224 The Andes and the Amazon. 



ducks, cormorants, and white cranes floated on tlie water 

 or stalked along the plaias. 



But one form of life superabounded. From the rising 

 of the sun to the going down tliereof clouds of ubiquitous 

 sand-flies tilled our cabin, save when the wind was high. 

 As soon as the sand-flies ceased, myriads of musquitoes 

 began their work of torture, without much preparatory 

 piping, and kept it up all night.* These pests were occa- 

 sionally relieved or assisted by piums — minute flies that 

 alight unnoticed, and squatting close to the skin, suck their 

 fill of blood, leaving dark spots and a disagreeable irrita- 

 tion. Our hands were nearly black with their punctures. 

 We also made the acquaintance of the montiica, a large 

 black fly whose horny lancets make a gash in the flesh, 

 painless but blood-letting. All these insects are most abun- 

 dant in the latter part of the rainy season, when the Mara- 

 non is almost uninhabitable. The apostrophe of Midship- 

 man Wilberforce was prompted by sufferings which we 

 can fully appreciate : " Ye greedy animals ! I am ashamed 

 of you. Can not you once forego yoixr dinner, and feast 

 your mind with the poetry of the landscape ?" Eight wel- 

 come was the usual afternoon squall, which sent these 

 pests " kiting" over the stern. 



On Wednesday we fell in with a petty sarsaparilla 

 trader, with two canoes, bound for tlie Maranon. He was 

 sick with fever.' Sarsaparilla (written salsaparrilJia in Bra- 

 zil, and meaning " bramble vine") is the root of a prickly, 

 climbing plant found throughout the whole Amazonian 

 forest, but chiefly on dry, rocky ground. On the morning 

 of the seventh day from Coca we passed the mouth of the 

 Curaray, the largest tributary of the Napo. It rises on the 

 slopes of the Llanganati mountains, and is considered au- 



* Sand-flies are called by the natives musquitoes, and what we call mus- 

 quitoes they call sancudos. 



