We resumed our voyage again about eleven o’clock in the morning, and at once reached Lagoa Funda, a small village on the north side of the river, the distance being about two leagues. It contains but very few houses, and takes its name from a large deep lake which runs westward from it, in a direction parallel with the river. During this voyage we came in sight of a range of mountains called the Serra Pão de Assucar, bearing N.N.W. of us; it terminates abruptly towards the W.S.W., and slopes gradually thence to the E.N.E. and is by far the highest range in the district. The country around us was now beginning to assume a verdant appearance, several showers of rain having lately fallen. Shortly after our arrival at this place, owing to the loss of the wind, we were obliged to remain till five o’clock in the afternoon; when the sea breeze reached us, we again started, and were enabled by half past six o’clock to reach another small village called San Pedro. This is situated on an island of the same name, which is about half a league long by a quarter of a league broad, being flat, with a sandy soil; the upper end where the village stands, is open, while the opposite extremity is densely wooded with bushes and small trees. I passed the night in the canoe, but could get little sleep owing to the mosquitos which were very abundant. Early in the morning, I took a walk over the island, and gathered a few plants; during the day the heat was most intolerable, the thermometer in the shade about noon, indicating 99½°, and as there was not the slightest breath of wind, the oppressive sensation amounted almost to suffocation, the air feeling as if it came from the mouth of an oven. Not a soul was to be seen out of doors, and the few goats and pigs on the island, as well as the dogs, sought the shade of a few trees of _Zizyphus_ which grow by the side of the river near the village. Everything was as still as midnight, the songs of the small birds which I had listened to with delight during my morning’s walk, and the loud shrill cry of the Gavata, a large water bird, as well as the monotonous one of the Bem-te-ve, were now no longer heard, even the trees were motionless, and the mighty mass of yellow water in the river rolled slowly down unruffled by a breeze; all was indeed so still, that one could scarcely help thinking that life had ceased to exist. Having slung my hammock under a _Zizyphus_ tree, I remained in it till the rays of the sun became less powerful. It was six o’clock in the evening before the sea breeze reached the island, and it being then too late to proceed on our voyage, we remained where we were for the night. The sun had no sooner set, and the breeze become more fresh, than the greater number of the inhabitants left their houses, and seated themselves either at their doors or by the side of the river, to enjoy the delicious coolness of the evening air; of course I followed their