When I embraced you for the last time in Helvetius Street, in Paris, on the eve of my departure for Africa and the East Indies, I had but a feeble hope of seeing you again, and of sailing under your orders. You have been told, no doubt, by our common friends, C. C. Jussieu, Desfontaines ... how the Barbaresques have prevented my departure for Egypt, how the King of Spain has given me permission to journey over his vast domains in America and Asia, to gather whatever may be useful to science. Independently, and always at my own expense, my friend Bonpland and I have wandered for two years through the territories lying between the coast, the Orinoco, the Casiquian, the Rio Negro, and the Amazon. Our health has resisted the frightful risks created by the rivers. In the midst of the forests we have talked of you; of our useless visits; on C. Francois, of Neufchatel; of our beguiled hopes. Just as we were starting from Havana for Mexico and the Philippines, the gratifying news reached us that your perseverance had overcome every obstacle. After making our calculations, we felt sure that you would touch at Valparaiso, at Lima, or at Guayaquil. We changed our plans at once, and in spite of the stormy gales of this shore, we started in a little pilot boat to look for you in the South Sea, to try whether by reviving up our old plans, we could join our labors with yours, and sail with you on the South Sea. A long passage of twenty-one days from the Havana to Carthagena, unfortunately hindered us from taking the route of Panama and Guayaquil. We fear that the wind has ceased blowing in the South Sea, and we have decided to continue our journey on land by the way of the River Magdalena, Santa Fe, Popajan, Quito....