On feast days, after celebrating mass, the whole community assembles in front of the church. Young girls leave bundles of firewood, maize, bananas and other foodstuff at the missionary's feet. At the same time the governor, mayor and other municipal officers, all pure Indians, exhort the Indians to work, arrange who will do what, scold the lazy and, it has to be said, cruelly beat those who refuse to obey. These strokes are received with the same impassivity with which they are given. These acts of justice last a long time and are frequently seen by any traveler who crosses the llanos. It would be better if the priest did not impose corporal punishment as soon as he left the altar; he should not witness the punishment of men and women in his priestly robes; but his abuse arises from the bizarre principles on which missions are based. The most arbitrary civil powers are tightly linked to the rights exercised by priests; yet, though the Caribs are not cannibals, and you would like them to be treated gently, you do realize that some violence is necessary to maintain order in a new society.

A fresh east-north-east wind blew, allowing us to sail up the Orinoco towards the Encaramada mission. Our pirogue rode the waves so badly that the rocking of the boat caused those who suffered from seasickness to feel sick on the river. The lapping of the waves arises from two rivers meeting. We passed the Punta Curiquima, an isolated mass of quartzite granite, a small promontory composed of rounded blocks. It is there, on the right bank of the Orinoco, that Father Rotella founded a mission for the Palenka and Viriviri or Guire Indians. During flooding the Curiquima rock and village at its foot are completely surrounded by water. This serious inconvenience, and the innumerable mosquitoes and niguas, (95) made the suffering missionaries abandon their damp site. It is entirely deserted today while on the left bank the low Coruato mountains have become the retreat for those nomadic Indians either expelled from missions or from tribes not subject to the monks.

April 17th. After walking for three hours we reached our boat at about eleven in the morning. Father Zea packed provisions of clumps of bananas, cassava and chicken with our instruments. We found the river free of shoals, and after a few hours had passed the Garcita raudal whose rapids are easily crossed during high water. We were struck by a succession of great holes, more than 180 feet above the present water-level, that appeared to have been caused by water erosion. The night was clear and beautiful but the plague of mosquitoes near the ground was such that I was unable to record the level of the artificial horizon and lost the opportunity of observing the stars.

Four days had passed and our boat still had not reached the Pimichín river landing-stage. 'There is nothing you lack in my mission, Father Cerezo said to us. 'There are bananas and fish; at night mosquitoes do not bite; and the longer you stay the more likely it is that you will be able to observe stars. If your boat is wrecked during the portage we will get you another one and I will enjoy living a few more weeks con gente blanca y de razòn (with white and rational people). Despite our impatience, we listened with interest to this missionary's stories confirming all that we had been told about the spiritual state of the Indians in that region. They live in isolated clans of forty to fifty people under a chief. They recognize a common cacique only in times of war with neighbors. Between these clan. mutual mistrust is great, as even those who live near each other speak different languages. Such is the labyrinth of these rivers that families settled themselves without knowing what tribe lived nearest to them. In Spanish Guiana a mountain or a jungle just half a league wide separates clans who would need two days navigating along rivers to meet. In the impenetrable jungle of the torrid zone rivers increase the dismemberment of great nations, favor the transition of dialects into separate languages, and nourish distrust and national hatred. Men avoid each other because they do not understand each other, and hate because they fear.

After waiting for an hour we saw that our pirogue had safely crossed the raudal. We loaded our instruments and provisions and left the Guahibo rock. We began a journey that was quite dangerous. Above the cataract the river is some 800 toises wide and must be crossed obliquely at the point where the waters start rushing towards the fall. The men had been rowing for over twenty minutes when the pilot said that instead of advancing we were drifting back to the falls. Then there was a storm and heavy rain fell. Those anxious moments seemed to last for ever. The Indians whisper as they always do when in danger; but they rowed very hard and we reached the port of Maypures by nightfall.

We left finally on the 22nd of September, with four mules carrying our instruments and plants. Leaving the Caripe valley we first crossed a chain of hills running north-east from the convent. The road was uphill across a wide savannah towards the tableland of Guardia de San Agustín. We waited there for the Indian who carried our barometer. We stood at 533 toises above sea-level. The savannahs, or natural grasslands, excellent pasture for the monastery cows, were totally devoid of trees and shrubs. It is the kingdom of the monocotyledonous plants, with only a few maguey (Agave americana), whose flowers rise some 26 feet above the grass. On the high tableland of Guardia we felt we had been carried to an ancient lake flattened by the prolonged effect of the waters. You think you can recognize the curves of the ancient shore, the prominent tongues of land, the steep cliffs forming islands. Even the distribution of flora seems to refer to that primitive state. The bottom of the basin is a savannah, while its edges are covered with tall trees. It is sad that a place so favored by its climate, and fit for wheat, should be totally uninhabited.