Sometimes, (so the Aborigines relate), on the margin of the swamps the moistened clay is seen to blister and rise slowly in a kind of mound; then with a violent noise, like the outbreak of a small mud volcano, the heaped-up earth is cast high into the air. The beholder acquainted with the meaning of this spectacle flies, for he knows there will issue forth a gigantic water-snake or a scaly crocodile, awakened from a torpid state[39] by the first fall of rain.
The rivers which bound the plain to the south, the Arauca, Apure, and Payara, become gradually swollen; and now nature constrains the same animals, who in the first half of the year panted with thirst on the dry and dusty soil, to adopt an amphibious life. A portion of the Steppe now presents the aspect of a vast inland sea.[40] The brood mares retire with their foals to the higher banks, which stand like islands above the surface of the lake. Every day the space remaining dry becomes smaller. The animals, crowded together, swim about for hours in search of other pasture, and feed sparingly on the tops of the flowering grasses rising above the seething surface of the dark-coloured water. Many foals are drowned, and many are surprised by the crocodiles, killed by a stroke of their powerful notched tails, and devoured. It is not a rare thing to see the marks of the pointed teeth of these monsters on the legs of the horses and cattle who have narrowly escaped from their blood-thirsty jaws. Such a sight reminds the thoughtful observer involuntarily of the capability of conforming to the most varied circumstances, with which the all-providing Author of Nature has endowed certain animals and plants.
The ox and the horse, like the farinaceous cerealia, have followed man over the whole surface of the globe, from India to Northern Siberia, from the Ganges to the River Plate, from the African sea shore to the mountain plateau of Antisana,[41] which is higher than the summit of the Peak of Teneriffe. The ox wearied from the plough reposes, sheltered from the noontide sun in one country by the quivering shadow of the northern birch, and in another by the date palm. The same species which, in the east of Europe, has to encounter the attacks of bears and wolves, is exposed in other regions to the assaults of tigers and crocodiles.
But the crocodile and jaguar are not the only assailants of the South American horses; they have also a dangerous enemy among fishes. The marshy waters of Bera and Rastro[42] are filled with numberless electric eels, which can at pleasure send a powerful discharge from any part of their slimy yellow spotted bodies. These gymnoti are from five to six feet in length, and are powerful enough to kill the largest animals when they discharge their nervous organs at once in a favourable direction.
The route from Uritucu through the Steppe was formerly obliged to be changed, because the gymnoti had increased to such numbers in a small stream that in crossing it many horses were drowned every year, either from the effects of the shocks they received, or from fright. All other fishes fly the vicinity of these formidable eels. Even the fisherman angling from the high bank fears lest the damp line should convey the shock to him from a distance. Thus, in these regions, electric fire breaks forth from the bosom of the waters.
The capture of the gymnoti affords a picturesque spectacle. Mules and horses are driven into a marsh which is closely surrounded by Indians, until the unwonted noise and disturbance induce the pugnacious fish to begin an attack. One sees them swimming about like serpents, and trying cunningly to glide under the bellies of the horses. Many of these are stunned by the force of the invisible blows; others, with manes standing on end, foaming and with wild terror sparkling in their eyes, try to fly from the raging tempest. But the Indians, armed with long poles of bamboo, drive them back into the middle of the pool. Gradually the fury of the unequal strife begins to slacken. Like clouds which have discharged their electricity, the wearied fish begin to disperse; long repose and abundant food are required to replace the galvanic force which they have expended. Their shocks become gradually weaker and weaker. Terrified by the noise of the trampling horses, they timidly approach the bank, where they are wounded by harpoons, and cautiously drawn on shore by non-conducting pieces of dry wood.
Such is the extraordinary battle between horses and fish. That which forms the invisible but living weapon of this electric eel;—that which, awakened by the contact of moist dissimilar particles,[43] circulates through all the organs of plants and animals;—that which, flashing from the thunder cloud, illumines the wide skyey canopy;—that which draws iron to iron and directs the silent recurring march of the guiding needle;—all, like the several hues of the divided ray of light, flow from one source; and all blend again together in one perpetually, every where diffused, force or power.
I might here close the hazardous attempt to trace a picture of nature such as she shows herself in the Steppes. But as on the ocean fancy not unwillingly dwells awhile on the image of its distant shores, so, before the wide plain disappears from our view, let us cast a rapid glance at the regions by which the Steppes are bounded.
The Northern Desert of Africa divides two races of men who belong originally to the same part of the globe, and whose unreconciled discord appears as ancient as the mythus of Osiris and Typhon.[44] North of the Atlas there dwell nations with long and straight hair, of sallow complexion and Caucasian features. On the south of the Senegal, towards Soudan, live hordes of negroes in many different stages of civilization. In Central Asia, the Mongolian Steppe divides Siberian barbarism from the ancient civilisation of the peninsula of India.
The South American Steppes form the boundary of a partial European cultivation.[45] To the north, between the mountains of Venezuela and the Caribbean sea, we find commercial cities, neat villages, and carefully cultivated fields. Even the love of art and scientific culture, together with the noble desire of civil freedom, have long been awakened there. Towards the south the Steppe terminates in a savage wilderness. Forests, the growth of thousands of years, fill with their impenetrable fastnesses the humid regions between the Orinoco and the Amazons. Massive leaden-coloured granite rocks[46] narrow the bed of the foaming rivers. Mountains and forests resound with the thunder of the falling waters, with the roar of the tiger-like jaguar, and with the melancholy rain-announcing howlings of the bearded apes.[47]