_September 18th._—Another pause last evening at the village of San Paolo, standing on a ridge which rises quite steeply from the river and sinks again into a ravine behind. Throughout all this region the banks are eaten away by the river, large portions falling into the water at a time, and carrying the trees with them. These land-slides are so frequent and so extensive as to make travelling along the banks in small boats quite dangerous. The scenery of the Solimoens is by no means so interesting as that of the Lower Amazons. The banks are ragged and broken, the forest lower, less luxuriant, and the palm growth very fitful. For a day or two past we have scarcely seen any palms. One kind seems common, however, namely, the Paxiuba Barriguda—Pa-shee-oo-ba (Iriartea ventricosa), a species not unlike the Assai in dignity of port, but remarkable for the swelling of its stem at half height, giving it a sort of spindle shape. The cut of the foliage is peculiar also, each leaflet being wedge-shaped. The steamer is often now between the shores of the river itself instead of coasting along by the many lovely islands which make the voyage between Pará and Manaos so diversified; what is thus gained in dimensions is lost in picturesqueness of detail. Then the element of human life and habitations is utterly wanting; one often travels for a day without meeting even so much as a hut. But if men are not to be seen, animals are certainly plenty; as our steamer puffs along, great flocks of birds rise up from the shore, turtles pop their black noses out of the water, alligators show themselves occasionally, and sometimes a troop of brown Capivari scuttles up the bank, taking refuge in the trees at our approach. To-morrow morning we reach Tabatinga, and touch the farthest point of our journey.