14 VIEWS OF NATUEE. 



have become habitable to man. Here and there towns (33) 

 have sprung up on the shores of the Steppe-rivers, built to faci- 

 litate the intercourse between the coasts and Guiana (the Ori- 

 noco district). Everywhere throughout these vast districts the 

 inhabitants have begun to rear cattle. At distances of a 

 day's journey from each other, we see detached huts, woven 

 together with reeds and thongs, and covered with ox-hides. 

 Innumerable herds of oxen, horses, and mules (estimated at 

 the peaceful period of my travels at a million and a half) 

 roam over the Steppe in a state of wildness. The prodigious 

 increase of these animals of the old world is the more re- 

 markable, from the numerous perils with which, in these 

 regions, they have to contend. 



When, beneath the vertical rays of the bright and cloudless 

 sun of the tropics, the parched sward crumbles into dust, 

 then the indurated soil cracks and bursts as if rent asunder 

 by some mighty earthquake. And if, at such a time, two 

 opposite currents of air, by conflict moving in rapid gy- 

 rations, come in contact with the earth, a singular spec- 

 tacle presents itself. Like funnel-shaped clouds, their apexes (34) 

 touching the earth, the sands rise in vapoury form through 

 the rarefied air in the electrically-charged centre of the 

 whirling current, sweeping on like the rushing water-spout, 

 which strikes such terror into the heart of the mariner. A 

 dim and sallow light gleams from the lowering sky over the 

 dreary plain. The horizon suddenly contracts, and the heart 

 of the traveller sinks with dismay as the wide Steppe seems 

 to close upon him on all sides. The hot and dusty earth forms 

 a cloudy veil which shrouds the heavens from view, and in- 

 creases the stifling oppression of the atmosphere (35); while 

 the east wind, when it blows over the long-heated soil, instead 

 of cooling, adds to the burning glow. 



Gradually, too, the pools of water, which had been pro- 

 tected from evaporation by the now seared foliage of the 

 fan-palm, disappear. As in the icy north animals become 



