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 Another Random Document on
Scribd Without Any Related Topics
arrows from one of the boys. They were particularly desirous of
getting fish-hooks and knives.
By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N. Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.

MATUÁ AND HIS BROTHER MANÚ, CARIPUNA BOYS AND THEIR BARK CANOE.

Matuá is in the full dress of the men, who wear beads of hard
wood round their necks, with bands bound tight round the arms
above the elbow and round the ankles. The foreskin is tied up to a
band of cotton twine, which is wound tight round the hips and under
part of the belly. All wear their hair long, and cut square off in front.
In large holes in their ears, they carry pieces of bone, or a stick of
wood. Through the hole in the nose a quill is pushed, the cavity
being filled up with different colored feathers, gives them a
moustached appearance. These people are nearly all of the same
height and figure, but differ very much in the features of the face.
Some have thick lips, flat noses, and round faces; others are just the
reverse. The former very ugly, and a few of the latter tolerably good
looking. The women are larger than those we saw near the mouth of
the Beni. There are not many of them; they live about in small
bands, and said they found few fish in the river. They promised to
plant yuca and corn, so that the crew might have something to eat
on their return to the fort. As we embarked, they said "shuma,"
which Pedro informed us meant "good man;" but probably referred
to more presents.
 The lands on the south side of the river are inhabited by the
Caripunas. It is flat, and a beautiful spot for cultivation. Small
mountains and hills are in sight on the north side, as we descend by
a rapid current. The river seems to be creeping along on a ridge,
seeking an outlet to the north. At 3 30 p. m., thermometer, 90°;
water, 83°; light northerly airs; thunder to the north, and a rainbow
to the northeast.
September 27.—At "Trez Irmaós" rapids we found no difficulty. A
large island in the middle of the river chokes it, and the water rapidly
flows through two channels. As we dashed by, the men blew their
horns for "Capitan Macini," another Caripuna chief, who lives on the
south side of the river, with a small band of his tribe. Pedro speaks
of "Capitan" in complimentary terms. He is represented as being
exceedingly obliging; we wanted his services as pilot, but missed
him. After passing "Trez Irmaós" rapids, the river turns north. A
rapid current carries us through a chain of hills on each side, tending
east and west. The foliage is unusually green and thick; forest trees
have been broken by the action of violent winds. We scarcely are
fairly launched out of the Madeira Plate into the Amazon basin,
before we meet, at midday, a storm of wind and rain from the
northeast, accompanied with thunder. We find the sea-way in mid-
channel much too high for our little boat, and bring to. While the
storm passes, the wind carries a cloud of dry sand before it. At 3
p. m., thermometer, 85°; water, 84°. We are now being avalanched
down an inclined plane. Arriving at the head of "Giráu" falls, we find
the true falls of the Madeira. They are short, but the rush of waters
through a confined space, between immense masses of rock, baffles
large sized vessels, and prevents their passing either up or down the
river. Don Antonio transported his boats over the land here.
Richards was suffering very much from his ear; his under eye-lid
hung down, the corner of his mouth became drawn up on one side,
while he seemed to lose control of the muscles of his face; the pain
was beyond endurance. All the men began to feel the effects of the
change of climate; the nights cold, and midday sun very hot. They
complained of headaches and pains in their backs; the strongest of
them were jaded. Before they went to sleep, I dosed the party with
raw brandy all round, which cheered them up. They have been much
more respectful lately, and work with a will.
September 28.—The men are all in better health this morning.
They carried the baggage through the woods on the east side of the
river, and with the greatest difficulty got the canoe through the
rocks. The river has been turned to the eastward by hills on the
north side. The fall cannot be estimated with any degree of
certainty; the descent is more precipitous, and the roaring of the
foaming waters much greater than any we before met. We were
from daylight until 3 p. m., making the passage from the upper to
the lower side, before we got breakfast, which we took under the
shade of trees, where the thermometer stood at 99°; wind
northeast.
Pedro shot a few fish with his arrows, and a negro caught one
with a line. As the vegetable kingdom appears fresh and vigorous,
under the strong breezes filled with moisture from the North
Atlantic, so again do we find animal life in abundance. The trade-
winds from the ocean cross the land from Cayenne, in French
Guiana, and strike this side of the Amazon basin. The clouds roll up,
and the waters are wrung out in drops of rain.
The Paititi district of country which we have on our west, and
the Tapajos district on the east, are watered by the northeast trade-
winds. They get their moisture from the north Atlantic, and here we
find on the side of these hills the boisterous region again, and the
trees are torn up by the roots. These acts of the northeast trade-
winds are written upon this slope of the Amazon basin exactly as we
met the southeast trade-winds as they struck the Andes on their way
from Rio Janeiro. The Caripuna Indians we have just left told us they
came down the Madeira for fish. They find little game and no fish,
even in these mighty waters, above the boisterous region. The two
Yuracares Indians we met on the side of the Andes said they would
catch us fish when we got further down the rapid Paracti. Fish are
just as particular in their choice of waters and climate as those
animals which inhabit the dry land.
The foam that is produced by the water dashing over the rocks
floats aloft in the shape of mist; and in the calm, clear, starlight
nights, the gentle northeast breezes cast a thin gauze-like veil
around us and affects the glasses of our instruments. All
observations of the stars seem to be forbidden. Early in the morning,
as the sun's rays strike upon the river, they gradually absorb the
mist, and first that portion which has been scattered by the night
winds, and looking just then, up or down the river from an
eminence, the traveller may see the position of each cataract, like
the smoke of a line of steamers. The powerful sun soon evaporates
this mist, which speedily disappears as it rises. One of the crew
caught a small electrical eel, which opened its galvanic battery and
shocked the whole party. A rapid current, and no bottom at twenty-
five fathoms water.
September 29.—We get our baggage stowed and all on board
ready for a long pull, but soon fetch up among the rocks again.
"Caldeiráo do Inferno" rapids are caused by three rocky and
somewhat wooded islands in the river. We pulled part of the way
through on the west side without discharging baggage; the boat was
gently eased down by the ropes. At the foot of these falls, which
could not be passed by a steamboat, we discovered a bark canoe,
manned with savages, paddling with all their might away from us;
they seemed to be very much alarmed, and were soon out of sight.
As we came to a place rather too rapid for safety among rocks, the
men got out and towed us along the north bank; while doing so,
three savage men, three women, three children, and five most
miserably thin skeleton dogs, came to see us. The men laid their
bows and arrows behind the rocks, and approached us without fear,
but the slim dogs were disposed to show fight. They were weak and
slab-sided animals; quite unsuccessful in their endeavors to raise a
bark at us, but coughed out a sickly sort of noise, as they hung
around their masters' legs. One had his ears boxed by a tiger, which
gave him a perpetual stiff neck. They all looked as though they had
been vainly struggling with the beasts of the forest. An unsightly old
woman brought us a fried fish fresh from the river. One of the men
had bilious fever, but was attended by a pretty girl, who took her
paddle in one of the canoes which kept company with us. The
parrots swarm along the banks of the river, but there are few other
birds. The current runs at the rate of six miles per hour. River three
quarters of a mile wide, with sand-banks and islands in the stream.
