When shocks from an earthquake are felt, and the earth we think of as so stable shakes on its foundations, one second is long enough to destroy long-held illusions. It is like waking painfully from a dream. We think we have been tricked by nature's seeming stability; we listen out for the smallest noise; for the first time we mistrust the very ground we walk on. But if these shocks are repeated frequently over successive days, then fear quickly disappears. On the Peruvian coasts we got as used to the earth tremors as sailors do to rough waves.

The Uruana inhabitants belong to those people of the savannah (Indios andantes), harder to civilize than those from the jungle (Indios del monte). They show a great aversion to agriculture and live exclusively from hunting and fishing. The men are tough, ugly, wild, vindictive and passionately fond of alcohol. They are 'omnivorous animals' in every sense. That is why other Indians consider them as barbarians and say, 'There is nothing, however disgusting it is, that an Otomac will not eat. While the Orinoco and its waters are low the Otomacs live on fish and turtles. They kill fish with astounding skill, hooting them with arrows when they surface. The river floods stop all fishing: it becomes as hard as fishing in deep sea. During the period of floods the Otomacs eat earth in prodigious amounts. We found pyramids of earth balls in their huts. The earth they eat is a fine oily clay, of a greyish-yellow; they cook it slightly so that its hard crust turns red due to the iron oxide in it.

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.

April 13th. Early in the morning we passed the Tabaje rapids and landed again. Father Zea, who accompanied us, wanted to say mass in the new San Borja mission established two years before. We found six huts inhabited by uncatechized Indians. They were no different from wild Indians. Only their large black eyes showed more liveliness than those living in older missions. They refused our brandy without even trying it. The young girls had their faces marked with round black spots. The rest of their bodies were not painted. Some of the men had beards, and they seemed proud. Holding our chins they showed through signs that they were made like us. I was again struck by how similar all the Orinoco Indians are. Their look is somber and sad, not hard or ferocious. Without any notions about the practices of the Christian religion they behaved quite decently in the church. Indians like representations; they submit themselves momentarily to any nuisance provided they are sure of being stared at. Just before the moment of communion they make signs to show that the priest was about to bring the chalice to his lips. Apart from this gesture they stay immobile, in their imperturbable apathy.

I still have to refer to the most isolated of the Christian colonies of the Upper Orinoco. Opposite the point where the Orinoco bifurcates there is a granite mass called Duida, in the form of an amphitheater. The missionaries call this mountain of nearly 8, feet a volcano. Because its slopes on the south and west are very steep it looks grand. The peak is bare and stony; but everywhere else in the less steep slopes earth has collected and jungles seem to hang from the air. At the foot of the Duida lies the Esmeralda mission, a small village of eighty people, surrounded by a lovely plain, and fed by little black-watered but limpid streams; a proper prairie with groups of mauritia palms, the American breadfruit. As you approach the mountain the marshy plain becomes a savannah that stretches along the lower reaches of the chain. There you find enormous, delicious pineapples. These bromelia always grow solitary among the grasses.

We took the opportunity to use the boat to survey the land around the large bay. words can evoke the feelings of a naturalist who first steps on soiloutside Europe. So many objects call for his attention that it is hard toorder his impressions. At each step he thinks he is coming across something new, and in his excitement he doesnot recognize things that commonly feature in botanical gardens and naturalhistory collections. Two hundred yards off the Coast we saw a man fishingwith a rod. We turned the boat towards him but he fled and hid behind a rock. It took our sailors someeffort to capture him. The sight of the corvette, the thunder of ourcannons in such a solitary place - possibly visited only by pirates - thelaunching of our boat, all this terrified the poor fisherman. He informed us that the island of Graciosa on whichwe had landed was separated from Lanzarote by a small channel called El Río. He offered to guide us to Los Colorados harbor to find outabout the blockade at Tenerife but, when the man assured us that for weeks he had not seen any ships out at sea, captain decided to set sail for Santa Cruz.

April 21st. After spending two and a half days in the little village of Maypures near the Great Cataracts, we embarked in the canoe that the Carichana missionary had got for us. It had been damaged by the knocks it had received in the river, and by the Indians' carelessness. Once you have passed the Great Cataracts (107) you feel you are in a new world; that you have stepped over the barriers that nature seems to have raised between the civilized coasts and the wild, unknown interior. On the way to the landing-stage we caught a new species of tree frog on the trunk of a hevea. It had a yellow belly, a back and head of velvety purple, and a narrow white stripe from its nose to its hind parts. This frog was 2 inches long; probably allied to the Rana tinctoria whose blood, so it is said, makes the feathers that have been plucked out of a parrot grow again in frizzled yellow and red if poured on to its skin.