THE

AMERICAN

NATURALIST.

VOL. XV. DECEMBER, 1881. No. 12.

TH

DEMERARA.

BY F. M. ENDLICH.

HAT northern portion of South America, known as Guyana, Gyana or Guiana, has been, in the course of time, separated into several provinces, one of which fell to Great Britain. British Guiana, or Demerara, was ceded to the Crown by Holland in 1814, and since then has been one of England's important colonies. Located within the equatorial zone, the country affords no inducements for extensive white settlement; only those who are accustomed to such climate can be employed in the prosecution of various industries and enterprises. European civilization and energy have wrested from the fertile soil golden fruits, and the flourishing colony has seen a long period of uninterrupted prosperity.

While the country bordering upon the sea is low and flat, it becomes more broken and even mountainous towards the interior, Complete explorations of the southerly portions of the colony have not been made as yet, and, in consequence, strange legends and rumors are afloat concerning the hidden mysteries and wellguarded treasures of the terra incognita. Gold is reported to have been found at various places, sometimes as nuggets and again imbedded in the rock. Traditions of unsurpassed mountain scenery, the Alps and the equator combined, tempt the spirit of venturesome travelers. Within accessible distance, the Kaiteur falls, renowned for their picturesqueness, have received the homage due them, at the hands of those who braved alike climate and fatigue to enjoy their refreshing thunder.

Dense, tangled "bush," the frequency of swamps and marshes,

both abounding in creatures of decidedly anti-domestic tendencies, render exploration difficult, and turn even a so-called pleasure trip into arduous labor. So far as plantations and isolated settlements extend, transportation is a matter of no difficulty, even steam being employed for the convenience of passengers and freight. Beyond these limits, however, only great endurance and immunity from climatal influences, will enable the stranger to satisfy his thirst for knowledge of a region but little known to the civilized world.

Almost involuntarily the comparison obtrudes itself between exploration in arctic and tropical regions. On the one hand a temperature which would seem to congeal every impulse, benumb every physical and mental capacity; on the other, a degree of heat which renders alike exercise and rest a matter of positive danger, and produces conditions of mental indolence and apathy similar to the first. Passing over rugged, broken fields of ice and snow, where every individual force is brought into requisition, may be compared to the struggle through densely matted forests, through treacherous marshes,

"Where at each step the stranger fears to wake

The rattling terrors of the vengeful snake.”

Unequal, however, would seem the reward. While atmospheric phenomena alone beautify the field of the arctic explorer, while to him the midnight sun is but a weird shadow of the day he longs for, and while the fitful gleams of an aurora bring to mind the indestructible forces of nature, every step in the tropical country, unless it be a desert, calls forth admiration and wonder at the vigor and fullness of animal and vegetable life. Forms of the most profound interest rise up before him, forms of which he finds but the stony record of bygone eras in his own country. The marvelous vitality of plant life, too, affords him a glimpse into the sealed book of geological age, where time appears to be annihilated.

Approaching by sea from the northward, a dark line along the horizon denotes the presence of land. As the water is shallow in the vicinity of the coast, all ships of heavy draught are obliged to wait for high tide before entering the harbor of Georgetown, Demerara's capital. A chapter on the gradual accretion of land, and on the hydrographic conditions of the northern coast of South America, would here be out of place, so it may suffice to remark

that the coastline of British Guiana is subject to serious changes in consequence of marine currents, unless such changes be anticipated and avoided by artificial means. In order to protect plantations and settlements of the lowlands, the Dutch Government caused an extensive "sea-wall" to be built. The experience gained by them in their native country was here successfully applied, and the profits accruing from this tremendous undertaking have shown the wisdom of its inception. Repairs to this means. of defense require annually large sums, which are borne by estate owners and the British Government, in order to secure cultivation and returns from lands which otherwise would be submerged at high tide.

Georgetown is certainly a most beautiful place. As the center of enterprise, from which is directed the utilization of resources afforded by the colony, it has a busy appearance. Immediately beyond the business quarters of the town, however, are the delightful habitations and luxuriant gardens of its citizens. A welcome sight is that of the Stars and Stripes, floating over the residence of our consular representative, Col. Figyelmesy; his courteous thoughtfulness and hearty reception will ever render the visit to his tropical home a most grateful memory.

The construction of houses, which permits free circulation of air, is thoroughly well adapted to the exigencies of the climate. A sea-breeze keeps the air in motion and makes life very endurable. No pen can do justice to the brilliancy of the tastefully arranged gardens by which nearly every house is surrounded. Magnificent flowering trees, and shrubs exhaling fragrant perfumes, are cultivated in abundance. Hospitality is a leading feature of the citizens, and the stranger finds every opportunity offered him for admiring their sense of the beautiful.

In our northern climes, where nearly one-half of the year seems devoted to the apparent dying and death of all plant life, we are driven to bestow an adequate portion of our affections upon more unchangeable objects. Thus it is hardly surprising that blue-colored plates, hideous ornaments of days gone by, and chairs, quaint to look at, but also quaint to sit upon, claims so much of our attention. When climatal changes interrupt the enjoyment of nature's exhibits, it seems necessary to find other subjects upon which the superfluous sentimentality demanded by reigning fashion can be expended.