and its vast extent and the mere glimpses of its limits and
cloud-capped peaks appeal to the imagination rather than to the
eye. At this end of the lake the water is shallow, probably filled
up by the mud brought down by the Rio Frio.

We had still a voyage of sixty miles before us up the lake, and
this was to be accomplished not by paddling, but by sailing; so we
now rigged two light masts, and soon after seven o'clock sailed
slowly away from San Carlos before a light breeze, which in an
hour's time freshened and carried us along at the rate of about six
miles an hour. The sun rose higher and higher; the day waxed hotter
and hotter. About noon the wind failed us again, and the sun right
overhead, in a clear pitiless sky, scorched us with its rays, while
our boat lay like a log upon the water, the pitch melting in the
seams with the heat. The surface of the lake was motionless, save
for a gentle heaving. We were almost broiled with the stifling
heat, but at last saw a ripple on the water come up from the
north-east; soon the breeze reached us, and our torment was over;
our sails, no more idly flapping, filled out before the wind; the
canoe dashed through the rising waves; our drooping spirits
revived, and there was an opening out of provisions, and life again
in the boat. The breeze continued all the afternoon, and at dark we
were off the islands of Nancital, having been all day within a few
miles of the north-eastern side of the lake, the banks of which are
everywhere clothed with dark gloomy-looking forests. One of the
islands was a favourite sleeping-place for the white egrets. From
all sides they were flying across the lake towards it; and as night
set in, the trees and bushes by the water-side were full of them,
gleaming like great white flowers amongst the dark green foliage.
Flocks of muscovy and whistling ducks also flew over to their