonest phenomena of chemical action into the wildest speculation of besotted fanaticism.

With regard to miracles and the interposition of the saints, the names of some of which are constantly in their mouths, the Llaneros also have many curious notions. For every emergency of their lives there is a special patron saint; San Pablo, like good old St. Patrick, is supposed to have entire sway over snakes and other vermin; San Antonio, the power of restoring stolen goods to their rightful owners; while San somebody else that of befriending the highway robber and assassin from the punishment of justice and violent death. As an illustration of this fact, I will relate here an incident which I witnessed during one of those endemic revolutions so typical of the Spanish American republics, and which never fail to foster lawless bands of desperadoes who, under the cover of political reforms, commit all sorts of depredations upon the helpless inhabitants.

JOSE URBANO, THE GUERILLA-CHIEF.

A digression for the sake of variety.

Shortly after our return from the Apure, a revolution broke out among the colored population; a class which until then had been the most peaceful and submissive, but since perverted to such a degree as to require all the energies and resources of the white race to save itself from utter ruin and degradation.

An ambitious demagogue, editor of a newspaper in the capital, had been seized with the mania, so prevalent in South America, of becoming President (pro tem.) of the Republic. To this end, he spared no means in recommending himself to the public, through the columns of his paper, heaping at the same time all kinds of slander and abuse upon those who stood in his way. Finding, however, little coöperation from the better class of the community, he experienced no scruple in courting the favor of the colored population, who, he readily persuaded, “had a perfect right to share in the gains and property of their aristocratic masters.” The Government was powerless in arresting the spirit of revolt which was daily being infused among the masses, as the Constitution allowed perfect freedom of the press, and the good citizens did not care to take the matter into their own hands. The consequence was, a fearful outbreak among the lower classes, backed by all the tramposos or broken-down speculators of the country, proclaiming community of property, and the ci-devant editor (who, by the way, had not a sous to stake in it) candidate for the next Presidency of the Republic. The revolt soon spread to the Llaneros, by far the most to be feared in the matter of hard blows; and although it was quelled in time through the efforts of General Paez, it sowed the seeds of discontent which have since brought forth to the country an abundant crop of revenge, violence, and rapine. It was during that campaign the incident I am about to relate occurred in the savannas of San Pablo.

We had just encamped for the night on the beautiful plain of Morrocoyes, not far from our place, when a messenger arrived to apprise the General that the famous José Urbano, leader of a band of robbers who had committed several wanton murders in that neighborhood, had crossed over to San Pablo under cover of night. The General immediately despatched a dozen of his men after the banditti, with positive orders to follow up the rastro or trail to the world’s end if necessary, and not return to his presence without the body of the leader, muerto ó vivo, dead or alive. To any other set of men less accustomed to the wild pursuits of the Llanos, this would have appeared an impossibility in a country like San Pablo, traversed in all directions by numerous cross-ways made by the cattle; but the instinct of those men in tracking runaways as well as stray animals, is truly wonderful. Although the plain was covered with the footprints of twenty thousand animals roaming wild over the savannas, they followed close on the heels of the banditti, until they fell in, unfortunately, with another trail left by some vaqueros. The night was very dark, and they easily mistook this for that of the enemy. As a matter of course it led them to a ranch where the unlucky vaqueros were amusing themselves at the game of monte. Without stopping to ascertain who the gamblers were, the troop charged in the midst of them, killing two or three innocent fellows, and dispersing the rest like a herd of wild sheep. The aggressors did not discover their mistake until one of the fugitives, who happened to be acquainted with the party, recognized the voice of the commander, and shouted to him to stop the carnage.

After this unfortunate encounter, it may be easy to conceive that the troopers were not slow in retracing their steps in search of the cause of their mistake; this time, however, with more prudence, carefully examining every trail until they found the right one. It led them to another ranch where Urbano was spending the evening in the society of one of his numerous sweethearts. Here they all dismounted very quietly, and leaving the horses in charge of two companions, they rushed into the ranch with a wild shout and lance in hand. The attack was so sudden, that most of the banditti were either killed or dispersed before they had time to seize their arms. Only their gallant leader stood at bay against tremendous odds, defending himself bravely for a long time with the assistance of his equally courageous sweetheart, who kept all the while urging him on like a tigress.

Overpowered at last by a superior force, and faint with the loss of blood from numerous wounds, the bandit fell at the feet of his sable Amazon. When raised, an amulet was found between his teeth so firmly held, that it required the united efforts of two men to remove it. On being opened, it was found to contain a written orison, shrouded in such mysterious language as would have defied the skill of a magician to decipher. This, I was informed, was the famous Oracion del Justo Juez, a singular misnomer for a talisman intended to befriend these gente non sancta in their marauding expeditions.

It was a lucky thing for the assailants that Urbano received at the outset a severe cut on his right arm, causing an immediate flow of blood which filled the pan of his trabuco, otherwise the affair would have terminated very differently. The ignition of the powder was thus prevented just as he was in the act of discharging the contents of that engine of destruction amidst the group.

The body of the culprit was now tied on the back of a horse and conveyed to the presence of the General, as an atonement for the unfortunate mistake which had deprived him of the services of two or three valuable hands.

The news of this adventure spread as if by magic over the surrounding country and brought together great numbers of curiosos, among them, no doubt, many of Urbano’s adherents, who might have discredited the statement. The General improved the opportunity to address them an impressive homily, ordering at the same time the mutilated body of the renowned bandit to be exposed on the public road for twenty-four hours, as a warning to others with similar proclivities.

The death of this man, considered invulnerable by the superstitious children of the Llanos, produced a more powerful impression upon them than if a great battle had been fought and won. Next day, hundreds of facciosos, availing themselves of a general amnesty granted by the Commander-in-Chief to repentant revolutionists, began to arrive from various quarters and gave in their submission.

Thus ended for the time being one of the most dangerous outbreaks that had ever occurred in the country, from the nature of the principles involved. As to the originator, he was subsequently eclipsed by a bolder political aspirant, the ever-memorable José T. Monagas. This worthy, of whom more especial mention will be made hereafter, and who, in an evil hour for his country, was called to fill the chair of State, profiting by the condition of anarchy in which the other had plunged the nation, afterwards shot down the Representatives of the people in Congress assembled, and proclaimed himself absolute ruler, thus leaving the other ambitious pretender to exclaim with the poet:

“Hos ego versiculos feci, tulit alter honores.”

CHAPTER V.
SCENES AT THE FISHERY.

