VARIED SCENES. 205 



ments frequently accelerated to an ungraceful plunge by 

 a shot from one of our rifles. Slowly we steamed up the 

 Guayas, stopping to take aboard every native who sig- 

 nalled us from the shores. The bed of the stream often 

 compelled us to run close to the banks, so that occasion- 

 ally our decks were swept by the overhanging trees. We 

 always enjoyed these brushings, until we ran into a nest 

 of bees, which speedily cleared the deck. After that we 

 enjoyed it quite as much when we were steaming clear of 

 the forest. 



But amid the varied scenes of the day was one not 

 altogether tropical. The desire of years was gratified by 

 a view of the mighty chain of the Andes and one of its 

 grandest volcanoes. The sun had already touched the 

 edge of the high forest, and we were seated upon deck, 

 watching the changing hues of the clouds as they Avere 

 touched by those soft, rich colors so characteristic of the 

 tropics, when a native friend approached, and asked if we 

 saw Chimborazo. " Why, no ! " we exclaimed, " is it clear 

 from clouds ? " " Look," said he, turning toward the east. 

 We looked, raising our eyes to an angle generally assumed 

 when taking in the summit of mountains. But nothing 

 appeared, save the usual heavy clouds banked high along 

 the horizon. " Where are you looking ? " exclaimed our 

 friend, casting a glance at our eyes ; " here ! " and he 

 pointed away up among the clouds. We looked, and 

 never will we forget that view. Resting upon the high 

 bank of clouds, which seemed to have assumed a marble 

 firmness, stood Chimborazo, its snow-fields four miles 

 above us, flushing gold and crimson from the rich colors 

 of the Avest. The clouds, parting, rolled either way along 

 the slope of the Cordillera, until the long, dark wall of the 

 Andes stood before us, lifted to the height of fourteen 

 thousand feet, buttressed by a hundred darkened spurs all 

 along its flank. As the clouds were draAvn away, the 



