s experiences
made him famous. He also travelled in the United States
and the Antilles, then in Holland, Belgium, Switzerland,
Italy, and Sicily. Besides his "Wanderings in South
America" he wrote an attractive volume entitled "Natural
History: Essays."

In the month of April, 1812, I left the town of Stabroek, to travel
through the wilds of Demerara and Essequibo, a part of _ci-devant_ Dutch
Guiana, in South America. The chief objects in view were to collect a
quantity of the strongest Wourali poison, and to reach the inland
frontier fort of Portuguese Guiana.

It would be a tedious journey for him who wishes to proceed through
those wilds, to set out from Stabroek on foot. The sun would exhaust him
in his attempts to wade through the swamps, and the mosquitoes at night
would deprive him of every hour of sleep. The road for horses runs
parallel to the river, but it extends a very little way, and even ends
before the cultivation of the plantation ceases.

The only mode then that remains is to travel by water; and when you come
to the high lands, you make your way through the forest on foot, or
continue your route on the river. After passing the third island in the
river Demerara, there are few plantations to be seen, and those are not
joining on to one another, but separated by large tracts of wood. The
first rocks of any considerable size are at a place called Saba, from
the Indian word which means a stone. Near the top of Saba stands the
house of the postholder, appointed by government to report to the
protector of the Indians, of what is going on among them; and to prevent
suspicious people from passing up the river.

When the Indians assemble here, the stranger may have an opportunity of
seeing the aborigines, dancing to the sound of their country music, and
painted in their native style. They will shoot their arrows for him with
unerring aim and send the poisoned dart, from the blowpipe, true to its
destination.

This is the native country of the sloth. His looks, his gestures, his
cries, all conspire to entreat you to take pity on him. These are the
only weapons of defence nature has given him. It is said his piteous
moans make the tiger cat relent and turn out of his way. Do not then
level your gun at him, or pierce him with a poisoned arrow;--he has
never hurt one living creature. A few leaves, and those of the commonest
and coarsest kind, are all he asks for his support.

Demerara yields to no