THE AMAZONS, THE GIANT RIVER OF THE TORRID ZONE.

    The Course of the Amazons and its Tributaries—The Strait of Obydos—Tide Waves on the Amazons—The Black-water rivers—The Rio Negro—The Bay of the Thousand Isles—The Pororocca—Rise of the River—The Gapo—Magnificent Scenery—Different Character of the Forests beyond and within the verge of Inundation—General Character of the Banks—A Sail on the Amazons—A Night’s Encampment—The ‘Mother of the Waters’—The Piranga—Dangers of Navigating on the Amazons—Terrific Storms—Rapids and Whirlpools—The Stream of the Future—Travels of Orellana—Madame Godin.

The Amazons, the giant stream of the tropical world, is of no less magnificent proportions than the Andes, where it takes its source. From the small Peruvian mountain-lake of Lauricocha, 12,500 feet above the sea, the Tunguragua, which is generally considered as the chief branch, rushes down the valleys. At Tomependa, in the province of Juan de Bracamoros, rafts first begin to burden its free waters; but, as if impatient of the yoke, it still throws many an obstacle in the navigator’s way; for twenty-seven rapids and cataracts follow each other as far as the Pongo de Manseriche, where, at the height of 1,164 feet above the level of the sea, it for ever bids adieu to the romance of mountain scenery.

Its width, which at Tomependa exceeds that of the Thames at Westminster Bridge, narrows to 150 feet in the defile of the Pongo, which in some places is obscured by overhanging rocks and trees, and where huge masses of drift-wood, torn from the slopes by the mountain torrents, are crushed and disappear in the vertex.

From the Pongo to the ocean, a distance of more than 2,000 miles, no rocky barrier impedes the further course of the monarch of streams; and according to Herndon (Exploration of the Valley of the Amazons, 1851–1853), its depth constantly37 remains above eighteen feet, so that it is navigable for large ships all the way from Para to the foot of the Andes! No other river runs in so deep a channel at so great a distance from its mouth, and the tropical rains, spreading over a territory nearly equal in extent to one-half of Europe, are alone able to feed a stream of such colossal dimensions!

The first considerable tributary of the Amazons is the Huallaga, which rises near the famous silver-mines of Cerro de Pasco, 8,600 feet above the level of the sea, and is 2,500 paces broad at the point where the rivers meet. Lower down at Nauta, the Ucayale, descending from the distant mountains of Cuzco, adds his waters to the growing stream, after a course nearly 400 miles longer than that of the Tunguragua itself. Where these mighty rivers meet, Lieutenant Lister Maw found a depth of thirty-five fathoms.

From the Brazilian frontier, where it still flows at an elevation of 630 feet above the sea, to the influx of the Rio Negro, the Amazons is called the Solimoens, as if one name were not sufficient for its grandeur. During its progress between these two points it receives on the left, the Iça and the Yapura, on the right, the Xavari, the Jutay, the Jurua, the Teffe, the Coary, and the Purus, streams which, in Europe, would only be equalled by the Danube, but are here merely the obscure branches of a giant trunk.

The Rio Negro is the most considerable northern vassal of the Amazons. It rises in the Sierra Tunuhy, an isolated mountain-group in the Llanos, and conveys part of the waters of the Orinoco to the Amazons, as if the latter were not already sufficiently great. After a course of 1,500 miles it flows into the vast stream, 3,600 paces broad and 19 fathoms deep. Brigs of war have already ascended the Amazons as far as the Rio Negro, and frigates would find no obstacle in their way.

The Madeira, the next great tributary of the regal stream, has thus been named from the vast quantities of drift-wood floating on its waters.

Farther on, after having with a side-arm embraced the island of Tupinambaranas, which almost equals Yorkshire in extent, the Amazons now reaches the strait of Obydos, where it narrows to 2,126 paces, and rolls along between low banks in a bed whose depth as yet no plummet hath sounded. The mass of38 waters which, during the rainy season, rushes in one second through the strait, is estimated by Von Martius at 500,000 cubic feet,—enough to fill all the streams of Europe with an exuberant current.

