Every step I took informed me that I was a trespasser; the scene that I had quitted appeared to have been ceded to me by the inhabitants of the forest, who were willing for me to occupy it without molesting me, or exhibiting any signs of alarm; but, as I moved from place to place, all seemed in arms against me. My insatiable curiosity, too, was everywhere offensive; nothing escaped my prying propensity, and I even regretted that I had suffered the crocodile to escape that I might have intercepted, had I been cool, and have driven to the land for examination; I often, indeed, pushed my inquiries beyond the line of prudence.
An unpleasant nocturnal visitor
One moonlight night I was favoured with a splendid view of the jaguar under the influence of a hungry stomach, and in that state I saw him seize his prey. I had spread my matting at the lower end of a tree that had been torn up by the roots, between which I could creep and hide myself; at the other end the branches extended into a small glade or open space; when about midnight I was awaked by a tremendous roar. Alarmed for my own safety. I crept between the roots of the tree, pulling the covering after me, and in this situation raised my head so as to look along the shaft of the fallen timber, about ten yards from the end of which I could distinctly discern the jaguar, pacing up and down, in a space of not more than thirty yards. His step was quick and hurried, but so light that he appeared not to touch the ground; his swollen and stiffened tail swept the ground, as it moved from side to side. I instantly became anxious to ascertain whether his eyes were directed towards any particular object, and more especially in the direction where I was hid. I had the satisfaction of seeing their fierce glance furtively cast in every direction but towards me; indeed, I must have been invisible to him through the broken branches and roots, at the distance he was from the tree, and amid the shade that surrounded me.
The spot he had chosen for his nocturnal promenade was, I have no doubt, a deer track, on which he had before in all probability snatched many meals. His impatience evidently increased as his expectations were delayed; he quickened, if possible, his step at every turn, till at length he suddenly paused, and assumed a most exciting attitude. His tail for a moment stood out perfectly horizontal, in a line with his back; making gentle sweeps, as if of immediate expectation. Suddenly he crouched on his belly, still moving his tail very gently; at length the moment arrived: he gave one roar of horrid delight, and the next, a deer was in his jaws, and growling, he seized and dispatched it by twisting the head downwards with his paw. Finally he gave the deer a shake, as if to assure himself that life was extinct, and then, with a fling of the head threw the dead animal across his back, and was lost in the thicket, depriving me of the satisfaction of witnessing his manner of finishing the repast.
Strong in my resolution to arrive if possible at the extremity of the forest, I continued to proceed, as I thought, in the same direction; but I could not travel every day, being compelled sometimes to watch through the night, and being frequently unable, while moving forward, to obtain a sufficiency of nutritious food. When, therefore, I met with a convenient retreat, I stayed and refreshed myself till I acquired strength to undertake new labours.
Some scenes would irresistibly detain me, and if any one express surprise that they should do so when journeying to seek the society of my fellow-creatures, I reply that I did not at any time abandon the hope of success; yet when the uncertainty of my course, without a compass or guide, is considered, I never had a right to be very sanguine in my expectations, use whatever efforts I might. In a journey of such a doubtful nature, oftentimes worn down with fatigue of body and despair of mind, it was natural to linger on and to rest in an oasis longer than in a desert.
In a hot climate, cool retreats have peculiar charms, such as are unappreciable by those who live in cold countries. The mere topographical traveller may measure a lake, or a river, give the height and angle of a projecting rock, describe the rush of falling waters into an estuary, and trace the course of rivers from their rise to their mouth, but he is unable to give the living tints of nature, together with all their form and colour.
Beauties of the forest
Neither the pen nor the pencil can describe the feelings of those who sympathize with nature in her secret homes of grandeur.
When I first entered the forest, the effect of the sublimity of the scene was astonishment, in which the beauties were lost; but as surprise wore off, these beauties, one by one, stood out to view; and operating on the senses, produced pleasure in its highest state of enjoyment.