Four days we remained at San Pablo making arrangements for the contemplated expedition to the Apure; but the horses being quartered at considerable distance, we removed to La Yegüera, a small farm within the estate exclusively devoted to the breeding of those animals. Great numbers of mules were also raised there, which made the equine stock amount to nearly three thousand animals of all ages. There, untrammelled by barriers of any kind, they roamed at will over those beautiful meadows in a semi-wild state; their only keeper was a half-breed, who with his family occupied the Ranch, which on that occasion was to shelter us also. This Ranch being too small, however, for the accommodation of the whole party, most of them bivouacked in a grove of lofty Cesalpinias and Carob trees, from whose spreading branches they slung their hammocks, the dense foliage forming a sufficient shelter from the heavy dews of night and the heat of the sun by day.

Our Leader, the Doctor, and myself, were domiciled at the Ranch. Having the full range of the neighboring groves during the day, we had then no occasion to use our single apartment, already partially occupied with the culinary utensils and other wares of the family. But on retiring to our hammocks at night, the scene presented was rather ludicrous. In the same room allotted to us slept the keeper, his wife, and their numerous progeny, with all the dogs and chickens of the household huddled together in the most familiar manner. Notwithstanding, I will confess that the arrangement was not altogether disagreeable to me, as in close propinquity slept two of the prettiest damsels I had yet encountered in that region, with eyes brilliant enough to render other light superfluous. The only important hindrance to my nightly repose was the occasional flapping of wings and the hourly crowing of our host’s favorite gamecock, tied directly under my hammock, and who served for clock and night-watchman to the establishment.

Agapito, our host, had an easy time as overseer of this domain, his only occupation being from time to time to scour the savannas in search of young foals which might have been attacked by the gusano. This is the larvæ of a species of fly deposited in the umbilical cord of the new born, and which, if not promptly removed, will eat into the very vitals. It is fortunately not difficult to destroy them by the use of powdered cebadilla, the seed of a liliaceous plant (Veratrum cebadilla) abounding in veratrine. For this purpose, the keeper is always provided with a horn filled with the poisonous drug, and a wooden spatula. With the latter he digs out the worms and fills the wound with the powder to prevent a renewal of their attacks.

Groves and meadows unequalled for their luxuriance and natural beauty surrounded us on all sides, while numerous springs and rivulets, issuing from the foot of the terrace-like Mesas, rushed down the declivity of the plain, increasing the volume of the beautiful Guárico on whose banks stood the primitive abode of our unsophisticated host. This river is justly celebrated for the abundance and superiority of its fish; so, without delay, providing myself with hook and line, I proceeded thither, being anxious to procure specimens for my sketch-book, and also a substitute for our daily fare of beef. But, strange to relate, each time I dropped hook in the water, it was carried away in some mysterious manner, without the least motion being imparted to the float. My tackle, which I had brought from England, although arranged for fly-fishing, was capable of bearing a fish of many pounds weight; but as I soon lost all my stock in hand in the vain endeavor to secure my specimens, I gave up in disgust and returned to the Ranch that the mystery might, if possible, be explained. On seeing my slender lines, mine host with a broad grin facetiously remarked that they were good to play at fishing with, the only drawback to the amusement being that the caribe, a fish not larger than a perch, would carry off all my playthings. Impossible, said I; the lines are strong enough to lift you out of the water if necessary; to this he quietly replied, directing my attention to a mutilated finger of his right hand, “Do you see this? well, not long ago I was washing my hands in the river after slaughtering a calf, when a caribe darted at my finger and carried off a part before I was even aware of his approach.” Here was a serious obstacle to my favorite sport, and to the pleasure that Mr. Thomas and I had anticipated in sketching the various kinds of fish peculiar to that region. Fortunately, a short distance down the river was a fishing encampment provided with all the necessary appliances for obtaining the fish in large quantities. Of these we resolved to avail ourselves; but as several others of our party were equally interested, our leader despatched a messenger to the fishermen, inviting them to come up the river with their nets, and fish in our presence. To this they readily acceded, and soon after made their appearance paddling themselves over the water in four large canoes laden, among other things, with their chinchorros or seines, which they at once proceeded to spread across the stream, covering a deep charco or pool known to contain abundance of fish. Although the river at this season was very low, owing to the usual summer drought, pools of considerable depth were left at intervals, and in these the fish sought refuge in vast numbers from the season’s heat and from the eager pursuit of the fishermen, of which the latter sang, while spreading their seines, in the following lines:

Guavina le dijo á Bagre
Vámonos al caramero,
Porque ya viene el verano
Y nos coge el chinchorrero.

As the nets were dragged towards each other, the fish could be seen by thousands moving within the space embraced by the seines. Indeed, so numerous were they, that it soon became impossible to pull them in shore without previously relieving them of a portion of their contents. Accordingly, some of the men, armed with throw-nets, harpoons, and bicheros—these last large hooks affixed to wooden handles—plunged into the midst of the finny multitude, and commenced an onslaught on the largest among them. Presently one of the men came out with a monstrous fellow of the catfish tribe beautifully striped like a Bengal tiger, and like him having a thick snout furnished with long barbs. This species is called the bagre rayado or striped catfish, and is much esteemed by people of all classes as a substitute for beef during Lent. Large quantities are salted and sent at that time to the capital and other cities, where, under the name of pescado llanero, it forms one of the delicacies of the season. Some of these fish attain an enormous size, measuring five, six, and even seven feet in length, and are so fat that a single one is a load for two men.

In diving with the bichero, much caution was necessary on the part of the men lest they should be hooked by their hasty companions in lieu of the fish. A more important source of anxiety to the divers, was several dangerous fish among the multitude struggling in the water, such as the Ray-fish, whose tail is furnished with a sting three inches long, with which it inflicts a very painful wound; Electric eels, whose touch alone will paralyze in an instant the muscles of the strongest man; the Payara, shaped somewhat like a sabre, and equally dangerous. The lower jaw of this last is furnished with a formidable pair of fangs, not unlike those of the rattlesnake; with these it inflicts as smooth a gash as if cut with a razor; and finally, the caribe, whose ravenous and bloodthirsty propensities have caused it to be likened to the cannibal tribe of Indians, once the terror of those regions, but now scattered over the towns and villages along the course of the Orinoco. Each time the nets were hauled in shore, half a dozen or more of these little pests were to be seen jumping in the crowd, their jaws wide open tearing whatever came in their way, especially the meshes of the nets, which they soon rendered useless. Their sharp triangular teeth, arranged in the same manner as those of the shark, are so strong, that neither copper, steel, nor twine can withstand them. The sight of any red substance, blood especially, seems to rouse their sanguinary appetite; and as they usually go in swarms, it is extremely dangerous for man or beast to enter the water with even a scratch upon their bodies. Horses wounded with the spur are particularly exposed to their attacks, and so rapid is the work of destruction, that unless immediate assistance is rendered, the fish soon penetrate the abdomen of the animal and speedily reduce it to a skeleton; hence, doubtless, their appellation of mondonguero—tripe-eater. There are other varieties of the caribe in the rivers of the Llanos, but none so bold and bloodthirsty as this glutton of the waters. So abundant is this species in some rivers of the Apure, that it is a common saying among Llaneros: “there is more caribe than water.”