The tides extend as far as Obydos, though still 400 miles from the sea; and according to La Condamine, they are even perceptible as far as the confluence of the Madeira. But so slow is their progress upwards, that seven floods, with their intervening ebbs, roll simultaneously along upon the giant stream; and thus, four days after the tide-wave was first raised in the wide deserts of the South Sea, its last undulations expire in the solitudes of Brazil.6

The next considerable vassal of the Amazons is the shallow Tapajos.

Fancy six streams, like the Thames, strung successively together, and you have the length of this river; take the Rhine twice from its source in the glacier of Mount Adula to the sands of Katwyck, and you have the measure of the Xingu. Before the confluence of this last of its great tributaries,—for the Tocantines, though considered by some geographers as a vassal, is in reality an independent stream,—the breadth of the Amazons appeared to Von Martius equal to that of the Lake of Constance; but soon even this enormous bed becomes too narrow for the vast volume of its waters, for below Gurupa it widens to an enormous gulf, which might justly be called the ‘Bay of the Thousand Isles.’ Nobody has ever counted their numbers; no map gives us an idea of this labyrinth. If we reckon the island of Marajo, which equals Sicily in size, to the delta of the Amazons, its extreme width on reaching the ocean is not inferior to that of the Baltic in its greatest breadth.

Dangerous sand-banks guard the giant’s threshold; and no less perilous to the navigator is the famous Pororocca, or the rapid rising of the spring-tide at the shallow mouths of the chief stream and of some of its embranchments,—a phenomenon which, though taking place at the mouth of many other rivers, such as the Hooghly, the Indus, the Dordogne, and the Seine,7 nowhere assumes such dimensions as here, where the colossal wave frequently rises suddenly along the whole width of the39 stream to a height of twelve or fifteen feet, and then collapses with a roar so dreadful that it is heard at the distance of more than six miles. Then the advancing flood-wave glides almost imperceptibly over the deeper parts of the river-bed, but again rises angrily as soon as a more shallow bottom arrests its triumphant career.

Our knowledge of the courses of most of the tributaries of the Amazons is very imperfect, and science knows next to nothing of the natural history of their banks. Even a correct map of the main stream is still wanting, for though its general course and the most important bends are tolerably well laid down, the numerous islands and parallel channels, the great lakes and offsets, the deep bays and the varying widths of the stream are quite unknown.

The numerous tributary streams of the Amazons differ remarkably in the colour of their waters and may be divided into three groups—the white or pale yellowish-water rivers, the blue-water rivers and the black-water rivers.

The difference of colour between the white-water and blue-water rivers is evidently owing to the nature of the country they flow through; a rocky and sandy district will always have clear-water rivers; an alluvial or clayey one will have troubled streams.

The Rio Negro is the largest and most celebrated of the black-water rivers. All its upper tributaries, the smaller ones especially, are very dark, and, when they run over white sand, give it the appearance of gold, from the rich colour of the water, which, when deep, appears inky black. In the rainy season, when the dark clouds above cause the water to appear of a yet more funereal blackness and the rising waves break in white foam over the vast expanse, the scene, as may well be imagined, is gloomy in the extreme.

The peculiar colour of the black-water rivers appears to be produced by the solution of decaying leaves, roots and other vegetable matter. In the virgin forests in which most of these streams have their source the little brooks and rivulets are half choked up with dead leaves and rotten branches giving various brown tinges to the water. When these rivulets meet together and accumulate into a river, they of course have a deep brown hue very similar to that of our bog or peat water, if there are40 no other circumstances to modify it. But if the stream flows through a district of soft alluvial clay, the colour will of course be modified and the brown completely overpowered.

A peculiarity of the black waters is the absence of mosquitos along their banks, which thus afford agreeable places of refuge to the persecuted traveller. No inducement will make an Indian boatman paddle so hard as the probability of reaching one of these privileged spots before midnight and being enabled to enjoy the comforts of sleep till morning.

