in part to live on the country—­on fish, game, nuts, and palm-tops.  Our personal baggage was already well cut down:  Cherrie, Kermit, and I took the naturalist’s fly to sleep under, and a very light little tent extra for any one who might fall sick.  Rondon, Lyra, and the doctor took one of their own tents.  The things that we carried were necessities—­food, medicines, bedding, instruments for determining the altitude and longitude and latitude—­except a few books, each in small compass:  Lyra’s were in German, consisting of two tiny volumes of Goethe and Schiller; Kermit’s were in Portuguese; mine, all in English, included the last two volumes of Gibbon, the plays of Sophocles, More’s “Utopia,” Marcus Aurelius, and Epictetus, the two latter lent me by a friend, Major Shipton of the regulars, our military attache at Buenos Aires.

If our canoe voyage was prosperous we would gradually lighten the loads by eating the provisions.  If we met with accidents, such as losing canoes and men in the rapids, or losing men in encounters with Indians, or if we encountered overmuch fever and dysentery, the loads would lighten themselves.  We were all armed.  We took no cartridges for sport.  Cherrie had some to be used sparingly for collecting specimens.  The others were to be used—­unless in the unlikely event of having to repel an attack—­only to procure food.  The food and the arms we carried represented all reasonable precautions against suffering and starvation; but, of course, if the course of the river proved very long and difficult, if we lost our boats over falls or in rapids, or had to make too many and too long portages, or were brought to a halt by impassable swamps, then we would have to reckon with starvation as a possibility.  Anything might happen.  We were about to go into the unknown, and no one could say what it held.

Note:  The first four days, before we struck the upper rapids, and during which we made nearly seventy kilometres, are of course not included when I speak of our making our way down the rapids.

I hope that this year the Ananas, or Pineapple, will also be put on the map.  One of Colonel Rondon’s subordinates is to attempt the descent of the river.  We passed the headwaters of the Pineapple on the high plateau, very possibly we passed its mouth, although it is also possible that it empties into the Canama or Tapajos.  But it will not be “put on the map” until some one descends and finds out where, as a matter of fact, it really does go.

It would be well if a geographical society of standing would investigate the formal and official charges made by Colonel Rondon, an officer and gentleman of the highest repute, against Mr. Savage Landor.  Colonel Rondon, in an official report to the Brazilian Government, has written a scathing review of Mr. Landor.  He states that Mr. Savage Landor did not perform, and did not even attempt to perform, the work he had contracted to do in exploration for the Brazilian