Every feature of this miniature cannibal denotes the ferocity and sanguinary nature of its tastes. The piercing eye, surrounded by a bloody-looking ring, is expressive of its cruel and bloodthirsty disposition. Its under jaw, lined with a thick cartilaginous membrane which adds greatly to its strength, protrudes considerably beyond the upper, giving, as this formation of jaw does to all animals possessing it, likewise an expression of ferocity. Large spots of a brilliant orange hue cover a great portion of its body, especially the belly, fins, and tail. Toward the back, it is of a bluish ash color, with a slight tint of olive green, the intermediate spaces being of a pearly white, while the gill-covers are tinged with red. The inhabitants being often compelled to swim across streams infested with them, entertain more fear of these little creatures than of that world-renowned monster, the crocodile. This last, although a formidable antagonist in the water, can be easily avoided and even conquered in single combat by daring men, while the former, from their diminutive size and greater numbers, can do more mischief in a short time than a legion of crocodiles.

The other kinds of caribe, although larger in size, are less dangerous than the preceding, and some even perfectly harmless. Among these, the black caribe of the Apure and Orinoco rivers is considered dainty eating. The caribito is also a harmless pretty little fish, with back of a fine green color, and belly white with occasional streaks of pink.

In spite, however, of all these vicious creatures, and the great depth of the water, the fishermen accomplished their work in a manner that would have done credit to the fearless pearl-divers of the ocean, more especially the swimmers, who are constantly in danger from some of the fish while gliding through the water in their pursuit. Those in the canoes were, of course, less liable to be attacked, although it often happened that a payara, being peculiarly adapted for darting out of the water, would clear the nets with a spring and fall in the midst of the paddlers, causing a momentary confusion among them. My attention was particularly attracted to the skill of the men in throwing their hand nets, sometimes lying on their stomach on the surface of the water, their hands encumbered with the nets; others would stand perfectly erect, half their bodies out of water, and without any footing to serve them as point d’appui. In the same manner, those whose business it was to drive the fish towards the seines, managed their huge batons, and all apparently without the least inconvenience. Suddenly their labors were interrupted by a serious obstacle in the shape of a caiman or alligator struggling hard between the nets to regain his freedom. Here was a sufficient test of the courage and ability of the fishers. If the monster remained, he would not only endanger the nets, but also the progress of the men through the water, they being liable at any moment to come in contact with his powerful jaws. It was therefore decided to get rid of the intruder at all hazards. To accomplish this, a lazo was procured, and to the astonishment of all the blancos present, a man went down with it to the bottom in search of the monster, with the avowed object of lazoing him under the water. After a few moments of, to us, most anxious suspense, but which the hardy fishermen regarded as child’s play, their companion rose to the surface panting for breath, not yet having ascertained the precise position of his intended victim. After inhaling sufficient air, the diver again disappeared, coming up in due time with the glad tidings that the enemy was captured, in proof whereof he handed us the other end of the lazo that we might drag him out. This was no easy task, as these reptiles, by their peculiar conformation, have immense power while under water, and it required the united efforts of all on shore to land him. This accomplished, we were perplexed in what manner to despatch him, as no steel instrument can penetrate the thick cuirass of the caiman, except it be in the armpits; but so violent were his struggles, that it was impossible to strike him there. At last the Doctor, more sagacious than the rest of us in anatomical operations, plunged a harpoon into the nape of the neck. The effect was that of paralyzing at once the movements of the prisoner, after which he was easily stabbed.

The manner in which our gallant diver accomplished his daring feat was thus explained by his companions; the caiman, like the domestic hog, is said to delight in being scratched about the ribs,[23] and of this the diver perhaps availed himself in order to place the noose around his neck, being very careful to approach him from behind, as it is a well-known fact that these reptiles, owing to the nature of their collar vertebræ, cannot easily turn round. The alligator is not so dangerous as its congener the crocodile of the Orinoco and its tributaries; few real crocodiles ever ascend the Guarico as far as San Pablo. However, a case had occurred here not long before, when a man disappeared under rather mysterious circumstances, and there was good reason to surmise that his loss was due to one of these gentry. It appears that the seines, being entangled around a snag at the bottom of the river, a man was, as usual, sent to remove the obstruction; considerable time elapsing without his reappearance, his comrades, seriously alarmed, instituted a diligent search, but no vestige of the unfortunate man was ever discovered. It never occurred to his friends that he might have fallen a prey to a crocodile, and the calamity was universally ascribed to the supernatural influence of some evil genii of the deep. From that time, the spot has borne the ominous name of the Encantado or haunted pool.

All obstructions to the progress of the nets were at length removed, and a sufficient quantity of fish having been taken therefrom, we all assisted in pulling them in, and a few moments afterwards had the satisfaction of beholding the sand banks on which we were, strewn with the proceeds of the two seines.

It would be impossible to convey an adequate idea of the singular forms and brilliant hues of most of these fish, all new to me. The Cherna, in particular, attracted my attention from their abundance and peculiar formation. Some attain a large size, weighing as much as a hundred pounds, and their flesh is so delicate as to deserve the appellation of river veal. The mouth is comparatively small, and set with a row of teeth bearing a strong resemblance to those of the human species.

The fishing having been solely for our amusement, and more game obtained than we required for our consumption, some was distributed among the people of the neighborhood who had collected to witness the sport, and the remainder given to the fishermen, who received besides a handsome compensation for their trouble in coming so far from their encampment.

During the distribution of the fish, a singular incident took place which illustrates at once the tenacity of life with which reptiles are endowed, and the electrical powers of that most singular creature, the gymnotus or electric eel. A boy had discovered one of these among the heap of fish on the beach, and was dragging it along by means of a bichero to avoid the shocks, when the body of the eel came accidentally in contact with the carcass of the caiman. This last, which, after the rough treatment it had received from our medical adviser, was supposed to be quite dead, much to the surprise of all, opened his huge jaws and closed them with a loud crash. The Doctor, especially, who, from his professional knowledge in surgical operations, had pronounced it beyond recovery, was the loudest in his expressions of astonishment at this unexpected turn. It was, however, merely a convulsive movement, induced by contact with the eel, and similar to that produced on the limbs of a frog by a galvanic current; for, afterward, the reptile remained without further signs of returning life. Science will, ere long, take advantage of the electric eel.

