of my youth came back in all of its freshness: I had my own boat, and for companions a descendant of an aboriginal prince, the possessor of a mysterious talisman, devotedly attached to me, half friend, half protector, and a second strange Indian, from some unknown interior, silent as the unwilling genii whom the powerful spell of Solyman kept in obedience to the weird necromancers of the East.

A pleasant start, the delights of which were by no means detracted from by an abundant supper in the evening upon delicious oysters collected by Antonio; fish with ugly names, such as the Americans delight in-snooks and groupers-but of excellent flavour, speared by the Poyer boy, and cooked to a charm in an extemporised oven in the sand; and lastly, a dozen broiled curlews, shot by our hero himself.

But night in the tropics is not always so pleasant as day. A fire had been lit to keep off as many mosquitoes as possible--all was out of the question-but it only turned a double column of soldier crabs upon Mr. Bard, who awoke with the sensation of innumerable objects, with sharp claws and cold bodies, crawling over him. When he got up they clung to his skirts in myriads.

A small river flows into the centre of the second large lagoon going north from Bluefields, and upon it is a Mosquito village called Wasswatla, whither our traveller directed his canoe, and where he was hospitably received by the village chief—as usual, a bloated, drunken Sambo. Some French creoles had founded a once-flourishing establishment here, but they had all perished, and the house and plantations were going to ruin. No one even remained to succeed to the property.

After a turtle-fishing excursion came a night at the northern end of the lake in the rain, with clouds of mosquitoes and sand-flies, and a forest full of tree-toads piping dolefully. Antonio predicted that the rain would continue for a week, so they pushed on by sea to the Rio Grande, and got over the bar just in time, for "half an hour afterwards the great waves broke on the very spot in clouds of spray, and with the noise of thunder." Here, upon a knoll or bank, sheltered by large trees, they constructed a tent of palmetto leaves, under which to abide the temporal or week's rain; and after ten days of miserable detention they succeeded in reaching a village of Woolwa Indians, who received them hospitably. These Indians detest the Sambos or Mosquitos; but while they are said to deny the authority of the king, they still send down annually a certain quantity of sarsaparilla, maize, and other articles, as the traditionary price of being let alone. Here Mr. Bard stayed two weeks, diversifying his repasts on fowls, plantains, guava, and other fruits, with hunting the manitus or sea-cow, and then he started by sea for Snook Creek, from which point the lagoons extend to Cape Gracias. The first night, however, was spent on an island in the river, where no rest was to be obtained from the noise made by wild animals. This portion of Mr. Bard's narrative is like a page out of De Humboldt.

The moon was out, and the evening was exceedingly beautiful-so beautiful, indeed, that I might have fallen into heroics, had it not been for a most infernal concert kept up by wild animals on the river's banks. I at first supposed that all the ferocious beasts of the forest had congregated, preparatory to a general fight, and comforted myself that we were separated from them by the river. There were unearthly groans, and angry snarls, and shrieks, so like those af

human beings in distress as to send a thrill through every nerve. At times the noises seemed blended, and became sullen and distant, and then so sharp and near that I could hardly persuade myself they were not produced on the island itself. I should have passed the night in alarm, had not Antonio been there to explain to me that most, if not all these sounds came from what the Spaniards call the mono colorado," or howling monkey. I afterwards saw a specimen—a large, ugly beast, of a dirty, brick-red colour, with a long beard, but otherwise like an African baboon. Different from most other monkeys, they remain in nearly the same places, and have favourite trees, in which an entire troop will take up its quarters at night, and open a horrible serenade, that never fails to fill the mind of the inexperienced traveller with the most dismal fancies. Notwithstanding Antonio's explanations, they so disturbed my slumbers that I got up about midnight, and, going down to the edge of the water, fired both barrels of my gun in the direction of the greatest noise. But I advise no one to try a similar experiment. All the water-birds and wild fowl roosting in the trees gave a sudden flutter, and set up responsive croaks and screams, from which the monkeys seemed to derive great encouragement, and redoubled their howling. I was glad when the unwonted commotion ceased, and the denizens of the forest relapsed again into their chronic serenade.