We landed on the north bank with the Caripuna savages; men,
women, and children, all seated themselves in a friendly way round
our cow-hide, which was spread on the ground for breakfast.
Richards was left in charge of the boat, while I, with one of the
negroes armed with a musket, followed a path through the woods
single file for a quarter of a mile from the river. As we came in sight
of huts the men and boys gathered under an open house at the end
of the path; the women all seized their babies and ran into two
enclosed buildings in the rear. The savages did not take up their
bows and arrows, which however lay at hand, but several of them
held knives, and others picked theirs up. Thomas, the tall negro
soldier, came to a stand just outside of the shed, while I walked
under and took a seat in one of the grass hamacs slung between the
posts on which the roof was supported. The boys all laughed, and
gathered round me. One man came up and leaned against a post
close by me with his arm elevated. He held a knife in his hand; my
hand was concealed under my jacket, where Colt's revolver rested in
a belt. The Indian wanted to test me, as is their custom. A fine large
rooster passed by. Savage was asked to sell it by signs of hunger. He
at once took down his hand, and called out to the houses, when the
women came out with their babies. One of them, a good-looking
squaw, came to him, and they had a consultation about the chicken.
She nodded her head, and the boys gave chase to catch it for me.
There were thirty savages living in this wild, out-of-the-way
place. One of the men was chipping off the outside of a hollow piece
of log with his knife for a drum, two of which already hung up under
the shed. They expressed no pleasure at seeing us. They looked as
though they preferred we would go away. The roof of the wooden
house under which the men were collected was beautifully thatched
with a species of wild palm-leaf. The frame-work was made of poles
stripped of their bark, fastened together by vines or creepers. The
whole rested upon forked posts set in the ground, between which
there were slung a number of grass hamacs. Bows and arrows were
their only home-made arms. The knives were imported. After
making friends with them, they all came up, shook hands, and took
a good look at me. The floor of the guard or men's house was swept
clean. It seemed to be kept in military order, clear of all household
or kitchen furniture. One of the men and several women went with
me to examine the dwelling-houses of the women. The roof
extended within two feet of the ground. The sides and gable ends
were also thatched in, with a doorway at each corner, and one in the
centre next the guard-house; five entrances in all. The inside
presented a confused appearance. Piles of ashes were scattered
about the ground floor as though each woman had her separate
fireplace. The inside measured about forty feet by fifteen. Earthen
pots and plates were lying about in confusion; dirty, greasy hamacs
hung up; tamed parrots were helping themselves to plantains. An
ugly monkey looked dissatisfied at being fastened by the hinder part
of the body to a post. The unpleasant variety of odors drove us out.
In the third house there were but two doors. Here the miserable
dogs kept up a terrible noise. The women took me to the hamac of
an old sick Indian, who they made signs was dying by laying their
heads on the palms of their hands and shutting their eyes. He was
covered with a bark cloth blanket, which was cast off by him so that
I might see his thin legs and body. He was very much reduced. By
the whiteness of his hair, I judged he was dying of old age, or
suffocated inside this damp, filthy house, where he seemed to have
been turned to the dogs. There was one house in which the women
slept. The open house was the sleeping apartment of the men and
boys. There was great order among the men; the grounds round
about were swept. Where the women were seemed all confusion
and want of cleanliness. Their faces were covered with dirt. As to
their clothing, we could better describe what they did not wear.
We saw no signs of a place of worship, nor of what was
worshipped, though the Brazilians say they have seen among them
"wooden images," figures of head and shoulders in shape like a
man. A Catholic priest once visited these people, but found no
encouragement. They looked on indifferently, taking more interest in
the music of a violin and the singing than in anything else. The lofty
forest trees shade the little huts; a path leads farther inland, where
they cultivate patches of yuca and corn, though they have little to
eat from the land at present, and take to the river for food. The
children of these Indians strike us as being remarkably intelligent,
compared with those on the tops of the Andes. All Indian children
seem to be in much brighter spirits than the older ones. They have
yet to be taught the art of using chicha, which the women are said
to give their husbands here in the woods. We gave the multitude an
invitation to join us at breakfast. A little boy walked by me with the
rooster under his arm, and they all followed single file, with the
music of crying babies, to the bank of the river, where they seated
themselves round. Some presents were made to them in exchange
for the offer of several chickens and a large partridge. To the little
girls we gave earrings, to supply the place of fish or beast-bones; to
the boys fish-hooks; and to the men knives. The elderly women
particularly fancied looking-glasses for themselves, and glass beads
for their babies. One very unattractive woman requested me to
make her an additional present of a looking-glass. A knife had been
offered, which she particularly requested. She received the refusal
with such a savage side-glance, that the damage was repaired at
once, and the men ordered into the boat. Her sister used paint. Her
forehead was besmeared with a red color, and her lips blackened.
We presented her with a large looking-glass, which she used for
examining as far down her throat as possible. Pedro had a slight
difficulty with one of the savages, who he said had stolen his knife
from the boat. I replaced it, and we went on without being
disturbed, though, as we afterwards learnt, these fellows not long
since robbed two Brazilians on the river, who escaped down stream
in one of the bark canoes of the savages, leaving their own boat
behind. At 3 p. m., thermometer, 91°; water, 85°; river one mile
wide, interspersed with islands and rocks, twenty-five fathoms
depth. On the east side a small stream of clear water flows in. The
water of these small side-streams are often 6° Fahrenheit cooler
than the main river water. We bottle it, as the river water is
unpleasantly warm for drinking. A man fully comprehends the
blessing of ice by gliding down this river. The current is fast one hour
and slow the next few minutes. The men pull when they feel like it,
and rest when they wish. We are moving along, more or less, all the
time during the day. The river is not very winding.
September 30.—About twenty-five miles on a northeasterly
course brought us to "Doz Morrinhos" rapids. The difference of level
here is slight, though the passes are difficult. A part of the baggage
was handed over the rocks, which proved a prudent plan, as the
boat was nearly swamped. The country is quite uneven and thickly
wooded. At midday we had a light shower of rain, accompanied by
thunder, without wind. At 3 p. m., thermometer, 87°; water, 85°;
with a strong southwest wind. At the foot of these falls we sounded
with five hundred and ten feet, and no bottom.
At a late hour in the afternoon we arrived at the head of
"Teotoni" falls, the most terrific of them all. Here I was attacked with
a severe bilious fever, which brought me at once on my back. The
pain in my left breast was somewhat like that described by those
who have suffered with the "Chagres fever." We were all worn out,
thin, and haggard. I had been kept going by excitement, as the men
were careless, brutal negroes, and Richards suffering still with the
pain in his ear.
October 1.—This fall is over fifteen feet, ten of which is at an
angle of 45 degrees. The roaring made at intervals by the rushing of
the waters over and through the rocks, sounds like distant thunder.