I would here most willingly entertain my readers with an account of the nature and habits of these “animal electrical machines,” had not the great Humboldt already elucidated the subject in the most comprehensive and brilliant manner. To his admirable works I will therefore refer the reader for a full and graphic description of this, one of the most curious of fish. It was in one of the numerous tributary creeks of this river, that the distinguished traveller procured the gymnoti for his experiments; perhaps from amongst the progenitors of the above mentioned. The manner in which they were obtained differed somewhat, however, from the one adopted by us on this occasion. Knowing how difficult it was to catch these eels on account of their extreme agility and powerful electrical discharges, the guides collected in the savannas a drove of wild horses, which they forced into a pool of water abounding in gymnoti. “The extraordinary noise caused by the horses’ hoofs makes the fish issue from the mud and excites them to attack. The yellowish and livid eels, resembling large aquatic serpents, swim on the surface of the water and crowd under the bellies of the horses and mules. A contest between animals of so different an organization presents a very striking spectacle. The Indians, provided with harpoons and long slender reeds, surround the pool closely, and some climb up the trees, the branches of which extend horizontally over the surface of the water. By their wild cries, and the length of their reeds, they prevent the horses from running away and reaching the bank of the pool. The eels, stunned by the noise, defend themselves by the repeated discharge of their electric batteries. For a long interval they seem likely to prove victorious. Several horses sink beneath the violence of the invisible strokes which they receive from all sides in organs the most essential to life; and stunned by the force and frequency of the shocks, they disappear under water.”

“I wish,” adds the traveller, “that a clever artist could have depicted the most animated period of the attack; the group of Indians surrounding the pond, the horses with their manes erect and eyeballs wild with pain and fright, striving to escape from the electric storm which they had roused, and driven back by the shouts and long whips of the excited Indians; the livid yellow eels, like great water snakes, swimming near the surface and pursuing their enemy; all these objects presented a most picturesque and exciting ‘ensemble.’ In less than five minutes two horses were killed; the eel, being more than five feet in length, glides beneath the body of the horse and discharges the whole length of its electric organ. It attacks, at the same time, the heart, the digestive viscera, and the cœliac fold of the abdominal nerves. I thought the scene would have a tragic termination, and expected to see most of the quadrupeds killed; but the Indians assured me that the fishing would soon be finished, and that only the first attack of the gymnoti was really formidable. In fact, after the conflict had lasted a quarter of an hour, the mules and horses appeared less alarmed; they no longer erected their manes, and their eyes expressed less pain and terror. One no longer saw them struck down in the water, and the eels, instead of swimming to the attack, retreated from their assailants and approached the shore. The Indians now began to use their missiles; and by means of the long cord attached to the harpoon, jerked the fish out of the water without receiving any shock so long as the cord was dry.”

The electric eel, although much dreaded by man, is greatly esteemed by gourmands. It is necessary, however, to deprive the fish of those parts constituting the electrical apparatus, which are rather spongy and unpalatable. So perfect a machine is this curious organ, that Faraday succeeded—by insulation of the animal electricity and a most ingenious apparatus devised by him—in obtaining a spark with which he ignited a spoonful of gunpowder. But there are several varieties of the fish which do not possess this peculiarity.

Among the promiscuous assemblage of fish scattered on the sand beach, ready to transfix the hand that might inadvertently touch them, were many sting-rays. This species, like its prototype the famous Manta-fish of the Caribbean Sea, is quite circular and flat, with a tail over a foot in length, very thick at the base and tapering towards the end. Near the middle on the upper part, it is armed with a long and sharp-pointed bone or sting, finely serrated on two sides, which the fish can raise or lay flat at will. When disturbed, the ray, by a quick movement of the tail, directs its sting towards the object, which it seldom fails to reach. The wound thus inflicted is so severe, that the whole nervous system is convulsed, the person becoming rigid and benumbed in a few moments. Even long after the violent effects of the wound have subsided, the part affected retains a sluggish ulceration, which has in many instances baffled the skill of the best surgeons. Some creeks and lagoons of stagnant water are so infested with them, that it is almost certain destruction to venture into them. They usually frequent the shallow banks of muddy pools, where they may be seen at all times watching for prey; and, as if conscious of their powers, scarcely deign to move off when approached by man. They, also, are considered good eating, on which account they frequently fall a prey to hungry boys and vultures, who wage constant war upon them with spear and talon.

Mr. Thomas and I had plenty of occupation in sketching the various specimens before us; but the speedy approach of night compelled us to relinquish our agreeable pastime; thus many curious fish which we would have liked to preserve, had to be consigned to the frying-pan instead of to our portfolios.

In the mean time our able cook, Mónico, and half a dozen of Llanero assistants—all of whom are more or less accomplished in the art of cooking in their own peculiar style—were busily engaged throughout the afternoon preparing the spoils of the day for our supper. A fat calf was also killed in honor of the occasion, and roasted before a blazing fire under the trees. The Llaneros are quite skilled in roasting an ox or calf, which they divide in sections according to the flavor of each particular morceau. These they string upon long wooden spits, and keep them turning before the fire until sufficiently cooked. The ribs of the animal, taken out entire, usually form the most favorite morsel; but I would recommend to future travellers in that country the entreverado, made up of the animal’s entrails, such as the liver, heart, lungs, and kidneys, cut into pieces of convenient size and spitted; then enveloped in the fat mesenteric membrane of the animal, and cooked in its own juices.

In addition to this abundant supply of carne asada, we had fish in every style, smoked, broiled, en sancocho, (bouilli,) &c., with plenty of bread prepared by the wife and daughters of our equerry. Just as every one had eaten, as he supposed, his fill, one of our assistants made his appearance bending under the weight of a boiling caldron containing a rich bouilli of cherna heads, and urged us to partake of his humble fare. Although this was rather reversing the order of courses, we were finally prevailed upon to taste the soup he had prepared with so much care for us; and no sooner was the rich broth tasted by our epicurean party, than it was forthwith devoured with unimpaired appetites; but my enjoyment of the broth was somewhat spoiled by coming in contact with a row of omniverous-looking teeth, which so reminded me of a human skull, that I was constrained to throw my portion away, although I must confess that I never tasted soup superior to it.

CHAPTER VI.
WILD HORSES.

