The condition of being “lost” is a sad one in any circumstances, but being lost in a forest—a virgin forest—a forest of unknown extent, in a vast continent such as that of South America, must be admitted to be a peculiarly severe misfortune. Nevertheless, we are bound to say that our hero and his friends did not appear to regard their lost condition in this light. Perhaps their indifference arose partly from their ignorance of what was entailed in being lost in the forest. The proverb says, that “where ignorance is bliss ’tis folly to be wise.” Whether that be true or not, there can be no question that it is sometimes an advantage to be ignorant. Had our lost friends known the extent of the forest in which they were lost, the number of its wild four-footed inhabitants, and the difficulties and dangers that lay before them, it is certain that they could not have walked along as light-heartedly as they did, and it is probable that they would have been less able to meet those difficulties and dangers when they appeared.

 

Be this as it may, Will Osten and Larry O’Hale, Muggins, and Old Peter, continued to wander through the forest, after discovering that they were lost, until the increasing darkness rendered further progress impossible; then they stopped and sat down on the stump of a fallen tree.

 

“It is clear,” said our hero, “that we shall have to pass the night here, for there is no sign of human habitation, and the light is failing fast.”

 

“That’s so,” said Muggins curtly.

 

“I’m a’feard on it,” observed Old Peter with a sigh.

 

“Faix, I wouldn’t mind spindin’ the night,” said Larry, “av it worn’t that we’ve got no grub. It would be some comfort to know the name o’ the country we’re lost in.”

 

“I can tell you that, Larry,” said Will Osten; “we are in Peru; though what part of it I confess I do not know.”

 

“Peroo, is it? Well, that’s a comfort—anyhow.”

 

“I don’t ’xacly see where the comfort o’ that lies,” said Muggins.

 

“That’s cause yer intellects is obtoose, boy!” retorted Larry; “don’t ye know that it’s a blissin’ to know where ye are, wotiver else ye don’t know? Supposin’, now, a stranger shud ax me, ‘Where are ye, Paddy?’—ov course I cud say at wance, ‘In Peroo, yer honour;’ an’ if he shud go for to penetrate deeper into my knowledge o’ geography, sure I cud tell him that Peroo is in South Ameriky, wan o’ the five quarters o’ the globe, d’ye see?”

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