something of the riches of manufacturers, ironmasters, coalowners, etc.

Some years ago the old man's wife had become quite blind from cataract. He took her down to Rio, where she was operated upon, and can now see tolerably, but only by wearing a huge pair of spectacles with circular highly convexed glasses, which, with her old wizened face, make her look just like an ancient owl. All the women get old and ugly here comparatively early; and, with their exceedingly wrinkled and wizened faces bandaged up with handkerchiefs, they look fac-similes of the women in the pictures of the old masters of the German schools.

I spoke of the blind in England, how they not only have books which they can read with their fingers, but also a style of writing by pricking, so that one blind man can write to another, who can read it himself. He replied, "What a wonderful country England must be! Here the blind have nothing to do, and are shut out from everything."

November 26.-The singing in harmony of the blacks at their work of weeding the young maize plantations on the other side of the valley was extremely pretty, softened by distance. These blacks work about eleven hours a day, and get a milreis; they are mostly freed slaves. Aleixo has eleven working in his plantations, four of whom belonged to an old priest who freed them on his death, and left twenty-five alqueires of land for them to settle on, build huts, and cultivate for their own use. They are fine, stalwart, pure-blooded negroes.

In the evening we had a final serenade from the same "artistes" as on the 24th, with the addition of some dancing. Roberts did the proper thing, and picked out the prettiest girls he could select, while I looked on. There

was certainly not much room for it; but the movements of the graceful swaying and bending of the body were pleasant to watch, and the little bare feet glided prettily over the uneven mud floor to the tunes from a wiry guitar, manipulated by a man who seemed never wearied, but played on continuously, with his head bent low over the instrument, as if anxious to enjoy to the full his own music.

CHAPTER VII.

IN THE VALLEY OF THE RIO CAMAPUÃO,

Camp near Olhos d'Agua.

November 28, 1883.-It seems strange to be writing at the end of November, with the thermometer at 75° in the open, two hours and a half after sunset; but such is the southern hemisphere in the tropics.

Our new camp is built on a promontory of campo (prairie), far above the swamps of the broad valley which surrounds us on three sides. There is nothing loftier than short grass on this summit, and as we look for miles east and west we shall have the benefit of all the air there is. The scenery is extremely pretty.

I had two visits from Doctor Rebouças at Casa Grande, on the 24th and 26th. He came to see the progress of the plans and trial section, with which he was satisfied, and was very friendly.

Yesterday afternoon my horse fell with me for the first time, but it was not his fault. I was trying to cross a piece of wet ground, when the horse went in nearly up to his haunches, and then rolled over, with my left leg under him. Fortunately the ground was very soft, so I pulled my leg out, and got him up and on to more solid ground. We were neither of us any the worse, and were off again,

finding a more passable route, before any of the men could come to the rescue.

I am most thankful to say that the carrapato torment has now practically ceased. Since the rains really began, about three weeks ago, I have only come across stray ones occasionally; but these are of a larger species, which, however, one can generally feel on their first attack, and pick off before they have buried in their heads; besides which, I now wear my nails cut pointed, in the native fashion, so as to dig them out better.

November 30.-We have felt our exposed position at nights, and the wind shakes every rope in the tent. On the night of our arrival we were awakened at 11.30 by the most terrific thunderstorm that Roberts says he ever witnessed, and he has been long in India and tropical America. The wind shook the tent about so, that we jumped out of bed, and each rushed to one of the tentpoles to prevent its bending or breaking. Some of the ropes gave way, and the outer covering flapped about. The noise of the rain on the tent top and sides, placed as it was on a bare down, was a continual roar; but the climax was the lightning, which every instant pierced the pitchy darkness, revealing everything as clear as day, followed by the most awful thunder, as if a thousand 81-ton guns were exploded and then rolled upon each other like marbles.*

Continuous rain since yesterday has kept us indoors for two days, so we have been able to attend to many matters and plot some of our work, as well as very limited space will allow.

It might interest members of the Psychical Research Society to know that on this same night my mother and Roberts's wife dreamt (?) we were in danger, as we heard from the next letters which we respectively received from different parts of London. The two ladies were unacquainted.

December 1.-Last night I extracted a large berno from my leg, where he had been a month. He was about threequarters of an inch long, and a quarter in diameter, the larva of a blow-fly.

December 3.-Now summer heat has fairly set in, the thermometer registered 139° yesterday, and driving the lines ahead, cutting every step through dense capoeira and jungle, is fatiguing. I have had letters from two or three friends in England very anxious to know about the geology of the district, urging me to make large collections of butterflies, beetles, and, in fact, every insect I come across; also very lengthy and most interesting letters on the botany, informing me of the special genera that I am particularly to collect. Whatever else I may do, I fear plants are quite out of the question, owing to the time and care they require. I collected a few, but they were ruined by the rains and damp, which penetrated everywhere.

It is extremely tantalizing to be in the midst of so much beauty, and to have absolutely no time except on Sundays, when I generally rest and read; the importance and responsibility of the work throws everything else into the background, and now it is getting too warm for very much exertion in addition to the day's work.

We are getting on very well, but I would not mind sending you a little bit of sunshine in exchange for a slight frost; nevertheless, there is often a fresh breeze, and it seems quite cool, with the thermometer at 75°, two hours after sunset.

December 4.-To-night is windy, after a very showery day, which, following on the great heat we have had lately, makes one chilly and cold, though the thermometer is 66°. I am sitting wrapped up in my thick poncho to keep

warm.