THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINECONTENTS FOR DECEMBER, 1918.

"THE SOLDIERS WERE COMING DOWN THE CELLAR STEPS. I '*"*"CLUTCHED A WINE-BOTTLE IN EACH HAND AND WAITED WITHBATED BREATH " ....................................................................................................... Frontispiece.

MY FALL INTO GERMANY FROM AN AEROPLANE. II. Lieut. Pat O'Brien, R.F.C. 91

QUEER FIXES :—MY FIGHT WITH AN OSTRICH ............................................................... C E. J. Walkey. 99HEMMED IN BY ALLIGATORS............................................................... C. H. Robinton. 101

SPORT AND WAR IN CENTRAL AFRICA.............................................................. Edward F. Holland. 104

THE DIAMOND SEARCHERS ........................................................................................... Frank Rote. 112

IN UNKNOWN BRITISH GUIANA. IV ............................................................................. A. Hyatt Verrill. II5

STORIES OF THE WAR :-I.—HOW I LOST MY DRAFT..............................................................................."Grenade." 126

II—VI HAT THE SCOUT OVERHEARD .............................................................. "Trooper." 129

MY LION-HUNTING ADVENTURES ........................................ John Alfred Jordan. F.R.G.S.. F.Z.S. 134

BEHIND THE SCENES IN RUSSIA. IV. ...... Robert Wilton. 139

REVIVING AN ABORIGINAL FESTIVAL ... TW J. McMahon. 150

THE LAND OF PERFUME ................................................................................. Bernard St. Lawrence. 157

THROUGH THE CAUCASUS ON HORSEBACK ...... M. A. Czaplieka. F.R.A.I. 163

AN INDIAN VENICE ......................................................................................... C. E. Bechhofer. 169

ODDS AND ENDS............................... - ._ .- .................................... From all part* of the World. 176

The Editor invites Travellers, Explorers. Tourists, Missionaries, and others to send in any curious or remarkable photograph* they mav have.For these, and for True Stories of Adventure, liberal payment will be made according to the value of the material. Every narrative must beSTRICTLY TRUE IN EVERY DETAIL. and a WRITTEN STATEMENT TO THAT EFFECT must be furnished. The author must also, if possible,furnish portraits of the leading character or characters (even if it be himself), together with any other available photographs and portraits of places,persons, and things which in any way heighten the realism and actuality of the narrative. All MSS. should be typewritten. Every care will be takenof contributions, but the Editor cannot be held responsible for accidental loss or damage. All communications should be plainly addressed to theEditor, WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. 8. Southampton Street, London, W.C., England.

The American Edition of THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE is published monthly by George Newnes, Ltd., of London, by The International NewsCompany, 83—85, Duane Street. New York City. Price 10 cents. Yearly subscription, $i.»o poet free. Subscriptions may be commenced at any time.Entered as second-class matter at the New York, N.Y.. Post Office, March 2, 1809. Entered as second-claw matter at the Post Office Department.Ottawa, Canada.

IN UNKNOWNBRITISH GUIANA.

By A. HYATT VERRILL.

ILLUSTRATED FROM PHOTOGRAPHS.

It is no exaggeration to say that British Guiana, a vast stretch of territory on the shoulders of the SouthAmerican Continent, is one of the least-known portions of the globe. Here are great primeval forests,mighty rivers, huge waterfalls, extensive plateaus, and great mountain ranges, where dwell strange Indiantribes and quaint animal life of which virtually nothing is known. The Author, who has made it hisbusiness to penetrate into the unknown interior of this land, has specially written for "The Wide WorldMagazine" an account of his journeys and adventures, which will be found of absorbing interest. Hediscovered large rivers and mountains whose existence was unknown, and stumbled across primitive raceswho had never seen a white man before. His striking photographs give an added value to a fascinatingnarrative.

