This evening the regular afternoon wind continued until late, and it was too cool to walk about without a coat. The wind sounded anything but tropical, howling around the eaves of the house like a northern blizzard. The moon rose about nine o’clock—a great flat-sided ball of orange, lighting up the pale bare fields but throwing all the jungle into blackest shadow. Soon the light became stronger and the two southern crosses paled from view, the false one higher up, kite like, and the _vera cruz_, low and resting on its side. “Sproston’s” is a company which controls many of the steamer and launch lines of the colony, and gives remarkably good as well as reasonable service. When the day comes that the tourist learns of the beauties of this country, the transportation lines will become of immense value. Now they depend principally on the many American concessions and other interests for freight, and upon pork-knockers and bovianders for passengers. At nine o’clock on the following morning, travelling again on one of Sproston’s launches, we left Mr. Withers and proceeded up the Mazaruni, in about an hour reaching the point of its confluence with the Cuyuni. This was as beautiful as the junction of the Essequibo and the Mazaruni which we had left. Turning up the Cuyuni we went on and on through a region of indescribable beauty. The noble river spreads out in a wide smooth expanse,—a tropical Hudson with palisades of trees. It is very shallow and when the water is low there is little but tide at this point. Hence mangroves are dominant, becoming, however, smaller and less numerous as we proceeded. At eleven o’clock we reached the beautiful falls at Lower Camaria Landing and went ashore to find a delicious breakfast prepared for us by the genial and hospitable Mr. French and served by his aged man-servant, who was christened _Swan_, but who was familiarly known throughout the colony as “French’s _Boy_.” [Illustration: FIG. 103. FALLS AT LOWER CAMARIA.] At Camaria a series of all but impassable rapids and falls occurs, and a portage of three and a half miles is necessary. A well-made sandy wagon trail points the way, rising gradually and then slowly descending again. At the top of the rise the sand is of the finest and whitest quality. Butterflies were extremely abundant along this wood road, a dozen splendid blue Morphos being sometimes in sight at once.