Our first excursion to any distance was to the Rice-mills at Magoary, only twelve miles from Pará by land, and two tides, or about ten hours, by water. The overland route being in many respects inconvenient, we determined to venture in one of the canoes always in readiness for such excursions near the Punto da Pedras, and for this purpose engaged a fair-looking craft with a covered and roomy cabin, and manned by two whites and a negro. Leaving the city in the middle of the afternoon, we took advantage of the ebbing tide, and by dark had entered the stream which was to carry us to our destination. But our two white sailors were lazy scoundrels, and we did not feel sufficiently acquainted with the language, or accustomed to the ways of the country, to give them the scolding they deserved. This they knew enough to comprehend, and the consequence was that we lost the flood-tide which should have carried us up, and were obliged to anchor and spend the night on board. One of these men was an old salt, battered and worn; the other was a young fellow of twenty, with a good-looking face and nut-brown skin, wearing upon his head a slouched felt hat, and, altogether the very image of peasant figures seen in Spanish paintings.