roofs, gleamed in the morning sunlight, and the harbor sparkled like a lake of diamonds. It was my first glimpse of South America, and I was awed.

But what notion of the magnitude and resources of our great Southern neighbor have we, of the Northern Continent? What of its history, its genius, its untold possibilities?

"This," I thought, "is Venezuela-a tiny speck of it. What is Venezuela to the average citizen of the United States? Only a second-rate Republic, where they "fleece investors" and "have a revolution or two a month."

Did you ever stop to think that Venezuela is nearly as large as the whole of Alaska; that it is more than twice as large as the monster State of Texas? If you were to combine the areas of Texas, Maine, Massachusetts, Vermont, New Hampshire, Connecticut, Rhode Island, New York, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana and South Carolina, you would have a territory barely as large as the Republic of Venezuela.

And Venezuela is only one small part of South America. Brazil alone is larger than the entire United States, exclusive of Alaska.

In these South American countries they have their heroes and their poets, their soldiers and their statesmen, their artists and musicians, just as we have, and yet we know nothing about them. Germany, England, France, are names to conjure with! They mean something to us. They stand for institutions and peoples, for achievements, past and present, for future progress and development.

Brazil! Venezuela! How empty they are! How flat they fall upon the ear! Abstract terms to assist us in arranging our knowledge of geography. Nor does geography tarry long with them. I was looking at one standard work, a geography used in many of our public schools,

which dismissed the wonderful country of Venezuela in ninety-seven words-Venezuela, whose civilization is older than our own!

The wealth that lies buried in its soil is simply inestimable. The minerals taken from it have merely been scraped from the top. As for fertility, anything can be raised in Venezuela that can be raised in the United States. Coffee, cocoa and tobacco are now the principal agricultural products, but the natives are too busy with their wars, and rumors of wars, to be good farmers. They need the spirit and the energy of the people of the colder climate. But what of the history of this great country?

After the discovery by Columbus, Ojeda visited the country, and found the Onotes, a tribe of Indians now extinct, dwelling above the waters of Lake Maracaibo in houses that were built on piles. Their settlement reminded Ojeda so strongly of Venice that he named the country Estados Midos de Venezuela. The commercial house of Welsers effected the early settlement of the country in the sixteenth century. They operated under a charter from Charles V.

The republic is traversed by the Colombian Andes and Maritime Andes, or Venezuelan Coast Range Mountains, below which are the plains, bordering the Orinoco and its tributaries, and the grass lands, known as llanos. The southern and eastern portions are unsettled and have been a prolific cause of controversy.

Below the Orinoco River, and that district comprises the larger portion of Venezuela, the country is virtually a wilderness. Tribes of Indians wander there, and lions stalk about in mountain fastnesses. Castro's mighty hold upon the inhabitants above is little feared below the Orinoco.

Grover Cleveland immortalized himself in Venezuela

when, on December 2, 1895, he announced to Congress he had informed England that any movement to extend the boundary line of British Guiana against the Southern Republic would be regarded as contrary to the Monroe Doctrine and hostile to the United States. It was a defiance foreboding war, but subsequently yielded to the happy influence of arbitration. A statue in the capital now attests the gratitude of the Venezuelan Republic to the American President.

La Guaira is the principal seaport of Venezuela. In fact, it is the principal Atlantic port along the coast of South America, above Brazil. We were now in its harbor and prepared to go ashore.

Already the weather was fiercely hot. We put on our thinnest clothes, but were told to take our coats, grips and umbrellas, for the Congressional party was not to return to the ship for two days, and must be prepared for anything that might happen.

The American consul at La Guaira, Mr. Moffat, acquainted us with the surroundings. The iarge concrete breakwater which protects the harbor, we learned, was built by English capital, and was being paid for from a royalty on cargoes. The consul said that the United States bought more goods of Venezuela than all the European countries combined, and sent less in return. We take Venezuelan hides, coffee and cocoa, but flour is the principal commodity the Venezuelans take from us, and even now the Allis-Chalmers Company, an American concern, is equipping a modern flour mill at La Guaira, which, when in operation, will reduce these imports.

On shore, the first person to greet us was the customs officer, the Comte Valery, a Frenchman, by the way, also military officer of the Venezuelan government. The

ΙΟ

Venezuelans are strong on the tariff, which is "fearfully and wonderfully high," but the country needs the revenue, and the tariff provides most of it.

The crowd that quickly gathered as our train was being made up was swarthy-faced and sullen. Distrust would as nearly characterize their looks and movements as any other word. Their appearance was surely not that of happy men and women. When the mechanics worked, we were told, they commanded better wages than the West Indians, but, then, the cost of living in Venezuela was higher—surprisingly high, in fact, as we afterwards found. Most of the men were carelessly clothed; their attire was not picturesque, for they affected neither sombrero nor colors. A halfsombrero, cheaply made, was worn, and ordinary straw hats were common. The feet were generally encased in the apagata, a sandal protecting only the sole of the foot. Nearly everybody carried the machette; they worked with it and fought with it. I saw it used for peeling oranges, and then again for cutting timber.

We looked at the towering mountains, that start behind La Guaira (they are said to reach an altitude of 4,500 feet), and then at the train that was to carry us over them to Caracas. What a pigmy train it was! The railroad was built by English capital-a tremendous engineering enterprise. Yes, and as we looked again at the mountains, the perils and the people, it seemed a mighty courageous one. The gauge was narrow and the cars were small, but the engines had been built for mountain climbing, and they proved Herculean. The distance to Caracas as the crow flies is nine miles; in its twistings and turnings and climbings, the little road is obliged to traverse twenty-three. To complete the circuit at this distance, the skill of the British engineers was taxed. With what security from naval attack had the