IDDEN in the heart of BritishGuiana—almost unknown to theoutside world and yet withincomparatively easy reach ofGeorgetown, the busy, attractive, up-

to-date capital of the colony—is Kaietuerk, thecataract incomparable, a stupendous waterfall fivetimes the size of Niagara and in a tropic settingwhose beauty cannot be excelled in all the world.

To visit Kaietuerk is by no means difficult, andthe round trip may be made from Georgetown inless than ten days and at a total expense of lessthan two hundred dollars, or forty pounds sterling.It seems incredible that in these days of progress acountry should possess such a world wonder asKaietuerk Falls and should be so short-sighted, orapathetic, as to leave it unexploited and relativelyinaccessible. In a straight line Kaietuerk isscarcely one hundred and fifty miles fromGeorgetown, and yet one must travel for five daysby steamer, railway, and small boat in order toreach the cataract. For a comparatively smalloutlay the falls could be brought within two days'travel of the capital, but in a way it is fortunatethat it is unexploited, for the very wildness of itssurroundings, its untouched, unspoiled beauty, itssolitude, and its freedom from crowds of visitorsare among its greatest attractions. Here, in thepresence of Kaietuerk, with civilization left milesbehind, with only Indian guides as one'scompanions, and with the vast interminable foreststretching to the very heart of South America, onefeels as if he were the first human being to gazeupon the marvellous sight.

There are two ways of reaching Kaietuerk: thefirst by steamer and rail to Rockstone, the

other by boat up the Essequibo from Bartica andthrough the rapids to Rockstone.

If one be in hurry, or desire comfort and ease,by all means take the first route; but if you wouldreally see the "bush” with its wealth of wild lifeand its vegetable wonders, and would taste thethrill of adventure, the spell of the wilderness, andthe excitement of a journey through the jungle,then travel up the Essequibo.

Although the falls and rapids which stretchbetween Bartica and Rockstone are consideredamong the most dangerous in the colony, yet inthe dry season, and with a good crew of six men,a captain, and a bowman, there is no danger, forthe greatest peril is in running down the rapids;there is nothing to worry over when going up,although there is plenty of excitement and thrills.Bartica is a tiny frontier settlement at the head ofsteamer navigation on the Essequibo, and hereone may always secure a boat and crew. Theprime necessity is a competent captain andbowman, and with these engaged all other detailsmay be left in their hands.

Propelled by the powerful strokes of the eightpaddlers, the craft sweeps swiftly up the tranquilriver and soon leaves the last outlying houses ofBartica astern. Low in the east the sun is paintingthe sky in gorgeous crimson and gold; above theleague-wide river hangs a curtain of gossamermist; parrots wing screaming overhead, macawsscreech and toucans clatter and yelp from the tree-tops, and from the forest depths issue thecountless songs, notes, and cries of awakeninglife. Then the clearings and lime orchards ofAgatash are passed, and nought but the untamedwilderness stretches ahead for forty miles alongthe river's banks. Close

IN UNKNOWN BRITISH GUIANA. 119

to the shore the boat skirts the rank green junglewith its dark, mysterious shadows and giant trees,while strange birds and great sky-blue butterfliesflit amid the labyrinth of roots, vines, palms, andfoliage—an impenetrable barrier, a living wall,through which one cannot move a yard withouthewing a way.

Just before sundown the boat is run upon thesandy beach of a wooded island and the menbustle about preparing camp. While some "catch"a fire, others are busy clearing a small opening inthe brush, and others again are cutting poles andstakes, and in a wonderfully short time the bigtarpaulin, which forms a part of every outfit in thebush, is stretched across a pole between two treesand in its shelter the hammocks are slung. As thevelvet-black night descends upon river and forest awonderful picture is presented, a scene beyond thepower of brush to paint or pen to describe. Againstthe background of the giant trees glow the camp-fires, touching the great trunks with ruddy lights,filling the air with the pungent odour of smoke,and transforming the old tarpaulin to a canopy ofgold. Squatting on their haunches, leaning againstthe trees, or lolling in their hammocks are the men,their brawny limbs and half-savage featuresgleaming like polished bronze in the fitful light,while all about the giant lantern-flies twinkle andflash like animated incandescent lights. Bornedown the river on the cool night wind comes thedistant roar of the falls; from afar in the forestechoes the weird scream of a jaguar; a soft-wingedgoatsucker cries querulously, complainingly, as itflits by, and from every side issue the countlesscroaks, trills, whistles, and booming notes ofinnumerable frogs. Then a sudden shower rattleslike hail upon the canvas roof and quenches theglowing embers of the fire, the forest voices arehushed, and silence falls like a curtain over thewilderness.