The fishing over, the main object of our expedition to La Yegüera was next attended to, namely, that of adding to our madrina of supernumerary horses from the abundant stock of this farm. An entire day was passed in riding through its enchanting groves and meadows, inspecting the numerous droves of mares, guarded by their proud padrotes or stallions. Each troop is under the control of one of these, who not only prevent their mingling with other packs, but endeavor also to appropriate all the other mares they can kidnap from their neighbors. The conquest, however, is not obtained without a determined resistance from their rightful lords, which occasions fierce combats between the rivals. When any stranger approaches, the whole troop boldly advances towards the object of their alarm, neighing, snorting, and throwing their slim and beautiful forms into the most graceful attitudes. When at the distance of a hundred paces, they all halt, and five or six scouts are detached from the main body to reconnoitre. These approach still nearer, and stretching their necks and ears, seem, with wild glance and cautious movement, to inquire from the stranger the object of this intrusion, while, in the mean time, the stallion keeps the whole troop in readiness for retreat in case of pursuit. When this last occurs, the scouts hastily incorporate themselves with the main body, while the stallion orders the retreat as skilfully as a good general might under similar circumstances, stopping occasionally to watch the enemy’s movements, but never resuming the lead until the troop is out of danger. When thus wildly coursing over the prairies in packs of one or two hundred, headed by their respective stallions, inspired, as it were, by the freedom of the plain, nothing can surpass their magnificent appearance, nor the proud air of liberty with which they snuff the passing breeze. We one day brought to the Ranch a large drove, from which we selected those required for the expedition. This occupied the men for a couple of days, as it was discovered that most of the animals were in bad condition from burrs and garrapatas, another destructive insect peculiar to those places, of the size and shape of a bed-bug, and very distressing to animals. It adheres with such tenacity to the skin of the poor brutes, that it requires to be pulled by hand in order to detach it; if left undisturbed, it will suck the blood until its body becomes distended to many times the natural size. It attacks all kinds of animals, but more especially horses: these last suffer in consequence, from malignant sores about their ears, which soon wither and drop off.

The horses were so wild that they had to be broken in before they could be of any service. This operation—which might as well be termed breaking down horses, as a great number are ruined by it—affords the Llaneros a fine opportunity for testing their ability in coping with this, the most spirited animal in the world. It is also undoubtedly one of the most difficult performances on cattle-farms, requiring strong nerve and great skill on the part of the rider to withstand the kicks and plunges of the animal and retain his seat. The method practised in the Llanos differs but little from that of the Pampas of Buenos Ayres, so ably described by Sir Francis Head, Darwin, and other eminent writers. I will quote some passages from the first of these authors respecting this divertisement among the Gauchos; their method I specially commend to the numerous disciples of the renowned Rarey, who has so astonished the Old World and the New with his wonderful skill in horse-taming.

“The corral was quite full of horses, most of which were young ones, about three and four years old. The capataz, mounted on a strong, steady horse, rode into the corral, and threw his lazo over the neck of a young horse, and dragged him to the gate. For some time he was very unwilling to leave his comrades, but the moment he was forced out of the corral, his first idea was to gallop away; however, the jerk of the lazo checked him in a most effectual manner. The peons now ran after him on foot, and threw the lazo over his four legs, just above the fetlocks, and twitching it, they pulled his legs from under him so suddenly, that I really thought the fall he got had killed him. In an instant a Gaucho was seated upon his head, and with his long knife, in a few seconds he cut off the whole of the horse’s mane, while another cut the hair from the end of his tail. This they told me is a mark that the horse has been once mounted. They then put a piece of hide into his mouth to serve as a bit, and a strong hide-halter on his head. The Gaucho who was to mount, arranged his spurs, which were unusually long and sharp, and while two men held the animal by his ears, he put on the saddle, which he girthed extremely tight; he then caught hold of the horse’s ear and in an instant vaulted into the saddle; upon which the man who was holding the horse by the halter, threw the end of it to the rider, and from that moment no one seemed to take any further notice of him. The horse instantly began to jump in a manner which made it very difficult for the rider to keep his seat, and quite different from the kick or plunge of an English horse; however, the Gaucho’s spur soon set him going, and off he galloped, doing every thing in his power to throw his rider. Another horse was immediately brought from the corral, and so quick was the operation, that twelve Gauchos were mounted in a space which, I think, hardly exceeded an hour.”

“It was singular to see the different manner in which the different horses behaved. Some would actually scream while the Gauchos were girthing the saddle upon their backs; some would instantly lie down and roll over it; while some would stand without being held, their legs stiff and in unnatural directions, their necks half bent towards their tails, and looking so vicious and sulky, that I could not help thinking I could not have mounted one of them for any reward that could be offered me; and they were invariably the most difficult to subdue.”

By repeating this treatment a number of times, and a sound thrashing with the chaparro whenever they prove refractory, the riders finally succeed in conquering the indomitable spirit of their steeds, although they long retain a vicious propensity to occasionally practise their old tricks, either by throwing themselves backwards upon their riders, or suddenly plunging headlong at a furious rate. Another dangerous habit is that of whirling rapidly, when least expected, in an opposite direction to the one intended by the rider, who, unless very expert, is unseated and liable to have his neck broken. But, when these horses are at length thoroughly broken in, there are few in the world capable of performing their duty so well as those trained in the Llanos of Venezuela.

My allusion on a former page to the renowned Rarey, recalls to my memory the name of Santos Nieves, a famous picador of San Pablo, whose ingenious mode of entrapping horses appears to have been formed on the same principle as that which has characterized Mr. Rarey’s method.

Instead of dashing after the droves, with lazo in hand, and wild shouts, as is usual when the capture of one or more horses is intended, Santos Nieves made use of every precaution to avoid giving these shy creatures the least alarm; and so successfully were all his expeditions executed, that he achieved for himself the tremendous reputation of being a horse-witch. His plan was, however, the simplest possible. If the object was to capture only a single animal—which feat is peculiarly difficult to accomplish in woody places especially—he made preparations as if for a long journey, previous to seeking the haunts of his intended captive. Having sojourned in San Pablo for over half a century, he was thoroughly acquainted with all their accustomed places of resort. The first impulse of the animal on finding himself followed, was to scamper off; but the patient picador, instead of hurrying in pursuit, quietly remained on the same spot, watching and waiting the next move of the animal. Presently the horse, seeing he was not pursued, would conclude to return and reconnoitre the object of his alarm. Satisfied from the quiet attitude of the man, that nothing need be feared from him, the horse resumed his brousing near by. Again the man cautiously and slowly advances, until perceived anew by the horse, who, as before, beats a rapid retreat. Impelled by curiosity, he returned for the third time; again inspects the picador, who remains motionless as before, upon seeing which, the animal concludes he may safely continue his meal. These manœuvrings, again and again repeated, usually occupied an entire day, towards the close of which, if the horse were not very scary, the picador, with cautious approach and gentle words, succeeded in placing the halter around his neck. The extreme coyness, however, of most of these animals, frequently compelled Santos Nieves to camp out for the night and resume his pursuit, not only the following morning, but, if necessary, for three or more consecutive days, at the end of which he always returned in triumph with his captive to the farm.