Our little canoe is driven for safety out of the water to the land. The
baggage was carried by a path on the south side to the foot of the
falls. Richards went along with the first load, and remained below
looking out, while I rested to see every thing sent over. The men
idled their time between us, until we were caught in a heavy rain
and thunder storm from northeast. The boat was put upon rollers
and transported four hundred yards over a hill, and launched into
the river below. We were from daylight until dark at the work. I
should not complain, however, because men never had a more
harassing time than these have had. If alone, they would not have
come half the distance in the same length of time. They have
pushed on for me, when I least expected they would keep on.
We noticed that at nearly all the falls in the Madeira the river
turns as it cuts its way through the rocks, forming nearly a semi-
circle towards the eastward; after gaining the base of the declivity,
the stream returns again to its original course. Here the path over
the land describes a diameter. The storm continued all night in
squalls. The negroes took off their clothes and laid down upon the
bare rocks under a heavy rain, with cold wind, where they actually
slept, while those of the crew, with Indian blood, built a fire and
slept on the sand close by it in their clothes. The baggage was left
on the sand bank until morning covered with raw hides. We were
well drenched, certainly a poor remedy for bilious fever, particularly
when followed by the heat of a tropical sun.
October 2.—Five miles below are "San Antonio" falls, which we
passed by tow-lines without disembarking our baggage. The
difference of level is very small; the bed of the river much choked
with rocks. The stream is divided into a great number of rapid and
narrow channels. We took breakfast on the west side, at the foot of
these falls, with feelings of gratitude we had safely passed the perils
of seventeen cataracts. Those parts of the rivers Madeira and
Mamoré, between the foot of "San Antonio" and the head of
"Guajará-merim" falls, are not navigable for any class of vessels
whatever; nor can a road be travelled at all seasons of the year, on
either bank, to follow the course of the river, for the land bordering
on the stream is semi-annually flooded. By referring to the map it
will be seen, we travelled from Guajará-merim, on the Mamoré, in a
due north course, to the Pedreneira falls, on the Madeira. By the
windings of the river, we estimate the distance not less than one
hundred miles. From the Pedreneira falls to the foot of San Antonio,
our direction was about east-northeast, a distance by the river of
one hundred and forty miles, which makes the space not navigable
two hundred and forty miles. A road cut straight through the
territory of Brazil, from San Antonio falls, in a southwest direction, to
the navigable point on the Mamoré, would not exceed one hundred
and eighty miles. This road would pass among the hills, seen, from
time to time, to the eastward, where the lands, in all probability, are
not overflowed. On a common mule road, such as we find in Bolivia,
a cargo could be transported in about seven days from one point to
the other. Don Antonio Cordoza was five months struggling against
these numerous rapids and rocks to make the same distance, with
his cargo in small boats. We have been twelve days descending the
falls, which is considered by Brazilian navigators fast travelling. The
wild woods that cover the lands are unknown to the white man.
Topographically considered, the lands on the east side of the
Madeira are the most valuable.
Our experience with a black crew gives reason to believe the
climate is more congenial to them than the white or red races.
Among the half-civilized and savage aborigines, we notice very few
men live to an old age; they generally pass away early; tribes are
composed usually of men under forty years. The moment we landed
at Principe, there appeared before us a number of active, gray-
headed old negro women and men, grinning and bowing, with as
much life in their expression of face and activity of manner as the
youngest. Long after the savage has become hamac-ridden with
age, the negro, born before him, is found actively employed. The
physical strength of the negro is not equalled by the red man here.
The Indian enjoys the shade of the forest trees, while our negroes
rejoice in the heat of the sun.
 The India rubber is found in these woods, with quantities of
Brazil nuts and cacao trees. The whole forest is as constantly green
as the snows on the peaks of the Andes are everlastingly white,
although the leaves fall and the snow melts away. In the month of
April, or thereabouts, the sap which flows through the veins of these
forest trees, begins to fall, not suddenly, as the sap of the sugar-
maple in our northern States, but gradually and slowly, as the live-
oak, magnolia, or other evergreens of Florida. The sap descends
from the topmost branches first; the leaves begin to sicken for want
of nourishment; they wilt, and the first that falls to the ground is
from the end of the branch which first lost its sustenance. The tide
of sap ebbs a shorter time than is usual in a climate where half the
year is wintry. The flood tide of sap goes up in time to send out new
leaves at the top of the tree before the last on the lower limbs have
fallen. During this rise and fall of the sap in the trees tropical forests
shed their leaves. The work is performed in such a secret way, that it
would not be observed, did we not find the ground covered with
dead leaves, while the trees are perfectly green. On the Andes the
llama, grazing near the snow line, had its back thickly clothed with
wool, while the ground was strewed with its last year's crop. When
the sun stands vertically over the llama, it sheds its wool; when the
sun passes far off on its northern tour, the leaves fall from the
forests at the base of those great mountains. Daring the season of
the year when the sap is in upward motion, the "rubber" man taps
the trees and gathers the milk, converting it into shoes by smearing
it over a last, and poking it into the smoke of a small fire near by
him. The guava and banana fall to the ground to fatten the wild
pecary; the oriole nestles in the tree-tops, and feeds its young in the
stocking-like nest which hangs from the tip ends of the limbs.
Toucans appear astonished at the songs of our negroes as we
paddle down, leaving the cataracts behind us.
At 3 p. m., thermometer, 86°; water, 84°; we bottled drinking
water from a small stream on the west side, having a temperature of
76°; width of the river six hundred yards; sounded with two hundred
and ten feet of line without finding bottom; current two miles per
hour. The channel is perfectly clear of all obstructions; few logs are
enabled to pass safely through all the falls in the dry season, but
when the river rises they come down at a terrible rate, and in great
numbers, though the channel of the Madeira is seldom as much
obstructed by drift-wood as the Mississippi.
In the evening we arrived at Tamandua island; one hundred
Brazilians were engaged gathering turtle-eggs, of which they
manufactured oil. These men came up from the Amazon; the sight
of them gladdened our spirits; we had passed the savage race, and
reached civilized man, on the Atlantic side of the wilderness; we
were out of the woods, though the trees are larger here than on the
southern side of the ridge of hills through which the Madeira flows.
The forests here resemble those on the side and base of the Andes.
The negroes supped on turtle-eggs, while they drew comparisons
between the people of the Amazon and those of "their country," as
they called Cuyaba, on the other great South American river. One of
the oil merchants kindly invited us to take up our quarters in his hut,
but the fever kept me in bed in the canoe, with pains that forbade
sleep at night. He sent us two turtles, measuring nearly three feet
long, with one foot and a half of thickness. One of them was a load
for a man.
The turtle deposits its eggs in the sand on these river islands at
the beginning of the dry season, commencing in July and August.
The heat of the sun hatches the young; they dig holes four feet
deep, by throwing the sand on each side with the hind-flippers. The
motion is quick and sudden, casting the sand a distance of six and
eight feet from them. After reaching the depth required, the female
drops eggs in the hole and covers up the top with sand drawn in by
her fore-flippers. There is an equal distribution of labor; the hind
legs dig the hole, and the fore ones fill it up. The hole is gradually
filled with from one hundred and fifty to two hundred eggs. There is
some difference of time between the first deposit and the last; yet,
so nearly does the turtle calculate the depth of sand, and power of
the sun, that all the eggs are said to hatch exactly at the same time.