Long ere the sun has risen, everything is againstowed in the boat and is covered with tightly-lashed tarpaulin, and once more the flashingpaddles are urging the boat upstream.

Within half a mile of camp are the river falls, inreality a rapid with the brown water churned toamber foam where it swirls and eddies overhidden rocks and between jutting fangs of granite.At the foot of the falls the boat is paddledalongside a mass of rocks and the passenger stepsashore, while the men uncoil long bow and sternlines and prepare to haul the craft through theboiling waters.

Waist-deep in the rushing flood, they struggleup against the current, securing precariousfootholds on slippery submerged rocks, andbending their backs to the strain of the rope.Others, holding the stern line, brace themselvesfor the supreme effort; the captain, huge paddle inhand, stands erect in the stern, directing,encouraging, and guiding, while the giganticbowman, submerged save for head and shoulders,exerts the mighty strength of his back against thebow—a human buffer between the boat and thejagged rocks. Slowly the boat forges ahead to theirresistible drag of six pairs of knotted musculararms; the water dashes and roars high above thebow; the stern is swung deftly by line and paddle,and a minute later the heavy craft emerges fromthe turmoil and floats quietly on a smoothbackwater above the falls.

Within ten minutes after re-embarking abovethe first rapids you are compelled to disembarkagain as another series of rapids is reached, andthroughout the day the traveller does little elsethan clamber in and out of the boat as one rapidfollows another. But even if one loses interest inwatching the men, there is still much to occupyone's attention. On every side are thousands ofrocks and ledges surrounded by water rushing androaring like a mill-race, and every rock andboulder bears its own crown of vegetation and itsquota of life. Everywhere the rocks appear as ifcovered with a stubbly beard, and a closerexamination reveals the fact that this is a curious,sedge-like plant with delicate pink blooms whichsomehow finds roothold and sustenance on thesmooth, bare surface of these water-washed rocks.

120 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE.

But blasé indeed must be he whose attention isnot riveted on the toiling men, or whose pulses donot quicken at their constant perils, escaped byalmost superhuman efforts. In places the ragingwaters tear between rocky barriers scarce wideenough to permit the passage of the boat; in otherplaces the waters above the falls run black, deep,and ominous, and the men are forced to swimahead with towlines grasped in their teeth in orderto reach a foothold from which to haul their craftupstream. Now and again the water roars incataracts over dam-like dykes where the boatcannot float, and by herculean efforts thesweating, toiling men actually lift their craft anddrag her to deeper water by main strength.

But they never hesitate, never grumble, nevershirk. Their lives and yours are at stake, andthough the waters are infested with the dreadedPerai fish, though the cry of "Cayman!" oftencauses the crew to glance apprehensively about,and though ever and again some man loses hisfooting and is swept from the line, they take it allin the light of a frolic and laugh heartily at oneanother's mishaps.

It is thrilling enough as one watches theirprogress from the safe, dry vantage-point of therocks, but the real excitement comes when, incertain spots, the traveller remains in the boatwhile the rapids are conquered.

Perchance, when paddling furiously to stem aseries of small rapids, the boat may be caught byan unseen cross-current, and, despite the franticefforts of the men, it is dashed full upon asubmerged rock.

