WANDEEINGS IN SOUTH AMERICA. 293 



I now for good and all (and well I might) gave up the 

 idea of finding bugs, hears, brutes, and bufTaloes in this 

 country, and was thoroughly satisfied that I had laboured 

 under a great mistake in suspecting that I should ever 

 meet with them. 



I wished to join in the dance where the fair Albanese 

 was " to brisk notes in cadence beating," but the state of 

 my unlucky foot rendered it impossible ; and as I sat with it 

 reclined upon a sofa, full many a passing gentleman stopped 

 to inquire the cause of my misfortune, presuming at the 

 same time that I had got an attack of gout. 'Now this 

 surmise of theirs always mortified me ; for I never had a 

 fit of gout in my life, and moreover, never expect to have 

 one. 



In many of the inns in the United States, there is an 

 album on the table, in which travellers insert their arrival 

 and departure, and now and then indulge in a little flash 

 or two of wit. 



I thought, under existing circumstances, that there 

 would be no harm in briefly telling my misadventure ; and 

 so, taking up the pen, I wrote what follows ; and was never 

 after asked a single question about the gout. 



" C. Waterton, of Walton-Hall, in the county of York^ 

 England, arrived at the Falls of Niagara in July, 1824, 

 and begs leave to pen down the following dreadful acci- 

 dent : — 



" He sprained his foot, and hurt his toe, 

 On the rough road near Buffalo, 

 It quite distresses him to stagger a- 

 Long the sharp rocks of famed Niagara. 

 So thus he's doomed to drink the measure 

 Of pain, in lieu of that of pleasure. 

 On Hope's delusive pinions home, 

 He came for wool, and goes hack shorn. 

 N.B. — Here he alludes to nothing hut 

 Th' adventnre of his toe and foot ; 