The young turtle rises four feet from the bottom of its birth place, to
meet his little brother at the surface. They trot to the river's edge
side by side, where they practice swimming, to be ready for the
floods that come down from the distant Andes soon after they are
born.
The oil man ascends the river, with a fleet of canoes in company,
manned with workmen, loaded with provisions, copper boilers,
spades, &c. They know the time the turtle has laid its last egg, and
while the eggs are fresh, they dig them from the sand, beginning on
one side of the island, and turning up the soil to the proper depth.
They throw out the eggs like potatoes, while others gather them up
in baskets. A canoe is washed out, and the eggs thrown in and
thoroughly broken by means of forked sticks. The soft shell or skin,
is pitched out; a quantity of water poured in and left to stand in the
sun. The oil rises on the surface; this is skimmed off and heated in
copper boilers. Being put up in large earthen jars or pots, containing
four or five gallons, it is sold in the markets of the Amazon. In Pará,
the price per pound varies from five to ten mil reis. One silver dollar
of Bolivia money is now worth eighteen hundred reis. While the
"manteca"—butter or oil—is fresh, it is used for culinary purposes.
The cook, of course, knows nothing of the number of young turtles
which may have been boiled in it during the late period of digging.
Its general use, however, is for lamp oil. The annual supply from all
the rivers in the Amazon basin is consumed within the mouths of
these rivers.
Turtle are now said to be scarce. We see millions of eggs
destroyed by the oil-hunters, who search all the islands, and drive
the turtles from one to the other. The men tell me there are no eggs
to be found on the island they worked at last year. The mother turtle
was disappointed; the little ones never made their appearance from
out of the sand where eggs were deposited, although they are not
wise enough to understand the boiling process their eggs had
undergone, yet, something was known to be wrong, and placing no
faith in that sand bank, every one deserted it, and made use of an
island they would not have chosen had they been let alone. There
the oil man continues to follow them. These turtle are called by the
Brazilians "Tortaruga Grande." There are said to be four other kinds
in the Madeira river, viz., "Cabecudá," "Trocajá," "Pitehú" and "Matá-
matá." The Tortaruga Grande is the best for eating and for oil; they
are also in greater abundance than the others.
Huts are built in the sand for the protection of the hunters
against the great heats of the sun in the day, and the rains. The
men, who are of Amazon Indian blood, have their wives with them.
There are few negroes at this business. Brazilians, of Portuguese
descent, gather a band of adventurers, or fishermen, who are willing
to leave their homes for this wild country, and seek their fortunes
among the sands, where no diamonds have yet been found. The life
is a hard one; the exposure on the voyage, and after they arrive on
the ground, is great. Many of them have fevers, their provisions get
short, the water is warm, and unless the work is carried on at a
rapid rate, the young turtles begin to form in the egg, which impairs
the quality of the oil—to say nothing of the butter. Great quantities
of rum are consumed on these expeditions. The Portuguese set up
shop where rum is sold, and a debtor and credit account is opened
with the Indian workmen; in the same way the creole miner does
with those of the Andes, making profit, while he pays the workmen's
monthly wages—from three to five dollars—with provisions.
The workmen soon get tired and want to return. The employer
takes out a passport for them all at the last military post as he
ascends; they are forbidden to travel about the country without one.
The workman is held to his promise to remain during the season,
good treatment or bad, by retaining his passport. Our crew became
intoxicated among their countrymen, and danced part of the night
with Amazonian girls, to the tune of violins, in the huts, while heavy
rain poured down in large drops, accompanied with thunder and
sharp lightning. Wind blowing fresh from northeast.
October 3.—The crew wished to remain among these greasy
people, but as we preferred floating on by the current, to laying by
the side of the oil canoes and hot sand bank, we pushed off with a
mail on board. As we descend, the river stretches out in long bends
towards the northeast. Twenty-five fathoms sounding and no
bottom. The width varies from six hundred to a thousand yards. The
country is level; the growth of trees decreasing in size the lower we
go.
October 4.—At 9 a. m., thermometer, 88°; water, 87°. The small
streams which flow in from the eastern side are of a deep green
color, at 87° temperature. The banks are twelve feet high, and break
down perpendicularly.
October 5.—This morning we met four "Muras" Indians fishing
with bows and arrows mid-channel, in small canoes, hewn from one
log. One canoe contained a woman and two children, under the
thatched roof of a little cabin. These people were all dressed in
decent fashion. The women wore a calico frock! The men were
larger than the Caripunas, and more reserved; it was with difficulty
we could get them to stop and sell us a paddle; we wanted to
replace a broken one. A knife was paid for it, when they desired to
push off from us. Probably they were ashamed of being fishermen
without any fish; or had, at some time, met with ill treatment.
Sounded with twenty-three fathoms, no bottom. A short distance
further down, got bottom at thirty-six feet, and lost both lead and
line. There are a few snags in the channel, among which our line
was entangled.
My bilious has now turned to ague and fever. The stench from
the muddy banks, and stagnant pools of water, has become
exceedingly offensive, and at night we have musquitoes, which we
were not troubled with among the falls. The current varies in its
speed from an half to two miles per hour, showing an uneven
surface. The ground over which it flows is sloping in steps, or
shelving, which gives the outward motion of the water a jerking
impetus. Islands, long and narrow, divide the stream into two
channels; yet the depth of water, and width of the passages, are
sufficient for all commercial purposes. Pedro tells me the "Toras"
tribe of Indians inhabit the east side of the river; we, however, saw
nothing of them.
October 6.—We landed on the west bank, at "Roscenia de
Crato," which is a frontier post of the Brazilians, on the Madeira. The
entire country between this settlement and the town of Exaltacion,
in Bolivia, is inhabited by savages. The Portuguese have ascended
the Amazon and Madeira thus far on their southwestward
emigration. The Spaniards, who crossed the Isthmus of Panama and
the mountains of Bolivia, are now on their northeast descent, to
meet the Brazilians. The movement, on both sides, is slow, but the
white man is crowding close upon each flank of the savage, who
now occupies but a narrow strip of land between the emigrants from
Spain and Portugal—gradually working through the wilderness
towards each other.
Crato belongs, partly, to my friend Don Antonio Cordoza. A few
years ago, his father established a trading station here, where the
Indians come in from the wild woods with sarsaparilla, Brazil nuts,
chocolate, pitch, and guaraná, prepared from the seed of a fruit
found in the woods, represented to be somewhat like the wild
cherry. The Indians mash the seed between stones, and make a
paste by adding water; after being dried in the sun, it is rolled in one
pound weights, and is sold at the station at fifty cents per pound.
Don Antonio sold guaraná in Trinidad at four dollars. The Spaniards
are exceedingly fond of it; the price has been as high as eight dollars
a pound, in the mountains of Bolivia. Guaraná resembles prepared
chocolate; a small quantity grated in a tumbler of water with sugar,
makes not only a very refreshing, but a strengthening drink. The
Indians use it when hunting or marching, thinking it enables them to
undergo a great amount of fatigue. The trader pays the Indian in
rum, hatchets, knives, fish-hooks, beads, &c. We find four or five
houses, inhabited by squatters, surrounded by a beautiful pampa
country; here and there clusters of forest trees. On the plains the
pasture proves excellent for the few cattle and horses that have
been brought up the river. Quantities of chickens flourish about the
house, with dogs and fat hogs.
