ChimborazoChimborazo.CHAPTERXVI.There are few places in the world more remarkable than Quito. It lies nearly under the equator, yet, being more than 9,000 feet above the level of the sea, it has a climate like that of our June during the whole year. The face of nature seems to be covered with perpetual bloom. While some of the peopleare sowing their wheat, others are harvesting theirs.The city of Quito is itself built upon the skirt of the volcanic mountain of Pichinca. It is a fine city, with many elegant buildings, though the streets are irregular, and arches are frequently necessary in order to cross the yawning chasms created by the eruptions of the mountain.In a southerly direction, at the distance of about a hundred miles, is the celebrated peak of Chimborazo. It is 21,440 feet in height, and is capped with everlasting snow. In a clear day, I could see this sublime mountain, seeming like a thin blue cloud, and appearing almost to blend with the distant sky. I had now given up every hope of meeting with my uncle, and thought only of finding my way back to Guiana. An opportunity was soon offered for setting out for my return. Three Spanish travellers were about to proceed to Assumption on the Pilcomayo, and then descend the Amazon to its mouth. Balbo and myself were engaged as servants, and we speedily set forward.We crossed the mountains on mules, sometimes employing llamas for carrying our baggage. These animals are about twice the size of the sheep, and have a gentleness of character that seems to win kindness from every one. They have indeed one habit which seems incompatible with their general course of non-resistance; for if you offend them, they will spit in your face. Yet they cannot endure chastisement. They will perform the utmost labor of which they are capable; but if you strike them in order to urge them beyond this, they will lie down and die.In a fortnight we reached the small town of Assumpcion. We here embarked upon the Amazon in a boat, being liberally provided with everything needful for our voyage.After a diversity of incidents, we reached the town of Barra, just below the point where the Rio Negro enters the Amazon. We here parted with our bateau and joining some other travellers, hired a larger craft and proceeded on our way. The weather was exceedingly hot, and several of our company were taken sick, and the Spaniard in whose service I was engaged, died of fever. Proceeding to the shore, which at this point was occupied with impenetrable forests, we made a grave in the earth, and left the body to its solitary repose.Among the strangers who had joined us at Barra was a gentleman who appeared marked with care and bowed with years. He was now among the sick, and I was engaged as his attendant. He had caught the fever common to this climate, and it seemed rapidly advancing to its crisis. We had no physician on board, but the stranger seemed competent to give directions, and these I scrupulously followed. At last we came to a small settlement on the banks of the river, and he concluded to be set on shore, in order to obtain medical aid, and have the comforts necessary to his condition. I went with him to his lodgings, and saw him placed in his new quarters.I had felt an interest in him from thebeginning, and I now offered to continue with him, at the same time expressing my desire to return to Paramaribo. The name seemed to excite his curiosity, and he looked me steadily in the face for a moment. “Are you going to Paramaribo?” said he. I replied in the affirmative. “I was going thither myself,” said he, “but I may never reach that place. Take this, young man, and on your arrival, deliver it according to its address.” He then handed me a parcel, and as I took it, I saw upon it the name of M. Scager.At this moment an agitating thought took possession of my mind. “Who—what is this stranger? May it not after all be the individual whom I have sought so long?” Struck with this suggestion, I gazed at the sick man with such intensity as to attract his attention. “What is the matter, young man?” said he. “Oh, tell me, sir, tell me your name. For heaven’s sake tell me your name,” said I. The stranger rose from his pillow, and with a startled aspect demanded, “Why this curiosity? what mean these questions?”“Pray sir,” said I, “are you not my uncle?” The sick man leaned back upon his pillow, and with a broad smile upon his countenance as if I had said something exceedingly ludicrous, replied, “I think not; but what is your name?” “Richard Boldhero,” said I. The stranger once more rose from his pillow, saying, “Indeed, indeed, Richard Boldhero?” “Yes, yes,” said I, “and you are my father’s brother—I know you now—you are indeed my uncle.”I need not describe the remainder of the scene. The object of my long search was found. For seven weeks I watched by his bedside, during which period he seemed hovering betwixt life and death. By slow degrees he recovered, and in due time we took passage down the river, and at last reached its mouth. I had now traversed nearly the whole length of this giant stream—a distance of about 3,500 miles.At Mazago we took passage in a brig for Paramaribo, and in two