S A DESERTED INDIAN CAMP. OME little time ago, in looking through a bundle | and much cultivated, and producing, it is said, the of Vancouver's Island newspapers, I was struck best coffee in the world. In this town he left his by the mention of a name well remembered in many wife and young children and started on his exploring parts of South America, and familiar to me when journey across the Sierra da Cruz into the valley of residing in that part of the world. Towards the close the Yungas, accompanied by a great friend of his, of 1860, a Peruvian ship, the Florencia, capsized at Padre Antonio, his faithful José, two Indian guides, sea, and among the lives lost was a Dr. Baillie, who and four muleteers. Padre Antonio was a Roman had taken passage for a visit to Callao. The Van- Catholic priest, who, though widely differing from couver's Island papers expressed the deep sorrow of the doctor in religious belief, was, like him, full of the whole community for the loss of one of the oldest kindly Christian charity. He was a man of much and most respected residents. Although not known intelligence, who had mixed a great deal with the to fame by any noted services or published works, he Indian tribes, and spoke the Chiquita language was a remarkable man, and a worthy example of the taught them by the Jesuit missionaries, and would Scotchmen who by talents and character occupy a therefore prove a good auxiliary in the new country. conspicuous place in many regions of the globe. A few incidents in his life seem worthy of record. Thomas Bissett Baillie, youngest son of General Baillie, of Carnbroe, Lanarkshire, was born in 1806. After attending the High School at Edinburgh, he studied medicine at the University, and received his diploma as surgeon and degree as doctor when still a very young man. An intense wish to travel made him gladly seize an opportunity of going out to Buenos Ayres. From thence he sailed in a Buenos Ayrean ship of war to Patagonia, a country then very little known, and it was in the various explorations he then made through that strange land that his zest for travel was strengthened. On returning to Buenos Ayres he established himself there as a physician, and gained a high character, both in his profession and for his moral, social, and intellectual qualities. He married Margaret, third daughter of Captain William Anderson, 71st Highlanders, a marriage which brought much domestic happiness. A grateful patient, whom he had attended through a dangerous illness, on his recovery made Dr. Baillie a present of a slave named José Maria, to whom he at once gave his liberty. José proved worthy of the gift, serving his master well and faithfully, accompanying him in all his wanderings-and they were many-through much of South America, over the Andes topped with perpetual snows, through valleys, across the immense pampas and torrid plains. Dr. Baillie was a first-rate botanist and geologist, and he explored with untiring zeal, and, better than this, never lost an opportunity of doing acts of Christian kindness and charity, for his was a beautiful unselfish character. In the memoranda of Dr. Baillie's life, which I have before me, and which are worthy of being made into a biography, I find many striking adventures of travel; from these I extract here only a few which seem most interesting. In the year 1834, General Francisco de Santa Cruz, then president of the Bolivian Republic, and a special friend of Dr. Baillie, sent him on an exploring expedition into the interior of Bolivia, to report on the mineral and botanical wealth of that country. Dr. Baillie had established his headquarters at Coroico, the chief town in the province of the Yungas, then in a very wild state, now cleared During their travels Dr. Baillie discovered many rare plants, and fully ascertained that immense mineral wealth lay beneath the soil. One day the travellers found themselves unexpectedly on what had been an Indian camp, which at first sight seemed quite deserted, but the marks of recent camp fires showed that the Indians had not long left it. The guides were questioned, and they decided that this tribe of Indians were not only warlike and fierce, but also cannibals. Dr. Baillie ordered a halt, and began an inspection of the various bamboo huts. Passing one, he heard a deep groan, and entering, found a poor Indian woman, lying on the ground, apparently dying of malignant small-pox. By her side was a jar of water and some pieces of coarse corn bread, but she had not strength to touch either. The good doctor administered some medicine to her, and placed her, with José's assistance, on a heap of palm leaves. A quiet sleep soon succeeded the agony of the disease. A further search discovered over twenty sick men and women, and more than a dozen dead bodies, principally those of youths and children. The fearful and much-dreaded small-pox had broken out in the encampment, and the chief of the tribe had decreed an immediate abandonment of it, leaving the dying and the dead. Dr. Baillie at once determined that here was the best work for him to do. He was bound, it was true, on scientific exploration, but this he would postpone, and remain with these poor suffering creatures to relieve and cure them