The families are of Portuguese descent. A hamac was slung for
me in a house with a parlor on one side and a small sugar-mill on
the other. While the olive colored women sat sewing, the man was
employed putting sugar-cane between the vertical wooden cylinders,
as our men turned the beam by hand to get some sugar juice to
refresh themselves. The people were extremely kind and attentive.
Mrs. Santa Ana, the wife of the man to whom we brought letters,
doctored us with chicken tea, declaring "people died with the fever
in this country who would not eat."
The soil is well adapted to the growth of the sugar-cane. We are
told the country far west is a prairie for a long distance, covered with
fine pasture. The Indians are called "Muras;" they are fond of
trading, and less warlike than some others, of whom little is known.
They seem to be pleased with the difference between rum and
sarsaparilla.
We remained here all night to give the men a rest, and try to get
one night's sleep ourselves, but there was no rest with a high fever.
The river water cooled in an earthen monkey was refreshing.
Our boat was well washed out, and the baggage restowed; a
large hog killed for the men, and our chicken basket filled with fowls.
We were requested to take charge of the mail, a handful of letters,
and embarked with many thanks to our friends on the frontier.
Soundings vary from seven to twenty-one and a half fathoms. At
3 p. m., thermometer, 92°; water, 86°; calm.
October 8.—During the night we had heavy rain, sharp lightning,
and thunder from northeast. At 9 a. m., thermometer, 83°; water,
85°. At 3 p. m., thermometer, 88°; water, 86°. The rest at Crato has
refreshed us all; the men pull stoutly; they are now civil and
attentive, showing a desire to behave themselves well, though we
find a free negro the most difficult character to control. The Indian
attends to his duty without being told to do so. The negroes begin to
fear a difficulty with us, and are coming round, not only to their daily
work, with more spirit, but are particular to show us respect. We
would decline an offer of a boat's crew of free negroes on another
such expedition. We have felt that had these men not been aware
we were well on our guard since they shot our dog, they would have
murdered us without the least hesitation. They disputed our
authority and wanted to let us know it.
In the afternoon, as a black cloud comes from the northeast, the
wind turns up the sand on the beach and islands above the deep
green foliage. As the thunder roars and lightning flashes, we leave
the troubled waters of mid-channel and seek a safe little inlet in the
bank, and secure the boat till the raging storm passes. On the west
bank was a small town of the Muras Indians, built of palmetto wood,
and thatched with the wild palm leaf; it appeared to be deserted.
The banks were forty feet high, of red clay, and perpendicular. On
the east side of the river there were patches of maize. The forest
trees are of less height as we descend; long islands stretch from
three to five miles, dividing the river in twain. At the mouth of a
small, clear, green water stream, we met a party of Indians fishing in
a log canoe. The men were naked, and the women dressed in
frocks. On one of the sand islands was their temporary hut.
October 12.—At 9 a. m., thermometer, 83°; water, 86°. For the
last three days we have passed through an uninhabited region,
without meeting with obstructions to steamboat navigation. The
current one mile per hour, and river in some places one mile wide.
We met with a fishing "cuberta," at anchor. This vessel is an Amazon
craft, used for trading up and down these rivers under sail, or polled,
or towed along the bank when the river is low. We went alongside
and purchased a dried "pirarucu" fish, which we all fancied the taste
of at once; it was new both to us and to the Cuyaba negroes.
Pirarucus are taken by the arrow, as they swim near the surface of
the water; it has a small head and thick body, covered with scales;
they are found here from six to eight feet long. After it is salted and
dried in the sun, the meat keeps well twelve months; boatmen toast
or boil it without smothering it in potatoes; it has no offensive smell,
like boiled dried cod-fish. We are told the fish called "peixe boi,"
(bull-fish,) of the Madeira, is the same as the "vaca-marina," (sea-
cow,) of the Ucayali, though comparatively there are few taken. The
captain of the "cuberta" was lounging about the vessel with his coat
off, while one or two men were up the river in a small canoe fishing.
The cable, by which the vessel swung to her anchor, was made of a
black grass like stuff, taken from a species of palm-trees found on
the Rio Negro, called "piassába," said to last longer in the water than
out of it. Different-sized ropes are made of the piassába, but the
cordage of the vessel was generally of Kentucky hemp. Her
measurement was not over sixteen tons, rigged schooner fashion.
On deck, between the cabin and the forward house, was a large box
filled with earth, on which the crew built a fire and cooked fish and
turtle. We handed the captain a Bolivian silver dollar in payment for
fish, which he seemed pleased to take, and gave us large copper
coins in change. Titto, our negro sergeant, had to explain the value
of Bolivian silver in Brazil money.
At Porto de Mataurá a guard-house is situated on the east bank.
Richards climbed up the steep bank, and presented passports to the
commander, who was kind enough to send an officer to offer us a
house if we would remain. The officer returned again with a present
of a couple of watermelons, said to be an uncertain remedy for fever
and ague. They were small, only half ripe, but soon devoured, as
they were the only refreshing thing we had seen, except a little
sugar-cane, since leaving the fort. The suffering from fever was
increased to agony when the same dose had been imprudently
repeated. Drinking water was 87°, and the temperature of the air, in
the shade, 89°. Under such circumstances fruits and melons are
luxurious. The temptation is great, but the sick should be particularly
guarded against using such injurious articles, however pleasant to
the taste.
 As we move on the lands become more elevated, and are better
adapted for cultivation than others below Crato. The forest trees are
small where the lands are free from inundation, corresponding to
observations made as we floated into the middle of Madeira Plate,
near Exaltacion. Small streams of water flow in from the east, while,
on the west, "madres," or large pools, have an outlet through the
bank. The rule is, high banks on the east side of the Madeira, and
low to the west, with few exceptions. Springs are scarce. The water
trickling down the blue, red, or yellow banks is the coolest, even
after being bottled and stowed under our seats. The air is 96°
Fahrenheit; the heat is very oppressive. Under us there are twenty-
four feet water; in some places no bottom at one hundred and fifty-
six feet. As the river rolls along straighter, we find more irregularity
in the channel, and width, in some places, full one mile. On both
banks we see small houses, with a few plantain and orange trees
about them. These are the settlements of the descendants of the
Portuguese. A canoe or two lay by the bank opposite each house. As
we swiftly passed along, by the force of paddles—for the current
was only one mile per hour—the bright moon rose up over the sea
of foliage and lit our way to the town of Borba, on the 14th of
October, 1852.
With a bundle of letters, I crawled up the steep bank to the
house of Capitan Diogo, father of my friend Don Antonio. He ran his
fingers through grey locks of hair, and laughed at the idea of a man's
getting sick on such a voyage; gave me a horrible cup of tea made
from the leaves of a bush found in the woods, which put me to
sleep, as he was boasting of his extraordinary long travels up and
down the rivers, and how he used to doctor himself. He was very
cheerful until he counted the money brought from his son and
partner, when he wanted to know "if that was all Antonio had made
on his trip to Bolivia."
