Through South America's southland; with an account of the Roosevelt Scientific Expedition to South America . les and abandoned cemeteries—the once sacred gardens of the dead—I found, morepleasure in gazing on the tree-clad hills and the flower-carpeted plains, over which the Indians, preceded by acrucifix and accompanied by their pastors, were wont, inlong white-robed processions, to wend their way to peace-ful labor to the sound of joyous anthems or elevatingprayer. It was more grateful to observe the clumps ofstately palms which once shielded the laborer from thenoonday sun, or the broad riv
Through South America's southland; with an account of the Roosevelt Scientific Expedition to South America . les and abandoned cemeteries—the once sacred gardens of the dead—I found, morepleasure in gazing on the tree-clad hills and the flower-carpeted plains, over which the Indians, preceded by acrucifix and accompanied by their pastors, were wont, inlong white-robed processions, to wend their way to peace-ful labor to the sound of joyous anthems or elevatingprayer. It was more grateful to observe the clumps ofstately palms which once shielded the laborer from thenoonday sun, or the broad rivers, those majestic caminosandantes—flowing roads—along which well-manned canoesused to glide from one mission to another, or the wildorange groves, where a venerable Indian may still befound at eventide reverently murmuring the Angelus, asdid his forefathers in happier days. But now not vesperhymns of contented natives enliven the scene; only theharsh notes of the parrot and macaw hovering above thenearby date-palms—stately, though mute, souvenirs of thegolden age of the Guarani missions. 402. Ruins of Chukches ok the Keductions of Paraguay. IN GUARANILAND But it was the Parana, where we crossed it betweenPosadas and Encaniacion, which gave me the most unal-loyed pleasure. It evoked in a special manner many cher-ished memories of youtliful days. For my first recollec-tions of the reductions are associated with the pictureof an Indian standing on the bank of the Parana, nearthese parts, with a large fish in his hand. And this pic-ture has always been connected with an account of themissionaries sailing down the great river and chantingthe sublime Te Deum which was reechoed by the neighbor-ing wooded heights. How I then longed to see that greatriver in which the Indian caught the big fish! How Iwished that I might one day sail on the great waterwaywhich bore on its bosom the chanting evangelists of thegolden age of Guaraniland! That was more than fifty years ago, and,
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