if possible. The Indian guides were panic-stricken, and fled, and the muleteers, fearful of infection, would render no assistance, but kept, with their mules, at some distance from the encampment. Two of these Dr. Baillie sent back to Coroico for necessaries and more medicines; and, with the good Padre and José, out of the materials of the deserted huts, and with boughs and branches of trees, he then made up two large huts. Into one of these they carefully moved such of the poor women as could be moved, and into the second the men, making them all as comfortable as possible on beds of grass and leaves. Though having lived at this time for many years in the tropics, Dr. Baillie had lost none of the physical activity of his northern race, and was able to do double the work of his willing helpers, the Padre and José. They | Baillie, a doctor in medicine." There was a murmu continued their work of mercy till sunset, and then, in the crowd, and an old woman came forward and by the clear moonlight, opened a large grave and close up to him, scanned him eagerly, put up her buried therein the forsaken dead. "She is Next morning, after seeing to the wants of the patients, Dr. Baillie and José followed the trail of the fugitive Indians, and found several victims to the disease who had been abandoned. They brought them back to their hospital, but with great difficulty, as the poor Indians feared being taken by a white man, and even more by a black one. All fears, however, were soon replaced by loving trust in their good friends. And the spot was a beautiful one: a wide valley, fringed by wooded hills rich in all the gorgeous foliage of the tropics, a stream flowing near, and lofty snow-capped mountains in the distance. Through many weeks the good doctor and priest and José laboured indefatigably among their patients with the pleasant reward of seeing many of them recover health and strength, and leave rejoicing to join their tribe, and with the trial of having to dig several graves in that lonely encampment. The most tedious and difficult case was that of the first poor woman the doctor had found, whose name was Zuga, but his skill and care brought her through the illness, and she, too, left with vehement regret and protestations of love and gratitude. Dr. Baillie at parting gave her a small silver brooch, and the Padre a small crucifix. After this occurrence, some years passed on, and Dr. Baillie was again on an exploring expedition in the interior of Bolivia, accompanied by his faithful José and the usual guides. One day, being very much absorbed in botanical researches, he wandered from his companions, and, without any warning, was surrounded and taken prisoner by some Indians. José, soon missing his dear master, went in search of him, and was seized, too, by the same Indians. The guides took alarm, mounted their mules, and escaped. When evening came, the party started for the mountains, having placed the doctor and José on led horses, to which they were tied, and travelled on until sunrise, halted during the heat of the day, and again went on in the evening. And so they travelled for some days, treating their prisoners with kindness, carefully watching them, but allowing them free communication with each other. Their way lay through primeval forests, across plains, great patches covered with the pampas grass, and through lonely valleys, the mountain streams now and then forming picturesque lakes. Dr. Baillie, an intense lover of the beautiful in nature, felt fascinated by the scenery, and, notwithstanding his critical position, gave vent to his admiration to José, who only responded by a groan and a muttered wish that they were safely back in Coroico. They arrived at their destination, an Indian encampment, late at night, and next morning early the doctor and José were led before the chief of the tribe, and surrounded by a large crowd of Indians, all eagerly examining the white and black man. The captive doctor tried to assume an indifference he did not feel, for the prospect was anything but pleasant, and life was especially dear to him for the sake of the loved ones he had left. Dr. Baillie respectfully saluted the chief, who, in a stentorian voice, loudly asked his name. Why savage nations, as well as their civilised brethren, will use very loud tones when speaking their language to strangers to this day remains to be explained. The doctor replied in the Chiquita language, "I am Thomas Bissett hand and raised the hair off his forehead. the cook," thought the poor doctor; "she is examining if I am fit to kill and eat." Then she clasped her hands, and, raising the end of Dr. Baillie's cloak, laid her cheek on it and wailed forth some unknown mutterings. Then suddenly turning, she threw herself on the ground before the chief and spoke to him in imploring tones. A fierce shout came from the Indians, who all crowded round Dr. Baillie and José. Their situation was no way enviable; several of the oldest among the tribe prostrated themselves, too, before the chief, and the doctor thought his doom was sealed. But astonishment soon drove fear away when the chief advanced to him, and, taking his hand, made him squat on his rug (a rough skin), and signed to José to keep near him, and