Brazilian shore, and camped for the night. Some of our men grumbled because there was no bread, and we offered them beef, but they would have none of it. They preferred the fish which they caught themselves. They cooked the fish whole, and devoured them whole too, heads, tails, scales, entrails, everything. That was nicer, they said, than nasty cow.

We continued our journey next morning amid trying difficulties -the canoe leaking badly, the waves caused by the strong wind then blowing down the river, breaking over the gunwale, so heavily were we laden, Cephas, Eddington, and I sitting down in the bottom of the canoe to steady it as much as possible, whilst Peter, and Moqwah the huntsman, stood up and poled. The canoe was eighteen feet long and very narrow, and only just wide enough to allow us to fit in between the sides, it being simply the trunk of a tree hollowed out, and rotten from age; consequently we were wet up to our waists, in spite of incessant balings out. The navigation was intricate, and the wonder to me was that we were neither sunk nor upset. One very narrow escape we had. Moqwah lost his balance, but fortunately not his presence of mind. Feeling himself going, and knowing that if he tried to save himself by clinging to the canoe he would simply upset us all, he took a header clean into the river and swam to shore where we afterwards picked him up. Coming to a landing-place we stopped all of us, feeling tired and very cross, and despatched Henry and Canister Boss in search of habitations where they might procure bread, also the two huntsmen in search of game. The latter soon returned with a fine young buck, which we handed over to the Indians, we preferring to stick to beef while we had the chance.

About three o'clock next morning Henry returned, saying he had succeeded in finding a house, and bringing with him a young Macusi and a small quantity of cassava bread. Old Charley and Passico turned up-we having sent them on by land, there being no room for them in the canoes-about daylight. They were accompanied by several Indians, who brought plantains, crushed corn, cassava starch, and a fine piece of real Brazilian tobacco. From these Indians we purchased or rather rented a canoe, much broader and more serviceable than the one we had hitherto been obliged to put up with, and left the latter to be handed over to the Wapisiana chief whenever he chose to come for it. The head-man of our new acquaintances was a hale, portly old fellow, dressed in Brazilian shirt and trousers. He invited us to stay with him next time we came that way, and after bidding him and his family adieu we once more embarked on the Ireng, or as the maps erroneously call it, the Takutu. We made much better progress with our new craft. The day being fine and sunny there were hundreds of turtle basking in the sand on the banks

VOL. LIX.

F

of the river, but on our approach, and before we could get within gunshot, they dived into the water and disappeared. As we had no booyer with us we were unable to capture any. The booyer is a long reed arrow, with a moveable steel point attached by a cord to the shaft. When this is fired at a turtle the point penetrates the shell and detaches itself from the shaft, which floats in the water, and indicates where the turtle is to be found. The turtles were not laying at this time, February and March being their egg season, when they are easily caught on the sand-banks at night. We camped for the night in full view of a solitary mountain, called Waikie-apeng (Deer Mountain), lying about ten miles to the north-west of us. Eddington and I slung our hammocks from a plane-tree on the top of a high bank, but the Indians preferred to sleep by the water's edge, as being safer from kanaimas and kikowshi (tigers). The night was fine; a pleasant breeze kept us free from mosquitoes, though the men below were not so fortunate, the little pests being in great force, as we could tell, not only from the monotonous buzzing, but from the frequent ejaculations and constant smackings of backs and legs.

After breakfast next day (September 1) we smoked the remainder of our beef and resumed our voyage. Our men had luckily discovered, near the camping-ground, an old booyer in a good state of preservation, so we were now fully equipped for a turtle hunt in case any showed themselves. While we were paddling along we saw on one of the banks a group of animals that we at first took to be deer. Approaching nearer we found them to be water haas (Cupybara parowie, the Indians call them), a kind of enormous red rat without tails, as big as large sheep. They galloped off before we could get a shot at them, but we afterwards saw three young ones hiding under some bushes. We landed and succeeded in capturing one, but the other two were too nimble for us, and escaped. Putting a rope round our captive's neck, we tied him to a bench in the canoe, where it very playfully bit a small piece out of my ankle. In the course of a day or two, however, it became very tame, and amused us all by its funny antics. They have four toes on the front feet and three on the hind, and are web-footed. These creatures are very fond of the water, and n fact live in it half their time. Our subsequent experience satisfied us that they are very good eating, though the Indians can never be persuaded to touch them. In the afternoon we had a spirited otter hunt, having come across about a dozen of these animals bobbing up and down in the water near a small island. We only succeeded, however, in killing one, and that after a great deal of trouble, as, when shot, it sunk; but Eddington, who is a capital swimmer, not wishing to lose it, dived, and although the water here was very deep, after four or five attempts succeeded in bringing it triumphantly to

the surface. It measured five feet from the nose to the tip of the tail, had a beautiful skin of dark mouse colour, and was endowed with a formidable arrangement of ivories.

On the morning of the 2nd we saw on the river bank (but failed to capture) a beautiful kind of partridge, with a crest on its head, mottled breast and red legs. The Indians called it duraquarra, but it differed from the ordinary duraquarra commonly found in the thick bush. We entered the Takutu early in the day, and found it broader and even shallower than the Ireng. Immense flocks of black-breasted plover came in sight, but not near enough for a shot. All this and the next day we went along steadily. The weather was fine but very hot. We saw a huge manatee or sea cow rolling about in the water, sometimes popping his snout out for a blow; from every sand-bank that we passed numbers of turtle slipped lazily into the river; while jabirus, duck, plover, and toucans flew about in every direction. The place seemed a very paradise for huntsmen. It is only fair to add, however, that another form of life abounds in these regions which does not bring so much joy to the traveller. No sooner does the sun touch the horizon, than the whole air is invaded by countless hosts of mosquitoes, who carry on their sanguinary operations with unrelenting rapacity till the break of day again disperses them.