The basin of the Amazons extending over an area of 2,330,000 English square miles surpasses in dimensions that of any other river in the world. All western Europe could be placed in it without touching its boundaries and it would even contain our whole Indian empire. It is entirely situated in the Tropics, on both sides of the Equator, and receives over its whole extent the most abundant rains. The body of fresh water which it empties into the ocean is therefore far greater than that of any other river; not only absolutely but probably also relatively to its area, for as it is almost entirely covered by dense virgin forests, the heavy rains which penetrate them do not suffer so much evaporation as when they fall on the scorched Llanos of the Orinoco or the treeless Pampas of La Plata.

Some idea may be formed of the vastness of the territory drained by the Amazons from the fact that at the sources of its northern and southern tributaries, the rainy season takes place at opposite times of the year. So wonderful is the length of the stream that, while at the foot of the Andes it begins to rise early in January, the Solimoens swells only in February: and below the Rio Negro the Amazons does not attain its full height before the end of March.

The swelling of the river is colossal as itself. In the Solimoens and farther westwards the water rises above forty feet; and Von Martius even saw trees whose trunks bore marks of the previous inundation fifty feet above the height of the stream during the dry season.

Then for miles and miles the swelling giant inundates his low banks, and, majestic at all times, becomes terrible in his grandeur when rolling his angry torrents through the wilderness. The largest forest-trees tremble under the pressure of the waters, and trunks, uprooted and carried away by the41 stream, bear witness to its power. Fishes and alligators now swim where a short while ago the jaguar lay in wait for the tapir, and only a few birds, perching on the highest tree-tops, remain to witness the tumult which disturbs the silence of the woods.

When at length the river retires within its usual limits, new islands have been formed in its bed, while others have been swept away; and in many places the banks, undermined by the floods, threaten to crush the passing boat by their fall,—a misfortune which not seldom happens, particularly when high trees come falling headlong down with the banks into the river.

The lands flooded to a great depth at every time of high water are called in the language of the country ‘Gapo,’ and are one of the most singular features of the Amazons. They extend hundreds of miles along the river’s course, and vary in width on each side from one to ten or twenty miles. Through the Gapo a person may go by canoe in the wet season, without once entering into the main river. He will pass through small streams, lakes, and swamps, and everywhere around him will stretch out an illimitable waste of waters, but all covered with a lofty virgin forest. For days he will travel through this forest scraping against the trunks of trees, and stooping to pass beneath the leaves of prickly palms now level with the water though raised on stems forty feet high. In this trackless maze the Indian finds his way with unerring certainty, and by slight indications of broken twigs or scraped bark goes on day by day as if travelling on a beaten road.

The magical beauty of tropical vegetation reveals itself in all its glory to the traveller who steers his boat through the solitudes of these aquatic mazes. Here the forest forms a canopy over his head; there it opens, allowing the sunshine to disclose the secrets of the wilderness; while on either side the eye penetrates through beautiful vistas into the depths of the woods. Sometimes, on a higher spot of ground, a clump of trees forms an island worthy of Eden. A chaos of bushropes and creepers flings its garlands of gay flowers over the forest, and fills the air with the sweetest odours. Numerous birds, rivalling in beauty of colour the passifloras and bignonias of these hanging gardens, animate the banks of the lagune, while gaudy macaws perch on the loftiest trees; and as if to remind42 one that death is not banished from this scene of paradise, a dark-robed vulture screeches through the woods, or an alligator rests, like a black log of wood or a sombre rock, on the dormant waters.
BLUE MACAW.

