then get into my best New York shirt, not to forget a high collar. I
also considered that the occasion necessitated the impressiveness
of a frock-coat, which I produced at the end of a long search among
my baggage and proceeded to don after extracting a tarantula and
some stray scolopendra from the sleeves and pockets. The sensation of
wearing a stiff collar was novel, and not altogether welcome, since the
temperature was near the 100° mark. The reward for my discomfort came,
however, in the shape of the best meal I ever had in the Amazon region.

During these dull days I was made happy by finding a copy of Mark
Twain's _A Tramp Abroad_ in a store over in Nazareth on the Peruvian
side of the Javary River. I took it with me to my hammock, hailing
with joy the opportunity of receiving in the wilderness something
that promised a word from "God's Own Country." But before I could
begin the book I had an attack of swamp-fever that laid me up four
days. During one of the intermissions, when I was barely able to move
around, I commenced reading Mark Twain. It did not take more than
two pages of the book to make me forget all about my fever. When I
got to the ninth page, I laughed as I had not laughed for months, and
page 14 made me roar so athletically that I lost my balance and fell
out of my hammock on the floor. I soon recovered and crept back into
the hammock, but out I went when I reached page 16, and repeated the
performance at pages 19, 21, and 24 until the supplementary excitement
became monotonous. Whereupon I procured some rags and excelsior,
made a bed underneath the hammock, and proceeded to enjoy our eminent
humourist's experience in peace.



CHAPTER IV