August 29th--The Moju, a stream slightly inferior to the Thames
in size, is connected about twenty miles from its mouth by means
of a short, artificial canal with a small stream, the Igarape-
mirim, which flows the opposite way into the water-system of the
Tocantins. Small vessels like ours take this route in preference
to the stormy passage by way of the main river, although the
distance is considerably greater. We passed through the canal
yesterday, and today have been threading our way through a
labyrinth of narrow channels, their banks all clothed with the
same magnificent forest, but agreeably varied by houses of
planters and settlers. We passed many quite large establishments,
besides one pretty little village called Santa Anna. All these
channels are washed through by the tides--the ebb, contrary to
what takes place in the short canal, setting towards the
Tocantins. The water is almost tepid (77 Fahr.), and the rank
vegetation all around seems reeking with moisture. The country
however, as we were told, is perfectly healthy. Some of the
houses are built on wooden piles driven into the mud of the
swamp.

In the afternoon we reached the end of the last channel, called
the Murut Ipucu, which runs for several miles between two
unbroken lines of fan-leaved palms, forming colossal palisades
with their straight stems . On rounding a point of land, we came
in full view of the Tocantins. The event was announced by one of
our Indians, who was on the lookout at the prow, shouting: "La
esta o Parana-uassu!" "Behold, the great river!" It was a grand
sight- -a broad expanse of dark waters dancing merrily to the
breeze; the opposite shore, a narrow blue line, miles away.