112 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. 



At day-break Georgetown is in sight — a low, flat line of 

 wharfs, with a background of galvanized tin roofs and tall 

 bending palm trees. Never was a fairyland set in so prosaic 

 a frame! 



With what mingled feelings our litde ship's family lean on 

 the rail and scan the shore! To some the thought comes of 

 the miracles of yellow gold and precious stones hidden deep 

 beneath the primitive forests; to other sea-weary travellers 

 the stability of the shore appeals most; while we two watch 

 for the first hint of bird life. Our desire is gratified before 

 that of any of the others, for over the water there comes the 

 first morning call of the great yellow Tyrant '"' — Kis-ka-dee! 

 bringing a hundred memories of the tropics. 



As we steam slowly up to the wharf a small flock of Gray- 

 breasted Martins'^^ twitters above our heads, a Black Vulture'"' 

 swings over the tin roofs, the jubilant song of a Guiana 

 House Wren'""* reaches our ear, and our Second Search has 

 begun. 



To those who seek for wildernesses there is not much of 

 interest in Georgetown, save the museum and the botanical 

 garden. Yet there is no doubt that the city is one of the 

 most attractive in the tropics, and when the inhabitants are 

 aroused to a sense of the opportunities which they are throw- 

 ing away, it will become a famous tourist resort; awakening 

 the country to new life and bringing shekels to the coffers 

 of its merchants. Hotels and mosquitoes are the two keys 

 to the situation — the one to be acquired, the other banished. 

 When this is done, the many popular winter resorts will 

 be hard put to it to retain their lucrative migrants from 

 the North. The inhabitants of Georgetown have one 

 regrettable failing — an unreasoning fear and dread of 

 their own country. They cling to their narrow strip of 

 coastal territory, where they work and play, live and die, 

 many of them without ever having been five miles away 



