The
importance of such an invitation meant for me a radical change in
appearance--an extensive alteration that could not be wrought without
considerable pains. I had to have a five-months' beard shaved off, and
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 deg. 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.
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