The inundations of the Amazons essentially modify the character of the bordering forest; for it is only beyond their verge that the enormous fig and laurel trees, the Lecythas and the Bertholletias, appear in all their grandeur. As here the underwood is less dense and more dwarfish, it is easy to measure the colossal trunks, and to admire their proportions, often towering to a height of 120 feet, and measuring fifteen feet in diameter above the projecting roots. Enormous mushrooms spring from the decayed leaves, and numberless parasites rest upon the trunks and branches. The littoral forest, on the contrary, is of more humble growth. The trunks, branchless in their lower part, clothed with a thinner and a smoother bark, and covered with a coat of mud according to the height of the previous inundation, stand close together, and form above a mass of interlacing branches. These are the sites of the cacao-tree and of the prickly sarsaparilla, which is gathered in large quantities for the druggists of Europe. Leafless bushropes wind in grotesque festoons among the trees, between whose trunks a dense underwood shoots up, to perish by the next overflowing of the stream. Instead of the larger parasites, mosses and jungermannias weave their carpets over the drooping branches. But few animals besides the numerous water-birds inhabit this damp forest zone, in which, as it is almost superfluous to add, no plantation has been formed by man.

The many islands of the delta of the Amazons are everywhere encircled by mangroves; but sailing stream upwards, the monotonous green of these monarchs of the shore is gradually replaced by flowers and foliage, which, in every variety of form and colour, for hundreds and hundreds of miles characterise the banks of the river.

During the dry season prickly astricarias, large musaceæ, enormous bamboo-like grasses, white plumed ingas, and scarlet poivreas, are most frequently seen among the numberless plants43 growing along the margin of the stream. Above the shrubbery of the littoral forest numberless palms tower, like stately columns, to the height of a hundred feet; while others of a lower stature are remarkable for the size of their trunks, on which the foot-stalks of the fallen leaves serve as supports for ferns and other parasites.

It stands to reason that in a length of more than 3,000 miles the species of plants must frequently change; yet the low banks of the Amazons, and of its vassals, as soon as they have emerged from the mountains where they rise, have everywhere a similar character. On sailing down the river for hundreds of miles, the eye may at length grow weary of the uniformity of a landscape, which remains constantly the same; but the interest increases as the mind becomes more and more impressed by the grandeur of its dimensions. A broad stream, now dividing into numerous arms, and now swelling into a lake; a dark forest-border, which on so flat a ground seems at a distance like an artificial but colossal hedge: these are the only elements of which the landscape is composed. No busy towns rise upon the banks, and it is only at vast intervals that one finds a few wretched huts, which are soon again lost in the forest; but a sky so brilliant spreads over the whole scene, and the rays of the sun beam upon a nature of such luxuriance, that the traveller, far from feeling the voyage monotonous, proceeds on his journey with increasing interest, and every morn salutes with new joy the majestic wilderness.

The boat floats along, borne by the current of the river, which, in the dry season, generally flows at the rate of four English miles in an hour. Even during the night the journey is usually continued, when no special danger claims a greater caution, and a landing only takes place when the desire becomes general to enjoy a perfectly quiet night’s rest, or when a broad sand bank happens to be invitingly near. Generally an island is selected, as affording both greater security from beasts of prey and a clearer ground. The Indians are not obliged to fetch fire-wood from a distance, for trees, drifted by the floods, are constantly found at the upper end of the river-islands, where they remain until the next inundation once more raises them; and thus many of them are ultimately drifted by the ocean currents to distant lands. The Indians sometimes set44 fire to the whole pile, and then the flames, taking an unexpected direction, may force the company to flee as fast as possible to the raft, and to settle in a safer place, while they continue to blaze over the forest, or to cast a lurid light over the waters.

Fires are frequently lighted for a more useful purpose on the banks of the stream, as they never fail to attract a number of large fishes, which the dexterous Indians know how to strike with their harpoons. While some are thus engaged, others are lurking for the tortoises that pay their nightly visits to the bank, anxious to bury their numerous eggs in the sand. Thus almost every landing on one of these river-islands furnishes fresh provisions for the continuance of the journey; for the captured tortoises are bound to the raft, where, in the enjoyment of water and shade, they continue to live for a long time.