In the morning our baggage was brought up, and the soldiers
turned over to the commander of police. Borba is a small town of
three hundred inhabitants. Two rows of miserable wooden huts
stand parallel with a most distressingly dilapidated church; bells, old
and cracked, are hung under a small shed near the door. On the soil,
whence the forest trees had been cleared, was a thick sod of small
bladed grass, on which a few poor, slim-looking cows were
pasturing. Large and fat hogs came grunting at the door. The hot
sun had deadened the wool on the backs of a few sheep, and in its
place, a fleece of straight, grey hair came out as a substitute. When
man forces the animal intended by God for a cold climate into a hot
one, a new nature comes to the poor, panting creature's relief, and
puts upon it a coat of cool hair, instead of the hot woollen one.
The Spaniards have forced the hog so high up on the Andes that
he suffers every time he raises his bristles, and dies out of place;
while the Portuguese find it impossible to produce good mutton or
wool on the hot plains of the Amazon. Indians, in a warm climate,
grease or oil their naked skins as a protection from the sun, or that
the rains may slide off the more easy; while those we saw on the
frozen mountain tops, clothed themselves in wool, and greased their
insides with mutton. They appear to understand perfectly why the
earth was provided with meat and clothing.
The inhabitants of Borba are principally negroes, who are very
noisy, both in-doors and out; one-half of them are slaves. Those of
Portuguese descent are extremely indolent. We observed few
children of any color. The women wear their hair put up behind with
large tortoise-shell combs, fancifully carved. Their dresses are very
short-waisted, which gives them a more awkward appearance than
they really deserve. The men wear trousers, and a shirt with the tail
outside, which looks cool. Neither sex walk out except to church,
when they dress in deep black cloth and silks, with gold ornaments
and diamonds in profusion, brought from the head-waters of the
Tapajos—or to the river to bathe, when they leave almost all wearing
apparel at home.
The houses are of one-story and long; there are no doors hinged
between the rooms, only those opening to the street. Curtains are
hung from the upper part of the doorways to within a few inches of
the brick floor. One day a fresh breeze blew into the windows, and
the draft through the doors raised up all the curtains, when we
discovered the family seated on a rug, spread on the floor, sewing.
The girls were pretty, with large deep black eyes and hair; they
quickly pulled their little bare feet under their dresses, and laughed
heartily at the sudden surprise. Their hair was all down; hooks and
eyes not fastened. The lady of the house was very kind on her side
of the curtain, handed Quinine and Port wine on our side to the
Capitan, who declared he could cure the fever in a short time. He
insisted upon my joining him every night at ten in a hot supper; at
the same hour in the morning at breakfast, and disapproved of
sleeping—which was all we wanted, except to get out of the country
as soon as possible. Our bread was made of Richmond flour, which is
said to keep better in this climate than more northern flour from the
United States. Whether this is owing to the mode of grinding the
grain, or a difference in the character of the wheat itself, is to be
tested. Turtle and chicken were the principal meats, with coffee and
Portuguese red wine. The tobacco, which is produced on the banks
of the Madeira, is said to be superior in quality to any in Brazil. It is
made up in rolls, seven feet long and three inches in diameter,
carefully wrapped up in a strip of rattan closely wound round it. Each
staff contains two pounds; bundles of them are exported, with
cacao, Brazil nuts, coffee, and sarsaparilla, to the Atlantic coast.
The trade of Borba is insignificant. According to Capitan Diogo's
account, there are not more than two thousand people, Indians and
all, inhabiting the banks of the Madeira, principally found near the
stream; the country in the interior being a wilderness, tangled,
matted, and in places swampy, where alligators bask in the sun on
the beaten-down grass, and tigers roam freely after tapir tracks. At
the small farms, near Borba, sugar-canes are raised and rum is
manufactured—a greater quantity of the latter article being
consumed in Brazil, the trade in it seems to be the most extensive of
all others. A few watermelons, oranges, and limes are raised, but
less than are required for home consumption.
 There were no men belonging to Borba to take us on. The
authorities ordered the soldiers who came with us to go on. I
regretted this for two reasons. One, that we were in hopes of getting
rid of these impudent, half-savage free negroes, who refused
positively to obey the authorities of the town. Another, that the
commander of Beira wished me to send them back as soon as
possible after we arrived here, as it would take them five months to
regain their posts. But I found they were obliged to go as far as
Barra do rio Negro, to purchase a little iron, which, with some
guaraná, they had been ordered to carry to the fort, and to our
surprise, the men wanted to go with us in preference to remaining in
Borba, or returning to their usual duties. A larger boat was fitted
out. Pedro, our pilot, was paid off, as his services were needed as
boat-builder by the Capitan, who filled our basket with chickens, and
gave us a water-cooler. Two large cakes, with a jar of preserved
oranges, were sent to the boat by the wife of our friend Don
Antonio, whose little child came to thank us for bringing letters from
the father and husband. The kind old Capitan gave me particular
instructions about the fever, which he had partly cured, while he
nearly killed the patient. We pushed off with three Portuguese
passengers.
The river was thirty feet above its present level, in the rainy
season, and has now thirty feet depth off Borba. A vessel may lay
moored to the bank of the river. There is stone at hand for building
wharves if needed. The northeast trade-winds blow fresh, and we
find a difficulty in making head-way; the current of the river has
slackened to half a mile per hour. The winds blow directly in
opposition to it, which baffles us considerably. In the evening, the
wind falls away, and we push off from the bank where the boat is
fastened, to hold what we have gained.
At some small huts we find Muras Indians sleeping, who seem
very indifferent about selling a few thick-skinned, insipid oranges.
Among the heavy night dews are intermingled an equal portion
of hungry musquitoes. The nights and mornings are beautifully clear.
 By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N. Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.

CROSSING THE MOUTH OF THE MADEIRA RIVER, Brazil.

On the afternoon of the 29th of October, we crossed the river from the
east to the west bank, being forced to do so, as the wind created a sea, and
we lay uncomfortably moored to a snag; when half way over, our little craft
struggled and dipped in the water. Richards bailed out manfully, while the men
became frightened; we kept her bow angling the sea till she reached in safety
the opposite shore, where the negroes, hearts returned to their places, but
their eyes stretched wide open, as they looked back at the troubled stream,
saying they never saw water behave so furious before.
During the 21st of October we lay all day by a sand island, unable to
proceed until evening. When the wind died away, we paddled on by the light
of the moon. As the negroes lifted their paddles out of the water, we dipped
the thermometer in the Madeira for the last time, 88° Fahrenheit. Suddenly,
the bow of our little canoe touched the deep waters of the mighty Amazon. A
beautiful, apple-shaded island, with deep green foliage, and sandy beach
encircling it, lies in the mouth of the great serpentine Madeira. The mouth
opens by two channels. We find seventy-eight feet depth, near the western
side, which is six hundred yards wide, with high banks, well wooded, but no
marks or traces of civilization. A long sand-spit hung out over the lower
mouth, like a great tongue, on which lay turtles and bird's eggs. The east side
of the mouth was about three-quarters of a mile wide. A few houses stood on
the back ground, where the country was more elevated towards the
southeast.