The relative value of these horses depends principally on their form, color, and gait. The Llaneros are quite skilful in teaching them a variety of paces and evolutions, which are as essential to their hazardous occupations, as is the helm to the mariner. For war purposes, they are especially invaluable, as was practically demonstrated in the long struggle with the Spaniards, who not being equally expert in the management of their steeds, were, in consequence, often at the mercy of their antagonists. A good charger must be endowed with an easy mouth, good wind, and quick movement to either side, so that when pursued by an enemy, he can be made to whirl suddenly to the attack if necessary. The same rule applies to those used in chasing wild animals, especially bulls, which, when hotly pursued, often face about and charge their assailants.

It is equally indispensable in warm climates, that a horse should possess an easy gait for travelling. In this respect, they are trained to the particular fancy or requirements of the rider. Some prefer a gentle trot on a long journey, as being the least fatiguing to the horse; but, for city riding, or short journeys, an amble, rack, or pasitrote—something between both—is usually adopted. The test of a good pacing horse consists in “the rider being able to carry a glass of water in his hand without spilling,” while that of a first-rate charger is to stop, when at the height of his speed, on the slightest pull of the bridle.

Great regard is also paid to the color of horses; piebald, cream, and the various shades of white, are usually preferred. But, where great endurance and strength are requisite, connoisseurs generally select those of a darker color. Their price in the country is greatly enhanced of late in consequence of a devastating disease, which has been raging among them for several years past. Horses were so plentiful in the Llanos at one time, that a large export trade in their hides was carried on with foreign countries. A good horse, which then only brought five dollars, now costs from eighty to one hundred, and even more, according to the fancy of the parties interested.—Great numbers of the inhabitants were also carried away by the same scourge, which swept over the land like the cholera, not even sparing the fish in the rivers.

This frightful epidemic, which the Llaneros have appropriately styled Peste, or plague, is supposed to have originated in the great primeval forest of San Camilo, at the head waters of the Apure, from decomposition of the vegetable detritus accumulated there during centuries. From thence, travelling eastward along the course of the river, the epidemic continued its ravages among the inhabitants of the towns and villages situated on the right bank, attacking first one place and then another, until the whole province scarcely escaped depopulation. Even when the mortality abated, the country, which until then had possessed a most healthful climate, never recovered its former salubrity; fevers of a more or less dangerous character prevail from that time, especially towards the end of the rainy season, while the raising of horses has been entirely abandoned in consequence.

The first symptoms of the epidemic appeared among the crocodiles, whose hideous carcasses might then be seen floating down the stream in such prodigious numbers, that both the waters and air of that fine region were tainted with their effluvium. It was observed that they were first seized with a violent fit of coughing, followed by a black vomit which compelled them to quit their watery home, and finally find a grave amongst the thickets on the river banks. The disease next attacked the fish and other inhabitants of the water, with equal violence, until it was feared the streams would be depopulated. The fearful mortality among them can be better estimated from the fact that, for more than a month, the rippling waves of that noble river, the Apure, were constantly washing down masses of putrefaction, its placid surface being by them actually hidden from view for several weeks.

The next victims were the pachidermata of the swamps, and it was a pitiable sight to see the sluggish chigüires (capyvaras) and the grizzly wild-boars dragging their paralyzed hind-quarters after them; hence the name of derrengadera, applied to this disease.

Not even monkeys in their aërial retreats, escaped the contagion, and their melancholy cries resounded day and night through the woods like wailings of the eternally lost.

It is a singular fact, that while the scourge did not spare any of the countless droves of horses roaming the savannas of the Apure, and adjacent plains, donkeys and horned cattle were seldom, if ever, attacked, so that, by their aid, the owners of cattle-farms were enabled to prevent the entire dispersion of their herds.

A curious incident related in connection with this public calamity, is very current in the Llanos, respecting the origin of the disease among horses. Eugenio Torralva, a man of uncommon industry, although of humble extraction, had accumulated quite a handsome fortune by the raising of cattle, on the borders of La Portuguesa; but his chief wealth consisted in horses, on which he greatly prided himself—so much so that, on one occasion, while a distinguished personage was passing through his estate, Torralva directed his attention to the numerous droves grazing in the plains; then turning to his guest, who appeared equally delighted with the sight, said to him, “Think you, General, that I shall ever be in want of horses? Ni que Dios quiera! (Not even if God Almighty wished it!)” he blasphemously added. Two years later, the witness to this impious boast was again on his way to the Llanos: near San Juan he met an old man, apparently in a very destitute condition, riding a donkey. Not knowing who the wayfarer was, he bowed, as is customary, and rode on without taking further notice of the old man or his uncouth equipment; whereupon the stranger, waving his hand to him, cried, “Why, General, have you already forgotten your friend Torralva?” He that “giveth and taketh away” had deprived him of every horse, and the once wealthy farmer was now compelled to travel on an ass. It is asserted by the Llaneros that soon after he uttered the above-mentioned blasphemy, the Peste broke out among his immense stock, from whence they say the disease spread to other farms, until the contagion became general.

It is not a little singular that although the horse was unknown to the aborigines of America, at the time of its conquest, the researches of Darwin and other eminent geologists have shown them to have existed in vast numbers on that continent contemporaneously with the Mastodon, Megatherium, Mylodon, and other extinct animals. “Certainly, it is a marvellous fact, in the history of mammalia,” observes that assiduous explorer, “that in South America a native horse should have lived and disappeared, to be succeeded, in after ages, by the countless herds descended from the few introduced by the Spanish colonists!”

In general these animals are of middling size, and, like their progenitor, the Andalusian horse, endowed with a fiery spirit, (if not checked by ill-treatment or abuse,) and surprising endurance, especially during the exciting chase of wild cattle, when they are kept in constant motion for many consecutive days.

CHAPTER VII.
ACROSS THE PAMPAS.

