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.

Before leaving the Aragua valleys and its neighboring coasts, I will deal with the cacao plantations, which have always been the main source of wealth in this area. The cacao-producing tree does not grow wild anywhere in the forests north of the Orinoco. This scarcity of wild cacao trees in South America is a curious phenomenon, yet little studied. The amount of trees in the cacao plantations has been estimated at more than 16 million. We met no tribe on the Orinoco that prepared a drink with cacao seeds. Indians suck the pulp of the pod and chuck the seeds, often found in heaps in places where Indians have spent the night. It seems to me that in Caracas cacao cultivation follows the examples of Mexico and Guatemala. Spaniards established in Terra Firma learned how to cultivate the cacao tree -sheltered while young by the leaves of the erythrina and banana, making chocolatl cakes, and using the liquid of the same name, thanks to trade with Mexico, Guatemala and Nicaragua whose people are of Toltec and Aztec origin.

On leaving the Apure river we found ourselves in a vastly different countryside. An immense plain of water stretched out in front of us like a lake as far as the eye could see. White-topped waves rose several feet high from the clash between the breeze and the current. We no longer heard the cries of the herons, flamingos and spoonbills flying in long lines from one bank to the other. We vainly looked out for those diving birds whose busy tricks vary according to their species. Nature herself seemed less alive. Only now and then did we see between waves some large crocodiles breaking the water with their tails. The horizon was lined with a ribbon of jungle; but nowhere did the jungle reach the river. Vast beaches burned by the sun were as deserted and arid as sea beaches and, thanks to mirages, resembled stagnant marshes from afar. Rather than limiting the river these sandy banks blurred it. The banks drew near or receded according to the play of the sun's rays.

On the 20th of June, before sunrise, we set off for the Villa de Laguna, some 350 toises (13) above Santa Cruz harbor. The narrow and tortuous path leading to La Laguna climbs along a torrent, which in the rainy season turns into fine cascades. Near the town we met some white camels, barely laden. These animals are mainly used to transport goods from the customs house to the merchants. Camels are not numerous in Tenerife, while in Lanzarote and Fuerteventura there are thousands.

I have mentioned flying fish in order to draw the attention of naturalists to the extraordinary size of their natatory bladder. As this bladder takes up more than half the fish's body volume it probably contributes to its lightness. One could say that this reservoir of air 15 more adapted for flying than swimming. Flying fish, like almost all animals with gills, enjoy the possibility of breathing for a long time with the same organs both in air and in water. They pass much of their time in the air, although flying does not make them less wretched. If they leave the sea to escape from the voracious dolphin they meet frigate-birds, albatrosses and other birds in the air, which seize them in mid-flight. Thus, on the Orinoco banks, herds of capybara (Cavia capybara) rush from the water to escape crocodiles and fall prey to jaguars waiting for them on the banks. I doubt that flying fish leap from the water solely to escape their predators. Like swallows they shoot forward in thousands in straight lines, always against the waves. In our climate, by a clear-water river struck by the sun's rays, we often see single fish, with no reason to fear anything, leap into the air as if they enjoyed breathing air. Why aren't these games more frequent and prolonged with flying fish who, thanks to their pectoral fins and extreme lightness, fly easily in the air?

They grow banana and cassava, but not maize. Like the majority of Orinoco Indians, those in Maypures also make drinks that could be called nutritious. A famous one in the country is made from a palm called the seje, which grows wild in the vicinity. I estimated the number of flowers on one cluster at 44, the fruit that fall without ripening amount to 8,000. These fruit are little fleshy drupes. They are thrown into boiling water for a few minutes to separate the pulp, which has a sweet taste, from the skin, and are then pounded and bruised in a large vessel filled with water. Taken cold, the infusion is yellowish and tastes like almond milk. Sometimes papelòn (unrefined sugar) or sugar cane is added. The missionary said that the Indians become visibly fatter during the two or three months when they drink this seje or dip their cassava cakes in it. The piaches, or Indian shamans, go into the jungle and sound the botuto (the sacred trumpet) under seje palm trees 'to force the tree to give a good harvest the following year'.

I met the Swedish Consul Skiöldebrand, who passed through Paris on his way to embark in Marseille on a missionto bring gifts to the Dey of Algiers. That respectable gentleman had lived for a long time on the African coast and, as he was well known in theAlgerian Court, could get me authorization to visit the Atlas mountains. Every year he despatched a ship to Tunis, which brought pilgrims to Mecca, and he promised to let me go to Egypt that way. I did not hesitate to seize that chance and was convinced Icould carry out the plan I had hatched before my arrival in France. Up until then no geologist had ever exploredthe high mountain ranges that in Morocco reach the perpetual snows. Iquickly completed my collection of instruments and obtained books thatdealt with the countries I was to visit. I said good-bye to my brother, whose example and advice had helped guidemy thinking. He approved of my motives for wanting to abandon Europe; a'secret voice told me we would see each other again. I left Paris eager toembark for Algeria and Egypt, andchance - so often playing a decisive role in human lives - had it that Iwould see my brother again after returning from the Amazon and Peru, putting a foot on African soil.