 Now that we are at the mouth of this magnificent stream, we find no
deeply loaded vessels enter it. The value of the present foreign trade of South
Peru and Bolivia may be worth ten millions of dollars per annum.
The distance from the foot of San Antonio falls to the mouth of the
Madeira, is five hundred miles by the river. A vessel drawing six feet water
may navigate this distance at any season of the year. A cargo from the United
States could reach the foot of the falls, on the Madeira, within thirty days. By
a common mule road, through the territory of Brazil, the goods might be
passed from the lower to the upper falls on the Mamoré, in less than seven
days, a distance of about one hundred and eighty miles; thence by steamboat,
on that river and the Chaparé, a distance of five hundred miles to Vinchuta, in
four days. Ten days more from the base of the Andes, over the road we
travelled, would make fifty-one days passage from Baltimore to Cochabamba,
or fifty-nine days to La Paz, the commercial emporium of Bolivia, where
cargoes arrive generally from Baltimore in one hundred and eighteen days, by
Cape Horn—often delayed on their way through the territory of Peru from the
seaport of Arica. Goods by the Madeira route, sent over the Cordillera range to
the Pacific coast, might get there one month before a ship could arrive from
Europe on the eastern coast of the United States, by two oceans or the old
route.
 APPENDIX.
OBSERVATIONS WITH SEXTANT AND ARTIFICIAL HORIZON.
Locality. Date. Star. Meridian Sun's Magnetic Index Remarks.
altitude. altitude. azimuth. error.
PERU.
1851 ° ´ ´´ ° ´ ´´ °´ °´
July Alpha -83 07 40 ... ... ... Hazy over the north
10 Centauri mountains.
cayo 13 Alpha -83 44 20 ... ... ... Northern sky cloudy
Centauri
cavelica 18 Alpha -85 07 40 ... ... +1 30 Misty over the north
Centauri Cordilleras.
cho 30 Alpha Lyrae +76 25 10 . . . ... -1 00
31 Alpha -68 52 40 . . . ... -1 00
Trianguli
31 Alpha Lyrae +76 27 00 . . . ... -1 00
Aug. Alpha -69 24 20 . . . ... -1 00
6 Trianguli
6 Alpha Lyrae +75 53 20 ... ... -1 00
huailas 11 Alpha Lyrae +75 26 10 ... ... -0 45 Missed a southern s
12 . . . ... 76 24 10 41 40 -0 45
12 . . . ... 78 19 20 40 10 -0 45
12 . . . ... 79 31 50 39 50 -0 45
12 . . . ... 80 21 30 39 20 -0 45
ay 15 Alpha Lyrae +75 30 00 ... ... -0 45
15 Alpha -92 54 20 ... ... -0 45
Pavonis
27 . . . ... 37 35 10 273 50 -0 25
27 . . . ... 31 32 30 273 45 -0 25
27 . . . ... 30 40 50 273 30 -0 25
Sept. Alpha Lyrae +75 43 20 ... ... -0 25
4
 4 Alpha -92 39 50 ... ... -0 25
Pavonis
... ... ... ... ...
A. ... ... ... ... ...
bamba Dec. Alpha +53 35 30 . . . ... ... Señor Bridoux's pat
22 Aurigae
22 Alpha -109 36 00 . . . ... ... Do.
Aurigae
1852 . . . ... ... ... ...
ad de Mojos June Gamma -97 09 40 ... ... ...
2 Crucis
2 Zeta Ursae +39 02 10 . . . ... ...
Majoris
2 ... ... 41 32 20 48 30 . . .
3 ... ... 45 35 40 47 00 . . .
3 ... ... 46 44 00 46 45 . . .
3 ... ... 48 14 10 46 15 . . .
cion Aug. Alpha Lyrae +76 05 30 ... ... . . . On the bank of the
24 Mamoré, near the
sugar-mill.
25
... ... 47 35 10 277 45 . . .
25
... ... 46 21 10 277 15 . . .
25
... ... 45 04 10 277 00 . . .
29
Alpha Lyrae +76 07 10 ... ... . . .
... ... ... ... . . .
do Principe Sept. Alpha Lyrae +77 55 40 ... ... . . .
eira 11
do. 12 Alpha Lyrae +77 52 40 65 21 00 68 00 . . .
do. 12 . . . ... 67 20 10 67 45 . . .
do. 12 . . . ... 68 27 50 67 15 . . .
do. 12 . . . ... 69 16 50 67 10 . . .
do. 13 Alpha Lyrae +77 50 30 ... ... . . .
the mouth of 16 Alpha Lyrae +78 45 20 ... ... . . .
ez river
ao falls, 23 Alpha -86 01 30 ... ... ... Missed the Northern
eira river Pavonis

METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS.
cality. Date. Hour. Baro- Fah. Boiling Fah. Wet Wind- Remarks.
meter. Therm. point. Therm. bulb. force.
PERU. 1851 ° ° °
July 3 p.m. 21.048 55 ... ... 52 SW. Squally, cloudy, and
4 thundering.
4 9 p.m. 21.098 55 ... ... 54 . . .
5 9 a.m. 21.110 53 ... ... 51 . . . Calm and cloudy.
 5 1 p.m. . . . . . . 193.852 56 ... ...
5 4 p.m. 21.056 56 ... ... 53 . . .
5 9.30 21.100 55 ... ... 54 . . .
p.m.
6 9.30 21.108 54 ... ... 52 . . . Clear and pleasant.
a.m.
7 3.30 21.046 58 ... ... 53 . . . Clear.
p.m.
9 8 a.m. 21.134 54 ... ... 50 . . . Clear.
e road 9 12.30 . . . 68 ... ... ... ... Temperature of a mou
p.m. stream, 55°.
oad 9 5 p.m. . . . 44 ... ... ... ... Clear blue sky.
tent 10 6.30 18.582 24 ... ... 30 . . . Frost and ice.
a.m.
10 9.30 . . . ... 187.000 27 ... ... Clear.
a.m.
10 10 a.m. . . . 46 ... ... ... ... Temperature on a spri
48°.
10 4 p.m. 20.248 65 ... ... ... ...
10 4.45 ... 73 ... ... 50 . . . Clear.
p.m.
10 6.15 ... ... 191.250 44 ... ...
p.m.
11 8 a.m. 20.312 46 ... ... ... ...
pcion 11 3.30 20.454 62 ... ... ... ...
p.m.
12 7 a.m. 20.560 49 190.500 49 46 . . . Cumulus strata, 9.
12 12.25 ... 63 ... ... ... ... Temperature of a sprin
p.m. 54°.
12 12.45 ... 60 ... ... ... ... Light shower of rain fr
p.m. the eastward—small
drops.
cayo 12 2.30 20.628 62 ... ... ... ... Calm.
p.m.
13 7 a.m. 20.732 48 ... ... ... ...
13 6.15 20.652 55 ... ... ... ...
p.m.