As soon as the supper is finished, the Indians, after throwing an additional log upon the watch-fire, all stretch themselves on the ground, under their dark-coloured toldos, or mosquito covers, which on the white sand have the appearance of as many coffins. Their tranquil breathing soon tells that they are enjoying the deep repose peculiar to their race; but sleep forsakes the European amid scenes so novel and so grand. The soul is struck with impressions which compel it to reflection. The ripple breaks lightly on the bank; no noise, save the crackling of the fire, breaks the stillness of the night. Only from time to time the splashing of a fish is heard in the distant centre of the stream. The same stillness reigns in the skies; for not the slightest cloud dims the brightness of the stars. But suddenly the waters begin to rustle at a distance, as if wave were rolling after wave, and as the strange sound draws nigh, an unusual agitation becomes apparent in the water. The awakening Indians whisper anxiously, for they imagine an enormous reptile to be the cause of the phenomenon. They also believe the lagunes of the great stream to be the seat of a prodigious serpent, equal in size and power to the fabulous sea-snake; for the yacu-mama, or ‘mother of the waters,’ as this imaginary monster is called, attracts by a single inspiration every living creature—man, quadruped, or bird—that passes within a hundred feet of its jaws. As the maelstrom sucks down the helpless boat that comes within its vortex,45 thus the mighty air-current forces its prey into the wide mouth of the monster lurking in the thicket. For this reason an Indian will never venture to enter an unknown lagune without blowing his horn, as the yacu-mama is said to answer, and thus to give him time for a speedy flight. The ‘mother of the waters’ is said to be at least fifty paces long, and to measure ten or twelve yards in circumference. Thus fancy is as busy in creating imaginary terrors in the lagunes of the Marañon as on the rocky shores of Scandinavia.

Infinitely more dangerous than this fabulous serpent, more dreadful even than the cayman or the anaconda, are the pirangas, a small species of salmon, which in many places attack the unfortunate swimmer with their sharp teeth, and taint the waters with his blood. Castelnau saw how a stag, which threw itself in the river to avoid the hunter’s pursuit, was soon killed by the pirangas. The Roman knight that cast his slaves to the murænas,8 would, no doubt, have been rejoiced to people his ponds with fish like these; and Tiberius would have been delighted to have possessed them at Capræa!

A night encampment in the Amazons is, however, not always so pleasant as the foregoing description might lead one to suppose; for many islands are so infested with mosquitos that they are quite intolerable, and the growl of a jaguar or the sight of a crocodile (for this animal is by no means afraid of fire) not unfrequently disturbs the company. Complete security from these persecutions and visits is only to be found in the centre of the stream; for here a cayman is seldom seen, and the wings of the insects are too weak to carry them to such a distance from the shore.

The most striking features of the Amazons, besides its vast expanse of smooth water, generally from three to six miles wide, are the great beds of aquatic grass which line its shores, large masses of which are often detached and form floating islands; the quantity of fruits and leaves and great trunks of trees which it carries down, and its level banks clad with high unbroken masses of verdure. In places the white stems and leaves of the Cecropias give a peculiar aspect, and in others the straight dark trunks of lofty forest trees form a living wall46 along the water’s edge. There is much animation, too, on this great stream. Numerous flocks of parrots and the great red and yellow macaws fly across every morning and evening, uttering their hoarse cries. Many kinds of herons and rails frequent the marshes on its banks, and a great handsome duck (Chenalobex jubata) is often seen swimming about the bays and inlets. But perhaps the most characteristic birds of the Amazons are the gulls and terns which are in great abundance. All night long their cries are heard over the sand banks where they deposit their eggs, and during the day they may constantly be seen, sitting in a row on a floating log, sometimes a dozen or twenty side by side, and going for miles down the stream as grave and motionless as if they were on some very important business. These birds deposit their eggs in little hollows in the sand, and the Indians say that during the heat of the day they carry water in their beaks to moisten them, and prevent them being roasted by the scorching sun. Besides these there are divers and darters in abundance, porpoises are constantly blowing in every direction, and alligators are often seen slowly swimming across the river. An amazing number of fishes peoples the waters of the Amazons and its tributaries. They supply the Indians with the greater part of their animal food, and are at all times more plentiful and easier to be obtained than birds or game from the forest. Mr. Wallace found 205 species in the Rio Negro alone, and as most of those which inhabit the upper part of the river are not found near its mouth, where there are many other kinds equally unknown in the clearer, darker, and probably colder waters of its higher branches, he estimates that at least 500 species exist in the Rio Negro and its tributary streams. In fact, in every small river and in different parts of the same river distinct kinds are found, so that it is impossible to estimate the number in the whole valley of the Amazons with any approach to accuracy.

