A Trip to the Upper Demerarct. 
By the Rev. Canon Castell. 
" Pleasant it was when woods were green, 
And winds were soft and low, 
To lie amid some sylvan scene." 
10 sings the poet, and equally pleasant was it 
for one, who is not a poet, to leave the hot 
and crowded city, with its filthy lanes and 
alleys, its fever haunts in some of the worst quarters, 
and revel amid the forest scenery of the Upper Deme- 
rara River, where for a fortnight or so, during the 
month of August last, it was my happy lot to be. Let 
me seek to recall a few pleasant memories connected 
with the trip. 
We left Georgetown on a Friday morning, my boy 
and I, and reached Akyma, the terminus of the steamer 
route about seventy miles from town, at five in the 
afternoon. The same night we reached Muritaro, an 
Indian settlement and Church Mission station about 
fifteen miles further on. The boat we travelled in was 
one built especially for Mission purposes, and is consi- 
dered to be the fastest on the river. It has no awnings 
at the sides, and only one large awning for the top 
sufficiently wide to keep out the rain. The principal 
seat is in the centre of the boat, and the rowers sit two 
on either side of it using a short spoon-shaped oar instead 
of paddles. The Indian lads who formed the crew 
seemed capable of enduring the greatest amount of 
MM 2 