A large proportion of tropical animals are emphatically "children of the night." It is at night that the tiger and maneless Mexican lion leave their lairs, and range the dense forests in pursuit of their prey, rousing the peccary and tapir from their haunts, and sending them to seek refuge in the thickets, where crashing of bushes and splashings in hidden pools testify to the blind fear of the pursued, and the fierce instincts of the pursuers. A sudden plunge of the alligator from the banks will startle the wild birds from the overhanging trees, and in an instant the forest resounds to the wild cries of the tiger, the plaints of the frightened monkeys, and the shrieks and croaks of the numerous waterfowl; while the wakeful traveller starts up and hastily grasps his faithful gun, surprised to find the wilderness, which was so still and slumberous under the noonday heats, now terrible with savage and warring life.

Missing Snook Creek, they were obliged to make for the Prinza-pulka entrance into the lagoons. This was an estuary, lined as usual with an impenetrable forest of mangroves, covered with flocks of white and rosecoloured ibis. Some distance up the creek was the village of Quamwatla, inhabited by Sambos, who had lately had a quarrel with some Americans, and who, suspecting Mr. Bard's origin, determined upon making away with him. The adventures that followed were of the most exciting description. First there was the difficulty of getting away at all, and even when this was accomplished, they were pursued by the Sambo canoes, and an encounter took place.

It was now near night, and the shadows gathered so darkly over the narrow stream that we could see nothing distinctly. On we went, stealthily and watchfully. We had reached the darkest covert on the creek, a short distance above its junction with the river, when a large canoe shot from the bank across our bows, with the evident purpose of intercepting us. At the same instant a flight of arrows whizzed past us, one or two striking in the canoe, while the others spattered the water close by. I at once commenced firing my revolver, while Antonio, seizing the long manitee-spear, sprang to the bow. At the same instant our canoe struck the opposing boat, as the saying is, "head on," crushing in its rotten sides, and swamping it in a moment. Antonio gave a wild shout of triumph, driving his spear at the struggling wretches, some of whom endea voured to save themselves by climbing into our canoe. I heard the dull tchug of the lance as it struck the body of one of the victims, and, with a sickening sensation, cried to the Poyer, who had also seized a lance to join in the slaughter, to resume his paddle. He did so, and in a few seconds we were clear of the

scene of our encounter, and gliding away in the darkness. I caught a glimpse of the struggling figures clinging to their shattered boat, and uttering the wildest cries of alarm and distress. The quick ear of Antonio caught responsive shouts, and it soon became evident that we had been followed by boats from the village.

Convinced that they would be further pursued, and if overtaken borne down by numbers, they resolved upon the almost desperate alternative of making up the river into the interior. Whilst thus effecting their escape, a storm came on, and the lightning revealed another canoe in search of them.

A moment after the heavens again glowed with the lightnings, glaring on the dark breast of the river, and revealing, but a few yards in advance of us, the hostile canoe, returning from what its occupants no doubt regarded as a hopeless pursuit. Their loud shout of savage defiance and joy was cut short by the heavy roll of the thunder, and, an instant after, the bows of our boats came together. They glanced apart, and I was nearly thrown from my balance into the water, for I had risen, the more surely to pour the contents of my gun into the midst of our assailants. Another shout followed the shock, and I heard the arrows, shot at random in the darkness, hiss past our heads. I reserved my fire until the lightning should fall to guide my aim. I had not long to wait; a third flash revealed the opposing boat; I saw that it was filled with men, and that in their midst stood the treacherous head man of the village. The flash of my gun, and that of the lightning, so far as human senses could discern, were simultaneous; yet instantaneous as the whole transaction must have been, I saw my victim fall, and heard his body plunge in the water before the report had been caught up by the echo, or drowned by the thunder. I shall never forget the shriek of terror and of rage that rung out from that boat to swell the angry discord of the elements. Even now it often startles me from my sleep. But then it inspired me with the wildest joy; I shouted back triumphantly, and tossed my arms exultingly in the face of the unblenching darkness. A few more arrows, a couple of musket-shots, fired at random towards us, and the combat was over. We heard wails and groans, but they grew fainter and more distant, showing that our enemies were dropping down the river. Another flash of lightning disclosed them drifting along the bank, and beyond the reach of our weapons.

