less.  Then the long file of mules sets out for Bogota, perhaps ten days’ march, each animal carrying two boxes—­a burden ridiculously light, but on such tracks it is dimension which has to be considered.  On arrival at Bogota, the cases are unpacked and examined for the last time, restowed, and consigned to the muleteers again.  In six days they reach Honda, on the Magdalena River, where, until lately, they were embarked on rafts for a voyage of fourteen days to Savanilla.  At the present time, an American company has established a service of flat-bottomed steamers which cover the distance in seven days, thus reducing the risks of the journey by one-half.  But they are still terrible.  Not a breath of wind stirs the air at that season, for the collector cannot choose his time.  The boxes are piled on deck; even the pitiless sunshine is not so deadly as the stewing heat below.  He has a store of blankets to cover them, on which he lays a thatch of palm-leaves, and all day long he souses the pile with water; but too well the poor fellow knows that mischief is busy down below.  Another anxiety possesses him too.  It may very well be that on arrival at Savanilla he has to wait days in that sweltering atmosphere for the Royal Mail steamer.  And when it comes in, his troubles do not cease, for the stowage of the precious cargo is vastly important.  On deck it will almost certainly be injured by salt water.  In the hold it will ferment.  Amidships it is apt to be baked by the engine fire.  Whilst writing I learn that Mr. Sander has lost two hundred and sixty-seven cases by this latter mishap, as is supposed.  So utterly hopeless is their condition, that he will not go to the expense of overhauling them; they lie at Southampton, and to anybody who will take them away all parties concerned will be grateful.  The expense of making this shipment a reader may judge from the hints given.  The Royal Mail Company’s charge for freight from Manzanilla is 750l.  I could give an incident of the same class yet more startling with reference to Phaloenopsis.  It is proper to add that the most enterprising of Assurance Companies do not yet see their way to accept any kind of risks in the orchid trade; importers must bear all the burden.  To me it seems surprising that the plants can be sold so cheap, all things considered.  Many persons think and hope that prices will fall, and that may probably happen with regard to some genera.  But the shrewdest of those very shrewd men who conduct the business all look for a rise.

Od.  Harryanum always reminds me—­in such an odd association of ideas as everyone has experienced—­of a thunderstorm.  The contrast of its intense brown blotches with the azure throat and the broad, snowy lip, affect me somehow with admiring oppression.  Very absurd; but on est fait comme ca, as Nana excused herself.  To call this most striking flower “Harryanum” is grotesque.  The public is not interested in those circumstances which give