14 7 a.m. 20.706 33 ... ... 30 . . . Cumulus strata; frost.
14 8.48 ... 48 ... ... ... ... Temperature of a sprin
a.m. 54°.
npucyo 14 5 p.m. 19.626 50 ... ... . . . NW. Thunder, lightning, ha
and rain storm.
14 5.45 . . . 46 ... ... ... ...
p.m.
15 7 a.m. 19.718 42 ... ... 46 . . .
haca 15 3 p.m. 21.492 63 ... ... ... ...
 15 5 p.m. . . . ... ... ... . . . N. Heavy rain squalls—la
drops, (unusual.)
16 8.30 21.648 60 192.500 60 54 . . .
a.m.
16 9.20 ... 65 ... ... ... ... Temperature of a strea
a.m. 50°.
e road 16 Noon 20.058 69 ... ... ... ...
f the 16 3.25 19.160 55 ... ... ... ... Andes chain in sight to
ntains p.m. northeast; no snow.
n hut 16 4.20 19.764 57 ... ... ... ...
p.m.
17 6 a.m. 19.748 35 ... ... 30 . . . Frost; cold night.
17 11.30 ... 54 ... ... ... ... Temperature of a sprin
a.m. 44°.
17 1 p.m. 17.684 49 ... ... . . . N. Snow in all directions—
country.
ca- 17 6 p.m. 19.588 50 ... ... ... ...
a
18 7.45 19.632 46 ... ... ... ...
a.m.
h of 19 12.30 . . . 49 ... ... ... ... Temperature of a sma
ksilver p.m. stream flowing out o
mine, 34°.
ca- 22 7 a.m. 19.584 48 ... ... ... ...
a
e road 22 11.30 . . . 54 ... ... ... ... Cloudy and calm;
a.m. temperature of a spr
48°.
22 2.30 . . . 44 ... ... . . . NE. Light snow storm from
p.m. northeast— small flee
flakes; wind hauled r
by south to southwes
storm increased to ha
stones.
a Posta 22 4.45 19.160 50 ... ... ... ...
p.m.
22 7 p.m. . . . 39 ... ... . . . SW. Hail-stones half the siz
peas.
23 7 a.m. 19.222 37 ... ... . . . SE., Cloudy.
light
a 23 5 p.m. . . . ... ... ... . . . SW.
23 6 p.m. . . . ... ... ... ... ... Rain; thick clouds thun
and lightning in the n
24 6.30 19.282 35 ... ... 32 . . . Cloudy, and thick frost
a.m.
s Posta 24 1.45 19.490 56 ... ... ... ... Thermometer in the s
p.m. stands at 76°.
24 5 p.m. . . . 43 ... ... 39 SW. Squalls of rain, with
thunder and lightning
25 6 a.m. 19.468 36 ... ... ... ... Calm.
25 9.20 ... 48 ... ... ... ... Temperature of a sprin
a.m. 52°.
s Posta 25 2.30 20.238 57 ... ... . . . NE. Clear.
p.m.
25 6 p.m. ... ... ... ... . . . SW. Lightning, thunder, an
light rain.
26 6.30 20.258 38 ... ... ... ... Clear; very little dew d
a.m. the night.
a 26 3 p.m. 22.068 65 ... ... ... ... Light breezes.
27 9.15 22.286 60 ... ... 55 . . . Clear.
a.m.
27 4 p.m. 22.092 63 ... ... ... . . .
28 9 a.m. 22.224 59 ... ... 58 . . .
28 10 a.m. ... . . . 195.250 59 ... . . . Clear.
28 5.30 22.118 62 ... ... ... . . .
p.m.
28 11.45 ... ... ... ... ... ... Clear night; the whole
p.m. heavens are lighted u
lightning.
29 9.20 22.258 60 ... ... 56 . . .
a.m.
29 3 p.m. 21.162 62 ... ... ... ...
30 7 a.m. 22.210 59 ... ... ... ...
e road 30 3.40 21.976 75 ... ... ... ... These observations we
p.m. taken at the bottom
top of a deep gully
30 4 p.m. 21.674 71 ... ... ... ... washed by the rains.
cho 30 10.40 21.976 61 ... ... . . . ...
p.m.
31 9 a.m. 22.006 58 ... ... 54 ... Clear and calm.
Aug. 9 a.m. 22.008 59 194.250 ... 53 ...
1
4 8.30 21.936 59 ... ... 54 ... Cumulus strata.
a.m.
e road 4 3.30 21.246 67 ... ... . . . NE. Cumulus, 5; near
p.m. Precervilca.
5 6 a.m. 21.368 43 ... ... . . . ... Cumulus strata, 10.
a Posta 5 3 p.m. 20.304 60 ... ... . . . NE. Cumulus clouds.
6 6.20 20.338 33 ... ... 33 ...
a.m.
 in the 6 10 a.m. 18.550 46 ... ... . . . ...
es
Rio 6 3.15 22.780 73 ... ... . . . ...
pas p.m.
6 7.30 ... . ... ... . . . ... Lightning towards the
p.m.
7 7 a.m. 22.868 52 ... . . . ... ... Cumulus strata, 3.
on Posta 7 3 p.m. 21.534 71 ... . . . ... ...
8 7 a.m. 21.616 52 ... . . . 51 ... Cumulus strata, 10; ca
Ladron 8 2 p.m. 19.648 50 ... . . . ... ... Heavy fog clearing aw
9 6.15 19.692 39 ... . . . 37 SE. Snowing during the ni
a.m.
Corn 9 1 p.m. 20.598 55 ... ... . . . ...
s
10 6.30 20.528 41 ... ... . . . ... Clear.
a.m.
huialas 10 12.30 21.468 59 ... ... . . . ... Cumulus cloudy.
p.m.
11 9 a.m. 21.536 53 ... ... 51 ... Cumulus cloudy.
11 9.45 ... . . . 192.500 53 . . . ...
a.m.
11 3.15 21.478 58 ... ... 55 ... Clear.
p.m.
12 10 a.m. 21.592 55 ... ... 54 ... Calm.
12 3 p.m. 21.532 59 ... ... 55 ... Clear.
13 7.15 21.604 53 ... ... 51 ... Cumulus clouds; calm
a.m.
r Posta 13 3.30 22.364 65 ... ... . . . ...
p.m.
14 6 a.m. 22.416 38 ... ... 36 ... Cool morning; bright
moonlight night, with
14 9 a.m. ... 60 ... ... . . . ... Temperature of a sprin
46°.
Fort 14 10.30 19.500 59 ... ... . . . ...
amba a.m.
acahua 15 6.15 21.932 44 ... ... . . . ... No water to take wet
a a.m.
ay 15 1 p.m. 22.740 77 ... ... . . . ... Snow on the mountain
sight.
16 7 a.m. 22.826 57 ... ... 49 E. Cumulus, 8.
16 5.30 ... . . . 196.250 56 ... ... Clear.
p.m.
17 6 a.m. 22.840 44 ... ... ... ... Warm sun and clear s
17 9 a.m. ... 54 ... ... ... ... Temperature of a mou
stream, 46°.
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