Early in the morning of the fifth day, we left the Ranch at La Yegüera to journey southward, followed by our long train of baggage mules and relay horses, our good-natured host and keeper, Agapito, escorting us for some distance in the double capacity of guide and entertainer. Without his assistance it would have been difficult for us to proceed on our journey, which lay across a rolling prairie, covered in some places by magnificent groves of tall timber trees and a vast multitude of slender, towering palms, which, by the glimmering light of the stars, appeared like a mighty fleet of ships guarding the entrance to some giant harbor. Although the morning was dark, and there was properly speaking no road, but only a beaten track branching off in all directions, our guide, who knew every inch of the ground, led us on without once turning to the right or left, merrily chanting some of the lively ballads of the Llanos. Occasionally he was joined by other bards equally distinguished for their powers of voice and versification, thus producing very animated choruses of a character peculiarly wild.

As the sun rose in the horizon, we came upon another extensive plateau, the Mesa del Rastro, stretching for several miles, unbroken by a single tree or shrub, but alive with numberless herds of cattle roaming in all directions, while flocks of birds of every plumage, all new to me, flew affrighted at our approach, filling the air with their wild, peculiar cries. Among these, the Taro-taro, a large bird of the Ibis tribe, which derives its name from its bell-like notes, and the Carretero or carter, a beautiful species of goose with variegated plumage and crimson bill, particularly attracted my attention. The latter is named from the rumbling noise it makes when on the wing, similar in sound to the rumbling of cartwheels on hard ground.

Continuing our march over this seemingly interminable plain, we at length descried in the horizon the village of El Rastro, where we purposed breakfasting and spending the hottest part of the day. We were cordially received and entertained at the house of Señor Llovera, a wealthy neighbor of ours, whose lands extended from the southern boundary of San Pablo to this village.

El Rastro is noted for the beauty and fresh complexion of the women, in spite of an ardent climate; and the males for their singular propensity to abstract the hair from the manes and tails of horses stopping at their village. This they often practise under the very noses of the unfortunate owners, for the purpose of converting it into halters for their own steeds. Thus many a fine animal, which is supposed to be securely quartered for the night, is found next morning so shamefully disfigured that he can scarcely be recognized by his owner, who swears by all the saints in the calendar to take summary vengeance on the first rastrero[24] who may chance to cross his path. Fortunately we had no cause of complaint, as our droves were constantly under the surveillance of a dozen or more vigilant keepers, perfectly au fait to the peculiar taste of that community.

The beautiful complexion of the women is the more extraordinary from the fact that this village, which stands on the southern edge of the plateau, is entirely exposed to the glare of a tropical sun, and the hot breezes of the east. I nowhere met during my journey, such rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes as in this miserable hamlet. I could almost fancy them the fairies of the wilderness, bewitching the unsuspecting traveller, while their perfidious helpmates practise their rascally tricks.

These high terraces possess the advantage of being free from those noxious exhalations which render the plains below so unhealthy at certain seasons. Owing to the nature of the soil, mostly composed of a loose conglomerate or shingle, no permanent deposits of stagnant water are formed, endangering the health of the inhabitants, who are often blessed with a “green old age” and the possession of unimpaired mental and bodily faculties. Many are the instances where men attaining seventy and eighty years are still able to take part in the hardy ventures of the country along with their more youthful companions. Among our own party we had several individuals of this class who, after experiencing all the vicissitudes of a destructive war, had seen many a hot summer roll by, and camped out amidst the drenching showers of the rainy season, without any material change in their physique. Of these were Santos Nieves, the horse tamer, whose only food consisted of jerked beef, cheese, and papelon, upon which he had thrived admirably up to the age of seventy; Crisóstomo, the negro major domo of San Pablo, who had lost all recollection of his earlier days; Conrado, the horse driver, whose age and experience in conducting our refractory madrinas had entitled him to the revered appelation of taita or father. But the most extraordinary instance of longevity which has come to my ears, is in the Monagas family, also hailing from those regions, the age and number of whose members seriously alarmed the republic at one time; for the multitude of their rapacious demands appeared endless. The patriarch of the family is said to have attained the moderate age of one hundred and twenty years, yet was able to scour the savannas on horseback after the cattle up to the time of his death. The memorable José Tadeo, the late Dictator and tyrant of the republic, is yet in his prime at the age of seventy-nine, while his brothers Gregorio and José Francisco, whose vandalic career of plunder and assassination was—happily for the country that gave them birth—cut off by a late revolution, did not show the least signs of unabated vigor at the time of their death, although one of them was considerably older than Tadeo. And last, though not least, the renowned zambo general, Sotillo, the pet bull-dog of the family, to which, however, he bears no other relationship than that existing among rogues of the same stamp: although then in his eightieth year, he was able to carry on a successful partisan warfare against the existing government. Without a roof to shelter him, and no other equipment of war than the lance and horse, this savage chieftain, for such he is by birth and education, has set at defiance all the forces sent in his pursuit, and nearly brought the country to the verge of barbarism in his strivings to uphold the iniquitous claims of this rapacious family. Fierce in looks and menacing in tone, with a head more like a polar bear than a South American savage, he has become for a long time the terror of the eastern provinces, which are in constant dread of his sudden attacks—now cutting off small detachments of troops and defenceless individuals, now retreating to his fastness amidst the arid plains of the Alto Llano at the approach of a superior force. He has even succeeded in defeating such on two or three occasions by his cunning manœuvring and the rapidity of his movements. During half a century, his favorite occupation has been hunting wild cattle and waging a guerilla warfare against society, which too often has been compelled to yield to the savage demands of this Bedouin of the Llanos.

Having partaken of a substantial breakfast, we bade adieu to our kind host, and again betook ourselves to our long and weary journey across the Pampas. Descending to the plain, stretching for a thousand miles to the foot of the Bolivian Andes, we at once entered into an entirely different country, showing unmistakable proofs of a diluvial origin. The soil, mostly a mixture of clay and sand, no longer offended the feet of our horses with those extensive beds of pebbles so trying to the poor beasts. The vegetation, also, whenever favored by some accident of the ground, showed a marked difference in character. The thorny mimosas, which only thrive in a gravelly soil, here disappeared altogether, and were replaced by dense groves of laurel and other balsamiferous trees. The Copernicia palms, so extensively used for thatching and other economic purposes, re-appeared at first in a few scattered clumps, and afterwards in countless multitudes, literally closing the perspective with their tall, slender trunks. This beautiful palm is known in the country under various names, according to the uses made of its separate parts. These are almost as numerous as the leaves of its dense, symmetrical foliage. Thus, by the rural architect of the Llanos, it is called palma de cobija—thatch palm. When its leaves are plaited and neatly braided into hats that never wear out, it bears the name palma de sombrero; and when the same are employed in driving off the myriads of flies that infest the premises, or in fanning the heated dweller in those regions, it is called palma abanico; and so on through a long catalogue.

