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33     Apr 1, 1930

of this slope.  Farther along I scrambled down again, using the bed of a rivulet for trail, but the river had turned.  I got to water's edge, but falls were not in sight, only whirling water below.  There was a house and sawmill where I first went down, the approach to the jungly slope a filthy stretch of manure and weeds.  There was no trail down.  All this beauty has no attraction or interest for these people.  Later from higher campo I got a partial view, but nowhere is there