To describe the countless tribes of insects that swarm in the dense forests of that vast basin would be equally vain. In no country in the world is there more variety and beauty, nowhere are there species of larger size and of more brilliant colours. The great mass of the beetles are indeed inferior to those of tropical Africa, India, and Australia, but it is in the lovely47 butterflies that the Amazonian forests are unrivalled, whether we consider the endless variety of the species, their large size, or their gorgeous colour. South America is the richest part of the world in this group of insects, and the Amazons seems the richest part of South America.

In more than one respect the Amazons reminds one of the ocean, from whose bosom its waters originally arose. Like the sea, it forms a barrier between various species of animals; for the monkeys on its northern bank are different from those of the forests on its southern side, and many an insect—nay, even many a bird—finds an impassable barrier in the enormous width of the river. Like the sea, it has a peculiar species of dolphin, and hundreds of miles up the stream, sea-mews and petrels, deceived by its grandeur, screech or shoot in arrowy flight over its fish-teeming waters. As over the ocean, or in the desert, the illusions of the mirage are also produced over the surface of the Marañon. The distant banks, not always clearly defined even in the morning, disappear wholly at noon, and the rays of the sun are then so refracted that the long rows of palms appear in an inverted position.

The dreadful storms which burst suddenly over the Amazons, likewise recall to memory the tornados of the ocean. The howlings of the monkeys, the shrill tones of the mews, and the visible terror of all animals, first announce the approaching conflict of the elements. The crowns of the palms rustle and bend, while as yet no breeze is perceptible on the surface of the stream; but, like a warning voice, a hollow murmur in the air precedes the black clouds ascending from the horizon, like grim warriors ready for battle. And now the old forest groans under the shock of the hurricane; a night-like darkness veils the face of nature; and, while torrents of rain descend amid uninterrupted sheets of lightning and terrific peals of thunder, the river rises and falls in waves of a dangerous height. Then it requires a skilful hand to preserve the boat from sinking; but the Indian pilots steer with so masterly a hand, and understand so well the first symptoms of the storm, that it seldom takes them by surprise, or renders them victims of its fury.

Among the dangers of the Amazons, the rapids must not be forgotten that frequently arise where large tracts of the bank,48 undermined by the floods, have been cast into the river. The boat is almost unavoidably lost when carried by the current among the branches of the trees, which, though submerged, still remain attached to the ground, and sweep furiously through the eddy, overturning or smashing all that comes within their reach.

Perhaps no country in the world contains such an amount of vegetable matter on its surface as the valley of the Amazons. Its entire extent, with the exception of some very small portions, is covered with one dense and lofty primeval forest, the most extensive and unbroken which exists upon the earth. It is the great feature of the country, that which at once stamps it as a unique and peculiar region. It is not here, as on the coasts of southern Brazil, or on the shores of the Pacific, where a few days’ journey suffices to carry us beyond the forest district, and into the parched plains and rocky sierras of the interior. Here one may travel for weeks and months inland in any direction, and find scarcely an acre of ground unoccupied by trees.

It is far up in the interior where the great mass of this mighty forest is found; not on the lower part of the river, near the coast as is generally supposed. Bounded on one side by the Andes, on the other by the Atlantic, it extends from east to west for a distance of 2,600 miles; and from 7 N. latitude on the banks of the Orinoco, to 18 S. latitude on the northern slope of the great mountain chain of Bolivia, a distance of more than 1,700 miles. From a point about sixty miles south-east of Tabatinga, on the Upper Amazons, a circle may be drawn of 1,100 miles in diameter, the whole area of which will be virgin forest. Such are the magnificent proportions of these wonderful woods, which speak to the imagination as forcibly as the ocean or the Great Sahara.