With a blow that all but throws you from yourseat, the heavy craft crashes against the reef, rideshalf its length over it, swings as on a pivot, andtips perilously. But ere it can capsize or fill, themen leap overboard, some breast deep, othersburied in the torrent to their mouths, and othersswimming, and by dint of sheer strength they liftthe boat and push it into

deep water. Then, with the agility of monkeys,they clamber over the gunwales, grasp paddiesonce more, and drive the boat through the rapidsto safety. It is a marvellous exhibition of skill,pluck, and concerted instantaneous action. If theyhesitate, if one fails at the critical moment,nothing can prevent a capsize or a washout withloss of provisions and possible loss of life.

Sometimes, too, there are huge treacherouswhirlpools to be passed, great swirling oval spacesbelow or above the falls. With every ounce oftheir strength the eight men ply their paddles, theboat hangs motionless for one instant, the bowquivers and vibrates to the drag of the water, andthen the craft darts forward. High above thegunwales boils the maelstrom as the centre of thepool is reached ; the boat seems actually to rear onend ; it slides up a hill of racing water, and ere youhave time to realize it is accomplished, the boat isbeyond the danger-point and is safe in a narrow,swift-flowing channel. It is no place for the timid,no trip for the nervous; but exhilarating, exciting,stirring beyond compare for those who love aspice of danger and a novel experience.

But while falls and rapids innumerable arepassed through, the river is by no means allbroken water. Between the various falls the streamstretches for miles, broad, unbroken, tranquil,placid as an inland lake, and walled by primevalbush which is reflected in the oillike water as on apolished mirror. No sign of man or of hishandicraft is visible; one can scarce believe thatfellow-men have ever passed this way, and thetraveller feels as if he were in the very heart of thewilderness, in a land untamed, untouched, and allbut unknown.

On every hand rises the vast forest, theenormous trees towering for near two hundred feetabove the river banks, and so bound together

IN UNKNOWN BRITISH GUIANA. 121

with lianas, so densely foliaged, so overgrownand covered with vines and creepers that theforest appears like a stupendous curtain of greenvelvet draped in graceful folds above the quietriver.

Overhead toucans, parrots, macaws, and manysmaller birds wing their noisy way from shore toshore; crested eagles and great white-headedhawks soar majestically in vast circles; great-billed terns and pied skimmers preen theirplumage on golden, sand-bars, and thousands ofsteel-blue dainty swallows rise in vast cloudsfrom their resting-places on the ledges. And asthe boat skirts the forest's edge, hosts of viciouslittle vampire bats flutter from the tree-trunks and,winging an erratic course for a few yards, againflatten themselves

The trip up the Essequibo above Rockstoneseems tame indeed by comparison with thejourney from Bartica, but once or twice glimpsesof distant mountains may be seen, and at themouth of the Potaro a brief stop is made beforecontinuing the voyage up the Potaro River toTumatumari.

Tumatumari is a very beautiful spot, with itsfour foaming cataracts roaring between theirwooded islands just below the rest-housewindows, and there are few places in the tropicswhich could be transformed into more desirableresorts in which to spend one's time. There is anabundance of game in the forests; the river teemswith fish; there are extensive gold placers fourmiles back in the bush, and close to the settlementare several good-sized Indian villages,

against the bark of other trees, where instantlythey become invisible. From before the boat,shoals of fresh-water flying-fish spring from theglassy surface of the stream and skitter off likeskipping-stones, or a clumsy tapir or startledcapybara crashes into the forest in headlongflight.

And now the last rapids have been passed, theboat speeds swiftly up the smooth river, it sweepsaround a wooded bend, and ahead are the broadcleared lands and the scattered buildings ofRockstone.

This town is of no importance, save as theterminus of the railway from Wismar, on theDemerara River, which was built to obviate thenecessity of travelling up the line from Bartica inorder to reach the Upper Essequibo and thehinterland. At Rockstone the boat and its Barticacrew may be dismissed, for noisy, ill-smelling,kerosene-burning river-boats ply up and downthe river between the town and Tumatumari.Vol xlii.-9.

while the air is delightfully cool and invigoratingand the scenery is magnificent.

