:::::::::=>£ ALONG THE STREAM OF DEATH >*::::::::: 



in some delicious nieve con lemon, — an attempt at ice- 

 cream, — made from the snow which some patient 

 hombre had carried on his back all the way from the 

 distant crater of the snow volcano. Followed by the 

 chorus of " Muchas gracias, Senor ; Adlos, Senor- 

 ita," which a few silver coins aroused, we left them, 

 and the weird rhythmical chant once more rose and 

 fell on the evening air. 



Descending again to the bottom of the nrroyo, for 

 fear of losing onr way on the monotonous, pathless 

 plain, we were plunged for a time into almost complete 

 darkness. After the brief tropical twilight the sun was 

 blotted out with strange abruptness, but a beautiful 

 moon soon shone upon our path and our eyes adjusted 

 themselves to the strange, soft light. 



Many of the small flowers were now tight closed in 

 apparent sleep, but the most beautiful blossoms of all 

 opened almost before our eyes. While yet some dis- 

 tance away, the graceful, tapering petals of the Night- 

 blooming Cereus shone out fair and beautiful in the 

 moonlight. The out-curving petals expand four or five 

 inches across, surrounding a multitude of thread-like 

 stamens, which spring, rank upon rank, from the 

 centre, delicately graduated inward, so that the long 

 pistil is the focus of a thousand yellow pollen-heads, 

 which rise, amphitheatre-like, around it. These flowers 

 grow on stalks six or eight inches in length, and yet 

 the ovary is at the very base, and the stalk is a hollow 



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