And they do not like confinement any better than the condors do. Shut up in cages they generally pine, and die. They are made for sunshine and flowers, free, out-door life and happiness. A SNOW-STORM IN THE TROPICS. “Father,” said George Moore, one stormy winter’s night, “won’t you please tell me of some one of your adventures?” [Illustration: SEAL FISHERMAN.] “You seem never to tire of my adventures,” said his father, smiling. “Did I ever tell you how nearly I was lost once, in a snow-storm, in the tropics?” “A snow-storm in the tropics! How could that be?” “It happened when I was quite a young man, that, for several months, in the course of business, I had to stay at a lonely place on the coast of Peru. I was in a town, but it was a dull one, and only showed signs of life when some trading vessel would lie there for a day or two. My only amusement was seal fishing; but I soon tired of that, for I was not very successful. It was a sport that required more practice than I was able to give it. The boats are nothing but two bags of skin, connected by a narrow deck, and I did not consider them altogether safe, for me, at least. “At last I thought I would vary the monotony of my life by a little trip up the Andes mountains. I could not go alone, of course, but a small sum was sufficient to hire a guide, and two men besides, and four mules. There were no hostile Indians to fear, and the guide was all that I needed, but I knew he would be better contented with some companions, and I felt, myself, that it would be a lonely sort of journey for two. “It was my intention to make an early start, but it was quite late in the morning before I could get the lazy natives on the road. The first part of our march was across a sandy, stony desert, with the rays of a hot sun beating on our heads. My broad-brimmed Panama did not prevent my face from blistering, and the white cotton cape I wore did not seem to be much of a protection. “We halted twice to take some refreshments, and short rests; and, before sunset, we arrived at a miserable sort of inn, where we remained for three hours, and rested ourselves and the mules; and both men and beasts ate hearty suppers. Then we continued our journey, for it was more pleasant to travel at night than in the day. It was evident that we were reaching higher ground, though the ascent was so easy as scarcely to be perceptible. But the air gradually became fresher and cooler, and, at last, a woolen cloak was comfortable. “When day came we found ourselves in a region almost as barren as the desert we had left the day before. We were on a rocky plain, high up on the hills, or, more properly, small mountains. No plants grew on this plain except a few species of cactus, which flourish in the poorest soils: there were no signs of life, but flocks of turtle-doves.” [Illustration: CACTUS PLANTS.] “That must have been a pretty sight, though, father! I should like to see a great many turtle-doves together.”