As the falls are practically impassable, it isnecessary to walk for half a mile over a good roadto the head of the cataracts, and from here alaunch continues the journey to Potaro Landing,about a dozen miles up the river. This landing is atthe head of launch navigation, and it is also theterminus of the road leading into the Minnehahaand other goldmines. From this spot the travellermust tramp about seven miles to Kangaruma, butas much of the distance is through the dense forestit is cool and shady. This detour is made necessarybecause of Pakutuerk Falls, whose roar can beheard as one walks along, and which bar the riverwith a series of dangerous cataracts. While thesefalls can be navigated, so much time is requiredand the trip is so dangerous that it is not advisable,unless one is out for excitement. On one occasionI went through Pakutuerk Falls, and some idea ofthe difficulties

122 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE.

may be gauged by the fact that it required fourdays of unceasing, heart-breaking, almostsuperhuman efforts on the part of my twelvemen—ten of whom were Indians—to successfullynegotiate them. But returning was a wonderfulexperience, and with the speed of an express trainwe shot through the foaming, roaring, rock-filledrapids and over the cataracts in less than fourhours. It was an adventure I would not havemissed for worlds, but which I would never careto repeat, for although we got through safely, yettime and again we came perilously near to death,and in one spot we had a lively washout with aconsiderable loss of our belongings.

At Kangaruma one embarks once more in abatteau and is paddled swiftly up the ever-narrowing river towards Amaktuerk.

Wilder and moreluxuriant becomes theforest; ever more beautifulbecomes the winding river,the charming islets, andthe vistas of mirror-likestream. Far away abovethe endless bush loom theblue PakaraimaMountains, and as the sunsinks in a blaze of glorythe boat swings around abend in the river andAmaktuerk is revealed inall its beauty. Against therose and golden clouds risethe towering mountains,already wreathed inevening mists; on eitherhand the dark forests arereflected in the gildedwaters, and in the centre,bursting from b e t we e nthe wooded shores, leapthe lovely falls, half

hidden in a filmy veil of spray. It is a wonderfulpicture, a glorious sight, for Amaktuerk Falls areby far the most attractive on the Potaro and theirsetting is perfection itself. Here, above the falls,and directly across the river from the toweringAmaktuerk Mountain, is a tiny rest-house, and itwould be hard to find a more charming spot inwhich to spend the night. Portaging the luggagearound Amaktuerk, another boat is taken abovethe falls, and from here, on, the traveller is in theheart of Guiana's scenic wonderland. On everyhand the great isolated mountains rear their bareprecipitous faces and forest-clad slopes forthousands of feet above the sea of forest, whilefleecy clouds drift lazily across their frowningramparts. Mirrored in the river, they appear twicetheir height and seem to overhang the passing

boat; but, in reality, milesof impenetrable foreststretch from the river bankto their feet. Of them all,perhaps Kukuieng, orHawk's Nest, is the mostimpressive and the mostconspicuous, for it risesa b r u p t l y from theforest, its turret-like formand rocky battlementsstartlingly resemblingsome titanic castle, and formile after mile it is everwithin sight. But no matterwhere one looks, mountainafter mountain may beseen, and with each milethey increase in numbersand in size as they mergeinto the stupendous gorgewhich forms a fittingapproach, a worthygateway, to the world'shighest waterfall.

IN UNKNOWN BRITISH GUIANA. 123

By noon the falls of Waraktuerk are reached,and, having made a short portage, the last stage ofthe journey is begun, and two hours later thetraveller catches his first glimpse of Kaietuerk—afaint silvery thread against the hazy blue of thegorge. Now the mountains hem the river in as by amighty wall on either side, and again and againone catches new glimpses of the marvellouscataract in the dim distance. It is a scene ofsurpassing beauty and grandeur, a land wrapped ina vast silence broken only by the silvery, ringingnotes of the bell-birds, which, perched on thetopmost summits of the dead trees, gleam likespecks of alabaster against the dark verdure of themountain sides.

