268 MY LIFE 



celebrated Sargasso Sea, where the surface is covered with 

 long stretches of floating sea-weed, not brought there by 

 storms from the distant shore, but living and growing where 

 it is found, and supporting great numbers of small fish, crabs, 

 mollusca, and innumerable low forms of marine life. And 

 when we left this behind us, the exquisite blue of the water 

 by day and the vivid phosphorescence often seen at night 

 were a constant delight, while our little barque, with every 

 sail set, and going steadily along day and night about ten 

 knots an hour, was itself a thing of beauty and a perpetual 

 enjoyment. 



At length the water began to lose its blue colour, becom- 

 ing first greenish, then olive, and finally olive-yellow, and 

 one morning we saw on the horizon the long, low line of 

 the land, and on the next, when we came on deck before 

 sunrise, found ourselves anchored opposite the city of 

 Para, twenty-nine days after leaving Liverpool. From this 

 date till I landed at Deal, in October, 1852, my adventures 

 and experiences are given in my book, " A Narrative of 

 Travels on the Amazon and Rio Negro," a cheap edition of 

 which is comprised in the Minerva Library of Famous 

 Books. 



In order that no large gap may occur in these memories 

 of my life, I will give here a general outline of my travels, 

 with such incidental remarks or recollections as may occur to 

 me. To begin with, I will give a short description of my 

 impressions written to my old friend and schoolfellow, Mr. 

 George Silk, about a fortnight after our arrival, to supplement 

 the more detailed but less impulsive account in my published 

 narrative. 



" We have been staying for near a fortnight at the country 

 house (called here Rosinha) of Mr. Miller, the consignee of 

 the vessel and the captain's brother, about half a mile out of 

 the city. We have just taken a house ourselves rather nearer 

 the woods, and to-morrow expect to be in it. We have an 

 old nigger who cooks for us. The city of Para is a curious, 

 outlandish looking place, the best part of it very like 

 Boulogne, the streets narrow and horribly rough — no pave- 



