LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume IV, Issue 435, 4 November 1875, Page 3

LITERATURE.

A TRIP BY RAIL IN THE TROPICS. ( Concluded.) ‘ Weel, ye see, I was telling ye about the constructor,’ continued Mac (persisting in the u), ‘ and, mind ye, what I’m telling is a true bill.’ ‘Proceed, Mac; we’re all attention.’ ‘Weel, as I had the vermin safe by the neck, I didna fash myself very much beyond wonderin’ whether I would kill him or take' him home alive. Mind ye, all the time he was dabbin and dabbin’ at me, wi’ that forked tongue o’ his glintin’ in and out o’ his ugly mouth, like the telegraph needles. Kill him, thinks I. But first to swing himoff, for by this time he had the grip, and wasna like to yield. I soon found that there were twa to that game. Try as I might, my gentleman would not budge an inch. I tried my full strength, but na. I cried to Jenny to fetch something, for I was not far off the station, but she never heard. I was beginning not to like the way things were going, for the beast was grippin’ aye the closer, and the arm that held him was getting tired. Besides, the grip was round the other arm, which I could only move below the elbow. The beast was coiled over my left shouther, then round under my right arm, and then across rpy waist, bind, as I’ve told ye, my left arm. If once I let go I knew he would strangle me, and to tell the truth, I could not hold out much longer. I always carried a knife, which I knew was in the pocket of the flannel shirt I was wearing, and my only chance lay in getting at it. I could just reach it by bending my left arm, and I daurna let go the right. And as I fumbl’t and fumbl’t it gave me a terrible turn to find that the vermin had steekit my pocket as firm as if it had been sewn up, That made me grne. ’ ‘ Excuse me a moment, Mao,’ interrupted I. ‘ What do you mean by steekit?’ ‘ Steekit ? Weel, I fancy it’s the plain English for shut, or maybe closed. ’ ‘ Thank you, Mac; your Northern English is capital. But there was another—let me see’

‘ What ? “ Made me grue ?” ’ ‘ Ah, that’s it—“ made me grew.” What’s “ grew?”’

‘ Were ye ever in an ugly fix and didn’t know how to get out of it?’ returned Mac, characteristically.

‘Many a time,’ I replied; ‘and, indeed, such a fix as the one you are describing would have made my flesh creep.’ ‘That’s it,’ cried Mac; ‘it would have made ye grue. Wecl, I was just cornin’ to the bit when the gentleman interrupted me. My right wrist was getting weaker and weaker with holding the snake, and faith, the constructor knew it as he girned and hissed at me, and darted fire out o’ these ugly ecu o’ his. I was sair left to mysel. Thinks I: “ Mac, ye’ve got your match at last.” I didna care so much for my chest, for all his cuddlin’; but my throat, once round that, and I would have said: “Mac, ye’re a dead man!” All this time the vermin was trying to get to my throat, and as I found him winding up, the perspiration broke over me. What was to become o’ the wife and Jenny—and me awa ? That was an anxious thocht to me at the time. Weel, just as my gentleman was working for my throat wi’ his coils, he gave my pocket the slip, and left it free. 1 felt my arm growing strong again, “ Feel for the knife now, Mac,” says I to myself, and in two cracks it was in my hand—l know the brute thocht I was done —I unclasped the gully with my teeth, and in an instant after it was slipped in between him and my body, with the edge turned out.’ ‘ Just in time, Mac,’ said 1, ‘ for I think the snake was having the best of it.’

/ Ay, yo’re riclit there, sir; but if I got a fright, yon constructor got anither, for in a jiffie I had him in two halves ! I must h ve got an unco fleg; and the last thing I mind was something going off like a paper poke. When I came out o’ my dwam—for 1 had fainted right off—the vermin was bye with it—past any more capers—and Jenny says to this day, I may be thankfu’ the beast didna stang me. But now, gentlemen, it’s time we were moving towards the station, if you wish to catch the next train. ’ So, after thanking our solitary host and

