were then at their highest point, and my canoe had been anchored close to the back door of our house. The morning was cool and a brisk wind blew, with which we sped rapidly past the white-washed houses and thatched Indian huts of the suburbs. The charming little bay of Mapirí was soon left behind; we then doubled Point Maria Josepha, a headland formed of high cliffs of Tabatinga clay, capped with forest. This forms the limit of the river view from Santarem, and here we had our last glimpse, at a distance of seven or eight miles, of the city, a bright line of tiny white buildings resting on the dark water. A stretch of wild rocky uninhabited coast was before us, and we were fairly within the Tapajos.
Some of my readers may be curious to know how I managed money affairs during these excursions in the interior of the South American continent: it can be explained in a few words. In the first place, I had an agent in London to whom I consigned my collections. During the greater part of the time I drew on him for what sums I wanted, and an English firm at Pará (the only one in the country which traded regularly and directly with England) cashed the drafts. I found no difficulty in the interior of the country, for almost any of the larger Portuguese or Brazilian traders, of whom there are one or two in every village of 600 or 700 inhabitants, would honour my draft on the English house; they having each a correspondent at Pará who deals with the foreign merchants. Sometimes a Portuguese trader would hint at discount, or wish me to take part of the amount in goods, but the Brazilians were
