IN THE VALLEY OF THE RIO CAMAPUAO. 121 



On Sunday last, being Advent Sunday, I went to 

 church, not having been for two months, and though every- 

 thing is so different to what one is accustomed to, I dislike 

 much the idea of never entering a place of worship for so 

 many months, and there is no alternative ; besides which, 

 it is a good example to my men, and people like to 

 meet me at church, as every one is most punctual in his 

 attendance. 



I took advantage of the long ride, mostly along the 

 valley of the Camapuao, to explore the best route for my 

 line, and found that I shall have to cross the river several 

 times. The third crossing is at a disagreeable spot There 

 is first a marsh, which is very awkward to traverse; it is 

 some sixty feet wide. I tried to cross it, but sank over 

 the long boots and got a soaking ; then I set to work to 

 have a lot of branches cut down and thrown in, until at 

 last one could cross with a few inches of water only. 

 Beyond the marsh is a belt of thick capoeira some 

 eighty feet wide ; and then we reached the river, which 

 was so swollen by the rains that I had to go two miles 

 down stream, where a tree-trunk thrown across affords a 

 passage. 



The rain, as we were led to expect, delays the progress 

 of the work, and though one may try to work in a steady 

 rain, it is really impracticable ; the spider's web in one of 

 our levels broke after one day's persevering work in a 

 drizzle. Neither can one work at the setting out and 

 cutting picadas without being chilled to the bone, as when 

 the temperature is below 70 it feels very cold. To-day, in 

 spite of threatening clouds, we started work; but soon a 

 drizzle began, then at nine came a heavy shower, while at 

 ten the rain came down in right earnest, vertically and by 

 bucketfuls, so we were obliged, after trying a little longer, 



