We spent a very agreeable evening in the house of Don Antonio Padròn, one of the richest inhabitants, where we found all Trinidad society gathered in a tertulia. We were again struck by how vivacious Cuban women are. Though lacking the refinements of European civilization, the primitive simplicity of their charms pleased us. We left Trinidad on March the 15th. The mayor had us driven down to the mouth of the Guaurabo river in a fine carriage lined with old crimson damask. To add to our confusion a priest, the local poet, dressed in a velvet suit despite the heat, celebrated our voyage to the Orinoco with a sonnet.

In the cool of dawn we set off to climb the Turimiquiri. This is the name given to the Cocollar peak, which forms one large mountain range with the Brigantín, called before by the Indians Sierra de los Tageres. We traveled a part of the way on the horses that run free on the savannahs, but are used to being saddled. Even when they look heavily laden they climb the slipperiest slopes with ease. Wherever the sandstone appears above ground the land is even and forms small plateaux succeeding each other like steps. Up to 700 feet, and even further, the mountain is covered with grass. On the Cocollar the short turf begins to grow some 350 toises above sea-level, and you continue to walk on this grass up to 1, toises high; above those strips of grassy land you find, on virtually inaccessible peaks, a little forest of cedrela, javillo (Hura crepitans) and mahogany. Judging by local conditions, the mountainous savannahs of the Cocollar and Turimiquiri owe their existence to the destructive custom of Indians burning the woods to make pasture land. Today, after a thick tangle of grass and alpine plants have been covering the ground for over three centuries, seeds of trees cannot root themselves in the ground and germinate, despite the wind and the birds that continually bring them from the distant jungle.

The San Antonio fort, where the Castilian flag is hoisted on feast days, stands at some 30 toises above sea-level. From its bare calcareous site it dominates the town, and seen from sea as you enter the port it looks very picturesque. It is a wonderful place to enjoy the sunset and view the gulf as a fresh sea breeze reaches it.

We landed on the right bank of the Neveri and climbed to the little fort of El Morro de Barcelona, built some 60 to 70 toises above sea-level. We remained five hours in this fort guarded by the provincial militia. We waited in vain for news about English pirates stationed along the coast. Two of our fellow travelers, brothers of the Marquis of Toro in Caracas, came from Spain. They were highly cultivated men returning home after years abroad. They had more reason to fear being captured and taken as prisoners to Jamaica. I had no passport from the Admiralty, but I felt safe in the protection given by the English Government to those who travel for the progress of science.