From the Manimi rock there is a marvelous view. Your eyes survey a foaming surface that stretches away for almost 2 leagues. In the middle of the waves rocks as black as iron, like ruined towers, rise up. Each island, each rock, is crowned by trees with many branches; a thick cloud floats above the mirror of the water and through it you see the tops of tall palms. What name shall we give these majestic plants? I guess that they are vadgiai, a new species, more than 80 feet high. Everywhere on the backs of the naked rocks during the rainy season the noisy waters have piled up islands of vegetation. Decorated with ferns and flowering plants these islands form flower-beds in the middle of exposed, desolate rocks. At the foot of the Manimi rock, where we had bathed the day before, the Indians killed a 7. snake, which we examined at leisure. The Macos called it a camudu. It was beautiful, and not poisonous. I thought at first that it was a boa, and then perhaps a python. I say 'perhaps' for a great naturalist like Cuvier appears to say that pythons belong to the Old World, and boas to the New. I shall not add to the confusions in zoological naming by proposing new changes, but shall observe that the missionaries and the latinized Indians of the mission clearly distinguish the tragavenado (boa) from the culebra de agua, which is like the camudu.

The plain, or rather tableland, on which Cumanacoa stands is only 104 toises above sea-level, three or four times lower than the inhabitants of Cumanà, who have an exaggerated view of how cold it is up there, think it is. The climatic difference between the two neighboring towns is due less to the height of one of them than to local weather conditions. Among these causes are the proximity of the jungle, the frequency of rivers falling down narrow valleys, the amount of rain and those thick fogs that block out sunlight. The cool climate surprises us all the more because, as in the town of Cartago, at Tomependa on the Amazon, as in the Agarua valleys west of Caracas, very great heat is felt though the height varies between 200 and 480 toises above sea-level. In plains, as well as on mountains, isothermal lines are not constantly parallel to the equator or the surface of the earth. Meteorology's great problem will be to determine the direction of these lines and variations due to local causes, and to discover the constant laws in the distribution of heat.

The bones are prepared in three different ways; they are whitened, or colored red with annatto, a dye from Bixa orellana, or varnished with a scented resin and wrapped like mummies in banana leaves. Indians insisted that as soon as somebody died the corpse was left for months in damp earth so that the flesh rotted away; then it was dug up and the remains of the flesh scraped off with a sharp stone. Some tribes in Guiana still practice this method. Next to the baskets or mapires we also found half-baked clay urns with the remains of whole families. The largest urns are almost 3 feet high and 5. feet wide. They are greenish, and of a pleasing oval shape. Some have crocodiles and snakes drawn on them. The top edges are decorated with meanders and labyrinths. These are very similar to the decorations covering the walls of the Mexican palace at Mitla; they are found everywhere, even among the Greeks and Romans, as on the shields of the Tahitians and other Pacific Islanders.

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.

The Catuaro mission is situated in a very wild place. The church is surrounded by tall trees. At night jaguars hunt the Indians' chickens and pigs. We lodged in the priest's house, a monk of the Observance congregation, to whom the Capuchins had given this mission because they did not have enough priests in their own community. He was a doctor in theology, a little, dried-up and petulant man. He entertained us with stories about the trial he had had with the superior of his convent, with the enmity of his brothers and the injustice of the alcaldes, who, ignoring his privileges, once threw him in jail. Despite these set-backs he had conserved an unfortunate liking for what he called metaphysical questions. He wanted to know what I thought of free will, of how to raise the soul from the prison of the body, and, above all, about animal souls. When you have crossed a jungle in the rainy season you do not feel like these kind of speculations. Besides, everything about this little Catuaro mission was odd, even the priest's house. It had two floors, and had become the object of a keen rivalry between secular and ecclesiastical authorities. The priest's superior found it too luxurious for a missionary; and wanted the Indians to demolish it; the governor opposed this strongly, and his will prevailed.

In the cool of dawn we set off to climb the Turimiquiri. This is the name given to the Cocollar peak, which forms one large mountain range with the Brigantín, called before by the Indians Sierra de los Tageres. We traveled a part of the way on the horses that run free on the savannahs, but are used to being saddled. Even when they look heavily laden they climb the slipperiest slopes with ease. Wherever the sandstone appears above ground the land is even and forms small plateaux succeeding each other like steps. Up to 700 feet, and even further, the mountain is covered with grass. On the Cocollar the short turf begins to grow some 350 toises above sea-level, and you continue to walk on this grass up to 1, toises high; above those strips of grassy land you find, on virtually inaccessible peaks, a little forest of cedrela, javillo (Hura crepitans) and mahogany. Judging by local conditions, the mountainous savannahs of the Cocollar and Turimiquiri owe their existence to the destructive custom of Indians burning the woods to make pasture land. Today, after a thick tangle of grass and alpine plants have been covering the ground for over three centuries, seeds of trees cannot root themselves in the ground and germinate, despite the wind and the birds that continually bring them from the distant jungle.

The beautiful Guanaguana valley stretches towards the east, opening into the Punzera and Terecen plains. We would have liked to visit those plains to explore the petroleum springs that lie between the Guarapiche and Areo rivers, but the rainy season had started, and every day we had problems trying to dry and preserve our plant collections Near Punzera we saw little bags woven in silk hanging from the lower branches of the savannah trees. It is the seda silvestre, or wild silk of the country, which has a lovely sheen but is rough to the touch. The moth that weaves these cocoons is perhaps the same as the one in the Guanajuato and Antioquia provinces that also makes a wild silk. In the beautiful Punzera forests grow two trees that are called curucay and canela; the first because it yields a resin much sought after by the piaches, or Indian sorcerers; the second because its leaves smell like proper cinnamon from Ceylon.