Our missionary, however, seemed quite satisfied with his situation. He treated the Indians well; his mission prospered, and he enthused about the water, the bananas and the milk of this place. The sight of our instruments, our books and dried plants made him smile sarcastically; and he acknowledged with the naiveté peculiar to the inhabitants of these countries that his greatest pleasure in life, even including sleep, was eating good beef, carne de vaca; thus does sensuality triumph when there is nothing to occupy the mind. Our host often enjoined us to visit the cow he had bought, and the following day, at dawn, we could not avoid watching his cow being slaughtered in the manner of the country, that is, cutting its hamstrings before plunging a long knife into the vertebra of its neck. Disgusting as this was, it did teach us about the immense skill of the Chaima Indians, who, numbering eight, managed to cut the animal up into little pieces in less than twenty minutes.

When I first traveled the high plateaux towards Caracas I met many travellers resting mules at the small inn of Guayabo. They lived in Caracas, and were arguing over the uprising that had recently taken place concerning the independence of the country. Joseph Espaìa had died on the scaffold. (68) The excitement and bitterness of these people, who should have agreed on such questions, surprised me. While they argued about the hate mulattos have for freed blacks, about the wealth of monks, and the difficulties of owning slaves, a cold wind, which seemed to blow down from La Silla, enveloped us in a thick mist and ended the animated discussion. Once inside the inn, an old man who before had spoken with great equanimity, said to the others that it was unwise to deal with political matters at a time when spies could be lurking around, as much in the mountains as in the cities. These words, spoken in the emptiness of the sierra, deeply impressed me; I was to hear them often during our journeys.

Under such favorable circumstances, and crossing regions long unknown to most European nations, including Spain itself, Bonpland and I collected a considerable number of materials, which when published may throw light on the history of nations, and on our knowledge about nature. Our research developed in so many unpredictable directions that we could not include everything in the form of a travel journal, and have therefore placed our observations in a series of separate works.

The moment the sticky sap of the kiracaguero tree is poured into the poisonous and concentrated liquid, kept boiling, it blackens and coagulates to become rather like tar or a thick syrup. This mass is the curare that is sold inside crescentia fruit; but as its preparation is in the hands of a few families, first-class curare from Esmeralda and Mandavaca is sold at high prices. When dried this substance looks like opium, but it attracts humidity if exposed to air. It tastes agreeably bitter, and Bonpland and I have often swallowed little bits. There is no danger as long as you make sure your gums and lips are not bleeding. The Indians regard curare taken by mouth as an excellent stomachic. The way the poison is made is rather similar everywhere, but there is no certainty that different poisons sold under the same name in the Orinoco and Amazon are identical or from the same plant.

It is neither from Virginia nor South America that Europe received in 1559 the first tobacco seeds, as is erroneously stated in most botanical books, but from the Mexican province of Yucatan. The man who boasted most about the fertility of the Orinoco banks, the famous Raleigh, also introduced smoking tobacco to the northern peoples. Already by the end of the sixteenth century there were bitter complaints in England 'of this imitation of wild Indian manners'. They thought that by smoking tobacco 'Englishmen would degenerate into a barbarous state'.

Opposite Bermúdez's farm two spacious caves open out of Cuchivano's crevice. At times flames, which can be seen from great distances, burst out. They illuminate the surrounding mountains, and from the mark left on the rocks by these burning gases we could be tempted to believe they reach some 100 feet high. During the last violent Cumanà earthquake this phenomenon was accompanied by long, dull, underground noises.

Hardly twenty-two months had passed since a previous earthquake had nearly destroyed the city of Cumanà. The people regard the reddish mist veiling the sky and the absence of a sea breeze at night as infallible ill omens. Many people came to see us to ask if our instruments predicted any further quakes. Their anxiety increased greatly when on the 5th of November, at the same time as the day before, there was a violent gust of wind, accompanied by thunder and a few raindrops. But no shock was felt.