The forests of no other part of the world, not even the immense fir-woods of Siberia or of North America, are so extensive and unbroken as this. Those of Central Europe are trifling in comparison, nor in India are they very continuous or extensive. Africa contains some large forests situated on the east and west coasts, and in the interior south of the Equator, but the whole of them would bear but a small proportion to that of the Amazons. In a general survey of the tropical49 world, we may, therefore, look upon South America as pre-eminently the land of forests, contrasting strongly with Asia or Africa, where deserts are the most characteristic features.

If the Nile—so remarkable for its historical recollections, which carry us far back into the by-gone ages—and the Thames, unparalleled by the greatness of a commerce which far eclipses that of ancient Carthage or Tyre—may justly be called the rivers of the past and the present, the Amazons has equal claims to be called the stream of the future; for a more splendid field nowhere lies open to the enterprise of man.

All the gifts of Nature are scattered in profusion over the vast territory drained by the river. The mountains, where it rises, teem with mineral treasures, and the very ideal of fertility is realised in those well-watered plains, where the equatorial sun developes life in boundless luxuriance. The most useful and costly productions of the tropical world,—sugar, cotton, coffee, indigo, tobacco, maize, rice; quinquina in the higher regions of the Marañon, where wheat and the vine find a congenial climate; cacao and vanille, sarsaparilla and caoutchouc, various palms of the most manifold uses; trees and shrubs, some rivalling our oaks in the solidity of their timber, others fit by the beauty of their grain to adorn palaces; dyes, resins, gums, spices, drugs,—all, in one word, that is capable of satisfying the wants of the frugal or the fancies of the rich, might there be raised in profusion over a space surpassing England at least forty times in extent. The whole actual population of the globe could easily live in content and plenty in the almost uninhabited valleys of the Marañon and its tributary streams.

With these magnificent prospects the present forms a melancholy contrast. Here and there some small town or wretched village rises on the banks of the mighty stream; and a few Indians roam over the forests, through which it rolls along, or enjoy the produce of its prolific waters. The vast province of Para, the garden of Brazil, the paradise of unborn millions, has scarcely four inhabitants on a geographical square mile; while even the northern province of Archangel, the land of the stunted fir and the mossy tundra, has a population four times as large. But since the last few years, steamboats regularly ascend the giant stream and some of its tributaries almost to50 the foot of the Andes; railroads are being made where navigation is impeded by rapids, and ere long civilization and industry will have dawned over the vast woodlands of the Amazon.

Eight years after Columbus had revealed the existence of a new world, Vincent Yañez Pinson, the companion of his first voyage, sailed with four ships from the port of Palos (13th January, 1500), steered boldly towards the south, crossed the line, and discovered the mouth of the Amazons. Forty years later Gonsalo Pizarro, governor of Quito, left his capital with 340 Spaniards and 4,000 Indian carriers to conquer the unknown countries to the east of the Andes. The march over the Puna and the high mountain ridges proved fatal to the greater part of their wretched attendants; and even the Spaniards—accustomed to brave every climate and hardship wherever gold held forth its glittering promise—had much to suffer from the excess of cold and fatigue. But when they descended into the low country their distress increased. During two months it rained incessantly, without any interval of fair weather long enough to enable them to dry their clothes. They could not advance a step, unless they cut a road through woods, or made it through marshes. The land, either altogether without inhabitants, or occupied by the rudest and least industrious tribes in the New World, yielded little food. Such incessant toil and continual scarcity were enough to shake the most stedfast hearts; but the heroism and perseverance of the Spaniards of the sixteenth century surmounted obstacles which to all others would have seemed insuperable. Allured by false accounts of rich countries before them, they struggled on, until they reached the banks of the Napo, one of the rivers whose waters add to the greatness of the Marañon. There, with infinite labour, they built a bark, which they expected would prove of great use in conveying them over rivers, in procuring provisions, and in exploring the country. This was manned with fifty soldiers, under the command of Francis Orellana, the officer next in rank to Pizarro.

