his stamp are often
very good fellows at bottom, though they do `aw' in a most ridiculous
and unaccountable manner. Besides, he has done you no harm."

"Done me no harm!" repeated the negro, indignantly, "didn't he say you
was mad or drunk?"

"Well, well," said Lawrence, laughing, "that was a very innocent remark.
It did no harm to either of us."

"You's wrong, massa," returned Quashy in a magnificently hurt tone. "It
dood no harm to you, but it hurt my _feelin's_, an' dat's wuss dan
hurtin' my body."

At this point in the conversation the troop passed over the brow of an
eminence, and beheld the wide rolling sea of the illimitable South
American Pampas, or plains, stretching away on all sides to the horizon.
During the whole morning they had been galloping through the region of
the _Monte_, or bush, that border-land which connects the treeless
plains with the tropical forests of the north, where thorny shrubs
covered the ground in more or less dense patches, where groves of the
algaroba--a noble tree of the mimosa species,--and trees laden with a
peach-like but poisonous fruit, as well as other trees and shrubs,
diversified the landscape, and where the ground was carpeted with
beautiful flowering plants, among which were the variegated blossoms of
verbena, polyanthus, and others.

But now, all was changed. It seemed as if the party had reached the
shores of a great, level, grassy sea, with only here and there a seeming
islet, where a thicket grew, to break the sky-line of the horizon. For
a few minutes the rear-guard drew up to collect the straggling
baggage-mules, and then away they went with a wild shout, as if they
were moved by the same glad feeling of freedom that affects the petrel
when it swoops over the billows of the mighty ocean.

The scene and the sensations were absolutely new to Lawrence and Quashy.
Both were mounted on very good horses, which seemed to sympathise with
their riders, for they required no spur to urge them over the grassy
plain. The sun was bright, and Lawrence had been too long accustomed to
the leaden skies of old England to quarrel with the sunshine, however
hot it might be; besides, he rather enjoyed heat, and as for Quashy,
heat was his native element. A pleasant air was blowing, too. In
short, everything looked beautiful, especially to our hero, who knew--at
least supposed--that a certain princess of the Incas was in the band
immediately in front of him. He was not awar