ons, and stood by the bulwarks admiring the beauty
of this scene with a sense of keen pleasure. Its vastness, its soft
wave-like undulations charmed me into forgetfulness of all that has made
the trip unpleasant. There was no habitation in sight, yet those
prairies gave one an idea of infinite life.

"'It is here,' said a voice at my elbow, 'where the people of Seville
come for the wild bulls that form the great feature in their bull
fights. Wandering about in that long grass are thousands of splendid
animals that probably never saw the face of man.'

"It was James Harrington. I felt that he was there before he spoke. A
quick throbbing of my heart had warned me of his presence.

"'I see nothing of them,' was my answer. 'It seems one broad sea of wavy
grass, more still and lonely than the ocean itself, because no ships are
to be seen.'

"'Look,' he said, pointing to a long, undulating ripple in the grass,
which seemed like the flow of some brook, 'a drove is coming toward the
shore.'

"As he spoke, the thick wall of grass that hedged in the river was
parted, and the fiery head and broad chest of a wild bull, black as jet,
came into full view, while the rest of his body was still concealed.

"Rosa Bonheur would have gloried in a study like that. The great wild
eyes, burning with angry fire--the long, slender horns, black as ebony,
and sharp as steel, which curved out from the proud symmetry of that
head, would have inspired lower genius than hers. The furious toss of
those horns, the swelling nostrils, blood red with angry heat, the
vehement pawing of his hoof upon the bank, were enough to terrify a
bolder person than I am. But the river was deep, and our boat far enough
from the shore to silence any fear of danger. Besides, the creature was
so magnificent in his wild rage, that admiration overwhelmed all other
feelings.

"As the boat came opposite this bull, there was commotion in the tall
grass all around him, and out from the dense covert broke half a dozen
kindred beasts, all drawn to the shore by the rush and sound of the
steamboat. Superb animals they were, one and all; perfect creatures,
fresh from the hand of Nature, untouched by fetter or lasso, untamable
as the lion in his jungle. Some were ready for fight with the monster
beast that had seemed to challenge combat, with its rushing wheels and
the defiant snort of its engine. Others looked gravely at the passing
phenomenon, and stood motionless, with the