500 THE TROPICAL WORLD. 



high up their stalks the encrusted mud which marks the hight of ooze and slime of 

 the rainy season. The grass has long since withered, and stands a mass of dry stems, 

 ready at the touch of fire to break out into a conflagration which outstrips the speed 

 of the swiftest horse. 



Animal life seems to have become extinct. The deer, the aguti, and the peccary, 

 taught by instinct, have migrated to less arid regions, followed by their natural ene- 

 mies the Indian, the puma, and the jaguar. The vast herds of wild horses and cattle 

 which roamed over the savanna perish in countless numbers, or rush about bellowing, 

 and neighing, and snuffing the thirsty air, seeking to scent out the neighborhood of 

 some pool where a little moisture has survived the general drought. Buried far down 

 in the stiff clay of the dried-up pools, the alligator and huge water snake lie torpid in 

 a long summer sleep, as the bear slumbers through the dreary Arctic winter. 



At length, when all nature seems to have expired or to be expiring for want of 

 water, welcome signs announce the approach of the rainy season. The blue, cloudless 

 sky begins to assume a leaden hue ; the atmosphere becomes obscured by condensing 

 vapors ; the stars which shone with a mild planetary lustre now twinkle faintly even 

 in the zenith, while the bright Southern Cross, low down in the horizon, is hardly dis- 

 cernible, and the phosphoric gleam of the Magellanic clouds expires. Banks of vapor 

 rise in mountainous forms on the horizon, increasing in density, and mounting higher 

 and higher, until at length they burst into rains which pour down in torrents. Scarcely 

 have the showers had time to moisten the thirsty land, when a change comes over the 

 face of nature. The dull, tawny surface of the savanna is transformed as if by magic into 

 an expanse of vivid green, enameled with flowers of every hue. The mimosas ex- 

 pand their delicate foliage, and the Mauritia palm, " the tree of life," puts forth its 

 feathery fronds. 



Animal life awakens from its long torpor. On the borders of the swamps the 

 moistened clay heaves, and slowly bursts asunder, and from the tomb in which he lay 

 embedded, rises the form of some huge alligator or water-snake. The newly formed 

 pools swarm with water-fowl. The herds of horses and oxen rejoice in the thick 

 grasses, under whose covert not unfrequently crouches the jaguar waiting for his prey. 

 On the very same spot where a few weeks before the horse anxiously snuffed the air, 

 half-mad with thirst, he is now obliged to lead an almost amphibious life. The mares 

 retreat with their foals to the higher banks, which rise like islands from a lagoon, and 

 swim about in quest of the grasses which lift their heads above the waters. Not un- 

 frequently they become the prey of alligators that strike them down with their scaly 

 tails, and seize them with their enormous jaws. " This sight," says Humboldt, 

 " involuntarily reminds the reflecting observer of the great pliability with which na- 

 ture has endowed several species of plants and animals. Along with the fruits of 

 Ceres, the horse and the ox have followed man over the whole earth from the Ganges 

 to the Plata, and from the coast of Africa to the mountain plain of Antisana, over- 

 looking the Valley of Quito. Here, the northern birch-tree, and there the tropical 

 date-palm, protects the tired ox from the heat of the sun. The same species of animal 

 which in dastern Europe contends with bears and wolves, is attacked in another zone 

 by the tiger and the crocodile." 



It is scarcely three centuries since the horse and the ox were first introduced into 

 America by the Spaniards. The latter has flourished to such a degree that it is not 