weeks we reached that place. During our voyage, my uncle gave me an account of his life after his departure from thence. He had settled for a time at Valparaiso, and had acquired a considerable amount of property. This he converted into cash, and remitted it to Mr. Hartley, for the purpose of discharging his debts, as we have already related. Since that period, he had led an unsettled life, being engaged at different times in various enterprises. Finding himself advancing into the vale of years, a desire to return to the scenes of his youth took possession of his mind, and when I met him, he was on his way to fulfil this wish. He had not heard of the turn of fortune in his favor, but considered his name as still disgraced in Paramaribo. It may be readily believed that the information I gave him brought back the sunshine which had long departed from his bosom.I must pass over my own meeting with Mirabel as well as that of her father. The imagination of the reader will doubtless do better justice to the scene than any words I can supply. I had been absent a year and eleven months, and during that period had often suffered the deepest anxiety for my mother and sister. I now found letters fromwell, and enjoying as much happiness as their humble condition would permit. In a few weeks I set out to return to Connecticut, my uncle having promised soon to follow me, and bring Mirabel with him.I reached home in due season, and four months after, his promise was fulfilled. He settled at Middletown, having recovered a sum of money sufficient to make him wealthy from the insurance company that had inflicted upon him such gross injustice and so many sorrows. On hearing the conduct of Dexter to my father, he caused a suit to be instituted against him, in the course of which, it was proved that he had been guilty of embezzling property belonging to the concern. He was obliged to pay a large sum to my mother, and his own reputation which he had built up with such hypocritical care, was blasted forever.In the course of my life, viewing the hard fortune of my father and my uncle, I had sometimes distrusted the justice of Providence; but I now saw that the persecutors of both had been made to suffer the severest retribution. With this reflection I must close my story, only adding that Mirabel no longer calls me cousin, but many years ago exchanged that pleasant title for one of a still dearer character.“Letus remove temptation from the path of youth,” as the frog said when he plunged in a pond, at seeing a boy pick up a stone.Hewho swims in sin will sink in sorrow.
ChimborazoChimborazo.
Chimborazo.
CHAPTERXVI.
There are few places in the world more remarkable than Quito. It lies nearly under the equator, yet, being more than 9,000 feet above the level of the sea, it has a climate like that of our June during the whole year. The face of nature seems to be covered with perpetual bloom. While some of the peopleare sowing their wheat, others are harvesting theirs.
The city of Quito is itself built upon the skirt of the volcanic mountain of Pichinca. It is a fine city, with many elegant buildings, though the streets are irregular, and arches are frequently necessary in order to cross the yawning chasms created by the eruptions of the mountain.
In a southerly direction, at the distance of about a hundred miles, is the celebrated peak of Chimborazo. It is 21,440 feet in height, and is capped with everlasting snow. In a clear day, I could see this sublime mountain, seeming like a thin blue cloud, and appearing almost to blend with the distant sky. I had now given up every hope of meeting with my uncle, and thought only of finding my way back to Guiana. An opportunity was soon offered for setting out for my return. Three Spanish travellers were about to proceed to Assumption on the Pilcomayo, and then descend the Amazon to its mouth. Balbo and myself were engaged as servants, and we speedily set forward.
We crossed the mountains on mules, sometimes employing llamas for carrying our baggage. These animals are about twice the size of the sheep, and have a gentleness of character that seems to win kindness from every one. They have indeed one habit which seems incompatible with their general course of non-resistance; for if you offend them, they will spit in your face. Yet they cannot endure chastisement. They will perform the utmost labor of which they are capable; but if you strike them in order to urge them beyond this, they will lie down and die.
In a fortnight we reached the small town of Assumpcion. We here embarked upon the Amazon in a boat, being liberally provided with everything needful for our voyage.
After a diversity of incidents, we reached the town of Barra, just below the point where the Rio Negro enters the Amazon. We here parted with our bateau and joining some other travellers, hired a larger craft and proceeded on our way. The weather was exceedingly hot, and several of our company were taken sick, and the Spaniard in whose service I was engaged, died of fever. Proceeding to the shore, which at this point was occupied with impenetrable forests, we made a grave in the earth, and left the body to its solitary repose.
