The moment of leaving Europe for the first time is impressive. We vainly recall the frequency of communications between the two worlds; wevainly reflect how, thanks to the improved state of navigation, we may nowcross the Atlantic, which compared to the Pacific is but a shortish arm ofthe sea; yet what we feel whenwe begin our first long-distance voyage is none the less accompanied by adeep emotion, unlike any we may have felt in our youth. Separated from theobjects of our dearest affections, and entering into a new life, we areforced to fall back on ourselves, and we feel more isolated than we have ever felt before.

When we carefully examine this wild part of America we imagine how it was in primitive times when the land was peopled in stages, and seem to be present at the birth of human societies. In the New World we do not see the progressive developments of civilization, those moments of rest, those stations in the lives of a people. Such is the wonderful fertility of nature that the Indian's field is a patch of land. To clear it means setting fire to branches. To farm means dropping a few seeds into the ground. However far back in time you go in thought in these dense jungles the Indians have got their food from the earth, but as this earth produces abundantly on a small patch, without much work, these people often change their homes along the river banks. Still today, the Orinoco Indians travel with their seeds, transporting what they cultivate (conucos), like the Arab does his tents.

The hypothesis that during the Cumana earthquakes elastic fluids escape from the earth's surface seems confirmed by the dreadful noise heard during the shocks near the wells in the plain of Charas. Water and sand are sometimes thrown 20 feet high. Similar phenomena did not escape the ancients' notice in areas of Greece and Asia Minor, in caves, crevices and underground rivers. Nature, in its uniform progress, everywhere gives birth to the same ideas concerning the causes of earthquakes, and man, forgetting the measure of its force, tries to diminish the effect of underground explosions. What the great Roman naturalist Pliny said about how wells and caves are the cause is repeated by the most ignorant Indians of Quito when they show travelers the guaicos, or crevices, of Pichincha.

The macavahu, called by the missionaries viuditas, or 'widows in mourning', has soft glossy black hair. Its face is a kind of whitish-blue square mask, which contains its eyes, nose and mouth. Its ears have an edge; are small, pretty and hairless. Its neck has a white area in two rings. Its feet, or hind legs, are black like its body, but its forehands are white outside and black inside. These white spots led the missionaries to recognize a veil, a neck scarf and the gloves of a widow in mourning. The character of this little monkey, which sits up on its hind legs to eat, is not related to its appearance. It has a wild and shy air, and often refuses food even when ravenous. We have seen it remain motionless for hours without sleeping, attentive to everything happening around it. The viudita, when alone, becomes furious at the sight of a bird, and climbs and runs with astonishing speed, and, like a eat, leaps on to its prey and eats all it can. The viuditas accompanied us throughout our entire voyage on the Casiquiare and Río Negro. It is an advantage to study animals for several months in the open air, and not indoors where they lose their natural vivacity.

I have shown that winged insects which live in society and whose suckers contain a liquid that irritates skin make vast territories virtually uninhabitable. Other insects, just as small, called termites (comején) create insuperable obstacles to the progress of civilization in several hot countries. They rapidly devour paper, cardboard and parchment, and thus destroy archives and libraries. Whole provinces of Spanish America do not have any document that dates back more than a hundred years.

The titi of the Orinoco (Simia sciurea) is very common south of the cataracts. Its face is white, with a blue-black spot covering its mouth and the tip of its nose. No other monkey reminds you more of a child than the titi; the same innocent expression, the same cheeky smile, the same sudden shifts from joy to sadness. Its large eyes fill with tears the moment it is frightened. It is avid for insects, especially spiders. The cleverness of this little monkey is such that one we brought in our boat could perfectly distinguish different plates in Cuvier's Tableau élémentaire d'histoire naturelle. (98) Though the engravings are not colored yet the titi tried to catch a grasshopper or a wasp with its small hand every time we showed a plate with these insects represented. When several of these little monkeys are shut up in the same cage and exposed to rain they twist their tails round their necks and hug each other to warm themselves. The titis are delicate and timid little animals. They become sad and dejected when they leave the jungle and enter the llanos.

The syndic in Cumanà had recommended us to the missionaries who run the Chaima Indian mission. This recommendation was all the more useful to us as the missionaries, zealous for the purity of their parishioners' morals, and wary of the indiscreet curiosity of strangers, tended to apply an ancient rule of their order according to which no white secular person could remain more than one night in an Indian village. In general, to travel agreeably in Spanish missions it would not be wise to trust solely to the passport issued by the Madrid Secretary of State: you must arm yourself with recommendations from the ecclesiastical authorities, especially the custodians of convents, or the generals of orders residing in Rome, who are far more respected by missionaries than bishops. Missions have become, in reality, a distinct, almost independent, hierarchy, despite being primitive or canonical institutions.