ACROSS UNKNOWN SOUTH AMERICA 
could not help it. I was, too, who am not much given to 
being depressed. 
While marching or camping in the midst of unspoilt 
nature, I never felt depressed, no matter what happened, 
and was absolutely regardless of climatic conditions; but 
in those miserable settlements, feeble attempts at civiliza¬ 
tion, I must confess that I used to get low-spirited, too, 
and often thought what an idiot I had been to leave my 
happy homes in Florence and in London, in order to 
come to these wretched places. 
After the attempts at baling out the water had proved 
futile, as there was more coming in than it was possible 
to fling out, the people in resignation barricaded their 
doors and windows. Not a soul was to be seen or heard 
anywhere. The place was absolutely dead. Even after 
the storm was over, no sign of life could be noticed. The 
people were all still hiding and trembling in their houses, 
the comparatively slight but sudden change in the tem¬ 
perature bringing upon most of them attacks of strong 
malarial fever, which was there prevalent. 
At last, splashing her little naked feet along the 
footpath in the grass, now changed into a streamlet, there 
approached a little girl with a face as black as coal. She 
looked terrified as she approached the window out of 
which I was looking. But she overcame her fright and, 
prettily stretching out her tiny hand, called out “Boa 
tar del " (Good afternoon). Her father and mother were 
ill; would I give her some medicine for them? Soon 
after, when the sky had cleared, other patients came along, 
asking for quinine or any medicine I could give them. 
Others wished to have their teeth pulled out. The 
Brazilians of the interior had great trouble with their teeth, 
which were usually in a state of decay. 
My own men had wrapped themselves up in their 
blankets in order to keep warm. They had slept most 
of the time. They were too cold and lazy even to get up to 
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