A Stormy Night.

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goodly lessons. The morning clouds teach him to hope; the evening suggests eternal rest from carthly toil. And if he leave his cabin at night, not finding sleep, he finds the midnight clouds a book of thoughts, suggestive of Omnipotence and perfect peace."

"How in the case of a storm?" said M. Wilhelm.

"I remember," was the reply, "once passing from Cuba to Honduras in a mail company's schooner. I think her name was the 'Larne.' The captain for some reason of his own was desirous of evading the pilot as we gained the quays, and he took an unusual course. The pilot came out and gave us chase, but the wind increasing, we outstripped him. The night darkened, and the waves rolled higher and higher. It was impossible to stand without holding. I sat at the head of the steps leading to the cabin, my back and knees pressed against the sides of the doorway, while I held on also with my hands. The sea looked awfully wild. And then came a sound and a vibration that would have sickened one if it had not been

brief, and a relief from the tension of mind occasioned by the storm. A wave had lifted our tight little schooner over a coral reef, just sufficiently to save our lives, and to remind the captain that his caprice or cupidity had led him beyond the bounds of prudence. The captain and two chief officers acknowledged their fright. But even in that storm, while lives were being jeopardised, the heavens sustained a determinateness, a placidity in change, suggestive of Omnipotence and peace."

M. Wilhelm was not successful in the slinging of a chinchora. There is an art in it. A single turn of the pliable Indian cords, with two twists, and the chinchora is secure; one pull at the end of the cords and the chinchora is unslung. The German, with his usual care for himself, had, on our first encampment, slung his chinchora nearly over the bedding of the children, which was about the centre of our little camp; but on attempting to get in, he and his chinchora fell to the ground, fortunately without hurt to those below him. The guide, with a little muttering,

Nearly Roasted.

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took the chinchora and slung it between two trees at a convenient distance. The next night M. Wilhelm, with some conciliatory remarks, got the guide to sling his chinchora for him; but to-night 'Nor Gabriel refused rather surlily, and told him to learn. It was a wonder to us all how so tall a man as M. Wilhelm was, could sleep in so small a chinchora, which would not have been considered large for a child. It happened to-night that one tree was the central point of suspension for the four chinchoras; and the guide who always spent nearly half of his sleeping time in blowing and keeping up the fire, had procured this night large wood, and an unusual blaze burned between him and Mr M'Donald, who with his usual reticence in matters personally inconvenient, said nothing to 'Nor Gabriel, but laughingly whispered to M. Wilhelm that he was being roasted.

Oh, my dear fellow," said the German, loudly, and jumping out of his little uncomfortable chinchora, "why did you not speak sooner?"

'Oh, no, M. Wilhelm, I could not think of submitting you to the torture."

"Not at all, my dear sir; the torture is to know that you are suffering; heat is always rather agreeable to me. Get up, I beg of you."

And M. Wilhelm gently forced the Scotchman to get up, who demurely looking at the diminutive chinchora, doubled himself up in it. No sooner had M. Wilhelm ensconced himself in Mack's commodious chinchora than he awoke the guide. 'Nor Gabriel," said he "that fire is stifling the poor children to death."

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"Ah, poor things!" replied the guide, "I did not remember that they are not accustomed to night fires."

And the simple-hearted old man got up and removed his fire a little away.

M. Wilhelm slept comfortably that night.

CHAPTER XXIII.

FOURTH DAY ON THE LLANOS.

THERE is a monotony in Llano travelling which embarrasses the describer; especially if he be writing from memory years after his travels. Of course I might insert some wonderful adventures; summon Leviathan from the deep in shape of a monstrous Caiman, and descending into his own domain, drag him trembling to land amidst the plaudits of a wondering group of Indian spectators; or by the accomplishment of Herculean labours obtain deification from the Dorians of the Llanos. But I am writing truthfully what passed within my own experience, and have neither

talent nor ambition for a work of fiction.

To-day our guide, as we afterwards ascertained, treated us to a whole day's unnecessary journey by taking us to Aguassai. But, he said, it was in the route he had proposed to himself;