_January 23d._ Yesterday, in the early morning, we arrived at Santarem, and went on shore for a walk at half past seven. The town stands on a point of land dividing the black waters of the Tapajoz, on the one side, from the yellow flood of the Amazons on the other, and has a very attractive situation, enhanced by its background of hills stretching away to the eastward. Our first visit was to the church, fronting on the beach and standing invitingly open. We had, however, a special object in entering it. In 1819 Martius, the naturalist, on his voyage of exploration on the Amazons, since made famous by his great work on the Natural History of Brazil, was wrecked off the town of Santarem, and nearly lost his life. In his great danger he took a vow to record his gratitude, should he live, by making a gift to the church of Santarem. After his return to Europe, he sent from Munich a full-length figure of Christ upon the cross, which now hangs against the wall, with a simple inscription underneath, telling in a few words the story of his peril, his deliverance, and his gratitude. As a work of art it has no special value, but it attracts many persons to the church who never heard of Martius or his famous journey; and to Mr. Agassiz it was especially interesting, as connected with the travels and dangers of his old friend and teacher. After a walk through the town, which is built with more care, and contains some houses having more pretensions to comfort and elegance than we have seen elsewhere on the Amazons, we returned to the ship for breakfast. At a later hour we went on a very pleasant canoe excursion to the other side of the Tapajoz, again in search of the Victoria regia, said to grow in great perfection in this neighborhood. Our guide was Senhor Joachim Rodriguez, to whom Mr. Agassiz has been indebted for much personal kindness, as well as for a very valuable collection made since we stopped here on our way up the river, partly by himself and partly by his son, a bright boy of some thirteen years of age. Crossing to the opposite side of the river, we came upon a vast field of coarse, high grass, looking like an extensive meadow. To our surprise, the boatmen turned the canoe into this green field, and we found ourselves apparently navigating the land, for the narrow boat-path was entirely concealed by the long reedy grasses and tall mallow-plants with large pink blossoms rising on either side, and completely hiding the water below. This marshy, overflowed ground, above which the water had a depth of from four to six feet, was full of life. As the rowers pushed our canoe through the mass of grass and flowers, Mr. Agassiz gathered from the blades and stalks all sorts of creatures; small bright-colored toads of several kinds, grasshoppers, beetles, dragon-flies, aquatic snails, bunches of eggs,—in short, an endless variety of living things, most interesting to the naturalist. The harvest was so plentiful that we had