A house thatched with this palm is not only impervious to the pouring showers of the tropics, but against fire also, as it is nearly incombustible: a hot coal dropped on it will only burn slowly where it falls, without spreading or raising any flame. It is, moreover, very durable and cool throughout the hottest months. All the fences and corrals of the region where it abounds are made of the entire trunks of this palm, while the cattle find a grateful shelter under its dense shade. The slowness of its growth, observable even after centuries have elapsed, is another curious peculiarity of this palm. When Europeans first penetrated this wild region, they found extensive tracks covered with low, apparently stunted plants, a few inches only above ground. According to the recollection of the oldest inhabitants, of whom there are many in the country, as I have already stated, these dwarfish palm forests have not altered very perceptibly during their lives. It must therefore have taken a full-grown plant thousands of years to attain the height of twenty feet, which is their average size.

Emerging from these extensive palmares—palm forests—we again found ourselves in the midst of the boundless plain, assuming here as desolate an aspect as if fire had passed over its entire surface, a dreary waste of dried-up swamps, parched by the burning sun. Dismal tracts of these terroneros, as they are termed, lay before us, having the appearance of an extensive honey-comb, over which our jaded beasts stumbled at every step, increasing our weariness to a state almost bordering on desperation. The action of the rains washing the earth from around the grass tufts, which are afterwards parched and hardened by the heat of the sun, leaves the surface of the ground covered with numerous little clumps of indurated clay, so closely packed that there was no footing for the animals.

Even the cattle seemed to have forsaken this inhospitable region, for, with the exception of a few stragglers, there were no signs of animation. Most of the cattle are transferred at this season to the fertile shores of the Apure and Portuguesa; or they abandon of their own accord these dreary wastes for well-known streams where they allay their thirst. Ours was intense on this occasion, while the tantalizing mirage, that singular atmospheric phenomenon so peculiar to arid deserts, haunted us incessantly with its rippling, vapory phantom, a feeling in which our poor beasts seemed to participate, as with outstretched necks and ears they snuffed in vain the far horizon in search of the reviving element. By an unpardonable oversight, our men had neglected to fill their gourds with water, and now we felt the want of it.

These scenes have been described so graphically by the eloquent pen of Humboldt, in his “Tableaux de la Nature,” that I will not attempt it further, but refer my reader to the following:

“When under the vertical rays of the never-clouded sun, the carbonized tufty covering falls into dust, the indurated soil cracks asunder as if from the shock of an earthquake. If at such times two opposing currents of air, whose conflicts produce a rotary motion, come in contact with the soil, the plain assumes a strange and singular aspect. Like conical-shaped clouds, the points of which descend to the earth, the sand rises through the rarified air in the electrically charged centre of the whirling current, resembling the loud waterspout dreaded by the experienced mariner. The lowering sky sheds a dim, almost straw-colored light on the desolate plain; the horizon draws suddenly near; the steppe seems to contract, and with it the heart of the wanderer. The hot, dusty particles which fill the air, increase its suffocating heat, and the east wind blowing over the long-heated soil brings with it no refreshment, but rather a still more burning glow. The pools, which the yellow, fading branches of the fan palm had protected from evaporation, now gradually disappear. As in the icy north the animals become torpid with cold, so here, under the influence of the parching drought, the crocodile and the boa become motionless and fall asleep, deeply buried in the dry mud. Everywhere the death-threatening drought prevails, and yet, by the play of the refracted rays of light producing the phenomenon of the mirage, the thirsty traveller is everywhere pursued by the illusive image of a cool, rippling, watery mirror. The distant palm bush, apparently raised by the influence of the contact of unequally heated, and therefore unequally dense strata of air, hovers above the ground, from which it is separated by a narrow intervening margin.”

Indeed, so perfect was this illusion of the mirage, that on one occasion Mr. Thomas and myself were entirely deceived by the appearance of a beautiful lake which we prepared to sketch. But what was our surprise when, on climbing a tree to obtain a better view, the phantom disappeared as if by magic! This occurs whenever the spectator places himself above the line of the natural horizon.

At length we reached a solitary pool of muddy water in the midst of the savanna, which was hailed with joy by man and beast; but, on nearer inspection, the thirsty travellers were seized with disgust and disappointment on seeing several dead and dying animals embedded in the mud. These quagmires form extensive barriers in some places, especially in dried-up creeks where hundreds of animals perish every year, being unable to extricate themselves from the adhesive quality of the clay. At our approach two hideous alligators rushed into the pond, and thus the scanty portion that had not been disturbed by the tramping of animals was in a moment thickened like the rest. However, there being no other alternative, we were compelled to follow the example of our sturdy Llaneros, who proceeded without much consideration to dip their calabashes into that species of mud soup; then covering the mouths of the totumas with our handkerchiefs, we sucked through them this miserable substitute for water.

About noon we descried a speck in the horizon, looking like a sail at sea. Increasing in size as we neared it, it soon appeared to be a solitary mound or promontory; by degrees it assumed more distinctness, finally presenting to our view all the luxuriance of tropical vegetation. This was the Mata de San Pedro, a sort of island grove of splendid forest trees, which, like a veritable oasis, stood in the midst of those desert plains, a relief to the parched and wayworn traveller. Mata is the name by which the natives designate these lovely gems of the Pampas, no less cherished than are those of the famed African Desert by the wearied caravan; like them, they receive appropriate names from some peculiarity of feature or other trivial cause, as Mata Gorda, Mata Redonda, &c. But whatever be the name, all hail with joy these verdant bowers, a cool retreat to every species of animal in summer, and a safe refuge during the season of floods, for, being somewhat higher than the surrounding country, they are rarely overflowed by the periodical inundations.

It was entirely dark on our arrival at the Mata, and we were then so weary that there was little inclination evinced to make any preparations for supper, and we were also greatly in need of water. Although the earth was parched by the long drought, Providence has placed a few feet below the surface an unlimited supply of the purest water. This can be obtained at any time by merely digging for it with a wooden pole sharpened at one end. In the present instance we were spared this trouble, as some of our people, well acquainted with the place, knew where one of these primitive wells could be found. Our first business, therefore, was to seek for the jagüey in spite of the deadly rattlesnakes said to abound there. From this we obtained sufficient water for ourselves and riding horses, the other animals being left to shift for themselves, always under the close vigilance, however, of the watchmen appointed for the night. These men had a hard task: apart from the fatigue of keeping awake and on horseback all night, they were in constant fear of a sudden stampede among the horses, which not unfrequently occurs. To provide against a contretemps of the sort, those in immediate use were secured nightly by straps attached to the feet, which prevented their straying far from the camp.