The richest woodland in northern latitudes is tame compared with the tropical forest. During the midday heat the leaves where the sun beats on them became lax and drooping and languishing for the rain to come and cheer them. While I sat there under the shade of the rude cabin the heat and tension became almost insupportable, and languor and sleepiness fell upon me. As the sun blazed down upon the clearing myriads of humming, buzzing insects filled the air. The white rolling clouds which passed overhead were quickly changing to a leaden hue, and darkness, intensified by contrast with the brilliant light it superseded, covered the scene. Lightning flashed and thunder rolled, and deafened with its noise. A mighty wind arose and swayed the tall trees all around, the rustling of whose million leaves added to the roaring sound that made my head grow dizzy. Then the rain came. Nothing can compare with the storm that burst. Even the thickly padded roof of palm leaves above my head was not impervious to the deluge, and very soon I was wet with the great splashes that came bursting through. So violent was its descent, that upon reaching the earth the water rebounded in all directions, so that even had the roof proved water-tight, sufficient water found entrance upwards to swamp the hut. The storm ceased as suddenly as it had come, the black clouds dissipated and passed away, then the serene, deep blue sky again looked down upon the glistening landscape. Before leaving the clearing I strolled around, and one giant tree of enormous girth attracted my attention. The buttresses at its base made by the roots rising out of the ground formed huge stalls that would have accommodated six good-sized ponies. Its age, not easily determined, must have been great, and it had seen thousands of storms like the one that had just passed over it. It was long past its early youth when Europeans first landed on these shores. The ancients supposed that trees were all immortal, and modern botanists have proved that many are almost indestructible, and may have witnessed the struggles of the earliest man. At last we started off to complete the journey home. When we arrived at the bank of the river we were fortunate in discovering a canoe moored to a branch. I felt a little reluctant to trust myself to the skill of the mere boy who accompanied me, but there was no help for it, so seating myself at one end of the narrow craft I awaited anxiously our arrival on the opposite bank. In spite of his diminutive proportions, however, the urchin was quite an adept with the paddle, and accomplished the journey against a swiftly flowing stream in a manner that showed he was accustomed to the navigation of the river. After we landed the journey was comparatively easy, but I was glad when we arrived at the headquarters house from which I had started. Finding my way along the railway track past houses inhabited by workers on the