This last conflict delivered them from their enemies; they were safe in an unknown mesh of lagoons and rivers. But still fearing further pursuit, they sought for a secluded creek, up which, in a clump of fragrant pines, they formed a little encampment as a place of refuge. There were no want of resources in their seclusion. Palm wine, cocoanuts, cabbage palm, quails, and fat currassows abounded close at hand. They also killed a gigantic tapir-not, however, without a sharp struggle. The greatest drawbacks to the pleasures of this swampy hiding-place were the ants; they were innumerable, and of many kinds and various habits. Some ate up the provisions, others had an insatiable appetite for boots and clothes, and others had a bite like the prick of a red-hot needle.

On the afternoon of the eighth day, the moon having reached her last quarter, they started once more on their journey, paddling away by night, and by daytime making into the first opening in the mangroves that held out promise of concealment. At length they reached the Tongla Lagoon, and weary of dodging the Sambos, they sailed boldly across. This was, however, followed by bad consequences. Human habitations

and boats soon came in sight. Some of the latter put off, well manned, after our traveller's little canoe, and as pretty a chase ensued as ever probably came off on the Mosquito shore. At length the pursued got into a narrow mangrove creek, their pursuers after them. Their escape was almost miraculous. Antonio and the Poyer boy landed, to cut off their approach by felling mangrove trees.

Our pursuers heard the sound of the blows, and, no doubt comprehending what was going on, raised loud shouts, and redoubled their speed. Kling! kling! rang the machetes on the hard wood! Oh, how I longed to hear the crash of the falling trees! Soon one of them began to crackle-another blow, and down it fell, the trunk splashing gloriously in the water! Another crackle, a rapid rustling of branches, and another splash in the water! It was our turn to shout now!

I gave Antonio and the Poyer boy each a hearty embrace, as, dripping with water, they clambered back into our little boat. We now pushed a few yards up the stream, stopped close to the slimy bank, and awaited our pursuers. "Come on, now," I shouted, "and not one of you shall pass that rude barrier alive!"

The first boat ran boldly up to the fallen trees, but the discharge of a single barrel of my gun sent it back, precipitately, out of reach. We could distinguish a hurried conversation between the occupants of the first boat and of the second, when the latter came up. It did not last long, and when it stopped, Antonio, in a manner evincing more alarm than he had ever before exhibited, caught me by the arm, and explained hurriedly that the second boat was going back, and that the narrow creek in which we were no doubt communicated with the principal channel by a second mouth. While one boat was thus blockading us in front, the second was hastening to assail us in the rear! I comprehended the movement at once. Our deliberation was short, for our lives might depend upon an improvement of the minutes. Stealthily, scarce daring to breathe, yet with the utmost rapidity possible, we pushed up the creek. As Antonio had conjectured, it soon began to curve back towards the estuary. We had pursued our course perhaps ten or fifteen minutes-they seemed hours !-when we overheard the approach of the second boat. We at once drew ours close to the bank, in the gloomiest covert we could find. On came the boat, the paddlers, secure of the success of their device, straining themselves to the utmost. There was a moment of keen suspense, and, to our inexpressible relief, the boat passed by us. We now resumed our paddles, and hastened on our course. But before we entered the principal channel, my companions clambered into the overhanging mangroves, and in an incredibly short space of time had fallen other trees across the creek, so as completely to shut in the boat which had attempted to surprise us.