The stream carried them down so quickly that they were soon far ahead of their countrymen, who followed slowly and with difficulty by land. At first Orellana may have had no intention to betray the trust bestowed upon him by his commander; but51 on reaching the Marañon, the aspect of the stream rolling majestically to the east proved a temptation too strong for his ambition; and, forgetting his duty to his fellow-soldiers, he resolved to follow the course of the river, which seemed to beckon him onwards to riches and renown. But one among his followers, Sanchez de Vargas, whose name well deserves a record, had the courage to remonstrate against this breach of faith, for which he was landed as a criminal, without food or help of any kind. After a dangerous and romantic navigation of seven months, whose real adventures he afterwards embellished with fabulous tales of El Dorados and warlike Amazons, Orellana at length reached the mouth of the stream. Drifted by the current, he thence safely steered for the Spanish settlement in the island of Cubagua, and soon after embarked for Spain. The magnificence of his discovery threw a veil over his guilt; and having been appointed governor of the territory whose grandeur he had been the first to reveal, he once more crossed the ocean. But he was not destined to reach the scene where his ambition dreamt of exploits worthy to eclipse the fame of Cortes or Pizarro; a mortal disease befell him on the passage, and in the sea he found a nameless grave.

But what had meanwhile become of the leader whom he had so basely abandoned in the wilderness? The consternation of Pizarro on not finding the bark at the confluence of the Napo and the Marañon, where he had ordered Orellana to wait for him, may well be imagined. But, imputing his absence to some unknown accident, he advanced above fifty leagues along the banks of the river, expecting every moment to see the bark appear with abundant provisions and joyful tidings. At length he met with the faithful Vargas, and now no doubt remained about the treachery of his lieutenant and his own desperate situation. The spirit of his stoutest-hearted veterans sank within them; all demanded to be led back instantly, and Pizarro, though he assumed an appearance of tranquillity, did not oppose their inclination. But they were now 1,200 miles from Quito, and a march of many months had to be made without the hopes which had soothed their previous sufferings. Hunger compelled them to sacrifice all their dogs and horses, to devour the most loathsome reptiles, to gnaw the leather of their saddles and sword-belts. All the Indians and 210 Spaniards perished52 in this wild expedition, which lasted nearly two years. When at length the survivors arrived at Quito, they were naked like savages, and so worn out with famine and fatigue that they looked more like spectres than men.

Two hundred years after the adventures of Pizarro and Orellana, the French naturalist, La Condamine, performed his celebrated voyage from Bracamoros to Para. He was accompanied by the learned M. Godin des Odonnais, who, leaving his wife on the eastern slope of the Andes, returned alone to Europe in the year 1479. After a separation of several years Madame Godin undertook to descend the Amazons to Para, where her husband was waiting for her. She embarked with her two brothers, a doctor, three female servants, and some Indians, in a large open boat. At the very first opportunity the doctor abandoned the party, and was soon followed by the Indians.

The unskilled travellers vainly attempted to steer their boat; it foundered on a sand bank, and Madame Godin with difficulty saved her life. They then made a raft, which met with the same misfortune. Undaunted by these repeated disasters, but completely inexperienced, they now resolved to proceed on foot through the forest; but hunger and fatigue soon drove them to despair, and they all perished, except Madame Godin, who, though physically the weakest, was morally the strongest of the party. Tattered, emaciated, exhausted, she at length met some Indians who treated her with the greatest kindness. The long struggle for her life, amid dangers and hardships without number, had bleached her hair, and stamped her with the marks of extreme old age. The good-natured savages guided her to the next European settlement, whence she continued her journey to Para without any further adventures. But the dreadful scenes she had witnessed, and the loss of the dear relations and faithful companions who one after the other had dropped from her side, had too severely shocked her nerves; and, though she escaped death in the wilderness, it was only to fall a prey to hopeless insanity.