Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1878-08-15
NO. 1872.
Gales and Sketfhes.
THE GREAT TROPICAL FALLACY.

Once upon a time believed in the trop-
les, but that was great many years ago.
| have seen too much of those wretched
pretenders to believe in them any more.
and have made up my mind to denounce
and expose them before an indignant
world. The hoaiy old deceivers shall de-
| ceive no longer, il word OF mine can strip
the tawdry disguises from their shabby
| faces; no longer shall they hide them
| selves behind their cloak of gorgeous
colOrs, or trick themselves out bypocriti-
| cally with Haunting flowers, beautiful
birds, and brilliant butterflies. They have
decked their nakedness too many centur-
les already in these false theatrical prop
critics, and now they must come out into
the open light of day, to exhibit the rags
and tatters which form their every day in
vestments. To put the whole matter in a
nutshell. there are no tropics. The entire
| conception is a sham and delusion. an
| elaborate humbug perpetrated by whole
generations of travellers. the baseless
fabric of disordered dream.
OF course | am not going to deny all
those dreadful astronomical facts which
we learned in our hapless childhood, at a
fee OF two guineas extra, under the mys-
terious designation, use OF the globes"
am quite prepared to admit that Cancer
and Capricorn have real external exis-
tence, and that the sun annually performs
| all kinds OF antics when he reaches their
| invisible limit. only discernible to nautical
| eyes by the aid OF n sextant and marine
| binocular. | have had the evidence of nv
own senses to the peculiar way in whicn
my shadow has run north, south. east or
west, and finally disappeared under my
| feet, after | had once crossed that intan-
| gible barrier OF twenty three something
| north 0hank heaven, I've forgotten the
| minutes, though the degrees will haunt
my memory till the end of my days) and
| have experienced all tie horrors of a
vertical sun, pouring his red hot rays
straight down on my devoted head tor
months and years together. These physi-
cal and geographical phenomena am not
going for moment to dispute, nor do |
wish to join the eccentric squadron OF
| earth flatlerers, who march solemnly forth
under Mr.. Hampton's guidance TO do bat
tie with Calico, Copernicus, Newton, Mr..
| Wallace, and the astronomer royal. The
tropics of science may rest undisturbed
but the tropics OF poets, painters. lovers,
romanci,ts and travellers, venture TO as
sert, do not exist, aud never did exist,
| elsewhere than in the fertile Imagination
which called their picture into being.
We all know that picture by heart. In
the background glorious sunset, bathing
the mountain peaks in flood OF golden
halo aud crimson light; at the mid-dis-
tance waterfall leaping down the rocks,
spanned by a rainbow, and half hidden
with mass OF gigantic ferns; ia the
foreground a group OF palm trees. their
leathely branches dropping in grace
tul curve, and their long stems rising
grandly towards The sky, whose blue ex-
panse throws up in strong relief their
eaiy crowns. Among the lesser trees,
parrots of every hue-red, green, white
and yellow, chatter aud scream in cir
cling flight; while monkeys grin in the
underwood and leap in vain at the gaily
painted butterflies tnat Hit unheeding past.
Creepers with huge crimson blossoms
hang pendant from every bough; orchids
of strange shape and color carpet the
moist soil beneath; and bushes of cactus
or euphorOia spread their quaint jonted
stems and yellow bloom over all the barer
patches in the forest shade. This is The
sort OF thing that we all picture to our
selves when we talk in our pristine igno-
rance OF tropical scenery.
| Well, the picture bears about as much
|
palace at Drury Lane bears to Rag Fair
or the Seven Dials. The tropics OF real
life are no gorgeous scenes oil glossy YER
dure and brilliant coloring, but vast ex-
panses OF dry and dusty plain, hideous
rocky masses OF shapeless and tangled
vegetation, interspersed with squaid
patches of Struggling human tilIage, and
filthy collections oil tumble down human
huts. 1t is sad truth tor the poet and
the painter, who would iain cling to that
romantic faith in Summer isles Of Eden
lying mid dark purple spheres of sea :"
but truth it is nevertheless, and as such
| feel it my duty u preach it for the fur
ther destruction ot the great tropical fal-
lacy. whose himsy pretences have my
seii uneartbed.
am not alone in my belief. DIR. Wal
lace, OF Malay Archipelago fame; MIR
Bates, the naturalist on the Amazons Pro-
fessor Agassz, who went ON a journey to
Brazil, aud fifty other experienced travel
lens have all announced the same truth
before me. But these eminent writers
had too much TO tell about birds. beasts,
fishes, aud all manner OF cree ping things,
to find much leisure Tor fully exposing the
gigantic fraud OF those unbiushlng trop cs
They mertl, brushed aside the iallacy as
"a thing to be Dip Jsed OF with a wave OF
the hand; whereas |, humber way
larer, find in 1t an error which has taken
deep root in the European mind, and can
only be extracted by u deliberate opera
ton. That operation am here to-day to
| perform, and | propose to begin by
short account of my first experiences in
! tropical life Jamaica was the scene OF
my disillusionment, and | will therefore
convey the reader without more ado to
the open mouth of Port Royal Harbor, on
the day of my first arrival in the sunny
regions of the south.
We were all up at four bells in the
morning, six o'clock by terrestrial time, to
see the good ship ''Tagus" sweep round
the spit OF land known as the Palisades.
Our first view OF the tropics tended to
keep up the delusion SO soon destined to
sudden explosion. AT the very end of
the spit, within hundred yards OF our
deck, st BOD waving grove of cocoa nut
palms. Now, the palm-tree is the max