OF THE MONKEY TRIBES.

25

The gentle, melancholy, and timid Marimonda (S. beelzebuth of Humboldt,) will often bite the hand of those he loves, when under the influence of fear. He rarely seeks the shelter of the forest, though inhabiting the wildest portion of the Andes, but will lie exposed to a vertical sun, with his arms folded on his back, and his eye directed upwards, as if he delighted to contemplate the majestic orb of day.

Let us now speak of that luxuriant vegetation, that eternal Spring, those climates varying by stages, as we ascend the vast Cordilleras, the native regions of innumerable wild animals, as well as the Marimonda, and black Howling Monkeys, which make the woods resound with their lugubrious voices. Stout of heart must that traveller be, who can hear unmoved the loud cries which they delight to utter, echoed from rock to rock, and often from out the depth of untrodden forests; cries so loud and shrill, that they drown the rushing sound of the torrents, which descend in beautiful cascades, or run through holes in the rocks, that look like stupendous bridges. Unacquainted with the tones of these strange creatures when excited by fear or curiosity, or even by the pleasure of howling in concert, he would conclude that troops of men were hastening from a distance with loud shouts to rush upon him.

Nature assumes in those solitudes the grandest, and most imposing forms. The rocky pathway is often bordered with a kind of bamboo, called by the

Indians taqua or quada, more than forty feet in height. Nothing can equal the elegance of this arborescent cane. The shape and disposition of the leaves are strikingly contrasted with the smooth and flexile trunk which bends towards the brink of rivulets, as if delighting in their freshness. Giant ferns also spring from out the fissures of the rocks, their leaves resemble fans, and the rich brown that enwraps the stem, forms another pleasing contrast to the vivid tints of their dark green leaves, decorated on the under surface with richly-coloured seeds in dots or rows. "If," says Humboldt, when traversing the magnificent solitude of the Andes, "I may be allowed to speak of my own feelings, I should say, that the bamboo and fern are, of all vegetable forms between the tropics, those which most powerfully affect the imagination of the traveller." The former grows especially on the eastern chain of the Andes. While some abound in watery places, and are cut down either for fuel, or to cover temporary huts; others spring profusely from out the fissures of high rocks in such arid spots as are rarely watered by streams. From the time of their first appearance until they attain perfection, when they are either gathered by the Indians, or naturally begin to dry, they uniformly contain a quantity of liquid, but with this remarkable difference, that when the moon is full, they are filled with sweet clear water. When, on the contrary, the moon begins to wane, the water ebbs; till, at the conjunction, little or none is to be found. Ulloa, who crossed the deserts of Chimborazo in his way to Quito, mentions this extraordinary fact. He states that the water during

the period of the moon's decrease, appears turbid, but that at the time of the full moon, it is as clear as crystal. Yet water is not found in the spaces between each joint alike, but alternately. Thus, if a space in the cane is opened which proves empty, the two contiguous ones are uniformly full. Nor are the contents of each portion of the cane from joint to joint, a meagre draught, for the canes are as remarkable for their length and thickness, as for the liquid contained in their tubes. Their diameter is at least six inches, and when opened, they form a board of nearly a foot and a half in breadth; hence, considerable houses are frequently erected with this light and elegant material. The water, too, which they contain, is an excellent preservative against the ill effects of bruises. Those who traverse the rough and dangerous tracts of the Andes, are often equally exposed to accident and thirst. These vegetable fountains, which rise in arid and dangerous parts, answer a double purpose: they refresh the weary traveller, and remove the dangerous effects that might otherwise result from frequent falls.

Their construction, too, is well deserving of consideration. They illustrate the striking fact, that a hollow cylinder is uniformly given to such plants as carry a considerable weight at the end of a long and flexible stem; or of which the material is peculiarly fragile. Bamboos spring out of the ground like grasses, they wave in the slightest breeze, and often grow on high places, swept over by fierce winds; they consequently require an organization very different from that of forest-trees, and hence in order to prevent them from being uprooted by the gale,

their stems are hollow, and the material of which they are composed, is so condensed on the surface as to possess nearly the hardness of metal. Silex is one of their component parts, and if two pieces of bamboo are rubbed together, they emit a pale light. Sir Humphry Davy first observed this phenomenon while watching a young child who was playing with some bonnet cane. He sought out the cause, and on examining the epidermis, it was found to contain the properties of silex. The epidermis of reeds and corn, and grasses, is similarly endowed. The corn and grasses contain potash, sufficient to form glass with their flint, and if a wheat or barley straw, or even a stalk of hay, be subjected to the action of the blow-pipe, a perfect globule of hard glass may be obtained.

Thus while a simple grass is secreting a volatile and evanescent perfume, it also secretes a substance which is an ingredient in the primeval mountains of the globe.

Beautiful fern,

Thy place is not where art exults to raise the tended flower, By terraced walk, or decked parterre, or fenced and sheltered bower,

Nor where the straightly levelled walls of tangled boughs

between,

The sunbeam lights the velvet sward, and streams through alleys green.

Thy dwelling is the desert heath, the wood, the haunted dell, And where the wild deer stoops to drink beside the mossy

well;

And by the lake with trembling stars bestud when earth is

still,

And midnight's melancholy pomp is on the distant hill.

But fairer than the lightest bud on spring's fresh couch which lies,

And fairer than the gentlest flower which glows 'neath summer skies;

Or autumn's soft and mellowed tints upon the fading tree, Companion of the left, and worn, thy leaf appears to me.

For I have loved where thou wast reared in greenest strength to stray,

And mark thy feathery stem upraised o'er lichened ruin gray,

Or in the fairy moonlight bent, to meet the silvering hue, Or glistening yet, when noon was high, with morn's unvanished dew. HOLLINGS.

The ferns which Humboldt so much admired are not peculiar to America. They are found in almost every part of the known world, and are included in those sixteen forms which chiefly characterize the vegetable physiognomy of the globe. But in no other part are they equally magnificent, and though often rising to the height of thirty or forty feet, they retain the delicate and complex leaflets, the slender stems, and rich brown tracery, which adorn the beloved ferns of our own green woods, and shady lanes. Assigned by their Creator to the tropical regions, they yet grow best in shady places, or where the ardent beams of the sun are tempered by refreshing breezes. They are often seen nestling in those stupendous chasms which seem as if riven by some great convulsion in the mountains; or waving on their windy ridges; and in the woody parts of South America are generally found in company with such trees as yield medicinal bark. Here, too, a similarity exists between the English and exotic fern.