Among the strangers who had joined us at Barra was a gentleman who appeared marked with care and bowed with years. He was now among the sick, and I was engaged as his attendant. He had caught the fever common to this climate, and it seemed rapidly advancing to its crisis. We had no physician on board, but the stranger seemed competent to give directions, and these I scrupulously followed. At last we came to a small settlement on the banks of the river, and he concluded to be set on shore, in order to obtain medical aid, and have the comforts necessary to his condition. I went with him to his lodgings, and saw him placed in his new quarters.
I had felt an interest in him from thebeginning, and I now offered to continue with him, at the same time expressing my desire to return to Paramaribo. The name seemed to excite his curiosity, and he looked me steadily in the face for a moment. “Are you going to Paramaribo?” said he. I replied in the affirmative. “I was going thither myself,” said he, “but I may never reach that place. Take this, young man, and on your arrival, deliver it according to its address.” He then handed me a parcel, and as I took it, I saw upon it the name of M. Scager.
At this moment an agitating thought took possession of my mind. “Who—what is this stranger? May it not after all be the individual whom I have sought so long?” Struck with this suggestion, I gazed at the sick man with such intensity as to attract his attention. “What is the matter, young man?” said he. “Oh, tell me, sir, tell me your name. For heaven’s sake tell me your name,” said I. The stranger rose from his pillow, and with a startled aspect demanded, “Why this curiosity? what mean these questions?”
“Pray sir,” said I, “are you not my uncle?” The sick man leaned back upon his pillow, and with a broad smile upon his countenance as if I had said something exceedingly ludicrous, replied, “I think not; but what is your name?” “Richard Boldhero,” said I. The stranger once more rose from his pillow, saying, “Indeed, indeed, Richard Boldhero?” “Yes, yes,” said I, “and you are my father’s brother—I know you now—you are indeed my uncle.”
I need not describe the remainder of the scene. The object of my long search was found. For seven weeks I watched by his bedside, during which period he seemed hovering betwixt life and death. By slow degrees he recovered, and in due time we took passage down the river, and at last reached its mouth. I had now traversed nearly the whole length of this giant stream—a distance of about 3,500 miles.
At Mazago we took passage in a brig for Paramaribo, and in two weeks we reached that place. During our voyage, my uncle gave me an account of his life after his departure from thence. He had settled for a time at Valparaiso, and had acquired a considerable amount of property. This he converted into cash, and remitted it to Mr. Hartley, for the purpose of discharging his debts, as we have already related. Since that period, he had led an unsettled life, being engaged at different times in various enterprises. Finding himself advancing into the vale of years, a desire to return to the scenes of his youth took possession of his mind, and when I met him, he was on his way to fulfil this wish. He had not heard of the turn of fortune in his favor, but considered his name as still disgraced in Paramaribo. It may be readily believed that the information I gave him brought back the sunshine which had long departed from his bosom.
I must pass over my own meeting with Mirabel as well as that of her father. The imagination of the reader will doubtless do better justice to the scene than any words I can supply. I had been absent a year and eleven months, and during that period had often suffered the deepest anxiety for my mother and sister. I now found letters fromwell, and enjoying as much happiness as their humble condition would permit. In a few weeks I set out to return to Connecticut, my uncle having promised soon to follow me, and bring Mirabel with him.
I reached home in due season, and four months after, his promise was fulfilled. He settled at Middletown, having recovered a sum of money sufficient to make him wealthy from the insurance company that had inflicted upon him such gross injustice and so many sorrows. On hearing the conduct of Dexter to my father, he caused a suit to be instituted against him, in the course of which, it was proved that he had been guilty of embezzling property belonging to the concern. He was obliged to pay a large sum to my mother, and his own reputation which he had built up with such hypocritical care, was blasted forever.
In the course of my life, viewing the hard fortune of my father and my uncle, I had sometimes distrusted the justice of Providence; but I now saw that the persecutors of both had been made to suffer the severest retribution. With this reflection I must close my story, only adding that Mirabel no longer calls me cousin, but many years ago exchanged that pleasant title for one of a still dearer character.
“Letus remove temptation from the path of youth,” as the frog said when he plunged in a pond, at seeing a boy pick up a stone.
Hewho swims in sin will sink in sorrow.