offered both some cacoa leaves to chew. Some Indian drinks and prepared food were then brought, and the chief ate and drank with them, and then the doctor knew he could trust his captors. After the meal they were led to a hut and told to rest in peace. The woman followed them, and drew from a fold in her dress Dr. Baillie's brooch, and, pointing to the small-pox marks on her face, said," Zuga!" and then he recognised his first patient in the deserted encampment. She called several others whom he had cured, who came and bowed low before the doctor, and laid their faces on the end of his cloak. Next day a grand and noisy feast-Indian fashionwas held in honour of the two, and the day after the doctor and José had each beautiful horses, "saddled" and bridled, presented to them, and they were told to mount. They gladly did so after going round and making their adieu to the chief and to poor Zuga and their other acquaintances, many of whom accompanied them all the day, leading by turns their horses. The chief sent guides with provisions, who did not leave them till they arrived safely at the well-known roads near Coroico. As long as Dr. Baillie continued to reside in Coroico, very often in the early mornings, when the door leading to the street was opened, piles of delicious fruits, rolls of tobacco, and skins of animals were found placed there during the night-time, tributes of gratitude from the poor savage but grateful Indians. In those days revolutions were of everyday occurrence in the then, and even now, unsettled States of South America. During one of these, Dr. Baillie, crossing the pampas from Cordova to Buenos Ayres, was taken prisoner, together with José, his sole at tendant, and condemned to be shot, by a stray party of revolutionary soldiers, who mistook him for one of the party opposed to them from the colour of the lining of his poncho (cloak), which was blue. No explanation or remonstrance would these infuriated soldiers listen to. The doctor was tied to a tree and condemned to be shot in an hour. Poor José was allowed to stay near him, but had his hands tied. The soldiers came round examining his clothes, his watch, and settling that they should draw lots for each article; they then left him, and busied themselves preparing their evening meal, and in bringing together the horses to bivouac. A single soldier approached Dr. Baillie. and pretended to be carefully examining his clothes; he spoke in a low voice, "Señor Doctor, I well remember you. You saved my leg from being cut off Dr. Baillie and his family removed from South America and settled in Vancouver's Island, where he led a most useful and happy life. One who knew him intimately during those years described him as "so benevolent, so sweet-tempered, so self-sacrificing, and so clever, with a deep sense of religion." in the hospital of Coroico nearly two years ago; | the wife and children of my dear doctor and friend you watched me like a brother. See, I cut your are safe;" and he sent soldiers to protect her on her cords half though. I will let your horses loose. I way. will free your servant too. Fly for your life." Then the soldier went to José and appeared to examine his clothes too, and cut the rope partly through that bound his hands. He then led the two horses away, as if to water them; and going through the brushwood stealthily, he fired off a pistol. Up jumped such of the soldiers as were seated, off ran those that were standing, all with their fire-arms, in the direction of the shot. With a wrench and a bound, Dr. Baillie freed himself, so did José. They mounted in "hot haste," and escaped. When that revolution was put down, and before another succeeded it, Dr. Baillie made every inquiry for the grateful soldier, but never could find a trace of him. The good doctor was beloved and respected by all who knew him, and I give one more anecdote to illustrate this. Mrs. Baillie, travelling in the Argentines on her return to her home at Buenos Ayres with her young family and servants, all well mounted, met a party of soldiers, who stopped her, and ordered her to give up the horses for the Government. She had no help for it, so she dismounted, and began taking her children down. One of them, a sturdy little girl, boldly refused to be moved, and screamed and kicked. The officer in command advanced to aid Mrs. Baillie, and seeing the child, he was struck with its likeness to the father. Bowing low, he askod, "Do I address Señora Baillie? Then indeed He left Port Townshend, Washington Territory, on the 10th November, 1860, on board the Peruvian ship Florencia, intending a speedy return to his home. On the night of the 12th, a violent storm came on suddenly and the vessel capsized. And how was Dr. Baillie found at his last moments? True to his principles of Christian love and duty, trying to aid and save another life, he nobly lost his own. A passenger on board the Florencia, Captain Baker, visited Mrs. Baillie some months after the wreck, and told her how it had occurred. The Florencia carried a heavy deck-load of timber. On the gale springing up a mast fell, striking the captain of the vessel on the head, rendering him insensible. Dr. Baillie helped to convey him at once to his cabin below, and was