When we first glance at geographical maps, and read the narratives of navigators, we feel a special charm for certain countries and climates, which we cannot explain when older. These impressions exercise a considerable hold over what we do in life, and we instinctively try to connect ourselves with anything associated with these places. When I first studied the stars to identify them I was disturbed by a fear unknown to those who love sedentary life. It was painful to me to have to renounce the hope of seeing the beautiful constellations near the South Pole. Impatient to explore the equatorial regions I could not raise my eyes to the sky without dreaming of the Southern Cross and remembering a passage from Dante. Our joy over discovering the Southern Cross was vividly shared by those sailors who had lived in the colonies. In the solitudes of the oceans you wave at a star as if it is a friend you haven't seen for ages. Portuguese and Spaniards are particularly susceptible to this feeling; religious sentiments attach them to a constellation whose shape recalls the sign of the faith planted by their ancestors in the deserts of the New World.

While following the local custom of drying ourselves in the sun after our bath, half wrapped in towels, a small mulatto approached. After greeting us in a serious manner, he made a long speech about the properties of the Mariara waters, the many sick people who over the years have come here, and the advantageous position of the spring between Valencia and Caracas, where morals became more and more dissolute. He showed us his house, a little hut covered with palm leaves in an enclosure near by, next to a stream that fed the pool. He assured us that we would find there all the comforts we could imagine; nails to hang our hammocks, oxhides to cover reed beds, jugs of fresh water, and those large lizards (iguanas) whose flesh is considered to be a refreshing meal after a bathe. From his speech we reckoned that this poor man had mistaken us for sick people wanting to install themselves near the spring. He called himself 'the inspector of the waters and the pulpero of the place'. He stopped talking to us as soon as he saw we were there out of curiosity - 'para ver no más' as they say in these colonies, 'an ideal place for lazy people'.

Among the races making up the Venezuelan population blacks are important - seen both compassionately for their wretched state, and with fear due to possible violent uprisings - because they are concentrated in limited areas, not so much because of their total number. Of the 60, slaves in the Venezuelan provinces, 40, live in the province of Caracas. In the plains there are only some 4, to 5,000, spread around the haciendas and looking after the cattle. The number of freed slaves is very high as Spanish legislation and custom favor emancipation. A slave-owner cannot deny a slave his freedom if he can pay 300 piastres, (69) even if this would have cost the slave-owner double because of the amount of work the slave might have done.

Throughout his entire journey through the Lower Orinoco the traveler faces only one danger: the natural rafts formed by drifting trees uprooted by the river. Woe to the canoes that at night strike one of these rafts of tangled lianas and tree trunks! When Indians wish to attack an enemy by surprise they tie several canoes together and cover them with grass to make it seem like a tangle of trees. Today Spanish smugglers do the same to avoid customs in Angostura.

The recommendations from the Madrid Court assured us that we were always well received in all the Spanish possessions. The Captain-General immediately gave us permission to visit the island. Colonel Armiaga, in command of an infantry regiment, warmly welcomed us to his house. We did not tire of admiring the banana trees, the papaw trees, the Poinciana pulcherrima and other plants usually seen only in greenhouses.