Note 4 — Chapter IV · IN MID-ORINOQUIA

Adventures Amidst the Equatorial Forests and Rivers of South America, p. 63, by Villiers Stuart, London, 1891.

Accepting as true these and similar exaggerated statements made by travelers from the time of Gumilla to our own regarding the insect pests of tropical America, the reader will no doubt be inclined to agree with Sydney Smith that it is better for one to become reconciled to the trials of our northern climate than to expose oneself to the still greater trials in the lands bordering the equator. In a characteristic article in the Edinburgh Review on Waterton’s Wanderings, the genial humorist has the following paragraph:—

“Insects are the curse of tropical climates. The bête-rouge lays the foundation of a tremendous ulcer. In a moment you are covered with ticks. Chigoes bury themselves in your flesh, and hatch a large colony of young chigoes in a few hours. They will not live together, but every chigoe sets up a separate ulcer, and has his own private portion of pus. Flies get entry into your mouth, into your eyes, into your nose; you eat flies, drink flies, and breathe flies. Lizards, cockroaches, and snakes, get into the bed; ants eat up the books; scorpions sting you on the foot. Everything bites, stings, or bruises; every second of your existence you are wounded by some piece of animal life that nobody has ever seen before, except Swammerdam and Meriam. An insect with eleven legs is swimming in your teacup, a nondescript with nine wings is struggling in the small beer, or a caterpillar with several dozen eyes in his belly is hastening over your bread and butter! All nature is alive, and seems to be gathering all her entomological hosts to eat you up, as you are standing, out of your coat, waistcoat, and breeches. Such are the tropics. All this reconciles us to our dews, fogs, vapours, and drizzle—to our apothecaries rushing about with gargles and tinctures—to our old, British, constitutional coughs, sore throats, and swelled faces.” ↑