trying restoratives, when the second mast sprung. Captain Baker, seeing the imminent danger, ran to the cabin door calling out "Dr. Baillie, save yourself." He saw the good doctor put his arms round the captain, evidently trying to save him; the second mast went down with a crash, the vessel turned over, and the good life ended in a noble death. NATURAL HISTORY ANECDOTES. THE KINGFISHER. N many streams, and especially those which flow kingfisher may be met with, glancing backward and forward like a meteor, dazzling by the brilliancy of its hues as they flash in the sun. Often may it be seen poising itself at a moderate degree of elevation over the water, and then darting with astonishing rapidity and suddenness upon some unwary trout or minnow, deep beneath the surface, but which is seldom missed by its assailant, so impetuous is the plunge, and so aided is the bird, in passing through the water, by its acutely wedge-shaped contour of body, and by its burnished plumage. Its ordinary way, however, of watching for its victims, is for it to sit with dogged patience on a branch or tree, or rocky projection overhanging the stream, whence, in silence and alone, it watches every occurrence in the watery element below. Should its prey appear within reach, down it descends instantaneously like a shot, the crystal water scarcely bubbling with the plunge; the next moment it rises up, bearing its prey in its beak, and returns to its resting-place again. The bird now commences the destruction of its captive; without losing its hold, it passes the fish between its mandibles till it has it grasped fairly by the tail, and then ends its struggles by beating its head against the branch on which it sits; it next reverses its position, and swallows it head foremost, or if it have young, bears it away to its ravenous brood. Though the kingfisher may be often found near the haunts of man, still it prefers lonely and secluded places where it may pursue its instinctive habits without interruption. Its mate is its only companion, and both labour assiduously in the suption is a steep precipitous or overhanging bank, in which, at some distance above the water, they either form or seize upon a burrow extending about three feet deep, at the et emity of which, without making any nest, the female lays her eggs, about five in number, of a beautiful pinky white. After the young are hatched, it is not long before they are surrounded with a circular mound of disgorged fishbones (for, like hawks and owls, the kingfisher recasts the indigestible parts of its food), which has led some to suppose that it was of fish-bones that the nest was constructed; such, however, is not the case. The young, almost as soon as fledged, acquire the brilliant plumage of the adult. This is essentially necessary; for in plunging into the water in order to gain its subsistence, the kingfisher absolutely needs this burnished surface for the purpose of throwing off the fluid, and thereby preventing the plumage from becoming saturated. After quitting the nest, the young are led to some secure restingplace, where, clamorous for food, they tax the industry of their active parents; they are, however, soon able to fish for themselves. When winter drives the finny tenants of the rivers to deep and sheltered bottoms, the kingfishers leave the shallow inland streams and pass towards the coast, frequenting dykes and the mouths of rivers, especially on our southern shores, and return inland with the spring. Mr. Edward, the Banff naturalist, has described his first sight of the kingfisher. "What a beautiful bird! What a sparkling gem of nature! Resplen dent in plumage and gorgeous in colour-from the bright turquoise blue to the deepest green, and the darker shades of copper and gold." Edward was on a nesting excursion, with some little fellows like himself, along the braes of the Don, and at some distance above the Auld Brig, when he first saw this lustrous bird. "I was greatly taken," he says, "with its extraordinary beauty, and much excited by seeing it dive into the stream. I thought it would drown itself, and that its feathers would eventually become so clogged with water that it would not be able to fly. Had this happened-which, of course, it did not-my intention was to have plunged in to the rescue, when, as a matter of course, I would have claimed the prize as my reward. Thus buoyed up, I wandered up and down the river after the bird, until the shades of even came down and forced me to give up the pursuit; and I then discovered, having continued the chase so long, that I was companionless, and had to return home alone." THE EAGLE. From the carliest historical period to the present day the eagle has been extolled as the king of birds. Two special characteristics have often been ascribed to her namely, devotion to her young and strength of vision. When young, the many allusions to the eagle with which I met inspired me with a strong desire to verify my reading on these points. I was not aware that poetical allusions might not correspond with facts, nor that the eagle of my acquaintance might be a different branch of the eagle family. Having no doubts on these points to cool my enthusiasm, I ventured much and spent much time for years