The device was successful; we soon emerged from the creek, and the seabreeze having now set in favourably to our course, we were able to put up our sail, and defy pursuit. We saw nothing afterwards of our eager friends of Tongla Lagoon!

The results of two days of wakefulness, hard labour, and excitement, were an attack of the fever of the country, which laid our traveller up for six days in a bivouac on the banks of the lake. During the same delay the Poyer boy was bit by a venomous snake while gathering wood, and cured by burying his arm for a whole night in the moist sand! From "Fever Camp" they reached a village of Towka Indians, where they were hospitably entertained. Here they rested themselves some time, Mr. Bard going out with his gun; but so abundant was game of various descriptions, that he only shot such as looked fat, tender, and otherwise acceptable to his now fastidious appetite. One sunny afternoon they

packed their little boat, and paddled down the river to Sandy Bay, next to Bluefields the principal Sambo establishment on the coast.

The town has something the appearance of Bluefields, and contains perhaps five hundred inhabitants, who affect "English fashion" in dress and modes of living. That is to say, many of them wear English hats, even when destitute of every other article of clothing, except the tournou, or breech-cloth. These hats are of styles running back for thirty years, and, moreover, crushed into a variety of shapes, which are infinitely ludicrous, especially when the wearers affect gravity or dignity. A naked man cannot make himself absolutely ridiculous, for nature never exposes her creations to humiliation; but the attempts at art, in making up the man on the Mosquito shore, I must confess, were melancholy failures.

The Sambos were all drunk, celebrating the arrival of an English trader. The chief, General Peter Slam, gave our traveller an uproarious reception, but an attack made by the English skipper upon an Indian who had not presented his fair return of income-tax, in the shape of turtleshells, roused the Yankee's ire, and involved him, the very first evening of his arrival, in a personal rencontre, of which he, having the tale to tell, had naturally the best, but the results of which were to considerably abbreviate his stay at the place; in other words, to induce him to take his departure as speedily as possible for Cape Gracias à Dios, so called by Columbus when, after a weary voyage, he gave "Thanks to God" for the happy discovery of this the extreme north-eastern angle of Central America. The town or village at this extreme point of the Mosquito coast presented no greater promise of progress or civilisation than Bluefields or Sandy Bay.

Between the shore and the village is a belt of thick bush, three or four hundred yards broad, through which are numerous narrow paths, difficult to pass, since the natives are too lazy to cut away the undergrowth and branches which obstruct them. The village itself is mean, dirty, and infested with hungry pigs, and snarling, mangy dogs. The huts are of the rudest description, and most of them unfitted for shelter against the rain. The only houses which had any pretensions to comfort, at the time of my visit, were the "King's house," another belonging to a German named Boucher, and that of my new friend H. The latter was boarded and shingled, and looked quite a palace after my experience of the preceding two months, in Mosquito architecture. Mr. H. made us very comfortable indeed. In addition to the numerous native products of the country, he had a liberal supply of foreign luxuries. As a trader he had, for many years, carried on quite a traffic with the Wanks River Indians, in deer-skins, sarsaparilla, and mahogany, and with the Sambos themselves in turtle-shells. And whatever nominal authority may have existed previously at the Cape, it was ob vious enough that he was now the de facto governor.

Here, having arrived at the extreme northerly point of the Mosquito shore, we might fairly leave our hero to make an ascent of the Cape river by himself, but for an adventure encountered among wild boar, descendants, it is supposed, of the common hog run wild, and called javalino by the Spaniards, and waree by the Mosquitos, to distinguish them from the native Mexican hog-the peccary, or savalino.

It was a pleasant afternoon, and I had strolled off with my gun in the direction of the plantain-patch, stopping occasionally to listen to the clear, flute-like notes of some unseen bird, or to watch a brilliant lizard, as it flashed across the grey stones. Thus sauntering carelessly along, my attention was suddenly arrested by a peculiar noise, as if of some animal, or rather of many animals