And then, at last, the boat is run ashore atTukuit, the journey by river is at an end, andpreparations are made for the climb over themountains to the falls on the following morning.

Tukuit is a beautiful spot surrounded by greatwooded mountains with the silvery river at theirfeet, while directly across from the rest-house alovely cataract issues from the verdure andplunges down for hundreds of feet to lose itself inmasses of trees above the clouds. la

many lands this (all in itself wouldconsidered a wonderful sight andworthy of the pilgrimage, but in thisgorge of stupendous proportions, inthe presence of titanic Kaietuerk,and amid such an excess of sublimescenery, this cataract and a dozen ormore like it pass unnoticed.

Although several women havemade the climb to Kaietuerk, yet itis a fearful trail and no easy walkeven for an able-bodied man.Formerly there was an easier,zigzag trail, but this is now, or wasuntil very recently, impassable withfallen trees, and one must clamber,or rather claw, a way straight up themountain side in the dry bed of awater-course. It cannot by anystretch of the imagination be calleda path, for it is filled with loose

boulders of every size, deep holes and crevices,slippery mud, and gnarled, moss-grown roots. It isa good two hours' climb up a slope of about sixtydegrees to the summit of the first ridge, which ismarked by a large tree on whose bark is deeplycarved the word "Amen."

Beyond here the way is comparatively easy, forit leads across a narrow, hog-backed ridgebetween two deep gorges and is fairly level. Here,if one proceeds quietly, may be seen the gorgeouscock of the rock, whose orange plumage glowslike fire amid the leaves, for about Kaietuerk theserare birds are fairly common, and in the breedingseason they may be seen performing theirremarkable "dances" on the little open spacesamong the rocks, which the birds clear for thepurpose. Three hours after leaving Tukuit, theKaietuerk Plateau is reached, a weird, strangeplace, so different from the forest that the travellerfeels as if he had entered another land, and it ishard to believe that one is still in British Guiana.Everywhere are the strange giant lily-likebromelias peculiar to the region; here and thereamong the rocks

124 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE.

are clumps of remarkable, grotesquely-floweredorchids; pretty sundews carpet the ground inspots, and grey lichens lend a northern aspect tothe place, while clumps of bracken and noddingblue harebells seem out of place here in thetropics. Even the birds and butterflies are differentfrom those of the lower levels, for the KaietuerkPlateau has a flora and a fauna of its own. But, onthe whole, it is a dreary and barren scene; a wasteof smooth, water-worn rock and stagnant pools ofrain-water, across which the visitor hurriestowards the brink of the falls.

Throughout my life I have prided myself onnever feeling nervous or dizzy at great heights. Ihave stood on lofty mountain peaks; I haveclimbed to the trucks of ships' masts rolling in aseaway, and I have gazed down at teeming citystreets from the narrow steel beams of half-

finished skyscrapers, and never have I felt ill atease. But when, for the first time, I stepped boldlyto the brink of Kaietuerk Gorge, I beat aprecipitate retreat and sat down among the bushesa dozen yards from the edge.

I had expected to look down for an enormousdistance, but I also expected to see some tangibleconnection between the brink of the plateau andthe bottom of the gorge. Instead, I found myselfstanding isolated on a narrow, outjutting, shelvingrock in mid-air, with nothing but space betweenme and the tiny thread of river a thousand feetbelow.

There is something so unexpected about thisabsence of a sloping, or even a precipitous,mountain side beneath one's feet that it quite takesone's breath away, while the motion of the fallsand the rising spray gives one the sensation ofplunging forward into the abyss. The feeling soonwears off, however, and in a

short time I found I could approach the brinkwithout trembling and could even lie down andpeer into the gorge; but I confess that I had anirresistible desire to hold on to somethingwhenever I drew near the brink.