bidding him adieu, we wound our way back again to the railway, and just as the train was moving off, with us cosily seated in the van, Mac whispered; ‘ If ever ye’re in Tillicoultry, just speer for’ But what followed was drowned by noise, and so we left Mac and his wife and comely daughter, and proceeded on our way. Paraiso station, the last on the line, was our destination, where we were to stop for the night. The sun had sunk behind the hills when we reached it; and after coffee and the everlasting bananas, we ‘ fixed’ ourselves as best we might for rest and sleep. Daybreak found us fresh and ready for our start up the mountains. A small hand-cart, worked by four negroes, awaited us on the rails outside, and whilst the gloom of night still clung to valley and hill, we set out, bowling along at a good twelve miles an hour. Paraiso station is on the decline towards Panama, to which we turned our backs, and a few minutes brought us to the highest part of the line ; here a little mountain stream divided into two streamlets, one winding its way to be lost in the broad Atlantic, the other coursing in the opposite direction, to add its mite to the waters of the Pacific. Troops of deer, tempted by the young grass along the line, dashed into the bush as we rattled by. A three-toed sloth obstructed our path for a moment, but was quickly accommodated with a seat in our car—doubtless, he never travelled so fast in his life before. The sun was just gilding the tops of the forest when we stopped our rapid journey, and leaving the slender track of civilisation behind, we plunged into the bush. Hot and fatiguing was our toil through bush and forest; through deep ravines, where the sun’s ray never pierced; round the crests of cliffs all covered with

the most luxuriant vegetation, as we breasted the mighty range of the Cordilleras.

It was with a sense of considerable relief that we completed our walk at noon, and lay down to rest under the pleasant shade of a banana leaf-roof. We were now in a clearing in the great primeval forest; a mountain stream gurgled its tortuous way at our feet, limpid pure water, running over golden sands; and under the influence of ‘ yellow fever,’ this clearing had been made. Unfortunately for the prospectors, though gold did undeniably exist, there was too little of it, and the place was deserted—a couple of vagrant negroes taking up their residence in the neglected sheds. It was something new to us to wash for gold ; so, after a short rest, we got the negroes and the washing apparatus into the stream ; but even gold at the rate of sixpence-worth in the hour is not remunerative, so a couple of hours under a broiling sun satisfied our curiosity.

There is something very solemn in the night stillness of t'he tropics. As evening falls, the forest sounds change with the hour; the shrieking of the parrots is exchanged for the monotonous chirping of the tree-crickets, or the melancholy hoot of the owl; and the wail of the goat-suckers is followed by the howling of the ocelot. All the strange sounds seem to make more weirdly the weird stillness.. Sleep was impossible. The strangeness of the scene, for, in the clear starlight, the surrounding forest Was visible like a black fortress on every side; the eerie sounds; and last, but not least, the mosquitoes. If ever there existed an item created for no conceivable object, the mosquito is surely one. With no protection other than some rails to keep out midnight visitors, they besieged irs in thousands, their horrid pingping being almost as annoying as their bite. What seems most curious about these torments is, that they are to be found far away from the haunts of any animal on which they could possibly feed, yet they pounce upon the first unfortunate visitor as if his blood were their daily accustomed rations.

What curious instinct guides them ? and what did they live on previously ? The gur-gur of the wild turkey was a delightful salutation as the day broke; and we started early on our return journey, in order to do some shooting; but little else than the sound was our reward for tearing through the cruel underwood; and on our arrival at the station, our bag consisted of one hen turkey, a Curagoa bird, a couple of brace of partridge, a toucan, and two squirrels, As to our clothes, the greater portion was left in small fragments on the cactus and wait-a-bit thorns; in fact, every growing thing in the tropics appears to have thorns—from the aloe, with spears to every leaf, down to the tiny creeping mimosa, which closes its leaves at the very tread of the pedestrian. Back again to the town (for Colon is called a town) of hotels and aroma, • convoyed by our friend the guard, who shakes hands with

us, as if years of intimate friendship had existed. I must not forget, however, the very last of our Scotch friend at Lion Hill, as the train stopped for a few moments at that station on its return journey. e Well, Mac, here we are again, you see.’ ‘ Ay, gentlemen, and a good journey to you; and as I was saying to ye, if ever ye happen to he at Tillicoultry—just ask for — Angus Macfarlane.’ ■X- -)f -X- vf -X-

Colon at last. ‘ Have a liquor, guard?’ ‘ Wal, I calc’late I could hide a drain.’ ‘ Tall or short ?’ ‘Now, mister, I guess I have a thirst on me that I wouldn’t sell for five dollars.’

So the barman having brewed a tall sangaree for the guard, and a short cocktail for the rest of us all round, we shake hands again most affectionately, and return to our tubs and civilisation on board our ship, which was now getting up steam, and in an hour hence would be ploughing the deep waters of the Spanish Main.