After Darkness Had
Cast Its Sombre Mantle Upon Us, We Left The
"East Pass" Entrance To The Left, And Our
Boats
hurried on the rapidly ebbing tide down the broad
"West Pass" into the great marshes of the coast.
An
Hour later we emerged from the dark forest
into the smooth savannas. The freshness of the
sea-air was exhilarating The stars were shining
softly, and the ripple of the tide, the call of the
heron, or the whirr of the frightened duck, and
the leaping of fishes from the water, were the
only sounds nature offered us. It was like
entering another world. In these lowlands, near the
mouth of the river, there seemed to be but one
place above the high-tide level. It was a little
hammock, covered by a few trees, called
Bradford's Island, and rose like an oasis in the desert.
The swift tide hurried along its shores, and a
little farther on mingled the waters of the great
wilderness with that of the sea.
Our tired party landed on a shelly beach, and
burned a grassy area to destroy sand-fleas. This
done, some built a large camp-fire, while others
spread blankets upon the ground. I drew the
faithful sharer of my long voyage near a thicket
of prickly-pears, and slept beside it for the last
time, never thinking or dreaming that one year
later I should approach the mouth of the
Suwanee from the west, after a long voyage of
twenty-five hundred miles from the bead of the Ohio
River, and would again seek shelter on its banks.
It was a night of sweet repose. The camp-fire
dissipated the damps, and the long row made
rest welcome.
A glorious morning broke upon our party as
we breakfasted under the shady palms of the
island. Behind us rose the compact wall of
dark green of the heavy forests, and along the
coast, from east to west, as far as the eye could
reach, were the brownish-green savanna-like
lowlands, against which beat, in soft murmurs,
the waves of that sea I had so longed to reach.
From out the broad marshes arose low
hammocks, green with pines and feathery with
palmetto-trees. Clouds of mist were rising, and
while I watched them melt away in the warm
beams of the morning sun, I thought they were
like the dark doubts which curled themselves
about me so long ago in the cold St. Lawrence,
now all melted by the joy of success. The
snowclad north was now behind me. The Maria
Theresa danced in the shimmering waters of
the great southern sea, and my heart was light,
for my voyage was over.
[ Etext Editor: The book includes an advertisement for Bishop's previous book:
A Thousand Miles' Walk Across South America, N. H. Bishop ]
THE PAMPAS AND ANDES: A THOUSAND MILES' WALK ACROSS SOUTH AMERICA.
BY NATHANIEL H. BISHOP.
12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Price, $1.50
- -
Notices of the Work.
His Excellency Don Domingo F. Sarmiento, President of the Argentine
Confederation, South America, in a letter written to the author during 1877. says: "Your book of
travels possesses the merit of reality in the faithful descriptions of scenes and customs as
they existed at that time.
"It has delighted me to follow you, step by step by the side of the ancient and
picturesque carts that cross the vast plains which stretch between the Parana River and the
base of the Andes. As I have written about the same region, your book of travels
becomes a valuable reminder of those scenes; and I shall have to consult your work in the
future when I again write about those countries."
-
"Nathaniel H. Bishop, a mere lad of seventeen; who, prompted by a love of nature,
starts off from his New England home, reaches the La Plata River and coolly walks to
Valparaiso, across Pampa and Cordillera, a distance of more than a thousand miles! It
is not the mere fact of pedestrianism that will gain for Master Nathaniel Bishop a high
place among travellers; nor yet the fact of its having been done in the face of dangers
and difficulties, - but that, throughout the walk, he has gone with his eyes open, and
gives us a book, written at seventeen, that will make him renowned at seventy. It is
teeming with information, both on social and natural subjects, end will take rank among
books of scientific travel - the only ones worth inquiring for. One chapter from the
book of an educated traveller (we don't mean the education of Oxford and Cambridge) is
worth volumes of the stuff usually forming the staple of books of travels. And in this
unpretending book of the Yankee boy - for its preface is signally of this sort - we have
scores of such chapters. The title is not altogether appropriate. It is called 'A
Thousand Miles' Walk across South America.' It is more than a mere walk. It is an
exploration into the kingdom of Nature.
"Sir Francis Head has gone over the same ground on horseback, end given us a good
account of it. But this quiet 'walk' of the American boy is worth infinitely more than
the 'Rough Rides' of the British baronet. The one is common talk and superficial
observation. The other is a study that extends beneath the surface." - Captain Mayne
Reid.
-
"Regarded simply as a piece of adventure, this were interesting, especially when told
of in a tone of delightful modesty. But the book has other recommendations. This
boy has an admirable eye for manners, customs, costumes, &c., to say nothing of his
attention to natural history. The reader seems to travel by his side, and concludes the
book with a sense of having himself trodden the Pampas, and mingled with their
barbarous inhabitants. So far as writing goes, this is the supreme merit of a book of
travels. Let those explore who not only see for themselves, but have the rare ability to lend
their eyes to others.
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