It is well known that during the first months that Europeans are exposed to the burning heat of the Tropics they live in great danger. The ease of acclimatization seems to be in the inverse ratio of the difference between the mean temperature of the torrid zone and that of the native country of the settler because the irritability of the organs and their vital actions are powerfully modified by the atmospheric heat. We were lucky enough for recently disembarked Europeans to spend that dangerous period in Cumana, a very hot but dry place celebrated for its salubrity.

When we left the ravine that descends from the Imposible we entered a thick jungle cut by numerous rivers, which we easily forded. In the middle of the forest, on the banks of the Cedoìo river, as well as on the southern slopes of the Cocollar, we found wild papaw and orange trees with large, sweet fruit. These are probably the remains of some conucos, or Indian plantations, because the orange is not a native tree; neither are the banana, papaw, maize, cassava and so many other useful plants whose countries of origin are unknown, though they have accompanied man in his migrations from remotest time.

A grass from Switzerland grows on the granite rocks of the Magellan Strait. (74) New Holland contains more than forty European phanerogamous plants. The greater amount of these plants, found equally in the temperate zones of both hemispheres, are completely absent in the intermediary or equinoctial regions, on plains and on mountains. A hairy-leafed violet, which signifies the last of the phanerogamous plants on Tenerife, and long thought specific to that island, can be seen 300 leagues further north near the snowy Pyrenean peaks. Grasses and sedges of Germany, Arabia and Senegal have been recognized among plants collected by Bonpland and myself on the cold Mexican tablelands, on the burning Orinoco banks and on the Andes, and at Quito in the Southern hemisphere. How can one believe that plants migrate over regions covered by sea? How have the germs of life, identical in appearance and in internal structure, developed at unequal distances from the poles and from the oceans, in places that share similar temperatures? Despite the influence of air pressure on the plants' vital functions, and despite the greater or lesser degree of light, it is heat, unequally distributed in different seasons, that must be considered vegetation's most powerful stimulus.

We spent the 23rd of February in the marquis of Toro's house, in the village of Guacara, a large Indian community. The Indians live a life of ease because they have just won a legal case restoring lands disputed by whites. An avenue of carolineas leads from Guacara to Mocundo, a rich sugar plantation belonging to the Moro family. We found a rare garden there with an artificial clump of trees, and, on top of a granitic outcrop near a stream, a pavilion with a mirador or viewpoint. From here you see a splendid panorama over the west of the lake, the surrounding mountains and a wood of palm trees. The sugar-cane fields with their tender green leaves seem like a great plain. Everything suggests abundance, although those who work the land have to sacrifice their freedom.

When we reflect on the great political upheavals in the New World we note that Spanish Americans are in a less fortunate position than the inhabitants of the United States, who were more prepared for independence by constitutional liberty. Internal feuds are inevitable in regions where civilization has not taken root and where, thanks to the climate, forests soon cover all cleared land if agriculture is abandoned. I fear that for many years no foreign traveler will be able to cross those countries I visited. This circumstance may increase the interest of a work that portrays the state of the greater part of the Spanish colonies at the turn of the nineteenth century. I also venture to hope, once peace has been established, that this work may contribute to a new social order. If some of these pages are rescued from oblivion, those who live on the banks of the Orinoco or Atabapo may see cities enriched by commerce and fertile fields cultivated by free men on the very spot where during my travels I saw impenetrable jungle and flooded lands.

The race of guàcharo would long ago have become extinct had not diverse circumstances combined to preserve them. The superstitious Indians rarely dare to penetrate deep into the grotto. It appears that these birds also nest in other nearby caves inaccessible to man. Perhaps this great cave is repopulated by colonies coming from smaller ones because the missionaries assured us that these birds had not diminished in numbers. When the gizzards of the young birds in the cave are opened they contain all kinds of hard and dried fruits, which, under the name of semilla del guàcharo, are a famous remedy against intermittent fevers. The adult birds carry these seed to their young. They are carefully collected and sent to the sick at Cariaco.