WANDERINGS IN SOUTH AMERICA 63 



you drag the canoe up into the forest, and leave it 

 there. Your baggage must now be carried by the 

 Indians. The creek you passed in the river inter- 

 sects the path to the next settlement: a large 

 Mora has fallen across it, and makes an excellent 

 bridge. After walking an hour and a half you 

 come to the edge of the forest, and a savanna un- 

 folds itself to the view. 



The finest park that England boasts falls far 

 short of this delightful scene. There are about 

 two thousand acres of grass, with here and there 

 a clump of trees, and a few bushes and single 

 trees scattered up and down by the hand of Na- 

 ture. The ground is neither hilly nor level, but 

 diversified with moderate rises and falls, so 

 gently running into one another that the eye can- 

 not distinguish where they begin, nor where they 

 end, while the distant black rocks have the ap- 

 pearance of a herd at rest. Nearly in the middle 

 there is an eminence, which falls off gradually on 

 every side; and on this the Indians have erected 

 their huts. 



To the northward of them the foremost forms a 

 circle, as though it had been done by art; to the 

 eastward it hangs in festoons; and to the south 

 and west it rushes in abruptly, disclosing a new 

 scene behind it at every step as you advance 

 along. 



This beautiful park of nature is quite sur- 

 rounded by lofty hills, all arrayed in superbest 

 garb of trees; some in the form of pyramids, 

 others like sugar-loaves towering one above the 

 other, some rounded off, and others as though 

 they had lost their apex. Here two hills rise up 



