170 



WANDERINGS IN SOUTH AMERICA. 



carpet to his "breakfast table, his wife pours out his tea, 

 and his servant hands him his toast. After breakfast, 

 the doctor advises a little gentle exercise in the car- 

 riage for an hour or so. At dinner-time he sits down 

 to a table groaning beneath the weight of heteroge- 

 neous luxury ; there he rests upon a chair for three or 

 four hours, eats, drinks, and talks (often unmeaningl;^) 

 till tea is announced. He proceeds slowly to the draw- 

 ing-room, and there spends best part of his time in 

 sitting, till his wife tempts him with something warm 

 for supper. After supper, he still remains on his chair 

 at rest, till he retires for the night. He mounts 

 leisurely upstairs upon a carpet, and enters his bed- 

 room : there, one v/ould hope that at least he mutters 

 a prayer or two, though perhaps not on bended knee : 

 he then lets himself drop into a soft and downy bed, 

 over which has just passed the comely Jenny's warm- 

 ing-pan. ISTow, could the Indian in his turn see this 

 he would call the white men a lazy, indolent set. 



Perhaps then, upon due reflection, you would draw 

 this conclusion; that men will always be indolent 

 where there is no object to rouse them. 



As the Indian of Guiana has no idea 



Indian me- . . , . . 



thod !of com- whatever of communicatmg his intentions 



mmiication. tipii 



by writing, he has lallen upon a plan oi 

 commanication sure and simple. When two or three 

 families have determined to come down the river and 

 pay you a visit, they send an Indian beforehand with a 

 string of beads. You take one bead off every day; 

 and on the day that the string is headless, they arrive 

 at your house. 



In finding their way through these pathless wilds, 

 the sun is to them what Ariadne's clue was to Thes.eus. 