We landed at Zarewah on Sept. 4, and bade adieu to our canoe, the rest of our journey being overland. Walking up to the houses we were greeted by old Chooroorah, an old friend with whom we had become acquainted on a former trip. Chooroorah, in the Wapisiana tongue, means breeches. Old Breeches was right glad to see us, and got all kinds of nice food for us. Having bought plantains and yams enough to load all our party, we started at six next morning, and after walking about thirty miles reached Nappi at four in the afterA paiworri feast awaited the men, and they were unfeignedly delighted, not having had an indulgence of this sort since the Mănōōpotah-pooh affair.

noon.

We reached Karenacru, our starting-point, at seven o'clock on the morning of September 6, and glad we were to be able to sling our hammocks under our own roof once more. Our tour had occupied exactly forty-seven days, and leaving out of account one or two brief and unavoidable detentions, it can hardly be said that we had spent an idle day.

We remained at Karenacru till the 5th of December, finding much to do every day either in arranging our stock, renewing our tattered wardrobes, rendering our house more comfortable, or settling accounts with the Indians, when we commenced our return journey to Georgetown by the same route as we had come up, and now almost a beaten track to us, reaching our destination in safety on Christmas Day, MONTAGU FLINT, F.R.G.S.

1877.

A Young Lady's Letter.

WHAT is always to be seen from the pretty stone bridge of three arches that spans the Thames at Panghead, as one looks down stream, is the large red-brick house to the left; the comfortable inn, and the boat-shed to the right; the pole in the middle of the river to which are fastened various craft; the swans; the little boy fishing from the bank; and, what is always to be heard are the sounds of rippling running water, of oars moving in rowlocks, of voices talking in the distance, of rooks cawing pleasantly in the fields out yonder by the lock.

What is not always to be seen on Panghead, or indeed, on any other bridge, is the very charming young girl that was leaning over the bridge parapet on a lovely afternoon in October last. That she was remarkably pretty was to be seen at a glance. That she was frivolously twiddling a piece of note-paper into the shape of a paper boat, was to be remarked at the second glance. Any man or woman man perhaps especially-who took one glance at this fascinating young lady, being as it were compelled to take another. What must be told of her however, since, from the modesty of her dress and manner, nobody could possibly infer it, is that she was as wealthy as she was pretty and, moreover, an orphan and, being of full age, her own mistress.

This very desirable young lady was, the while she twiddled her piece of note-paper, ostensibly engaged in admiring the beauties of nature and enjoying the sweet freshness of the breeze. In reality, however, she was rather more occupied in endeavouring in the most modest and one might almost say shyest manner in the world, to attract the attention of a very handsome young man who stood with his hands in his pockets, and a moody face, at the door of the boat-house, looking every way but hers.

He certainly did not see her, but he was nevertheless thinking of her, and as the thoughts of both gentleman and lady at this particular moment have long been known to their friends, there is no reason why they should not be set down here. This is what the young lady was thinking:

"I am sure Baker must have read this. She looked so pert when she brought it out to me. And why indeed did she trouble herself to bring it out at all? It is as if she wanted to say, 'This is not the sort of document to leave about one's room.' And it certainly is

not. I think being so much in love with Mr. Lescar makes me stupid. Because, one can't hide this sort of thing from oneself. I am in love with him, and I am sure he thinks about as much of me as he does of his boots; less perhaps! Money can't buy everything. It won't buy Mr. Lescar, that's very certain. I wonder now if he were to suddenly look up and shout to me like a boatman with his hand to the side of his mouth: Hi! Hullo! Miss Phoebe Munniss, I haven't a penny, and you are conveniently rich; but I'll try to like you if you wish it I wonder if I should smile and get red and be fluttered, and say: 'Yes, if you please, Mr. Lescar, I do wish it.' Sometimes I fancy I can't be really in love, because I am able to eat my meals as usual, and I can reason about it all in this jocose way to myself. And yet it is certain that the mere sight of his hat lying on the hall table this morning made my heart beat like no other hat ever did. Dear me! there he stands looking as cross as two sticks, and quite absorbed in that foolish old hen clucking at her chickens. Decidedly men are more disinterested than women. A woman would not stand there looking at an old hen while an unmarried gentleman with ever so much hateful money was standing staring down at her from a bridge. She would know it directly and be all alive and gracious and meeting him half way. I do so wish I were poor, and very lovely, and then perhaps . . ." &c., &c.

The gentleman was thinking that if he had a million a year, he would lay it and himself-at Miss Munniss's feet. In default of a million, if he could only paint a famous picture. . . or write a book that would set the whole world wondering

or better still,

if he could save her from drowning-not in this bit of a river, but in the sea, from a shipwreck, swimming about with her for forty-eight hours perhaps, and being cast on a desert island, and having all sorts of opportunities of defending her from savages and wild beasts . . . At this point in his reflections the young man laughed right out, as well he might! and came mentally back from his wild adventures with Miss Munniss to his short holiday, which came to an end on the day after next, and to a certain red spot which had come at the end of his nose, just where anybody-say Miss Munniss-would be sure to notice it.

At that moment Miss Munniss, goaded to desperation by the apathy of this most aggravating young man, coughed, unnecessarily perhaps, but successfully, for Mr. Lescar immediately looked up and his face became radiant.

"How d'you do?" cried he.

"How d'you do?" cried she, and nodded, well pleased.

Mr. Lescar called out something-but Miss Munniss could not make out what-and most anxious not to lose one of the words of