There are some things in the world which areimpossible to describe, and Kaietuerk is one ofthem, for words utterly fail to convey anyadequate idea of the falls and the gorge. It issomething which must be seen to be realized, andeven the most perfect photographs fall far short ofthe reality.

Kaietuerk cannot be properly described asbeautiful, for it is far more than that. It is awe-inspiring, sublime, overwhelming, and terrifyingin its grandeur. It is the very epitome ofstupendous power and titanic strength;immeasurable, irresistible, incomparable. In its

presence one feelspuny, helpless, andinsignificant. Gazingupon it the beholder isfilled with quaking,unreasonable dread, andyet is fascinated as bysome gigantic savagebeast of magnificentform and perfect grace.It is a sight so sublime,so marvellous, sostupendous that thehuman mind cannotgrasp it all at once, andone must gaze longupon it must remain inits presence for hours,and must becomeaccustomed to thetitanic scale of one'ssurroundings ere it ispossible to appreciateKaietuerk in full. Onlyby comparison withother objects can werealize the tremendoussize, the overwhelming

scale of the falls and the gorge: for the proportionsare so perfect, the distances so deceptive, and thesurroundings so vast that the cataract itself seemsbut a mere detail of the whole.

Far down, in the depths below the falls, we seea soft green carpet which we take for mossstudded with pebbles. Then, with almost a shock,we discover that the apparent moss is in reality aforest of giant trees, that the pebbles are enormousmasses of rock weighing hundreds of tons, andthat the clinging vines and fern-like growths aboutthem are immense bush ropes and lofty palms. Itis the same with the falls themselves. At first sightthey appear surprisingly small, and we cannotrealize that the gleaming mass is plunging throughspace for near a thousand feet and is almost a miledistant. But little by little the scene assumes itstrue proportions. A man standing beside the vergeof the falls appears a mere

IN UNKNOWN BRITISH GUIANA. 125

speck, almost invisible. We noticed that not adrop of real water ever reaches the deep poolbelow; that so stupendous is the drop that thefalling masses are transformed to spray-long erethey reach the limit of their descent and appearmore like falling smoke than water, andthen it dawns suddenly upon us that thereis something lacking, that there is nodeafening roar, no audible evidence of agigantic cataract; that there is scarce morenoise than would be made by the rush ofwater over a good-sized mill-dam, that theonly sound is that of the torrent pouringover the brink of the falls, and thatstanding at the very verge of the cataractthere is no difficulty in conversing inordinary tones.

Could one but reach the base ofKaietuerk a far better idea of its size couldbe obtained, but the difficulties in doingthis are almost insurmountable. One ortwo men have gained the foot of Kaietuerkby almost superhuman efforts, arduouslyclimbing over immense masses of fallenrock and lowering themselves downprecipices by ropes. The vast forestconceals the true character of the country,and it is difficult to believe that beneaththe mantle of green are stupendousprecipices, black fathomless ravines, and achaotic mass of boulders and broken rock.The only feasible route by land is close tothe river, but with light canoes it would bea comparatively easy, although a slow,journey, the only difficulty being to carrythe canoes around the several rapids andfalls between Tukuit and Kaietuerk.

Perhaps the greatestattraction of Kaietuerk isthat it is never twice thesame. Every moment itchanges; with everybreath of wind, witheach variation of light,with every passingcloud, it takes on adifferent aspect. Andscarcely less sublime,scarcely less marvellousthan the cataract itself, isthe stupendous gorgestretching from the fallsfor miles into the dimand hazy distance.Wonderfully beautiful isthis gorge, hemmedbetween vast forest-covered mountains andplateaux of a myriadshades of green, with itsfrowning precipices andblack ravines, purple inthe shadows and golden

in the sunlight, while between the mightyramparts flows the slender silver thread of riverwhich, through untold and countless centuries, hascut this titanic scarf through the heart of theenduring rock.