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.

In the snake-bitten Indian's hut we found balls, some 2 to 3 inches thick, of an earthy, dirty salt called chivi, which Indians prepare meticulously. In Javita they make salt by burning the spadix and fruit of the seje palm. As well as this they also distil the ashes of the famous cupana, a liana. A missionary seldom travels without seeds prepared from the cupana. This preparation requires great care. The Indians break up the seeds and mix them with cassava flour wrapped in banana leaves and leave the mixture to ferment in water until it becomes a saffron-yellow colour. This yellow paste is dried in the sun and taken in the morning as a tea. The drink is bitter and stomachic, though I found it repulsive.

In the overloaded pirogue, which was only 3 feet deep, there was no other room for the dried plants, trunks, sextant, compass and meteorological instruments but under the lattice of branches on which we were obliged to lie down for most of our trip. To take the smallest object from a trunk, or to use an instrument, we had to moor up and get ashore. To these inconveniences can be added the torment of mosquitoes that accumulate under the low roof, and the heat coming from the palm leaves continually exposed to the burning sun. We tried everything to improve our situation, without any results. While one of us hid under a sheet to avoid insects, the other insisted on lighting greenwood under the toldo to chase off the mosquitoes with the smoke. Pain in our eyes and increasing heat in a climate that was already asphyxiating made both these means impractical. With some gaiety of temper, with looking after each other and taking a lively interest in the majestic nature of these great river valleys, the travelers put up with the evils that became habitual. I have entered into such minute details in order to describe how we navigated on the Orinoco, and to show that despite our goodwill, Bonpland and I were not able to multiply our observations during this section of the journey.

The most remote part of the valley is covered with thick jungle. In this shady place lies the opening to the Ataruipe cavern, less a cavern than a deep vault formed by an overhanging rock, and scooped out by water when it reached this height. This is the cemetery of an extinct race. We counted some 600 well-preserved skeletons, lined in rows. Each skeleton is enclosed in a basket made of palm-leaf petioles. These baskets, called mapires by the Indians, are a kind of square sack whose dimensions vary according to the age of the dead. Children who die at birth also have their mapires. The skeletons are so intact that not even a rib or a phalanx is missing.

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.

I accepted, and was very politely welcomed by Captain Gamier. He had been as far to the north-west as Vancouver, and was fascinated by all that I told him about the great Atures and Maypures cataracts, about the Orinoco bifurcation and its link with the Amazon. He had followed my progress from reading English newspapers. (134) He introduced me to several of his officers. For over a year I had not met so many well-informed people in one gathering. I was very well treated, and the captain gave me his state room. When you have come from the Casiquiare jungles, with nothing but the company of a narrow circle of missionaries for months, it is a joy to talk to men who have traveled round the world and broadened their minds by seeing so many different things. I left the boat, blessing the career I had devoted my life to.

The natural sciences are connected by the same ties that link all natural phenomena together. The classification of species, which we should consider as fundamental to botany, and whose study has been facilitated by introducing natural methods, is to plant geography what descriptive mineralogy is to the rocks that form the outer crust of the earth. To understand the laws observed in the rocks, and to determine the age of successive formations and identify them from the most distant regions, a geologist should know the simple fossils that make up the mass of mountains. The same goes for the natural history that deals with how plants are related to each other, and with the soil and air. The advancement of plant geography depends greatly on descriptive botany; it would hinder the advancement of the sciences to postulate general ideas by neglecting particular facts.