290 MY LIFE [Chap. 



probably the last he ever, wrote I give them here (omitting 

 one or two personal matters) in order to show his usual good 

 spirits and random style of writing. 



"Barra, March 15, 1850. 



"Dear Sir, 



"A lodge is gained at last. Here we are in a 

 Barra ! 



• Here we work with Net and Trigger 

 By the famous river Nigger,' 



on whose midnight waters never is heard the hum of the 

 sanguinary carapana, 1 where 'sleep, which knits up the 

 ravelled sleeve of care/ hath no intruder. By-the-by, 

 talking of sleep reminds me of redes. 2 All the red£s in 

 Barra possess a title. Why ? Because they are Barra-nets. 

 This you may think far-fetched. Well ! I will own 'tis 

 rather distant ; perhaps you would like one a little nearer ? 

 Good. As we left Obydos, remarking the woody declivity 

 on our right, the following sublime comparative similitude 

 burst forth spontaneously. Why is this hill like a dead 

 body running? Because, says I — but no! you must really 

 try to guess it ; however, I will enclose the answer to refer 

 to in case of failure. [See p. 291.] 



****** 

 " With best wishes for your health and success, and kind 

 remembrances to Mr. King and Santarem friends. 

 " I remain, yours respectfully 



"Edward Wallace." 



"Serpa, December 29, 1850. 



" Dear Sir, 



"I have just returned from a month's excursion 

 among the lakes and byways of the mighty Amazon, and 

 whilst reposing my weary limbs amid the luxurious folds of 

 a red£, drinking a fragrant cup of the sober beverage, and 



1 Carapana is the native name of the mosquito. 

 * Rede or net, the local name for "hammock." 



