with the wondrous crimson glow, and the illuminated branches of some dead trees gave a wonderful effect of distance to the intense deep blue heaven beyond.

By 6.20 it was quite dark, and all the light faded away. Then came the lovely after-glow, everything again standing out in relief, with a beautiful rosy tint reflected from the west, and in a few minutes that also faded, the shades of night fell, the Southern Cross, Milky Way, Austral Crown, Scorpion, Magellanic Clouds, and all the other brilliantand, alas! to me unknown-constellations of the southern hemisphere shone out brightly in the moonless sky, the fitful light of countless fireflies danced over the bushes in the valley, and the silence was broken only by the cheerful chirruping of the grasshoppers and field-crickets, which lasts all night long. Soon a pale glimmer appeared in the south-east, and before long the brilliant queen of the night rose from behind the forest, quenching the paler fires of the stars, and flooding the valley with her astounding brightness, while a soft beam of silvery light stole into

our tent.

Insects are becoming more plentiful already, and trees which looked dead sticks are breaking out into wondrous large reddish-green leaves. Even here, where in winter there appears so much foliage, nature seems to be putting on her spring attire after the few days' rain we have had, and the grass, hitherto dried up and withered, is sprouting.*

The thunderstorms here and elsewhere have cooled the air, and the temperature is at least 30° cooler in the sunshine, while the cloudy yet lovely weather makes the

Many of the trees on the campos are deciduous; it is only in the valley, near the streams and rivers, at this altitude, that the leaves do not fall in winter.

work pleasanter than was possible with the thermometer at 138° F.

Vicente left here to-day to return to Pitanguy. I shall miss him very much. For six weeks he was my only companion besides the men, and he has been so kind and helpful in a thousand ways. Just as he was mounting his horse, he was stung in the left ear by a large wasp, which went so far in that we could not even feel it for some time. It was finally killed by pouring in a little cachaça, and then we took it out. The pain must have been very great.

Early on the morning of the 8th, I was awakened by our first great thunderstorm. In a few minutes the ditch round the tent was full, and streams poured over the floor. I had to get up and remove everything I could out of the wet.

Our number was increased on Michaelmas Day by the arrival of Mr. Roberts, and since then we have somewhat changed our mode of life. Instead of having breakfast before going out, our general routine is as follows: up at sunrise, and have three or four raw eggs beaten up with a little cachaça and water, some bread and coffee; then go out on the work till about midday, when our breakfast is brought out to us, consisting of stewed or roast fowl, with rice, feijões, and bread; then work again after about an hour's rest, returning to camp in time to change clothes, wash, and hunt for carrapatos before dinner, which we have just after sunset.

My routine on retiring for the night is to lay a grass mat in the hammock, then a sheet of waterproof, and a blanket which has been aired or dried during the day; then, after a final hunt for carrapatos, and sponging with diluted carbolic acid, sprinkle some of it on all the blankets

necessary, examine revolver and gun, have a "night-cap,” and then "douse the glim."

We have lately been breakfasting in the most picturesque spots beside the stream-some six or eight feet wide-which flows between moss-covered banks, dotted over with ferns (especially maidenhair), while every few yards rise huge tree-ferns ten to fifteen feet high, besides numerous other small trees or shrubs. Everything combines to make a pleasant tout ensemble-the delightful shade when the sun is 130° in the open, the delicious murmuring of the brook, and the verdure; not to speak of breakfast, the first meal in the day, when one is really hungry after hard work. This luxuriant tropical vegetation is very delightful, and, as yet, is unaccompanied by the enervating damp and heat of the lower regions along the coast.

One evening, as we were passing the Fazenda de Cortume, one of the sons asked us to alight and have coffee. The old lady, Dona Gertrude, wife of the major, received us; she was surrounded by a host of sons and daughters, their wives and husbands, her grandchildren, and two greatgrandchildren, the latter running about in a state of nature. The room we were in-the entrance hall and dining-room -has three doors; one of them was crowded by the female slaves and their children, many of whom were unclad. It is quite a patriarchal establishment, and I should very much like to know how many people live there—probably at least fifty. We both liked the old lady very much ; she is portly, and has a great presence, but is very sad, owing to the illness of her husband, who has been in a bad state of health for over three years.

We have had five days (October 12 to 16) of cold drizzling rain, but no deluge; it has been so cold we have

H

put on great-coats and huddled on all the clothes by day, and coverings by night, that we possess.

To-day (October 18) we had breakfast near the waterfall, in a spot which I can best liken to the fairy glen at Bettwsy-coed, with the addition of swinging masses of creepers, maidenhair, tree-ferns, and bamboos. One must see bamboos to understand their extreme gracefulness.

I am greatly tantalized at having no time to botanize. There are now hundreds of spring flowers coming out on the hillsides, scarlet, sky blue, yellow, white, purple, bushes with deliciously scented white flowers, and dozens of wonderful leaves. The few specimens I have tried to dry have been mostly spoiled by the damp. I should very much like to come out here with a party of naturalists, each to take up different branches and devote all their time to collecting. It would be most interesting.

Alas! my minimum readings of the thermometer can no longer be given, as my dog broke it last night.

I enclose you a copy of a Pitanguy newspaper. It is called O Pitanguy, Orgam critico, is six inches by four and a half, and consists of four pages.

The day after we were at the Fazenda do Cortume, Capitão Sydney, of the next fazenda, Boa Vista, came to the camp. He is son-in-law to the major, one of whose sons accompanied him ; also his own son, a very intelligentlooking boy of ten. Later I was favoured by a visit from two niggers belonging to the major; they laughed a great deal, did not speak much, but smoked cigarettes of my Latakia wrapped up in newspaper, which they found rather strong.

October 22.—After spending two days at Brumado, we are once more in the solitude of our mountain-camp. The three hundred feet difference in level between this place

and Brumado makes a great change of temperature; there it was very hot, with very little air, so that the return to this fresh, light atmosphere was very pleasant.

October 23.-Last night we had another deluge. We were awakened by the noise of the downpour on the roof of the tent. Lighting a candle, I examined whether the water was coming in; there was just a trickling on the up-hill side. I turned in again, but not to sleep; the drumlike roar of the rain on the tent was too great, added to the rushing of the rivers flowing down the deep gutter which surrounds the tent. Soon I felt a curious motion under my hammock, a sort of upheaval; it was the dog creeping about, as he always sleeps near my feet. I concluded the rain was coming in, and, putting down my hand, felt a stream. On striking a light, we saw a curious sight. Between Roberts's camp-bed and my hammock rushed a river some two inches deep, and in it were floating empty cups and pots and slippers, etc., bobbing up and down at the lower side of the tent; my gun-case and saddle-bags had diverted a portion of the stream under my hammock, while the rush of the rivers outside had prevented my hearing the stream inside. We rescued our slippers and grabbed at other floating articles, and I then, from the vantage point of my hammock, viewed with some amusement the novel sight of a stream, more than a yard wide, between our two beds. The rain came down in such torrents that the ditch, though it was pretty deep, was not large enough to carry it off; so we had it enlarged next morning, and now it is quite a jump to cross it.

The rainy season having begun, the traffic has likewise commenced. While the dry season lasts, the atrocious tracks, called roads, are at least bearable; but there is no pasture for the cattle that draw the carts or for the pack