Yesterday our quiet life was interrupted by an excursion to the great cascade, where we went with a party of friends to breakfast and dine. We were called with the dawn, and were on the road at six o’clock, the servants following laden with baskets of provisions. The dewy walk through the woods in the early morning was very pleasant, and we arrived at the little house above the cascade before the heat of the day began. This house stands on a hill in a cleared ground entirely surrounded by forest; just below it the river comes rushing through the wood, and falls some ten feet over a thin platform of rock. By its formation, this cascade is a Niagara in miniature; that is, the lower layer of rock being softer than the upper, the water has worn it away until there now remains only a thin slab of harder rock across the river. Deprived of its support, this slab must break down eventually, as Table-rock has done, when the cascade will, of course, retreat by so much and begin the same process a little higher up. It has, no doubt, thus worn its way upward already from a distant point. The lower deposit is clay, the upper consists of the constantly recurring reddish sandstone,—in other words, drift worked over by water. Below the fall, the water goes tearing along through a narrow passage, over boulders, fallen trees, and decaying logs, which break it into rapids. At a little distance from the cascade there is a deep, broad basin in the wood, with a sand bottom, so overshadowed by great trees that it looks dark even in tropical midday. The bathing here, as we found by experience at a later hour, is most delicious. The shade over the pool is so profound and the current runs through it so swiftly that the water is exceedingly cold,—an unusual thing here,—and it seems very refreshing to those coming from the hot sun outside. At the side of this pool I saw a very large parasitic plant in flower. Since we have been on the Amazons most of these parasites have been out of bloom, and, though we have seen beautiful collections in private gardens, we have not met them in the woods. This one was growing in the lofty notch of a great tree, overhanging the water; a tuft of dark green leaves with large violet and straw-colored blossoms among them. It was quite out of reach, and the little garden looked so pretty in its airy perch, that I was almost glad we had no power to disturb it. After breakfast some of the guests, and Mr. Agassiz among them, were obliged to return to town on business. They rejoined us in time for a late dinner, arriving in a canoe instead of coming on foot, an experiment which we had been prevented from trying in the morning, because we had been told that, as the igarapé was low and the bottom very rocky, it would be impossible to ascend the whole distance in a boat. They came, however, in perfect safety, and were delighted with the picturesque beauty of the row. After a very cheerful dinner, closing