THE LAND OF A SINGLE TREE. 



5 



north, hinting of the great mountain ranges of the Spanish 

 Main. Ahead, a low green mist along the horizon told us 

 we were nearing shore. This became more and more dis- 

 tinct until we could make out individual trees. By noon we 

 had left the tumultuous waters of the Gulf of Paria, and were 

 floating quietly on a broad stream between two majestic 

 walls of green; we had entered our wilderness, and the silence 



FIG. 2. OUR SLOOP KXTF.RIXG TIM: MANGROVES. 



and beauty of our reception seemed all the more vivid after 

 the noise and turbulence of the wind and water behind us. 



Our first impression was of a vast solitude. It was mid- 

 day, and the tide was almost at its height. With limp sails 

 we drifted silently onward, not a sound of life coming from 

 the green depths about us. We skirted the mangroves 

 along the south bank, moving more and more slowly, until 

 at last we rested motionless on the water, between the blazing 