in watching the royal bird. I had no idea of recording the result. I had no acquaintance but would have laughed at my folly. But I enjoyed it, and for any one like-minded I now record the facts, as they are to me fresh as yesterday. In the most westerly of the Shetland group of islands, a perpendicular cliff, said to be 1,200 feet high, fronts the north-west. A projection at its base rises some 400 feet from the ocean. On the top of this projection a pair of eagles had their nest from time out of mind. Here they yearly reared one or two young eaglets. The nest, being unprotected, was quite visible from the top of the cliff. Here was a splendid opportunity to test the power of her eye. Whenever I appeared on the top of the cliff the eagle tumbled over the cliff off her nest. My eye never once caught her sitting. About nine a.m., with a bright sun, his rays must dash over the cliff with blinding effect to an eye looking up as towards the top of the cliff from the eagle's point of view. The whole 800 feet between me and the eagle's nest was one constant swarm of birds on the wing. Sheep were grazing on the very brink. Fancy such a scene on such a bright morning! I have a spot marked from which the nest is directly visible. I prostrate myself on the ground and crawl to the spot. When there, raise my head until my eye is in a line with the nest a blazing sun behind me. It is of no use. I simply see her tumble off the nest. Disguise as I might, her eye caught the top of my head, and knew it to be human at a glance, and right in the teeth of a bright morning sun! One fine morning in May I was seated on the top of a high hill fronting the sea towards the east-for one of my strange freaks when a boy was to climb | the highest hill early to see the sun rise, nor can [ ever forget the pleasurable sensation felt as I saw him, on a tranquil morning, rise as if from beneath the ocean-an eagle was high above me, as if fixed in space. I was looking on him, when all at once he put himself in the attitude of darting on his prey, and, like an arrow from the bow, rushed away towards the sea, and was soon invisible. In a little time I saw a flock of gulls in great commotion, moving towards the shore. By-and-by I could discern the eagle coming a space before them heavilyladen. The place where I first saw the gulls was at least three miles from the shore. The object caught by the eagle was a fish. From his position above me to the fish could not be less than four miles. I was struck with it at the time as an illustration of keen vision from great distance, though it has occurred to me since that he may have felt hungry and rushed to a part of the sea which from previous experience ke knew to be likely to give him a meal. On the other point-her devotion to her youngI became intensely interested. Old men were consulted as to whether her nest had ever been reached from above or below, and their testimony was, it had, but not for generations back. I am afraid this report had no deterrent effect, as now the only question was, Shall it be attempted from the base or from the top? The base seemed the most likely, and so, one fine day, with a smooth sea, the bold attempt was made. A boat was rowed to the foot of the cliff, when three fearless youths stepped ashore, leaving an old man to keep the boat, as there was no spot on which to land it. These three, stripped almost naked-clothes being dangerous accompaniments in such undertak ings-commenced the perilous ascent of 400 feet. The course was one of much zigzagging, and often a finger and a toe had to bear the whole strain; but after two hours arduous efforts the patch of green on the top was reached, where a hand-to-hand conflict with the eagles was anticipated. Here was the eagle's nest, containing two young eaglets, each about the size of a common hen. The nest stood in the centre of an apparently excavated circle a fathom across each way. An immense heap of sticks and bones formed its base, then lambs'-skins and birds'skins, with the bones of each, and on the top of all the real nest, tastefully lined with wool, and of a size to be filled by the parent bird while hatching. All around the nest lay the remnants of lambs, ducks, guillemots, etc. And now for the anticipated conflict. But no; both the parents were there, and saw their young ones taken from the nest; heard their cries, too, for they were pinched, and otherwise treated roughly. They contented themselves by loudly protesting at a safe distance of several hundred yards. An old flint-lock of light dimensions had been dragged up in the hope of doing execution on them at close quarters for lambs and ducks carried off. Probably they were aware of this, as all ravenous birds seem to know firearms. Be that true or not, the descent had to be made, with only the young eaglets as trophies, if I except a few other birds taken on the way. The descent was much more difficult than the ascent, but it was managed in safety. The young eaglets were brought home alive and presented to a stranger gentleman then on the island. This led to a market for hens on which to feed them while he stayed. He took them away with him, and here my knowledge of them ends. The parent birds never again occupied the same |