THE LUXURY OF WATER. 



55 



where the current was too rapid for a quiet bath. Call- 

 ing our canoe man, we returned to the opposite side, 

 and in a few minutes were enjoying an ablution, the 

 luxury of which can only be appreciated by those who, 

 like us, had crossed the Mico Mountain without throw- 

 ing away their clothes. 



There was an enjoyment in this bath greater even 

 than that of cooling our heated bodies. It was the 

 moment of a golden sunset. We stood up to our necks 

 in water clear as crystal, and calm as that of some 

 diminutive lake, at the margin of a channel along 

 which the stream was rushing with arrowy speed. On 

 each side were mountains several thousand feet high, 

 with their tops illuminated by the setting sun ; on a 

 point above us was a palm-leafed hut, and before it a 

 naked Indian sat looking at us ; while flocks of parrots, 

 with brilliant plumage, almost in thousands, were flying 

 over our heads, catching up our words, and filling the 

 air with their noisy mockings. It was one of those 

 beautiful scenes that so rarely occur in human life, al- 

 most realizing dreams. Old as we were, we might 

 have become poetic, but that Augustin came down to 

 the opposite bank, and, with a cry that rose above the 

 chattering of parrots and the loud murmur of the river, 

 called us to supper. ^ 



We had one moment of agony when we returned to 

 our clothes. They lay extended upon the bank, em- 

 blems of men who had seen better days. The setting 

 sun, which shed over all a soft and mellow lustre, laid 

 bare the seams of mud and dirt, and made them hide- 

 ous. We had but one alternative, and that was to go 

 without them. But, as this seemed to be trenching 

 upon the proprieties of life, we picked them up and 

 put them on reluctant. I am not sure, however, but 



