The conditions as regards navigability are, of course, relative in many instances here. Again, the region is not necessarily altogether an uninhabited one, for the rubber-stations have been increasing rapidly of late years. A somewhat forbidding coast presents itself as our steamer, casting anchor, comes to rest in the waters of La Guayra, the principal seaport of Venezuela. Here a bold rocky wall, apparently arising sheer from the sea, a granite escarpment more than a mile high, cuts off all view of the interior, and, reflecting the heat of the tropic sun, makes of the small and somewhat unprepossessing town at its base one of the hottest seaports on the face of the globe, as it was formerly one of the most dangerous from the exposure of its roadstead. But, as if in some natural compensation, there lies beyond this rocky, maritime wall one of the most beautiful capital cities of South America--Caracas, reached by yonder railway, strung along the face of the precipice, and affording from the train a magnificent panorama of the seaport and the blue Caribbean. La Guayra, ranged like an amphitheatre around the indentations in the precipice in which it lies, with its tiers of ill-paved streets, has nevertheless some good business houses, and the Republic expended a million pounds sterling upon its harbour works, executed and controlled by a British company. Looking seaward from its quay walls, we may recall the doings of the old buccaneers of the Spanish Main, and of other filibusters, who from time to time have sacked the place since its founding in the sixteenth century. Upon these quays are filled bags of cocoa and coffee, and mountains of hides, brought down from the interior, and other products from plain and field and forest of the hinterland, for La Guayra monopolizes, for State reasons, much of the trade that might more naturally find outlet through other seaports. The little railway which bears us up and beyond to Caracas winds, to gain elevation and passage, for twenty-four miles, in order to cover a distance in an air-line between the port and the capital of about six. We find ourselves set down in what enthusiastic descriptions of this particular zone love to term a region of perpetual spring; and indeed, at its elevation of 3,000 feet, the city is alike free from the sweltering heat of the coast and from the cold of the higher mountainous districts beyond. A handsome plaza confronts us, with an equestrian statue of Bolivar. The plaza is mosaic-paved, electrically lighted, shaded by trees and, in the evening and on Sunday, the military bands entertain the people after the customary Spanish American method. Some showy public buildings, and a museum with some famous paintings are here; there are pleasing suburbs, luxurious gardens and well laid-out streets, and this high capital takes not unjustifiable pride to itself for its beauty and artistic environment and atmosphere--conditions which deserve a wider fame.